#using a cane and driving

[lexifer-666]

Vent post down below. CW: medical talk, mental health, physical health. No mentions of depression or the like, just ADHD and stress. Also talk of going through diagnostic processes. Plenty of profanity used. Also talk of physical disability getting worse

JEUSUS FUCKIGN CHEIST i hate the fucking medical field. Im so fucking stressed out. For months i had doctors telling me i FOR SURE DEFINITELY HAVE muscular dystrophy. They send me to an MDA doc. He takes one look at me, not my medical history, and decides i dont have it. He tests me for sjogren's, which i brought the NEGATIVE tests for to his office. He made copies of it fucks sake. I still dont know the results. He tests my b12 too. Which i know is normal. All the things tested in febuary:

Ana abnormal. 1:180

B12: normal.

Sjogren's antibodies: both negative.

Anti jo. Negative.

Entire ENA panel. NEGATIVE

vitamin d. Deficient. Been taking the pills.

Tsh. Normal. Tfree. Normal. Been taking the pills

He doesnt see anything progressive even though i literally told him in office that ive been getting worse. That i have to drive to class now because I cannot walk that far anymore. He's testing me for a lot but was also really dismissive. Multiple doctors have observed muscle weakness and atrophy in me, but somehow he doesnt see it. I cant even lift a gallon jug of milk. I have to buy my milk in half gallons. Just sitting up straight is hell for my muscles. But no... my muscles are fine...???

Bullshit man. Idk. Im tired of other docs sending me to neurology, neurology looking at me and going "well your eyes work fine so this isnt my problem" despite the fact they ignore my light sensitivity. Idk im so fucking tired and i want an answer but no one seems to have one. Im losing my ability to fucking walk and every fucking doctor acts like thats normal. I used to run!! Bike!!! Climb!!! And I WANT TO. SO BAD. I MISS IT. but i cant anymore. I fall. Or i get so exhausted i cant function for days after. Im tired. Tired of being tired. Tired of losing my mobility while doctors just watch. Im 24. I shouldnt be dealing with this. I havent gone on a good hike since i was 14. I havent been able to work anything other than a desk job since i was 16. I try to exercise and walk as much as i can, but i also have a life to fucking live and i cant spend all my time in bed.

Also, my adhd has been kicking my ass so bad. My apartment is a mess and it makes everything so hard, but i cannot pull myself out of this rut im in. I also cant ask for help because im so terrified of being judged for it. I know there's dishes. I know I need to sweep. I know there's clutter everywhere. Im doing good to keep trash thrown away. But im literally just barely taking care of myself as is and making it to classes. I know it's disgusting and i hate it also, but i can barely do anything about it and i want to just throw everything away. All the dishes, the rug. Fucking everything and just hole up in my room with paper plates. I cant do that though. Thats. Not good. Idk what to do.

[mongooseundertheporch]

[why,,,,,,,, does everybody refer to Chilton's cane as a pity cane,,,,,]

[hertwood]

i love that suni lee overcame a serious health issue (#relatable) but if ppl kept bringing it up every single second as i accomplished great things i would lose my mind

[mothmothwoth]

one of these days I will cave and buy myself a walking stick/ cane of some sort

[blueheartedmayor]

It was rare for the main sponsor of the Invincible Expedition to be so forward with the Captain. For reasons Noah couldn't quite shake, he knew Reimar's words were from experience.

Why Reimar always made references to stories was something Noah couldn't pin down beyond knowing the other was a hobbyist writer. It wasn't as thought Noah would believe that he was friendly with a man who once created worlds to trap people in for his own quest to be seen as heroic and important; nor would he believe the tragedies that Reimar's own sufferings would kick-start.

He did understand that Reimar was a man who was trying to do better. Whatever happened in the past, Noah could only hope Reimar had forgiven himself for it.

(Not even reversing his largest misdeeds and trying to find happy endings for new friends would set the former Playwright's guilt-ridden heart free. It would never be enough.)

[cowboy-heart]

'BUTCH MANIFESTO'

inspired by 'FEMME SHARK MANIFESTO' by Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha

(ID under cut)

Ko-Fi (Commissions Open!)

[ID: an original poem titled 'BUTCH MANIFESTO'. the stanzas are all on the left side of the page and lineated, except for the first line, and last stanza. Poem begins:

Listen up! Butches hold it down! We don’t spend hundreds of pounds on designer clothes and black and white tuxes – we shop off the charity shop rack, hand-me-downs from our bois, our men, our women. Butch is not a glamour word - Butch is not for the white collars in their 9-5 and their office parties, Butch is not for the woman in a police uniform with short cropped hair, Butch is not for the masc who looks down on our femmes, Butch is not for the dumbass white people who call themselves stud, like our people haven’t taken enough from black lesbians, Butch is not for the politician or the soldier, it’s for those of us who get shit done and don’t throw anyone under the bus; who stand between our loved ones and the white-knuckled fist; it’s for the people who take a breath of relief when they get home and get to lay their head on the shoulder of their baby and say, it’s hard, and I need you right now; it’s for those of us with hard-soled feet, worn by hours of standing, just so people can buy some useless shit on a Sunday. Butch is for the primary school teachers, the neighbour keeping your package safe, the hairstylist, the barber, the youth worker, the locked up, the sectioned, the evicted, the boy on the dole. Butches hold each other up, Butches stand up for communities, no matter how different we might be.

Butches stand up for Butches, because only we know the shit we face, we don’t argue over what butch looks like for someone - their struggle doesn’t counteract ours. We’re brothers, sisters, siblings, lovers, mentors, we don’t fight over femmes or fight each other. We help up our siblings who can’t hold themselves up and shouldn’t have to.

Butch is recognising our hurt, our pain, and making sure nobody has to go through that, in the very least not alone. Butch is not reproducing that hurt, butch isn’t the transfem exclusion, the toxicity, it’s driving our girls and boys to the abortion clinic, it’s holding your femme’s hair back over the toilet bowl, it’s telling your darlin’ to take a deep breath, before you poke the needle into her thigh, it’s holding back on punching the catcaller because you know it’ll put your lover in more danger, it’s fishing in your closet for an old, dusty dress for your questioning girl, it’s never calling the cops, it’s carrying the Narcan, it’s gathering the funds for bail, it’s tipping the waiter, it’s kissing the bruised chin of a fellow butch who’s built like a brick shithouse.

Butch is not all muscle, able-bodied, white Butch is not all skinny and androgynous Butch is care Butch is NURTURE. Butch is a cane and an unsteady step Butch is putting down the ramp Butch is wheeling up it Butch is addict Butch is straight-edge Butch is diaspora Butch is desi Butch is antiracist Butch is socialist Butch is punk Butch is black Butch is brown Butch is fat Butch is fat-loving Butch is mental illness Butch is antipsych Butch is autism Butch is trans Butch is anger Butch is tears Butch is grief Butch is the old bull Butch is the closeted kid in a dress Butch is the baby dyke wearing a rainbow flag cape Butch is smile lines Butch is crinkled eyes Butch is crying in your friend’s beat-up car Butch is foetal position Butch is pink Butch is motherhood Butch is fatherhood Butch is cat-dad Butch is fucking Butch is getting fucked Butch is stone Butch is bashful Butch is humble Butch is cocky Butch is proud Butch is single Butch is uneducated Butch is poet Butch is poetry Butch is council estate Butch is gentleness Butch is bones and spit and the soft curve of our lower backs the clenched jaw under a double chin the hard-eyes that any femme can see right through the estradiol the testosterone the carabiner clink the thick hands the cellulite the bloody pads the tampon string the mood swings the sagging tits the top surgery scars the swinging cock the hairy pussy the protruding t-dick the leather harness.

Butch is eternity Butch is sewn into the fabric of atoms Butch is love and solidarity Butch is never leaving anyone behind and never selling anyone out.

End poem. In the bottom right corner, the poet is signed as 'Ren H.' End ID].

[emacrow]

He has offically lost his mind.

Warning of murder and talk of blood and Vivisection.

The Riddler, also known as Edward Nygma, drives in the stolen family car as fast as the speed limit could take him out of Amity Park.

His green riddler outfit was coated in blood that wasn't his, lightly glancing at Jazz, his distant niece in the passenger seat.

Her eyes were baggy and red as she sniffed, holding onto the three bundles in her arms.

A 2 year old toddler that was his nephew and two newborn(neverborn, uncle eddy, they neverborns.) Jack fenton sitting in the back between Sam and Tucker looking awkward as hell.

He had read the letter two days ago and visited his distant half-sister Maddie. He wasn't expecting his distant niece to be tied up in chair, some warp verison of the fear containment bubble, weakly crying and begging for them to let danny go.

He expected worse from his half-sister, but in that basement... it was like a living nightmare brought to life before his very eyes.

That was Danny on that table. His favorite little munckin of a deaged nephew with inverted coloring muffled screaming into a fenton mouth gag while Maddie digging into his chest with Jack tremblingly behind her, his large hand shakenly so much holding a jar with two babies in it, eyes glancing at Maddie and Danny with some sort of realization peaking in his glance.

Edward cautiously tips toe down the stairs as quietly as he can, holding his question mark staff as he listened on.

"M-Maddie, ph-Danny might be telling the truth. He is bleeding red now!"

"Oh, Jack, remember ghosts tend to mimic and possessed people around us. Phantom had been living right under our noses and using our sweet Danny like living costume, look how small he gotten afterall, Who knows how long he has the time to copy all Danny's personality to sabotage our weapons. Now be a sweetheart and hand me that bone mallet." The way his half-sister sounds so cold yet sweet made Edward sick to his stomach as he was inching closer, holding his staff at the right angle for a clean shot at her head.

"No. No, this is wrong. That Dann-o, that's our baby, Maddie! He has the exact scar on his left midsection from the fishing trip. Ghosts don't heal from scars when they are dead, Maddie!" Jack shook his head, taking a step or two back from Maddie. His face was becoming paler. Jack looked as though he was going to lose his lunch at any moment with horror in his eyes.

"That Thing Is Not danny anymore when it -" Maddie turned to yell at Jack was when Eddie struck. Hitting her hard in the head was a clean knockout.

"E-eddie?" Jack, look wide-eyed at Edward Nygma, who looks ready to swing at him but stopped, glancing at table.

"Sew Danny up now, or I swear to Meemaw Gretchen, I'll beat you within every inch of your life if he doesn't make it." Eddie growled as he hit Maddie one more time for good measure with the staff.

He thought she was clear from the insanity that was their mom, but apparently not.

He pushed back the flashback and kept focusing on driving. Those GIW creep tried to ambush him one more time, then he got a bloody cane to beat them with too.

Part 1 here <- part 3 -> here

[sillysiluriforme]

Him only using his miraculous to stand in a dark hole and yell is like driving a T-14 armata tank to the grocery store I bet he doesn’t even know his cane is a sword

[scoutswritingcorner]

Let The Game Begin

Alastor x GN! Reader

The 4 times Alastor bites you and the one time you bite back.

TW: Mentions that Alastor owns Reader’s soul. Biting and blood.

1st Time

The first time it had happened it honestly surprised the hell out of you, you were looking over some paperwork for Charlie regarding the new renovations that her dad had wanted to put in saying it was to bring in new guests. But looking at the duck themed statue has you confused but you didn’t bring it up yet. Taking your pen you wrote down what would seem best and not cost so much to get done, despite having magic abilities- you forbid the King (by bribing him with ducks) to use his magic to build anything more. You’d practically be out of a job then..and you don’t want Alastor to yank on your chain. Literally..you’d be no use for him here and you’d rather not be stuck behind the desk. You’d drive yourself to madness once more, but your husband would find a way for you to stay. You were his greatest treasure after all.

You were seemingly so focused on what was in front of you and what you were thinking that you failed to notice the red haired demon behind you, watching you and calling your name. How dare you ignore him? The man who brought you here. The man who has your soul in his clawed hands. But he couldn’t bring himself to summon your chain..as his eyes landed on your shoulder, a devious smile was on his lips and in a flash. One hand wrapped around your neck as he *bit* down causing you to let out a loud yelp. You couldn’t move away from him as he leaned back your crimson blood staining his teeth and lips. Oh..He adored that sound. He wanted more.

2nd Time

The second time was when you were sitting down next to him in the foyer as Charlie was talking about a new exercise. You were more or less paying attention, leaning against your hand as Alastor stood next to your seat. He was never the man to sit around for a long period of time especially when he had something important on his mind. You watched him tap the bottom of his cane to the tip of his shoe, making sure Charlie was focusing on something else you waved your hand to get his attention. Thankfully he had looked over the second you raised your hand but his tense shoulders slumped when he noticed you weren’t going to touch him. The golden band on your finger prominent in the light as you waved him down, he backed up bending by the waist to listen to you. “Go, Dear..I’ll cover for you..you got that distant look in your eyes.” You whispered out causing his smile to widen. Oh how he loved your keen eyes but he nodded and gently grabbed your hand to press a kiss to your palm. Your thumb brushing against his cheek, a discreet sentiment he always seemed to enjoy. You looked away for a split second feeling someone watching you (other than your husband) but then flinched feeling his sharp fangs dig into your palm before he smoothed it out with a lick from his tongue and a kiss to your knuckles. You turned to curse him but he was already gone, left with a red bite mark on your palm.

3rd Time

The third time was as surprising as the first one. Alastor was known for his cruelty, the way his anger had no bounds or limits. But walking with him to Cannibal Town to see Rosie, you missed sitting with her listening to the latest news and gossiping about people (..Susan..), had him on edge. You kept your distance from your husband upon his request as much as he adored your attention and touch, he didn’t want you to become an even bigger target than you already were from being so close to him. But the way random sinners who had the nerve to catcall you from across the street made him angrier by the second. You watched as your husband’s eye twitched but didn’t point it out, only walked faster to catch up with him.

What really hammered the nail into the coffin was when he had taken your arm to help you across the road, ever the suave gentlemen your husband was, and someone had the gall- no the nerve to flirt with you infront of his face before grabbing onto you like a rabid dog looking for a meal. Sharp static rang out as his horns grew bigger- his smile wider causing the sinner to tremble and fall back onto their own ass before a tendril shot out grabbing the sinner by their throat and slamming them into the wall. You watched him from the corner of your eye as you both continued to make your way to Cannibal Town..well Alastor had made the decision to make a quick detour. Pulling you away from prying eyes, he had you pinned against a wall as he bit down on your neck. Not hard enough to bite a chunk out of you, no..he couldn’t hurt his darling spouse. But he made sure you couldn’t hide the bite he was licking the blood off of…Rosie was going to have field day when she saw you.

4th Time

Now this was getting confused and annoying cause you don’t exactly know when your darling Husband would strike and bite down on you like some chew toy (..not that you aren’t happy about that), but it’s causing you to be paranoid as much as you love your husband, you’d rather not have to keep watching over your shoulder every second just to make sure your husband isn’t going to bite you. But you had let your guard down when cooking with him, well..you were in the kitchen reading as Alastor was cooking dinner. He had forbidden you from cooking after you had accidentally set the stove on fire. You don’t even know how it happened but allowed him to take control of the flames. 

Looking up, you notice as he was standing beside you a lovestruck look on his face. It wasn’t long until you were swept away into a dance with him singing along to a tune in his own head, you let out a soft laugh allowing him to spin you away before pulling you back into him. The dance had ended with a gentle kiss as he realized that his focus was needed back on the food that was still cooking. But before you could pull away from his hold completely you once again felt his sharp teeth dig into your cheek. Letting out a soft grumble from his antics only to be met with a deep chuckle and the feeling of his tongue smoothing out where had bitten, likely wiping away any blood from your cheek before his attention was once again enraptured by cooking.

Biting Back

Alastor watched you as you talked with Charlie but your gaze kept falling onto him causing his smile to grow into a wicked one. Oh he was getting to you and he was enjoying it. How much longer can you keep that facade going? Could he finally break that little perfect facade you had or would you keep it up? Only time would tell. He tilted his head watching as you quickly excused yourself to walk towards him, “Is there a reason you are staring me down, Alastor?” You asked and he chuckled, “You’re losing yourself, Dear.” You sent a glare towards him before walking off. You knew he was right, you knew he could see right through your facade. You were his spouse after all, his confidant. But what he didn’t know is that you had a trick up your sleeve. Something he won't see coming.

You were going to wait until a private time to surprise your lovely husband but then he had to leave for an abrupt meeting with the overlords about new territory. You stood at the front doors with him, fixing his precious suit jacket as he watched you, a soft look in his crimson eyes. “There we go,” you hummed, wiping his jacket lapels down and motioning him down. He playfully rolled his eyes but bent down towards you, gently kissing his cheek, before biting down on his cheek and walking off. Not noticing how he jumped and stood straight up before letting out a loud laugh, “Is that all you have, Darling? Look at those teeth! Can’t rip flesh from bone!” He called out at your disappearing figure, oh you just started a game that you wouldn’t win.

Extra

Angel looked over at Husk who was busy shuffling Uno cards while the others sat around, “So….anybody else think their fuckin’?” He asked, causing Charlie to choke on her drink and the cards to fall out of Husk’s paws. Vaggie sent him a glare as Nifty laughed and Pentious blushed. “Watch it, Angel.” Husk growled out sending him a glare before glancing over to where you were fixing one of the beer taps on the bar, currently in your own world. “What? C’mon Whiskers, you have to know something about them.” Husk rolled his eyes collecting the cards up again as Nifty chimed in, “Oh they are married!” Husk coughed and glared at her causing everyone around to look surprised. “What? They…They married Smiles? Like…they wanted to?” Angel asked as Husk sighed nodding.

“They’ve been married for a few decades now.” He whispered out as Nifty nodded watching as he started to deal out the deck of cards. “But they are so sweet..very helpful too.” Charlie whispered out holding onto Vaggie’s hand and Husk sighed. “Listen..they are as bad as him but they tend to hide it more. They tend to like the game of cat and mouse more than him. But none of us pose a threat to them so they back off. But enough..focus on the game.”  Husk grumbled as Angel rolled his eyes grabbing his cards.

[covid-safer-hotties]

To My Unmasked Friend in the Fifth Year of COVID - By: Anna Holmes - Published Aug 17, 2024

I’m going to be honest with you, because I love you, and you deserve nothing but honesty. I’m going to try really hard not to be angry while I do it, but it’s probably going to slip out every now and again. But I need you to hear me out, all right?

By now, we’ve talked about my reality. My personal struggle with long COVID, the isolation I live in, why I am so angry all the time.

But let’s talk about you. You just went to a big convention overseas. You got on a plane, got a little gussied up, talked shop with some insiders, geeked out over awards and merch, ate, drank, were merry, left with your social cup and your heart full.

You’re a good person. We wouldn’t be friends otherwise! You’d never dream of tripping a person with a red and white cane, using the r-word, excluding a disabled person from an event because of something they can’t help.

You might even acknowledge that the COVID response from governments and organizations has been ableist and inadequate.

But you didn’t wear a mask.

For whatever reason — you wanted to show off your makeup, it makes you itchy, you believed the messaging that COVID is endemic (what does that actually mean?), you just don’t think about it anymore — you made a choice that actively excludes people like me from participating not only in an event like a convention, but society at large. And yes, it is a choice. Every time you step out into the world without a mask on your face, you have made a decision that your very good reason, whatever it is, supersedes the right of disabled and at-risk people to exist safely in your orbit.

Well, hold on, you say. It’s not any one individual’s fault, it’s the inadequate public health messaging. Isn’t that what you’ve been saying?

And I have. In the past, I have talked about how it is unconscionable that health authorities have thrown their hands up and rescinded guidance that would have saved hundreds of thousands of lives and prolonged a pandemic that, to hear them tell it, has been bested. It hasn’t. Worst of all, the financial motivation that we all know is driving this premature victory lap isn’t even being fulfilled. Long COVID and other post-COVID complications are costing the global economy one trillion a year. Meanwhile, article after article handwrings about nobody wanting to work anymore, about the sagging college application scene, about declines in military enlistment, and the strain on our healthcare systems.

All of this is very much the fault of our leaders, who have decided the political ramifications of “normalcy” are more important than the health and lives of the 400 million people living with long COVID across the globe, the immunocompromised folks who are increasingly being shut out of every conceivable public space, and the disabled community which has been screaming into the wind about our marginalization since before the virus even hit US soil.

But I want to be very clear. You are helping them do this.

The reality is that we have been living in this deeply flawed landscape of “personal choice”, and you’ve made yours. You’ve opted not to look into how densely clustered cases are. You’ve stopped listening to your friends who have informed themselves. You’ve given yourself permission to put COVID on the back burner. You’ve earned it, right? Four and a half years of trauma?

COVID doesn’t care if you’re tired of being scared or careful or considerate. COVID is not something you can personally overcome by being smart or virtuous or brave. It is a virus which only seeks to infect and replicate, and it is getting very good at those things. While you’ve looked away, my community has been scrambling to avoid variants that skirt immunity and don’t show up on rapid tests until day five-seven. The constant battle has changed since you were last in it. It’s not sufficient anymore to get your shots and test before a big event. You could well be asymptomatic and infectious, or have symptoms and convinced yourself it can’t be COVID because that second line hasn’t popped up.

You have come to the conclusion sometime between 2022 and now that you just have to decide what level of risk you’re comfortable with and live with it. The problem with that is scale. It’s you and everybody else doing that, and a lot of people have decided they are comfortable with a high level of risk. Despite what you’ve been told, you’re not just making that decision for yourself. You are making it for every person you come in contact with.

Think back to the early tense days of 2020. We were told to select a “bubble.” Those people would be our social lifelines, and through those, we could control our exposure.

My bubble is quite small. It includes my husband, my sister, and two friends I see relatively frequently.

My husband goes to work via the bus, and to the grocery store. Every person he comes in contact with there has the potential to infect him, and then he has the potential to pass it along to me. He mitigates this by wearing a well-fitted respirator at all times.

My sister goes to work at a busy public place. She masks when public facing and takes it off in the back office. She goes to restaurants, bars, concerts, hangs out with friends and her own partner unmasked. About 75% of her interactions have the heightened potential to infect her, which she might then bring into my house when she visits me.

My friends do not mask anywhere except my house when asked. They attend concerts, shows, cons, bars.

Obviously, I am in control of whether I wear a mask around these people. And as we approach one million new cases a day, I will be around everyone but my husband. But science is clear: reciprocal masking is more effective at infection control than a single person masking — especially when that single person is trying to protect themselves, not others.

This is settled science. We’ve known this since 2020. It says clearly that the choice you make is not personal- it has implications for everyone you come in contact with.

And being clear — if I could, I’d make everyone wear a mask for their own health. I don’t want people suffering with what I have. But you’ve been told this lie that you can take your risks for yourself, so you feel comfortable going out without a mask. You’ve been told this lie that it’s possible to completely recover from a COVID infection, so you assume that even if you do catch it, that’s what’ll happen to you, despite evidence showing that every body is indelibly changed by an infection, and that risk only grows with each subsequent infection.

And the greatest lie of all — that only the sick or elderly have anything to fear from COVID — has given you unfounded confidence in your own “good” genes or immune system or fitness. You can get long COVID even if you’re in peak form — in fact, may even be more likely to be hit hard.

So you have decided, individually and collectively, that only the sick or elderly should have to take precautions, and you freewheel through life, only to get surprised and dismayed when you bump into COVID in the wild. It’s back, people declare every summer or winter, as though it ever left.

But I want you to really think about the implications of your choice. Besides yourself. Because let’s be honest here, that’s who you’ve been thinking about, right? Your risk. Your comfort. Never mind your bubble, never mind the bubble of everyone you come into contact with, never mind the people like me who are literally hiding from people like you.

You’re not masking at the doctor’s office. You’re not masking at the airport. You’re not masking at the giant superspreader you just attended, and you’re not masking in the bars and restaurants where we know the virus flourishes. And then you’re bringing that exposure back to your family and friends. Back to the grocery store, where you run across people like my husband, shopping for someone who is unsafe to leave the house, or your elderly neighbors, or an immunocompromised employee.

You’re a good person, or you like to think of yourself that way. That’s why when you’re asked to mask, you dismiss it out of hand — because that changed behavior implies that you’ve been doing something wrong.

And my friend, I’m telling this because I love you: you have been. You might have been doing that on faulty information, but be honest with yourself and with me — you’ve heard me begging people to take this seriously. You’ve seen the information I’ve been sharing. You have had the opportunity to seek out the correct information all along, and you have chosen not to.

It isn’t too late to change your view of the risk you’re imposing on the people around you. It’s not too late to push public health to become more effective. It’s not too late to act in solidarity and be the inclusive person you think you are. It’s not too late to take care of yourself.

Ultimately, that’s what I have been screaming myself hoarse about. I don’t want you to end up with what I have. I don’t want you to inadvertently impose that on someone else. And yes, I’ve been angry, because you’ve been advertising your absolute lack of concern with group shots of your naked faces on social media. It doesn’t seem to bother you that I am stuck at home like it’s 2020, except for doctors’ appointments that I literally have to risk my life to go to. You’ve told yourself that it’s not your problem, because only the sick and elderly have to take precautions.

You know better. You can do better. For your community, yourself, and me, do better.

Please. I love you.

Anna

PS. If you’re feeling upset and embarrassed right now, the best thing you can do is take action. Get yourself good masks (the surgicals and cloth ones don’t cut it anymore), donate to mask blocs so others can access good masks, write to your representatives and the President, comment on upcoming CDC guidance, schedule yourself a booster, and talk to your loved ones about doing better, too. The only way we get out of this is with community care. So care.

[galactic-magick]

The Handsome Assistant: Viktor x Reader

Summary: You keep running into the handsome Dean's assistant, whom you find you have a lot in common with. You develop quite the crush, and things get a little messy when your friends find out about him.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: some implied suggestive stuff, alcohol use

Author's Notes: Set before Season 1 Act 1. Just a warning, this is probably the most heavily self-indulgent of my Viktor fics so far. I’ve had ideas bouncing around my head for a long time about who I’d be if I lived in the Arcane universe, and I eventually just ended up taking inspiration from what I do in real life. So basically Reader works in human services and is similar to a social worker. I tried my best to write it in a way that makes sense even if you’re not familiar with that field.

Also, the roommate/friend characters are based on my besties irl, one of which is also my beloved tumblr mutual @ohboi , who has been dealing with my nonstop Viktor obsession for a long ass time now so shout-out to them lol. I wrote you living your dream in this fic as a way to apologize <3

-

It’s exhausting dealing with the powers of topside. There’s no sense of urgency here, no drive for real progress. You’ve attended meeting after meeting, maintaining composure every time they tell you your mission isn’t a priority, or that it will take decades to implement.

All you want is to help the struggling children in the Undercity. It’s what you’ve dedicated your life to, studying human services and psychology at the Academy and building your own grassroots group with a few others from your graduating class. You primarily advocate for better education, as the schools down there barely get any funding. The council doesn’t want to hear it, though, as it’s much easier to forget about the citizens below their feet.

It frustrates you beyond belief, especially since the first chunk of your life was spent in the Undercity. You lived the stark contrast between the two cities yourself, being granted countless more opportunities once your family moved to Piltover. It was sickening, and you felt so guilty with your new privileges when your friends back home still had none. But without those privileges, you wouldn’t have been able to attend the Academy and give back.

You resist the strong urge to scream after another failed proposal with the council. You prepared all of your points for weeks, fact-checking everything and making sure your ideas were plausible. The budget and statistics you wrote out projected exponential progress for both cities, as focusing on the new generation of Zaunites would encourage the next great minds and likely lead to collaboration on mutual issues. But of course, the council is not ready to contemplate such a future.

There was one factor that wasn’t usually there, though, a handsome young man sitting beside Professor Heimerdinger. He was furiously taking notes the entire meeting, looking back down at his journal anytime you made eye contact with him. Out of all the councilors, Heimerdinger seemed the most open to your ideas, but without a majority agreeing to cast a vote to actually change policy, nothing would happen.

You walk back down the long hallway, noticing someone in your peripheral vision.

“I’m sorry the council remains so stuck in their ways,” he says. “Trust me, I understand how hard it is to hold back your anger towards them.”

You turn your head, seeing the young man from earlier, “Who are you?”

“Viktor. I’m assistant to the Dean of the Academy,” he replies, leaning on a cane. “I quite liked your ideas. I think they could work.”

“I know they would work.”

You sigh, quickly realizing you’re projecting your feelings onto this stranger.

“Sorry,” you correct yourself. “I just don’t understand how they can just not care about the suffering down there. I’m from the Undercity, I’ve seen what’s happening there firsthand, and it’s only getting worse.”

Viktor’s eyes widen a bit, “I’m from the Undercity, too.”

“You’re from the Undercity and you’re the personal assistant to Heimerdinger?” you question, a bit shocked at the prospect.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, but yes.”

“What do you mean, not a big deal? I’ve never even met anyone else from the Undercity who got into the Academy.”

“I suppose we are a rare breed,” he says. “I imagine I never saw you there due to our differences in studies.”

“Most likely,” you shrug. “None of my classes were in the science halls, assuming that’s where you were.”

He smirks, “What makes you assume I studied science?”

“You just have that look about you.”

He laughs, “Well, you’re right. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised someone well-versed in analyzing humanity read me so quickly.”

“Don’t worry, you’re still mostly a mystery to me. I can’t read minds or anything,” you flash him a genuine smile.

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“I need to get back to my lab, but I do hope we cross paths again. I’ll certainly discuss your proposals more with Heimerdinger as well.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

He leaves in the opposite direction, his cane tapping the floor.

What an interesting twist of fate, meeting someone like you.

-

The second time you run into Viktor is at an Academy party a couple months later, something you both likely would’ve skipped if you could. It’s somewhat a recruiting event for new students, and several alumni were asked to represent their fields of study. It’s not that you mind talking with prospective students, but you know you’ll have to hold back a lot of your true opinions when doing so. If you go off about how the curriculum doesn’t cover enough about the issues in the Undercity, you’ll surely get a reprimand from your former professors. You could lose several connections and investors in your organization as well, something you’re not willing to risk. Instead, you keep a smile on your face, engaging in conversation politely and answering questions.

You notice Viktor sitting at one of the far tables, his eyes darting around the room. He has several contraptions set up, and occasionally people come up to ask him about them. He lights up when he speaks, his face making the cutest expressions.

You notice yourself staring, quickly turning your head towards something else.

That sconce on the wall looks nice, doesn’t it?

As the event slows down and the crowd shuffles out, you pack up your things and head to the door, glancing back at Viktor’s table for a moment. He’s looking right back at you, and your heels swivel promptly to go see him.

“Hey,” you say, shooting him a smile. “Nice to see you again.”

Shit, was he this handsome the first time you met him?

“You as well,” he nods, gathering up his own things scattered in front of him. “Did you find anyone to join your program?”

“A few, yeah. You?”

“Several. More than I expected.”

He huffs, soon realizing all of his tech and science displays were not going to fit in the one cart that was left.

“I can help you carry your stuff, the science wing isn’t that far from here, right?” you offer, shifting your things under one arm and grabbing some of his things with the other.

“You don’t have to do that,” he protests, but you’re already propping open the door and gesturing him to come along with a head tilt.

“I really don’t mind. Come on.”

You help him put things away in the different classrooms and offices, careful not to break anything. You’ve never been in this side of the school before, and it’s set up quite differently than the usual classrooms you were in. There’s much more going on than a usual lecture hall, tools and chemicals you don’t dare touch lining the perimeter. Viktor thanks you for your assistance as you finish getting everything in place, and you once again prepare to go your separate ways.

“Wait—” he says before you leave, pulling out his journal and flipping through it. “I wrote down a lot more notes that might be helpful for your project, I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

He hands over the open page for you to read, and your jaw drops. It’s so detailed, every proposal you had broken down to its smallest pieces. He even laid out the budget and resource use and everything it would take to not only build and fund better schools in the Undercity, but also work on housing and overall infrastructure. He even has some theories scribbled on how to keep the air cleaner and fix problems with the fissures.

You can’t believe he’s been thinking about you and everything you said for all this time since you last met.

“Viktor, this is amazing.”

“I know it still may not convince the entire council, but I found your ideas quite inspiring. I hope my calculations can be informative.”

“They certainly are,” your fingers hover over the written words and numbers. “Thank you, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he grins. “I look forward to seeing what you accomplish.”

-

You find yourself running into him a lot more often after that, “accidentally” walking by each other’s offices at least once a week and talking long beyond what you probably should while working. Your soul feels so in tune with his, a phenomenon that surely shouldn’t be happening with someone you haven’t known very long.

Your conversations quickly progress to topics non-work related, his curiosity blooming with every little thing you share with him. Most days after work you simply can’t stop talking to each other, causing you to get home later and later until your roommates start to get nosy.

“I really have to go, Viktor,” you laugh, glancing at the clock that reads three whole hours past the end of your shift. You’ve been chatting about embarrassing Academy stories, reminiscing on both the stark similarities and differences between your experiences.

His eyebrows raise. “Shit, is it really that late?”

“Yeah,” you grab your bag with a sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

-

“You already work too much overtime as it is! What’s so important that you have to stay late every single day?” one of your roommates, Eli, probes, clearly unsatisfied with the half-truth answers you’ve given so far. You don’t really want to tell the full truth just yet, that you’ve been talking with the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, and you don’t experience the passage of time whatsoever when you’re around him. That would sound ridiculous, especially since absolutely nothing will ever come of it. He’s a wonderful colleague, but you’d be foolish to ever expect anything more.

“There’s just a lot to do,” you finally say.

“You need a break, that’s what you need to do,” they emphasize. “How about we go down to The Last Drop tomorrow night? It’s been a while since we’ve seen our friends down there.”

You nod, “Alright, I’ll try not to stay late tomorrow.”

“You better not.”

They glare at you jokingly, and you let out a laugh and exhale of relief.

-

You finish up your notes for the day, whipping your head back and forth to check if the coast is clear. You know yourself and your own weakness—you certainly won’t get out of here on time if you run into Viktor for even a second.

But of course, like clockwork, his familiar tap on your leg with his cane greets you moments later, your heart fluttering to a discomposing degree. Him coming to see you is a routine now, and despite your promise to your friends you are aching to talk to him. You haven’t had a proper night out in months, why is it so hard to just leave?

If any of your racing thoughts are visible on your features, Viktor certainly picked up on them.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just...long day,” you reply. “But my roommates are taking me out tonight, maybe that will wake me back up.”

“I won’t keep you long, then—”

He’s cut off by Eli calling your name, jaw dropped as they come towards you down the hallway.

“I knew there was something you weren’t telling me!” they chuckle in disbelief. “Working late my ass.”

“I was literally on my way home!”

“I just wanted to come check!”

Your face grows hot. It isn’t abnormal for your roommates to visit you at your job every so often, bringing you important documents you forgot at home or bringing you a treat on your birthday, but under the current circumstances you’re a bit mortified.

They reach out their hand, “I’m Eli, Y/N’s roommate. Who do you think you are?”

“Viktor.” he shakes it, surprisingly not appearing phased by their directness.

“Interesting,” they look him up and down, then turn to you. “So, he’s coming with us, right?”

“Oh, um...I didn’t ask—“

Viktor can’t help but smile at your flustered face.

“If I’m invited, I wouldn’t mind joining.”

-

“I can’t believe you.”

Mumbling under your breath, you enter The Last Drop. Viktor told you he’d meet you there in about an hour, which thankfully gives you some time for some drinks to numb your nerves.

“Look, I honestly don’t know why you didn’t just tell us about him. He seems like a good one.”

“It’s not like that,” you correct them. “He’s not into me like that. We just work on some projects together, that’s all.”

You order a drink from Vander at the bar, gulping it down a little too quickly.

“That kinda night, eh?” he laughs, pouring you another one before you have to ask.

“Yeah.”

You have a few more drinks and shots with your roommates and old Undercity friends, your mind and body entering such a daze that you almost forget Viktor is meeting you there later. You play games together and get teased about some of your adopted topside ways, and you even get back at Eli by pushing them to talk to Sevika, who they ogle at quite literally every time you come to this bar with them. It’s the kind of night where you can be free and careless, temporarily leaving your problems behind in favor of bad decisions.

You have to do a double take when you finally see Viktor arrive. He’s changed out of his Academy uniform, now dressed much more casually and much more like a Zaunite.

“It seems I’m a little late to the fun,” he observes.

“We’re just starting!” you beam, the drunk giggles taking over you.

“How many have you had?”

“I don’t know, like 7 or 8 maybe,” you shrug.

He lifts his cane against you and steers you away from the bar, shaking his head, “I think you’re done for tonight.”

“Fine,” you roll your eyes. “But not because you told me to, because I don’t want to throw up.”

He stays close to you while you stumble back to your friends’ table, chuckling at the slurred introductions you give him. They all accept him into their games and conversations instantly, and you quickly find out Viktor can handle his liquor a lot better than you. He puts all of them to shame, and they love finally having decent competition.

Your friends all whisper their approval to you throughout the night, even though you’ve repeatedly reminded them that nothing is going on. Although, you’re not really helping your case by zoning out every few minutes on his face.

“You have pretty eyes,” you say, staring until you realize what you just said out loud.

“That’s very kind,” he responds hesitantly. “But I’m sure your vision is a bit...tainted.”

“Alcohol doesn’t change color perception, dumbass.” you retort. “Besides, I’m sobering up a little.”

“Well then,” he smiles. “Thank you.”

You sigh, taking a sip of some water and glancing around the room. The bar is close to closing, and most of your friends have left.

“Have you seen Eli recently? I haven’t seen them in a while.”

He snickers, “You didn’t see them go in the back with Sevika?”

“They what?” you jump out of your seat. “Oh they’d better tell me everything.”

“I’m sure they will,” he laughs. “Do you need someone to walk you home, then?”

“Probably. Who knows how long they’ll be.”

-

The buzz has worn off quite a bit now, so thankfully you’re not tripping all over nothing and further embarrassing yourself. Viktor’s beautiful glow in the moonlight is more than enough to accomplish that, your gazes prolonging far longer than they should.

“Thank you for coming tonight, it was fun,” you say, fumbling for your apartment key in your pocket. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, though.”

“Don’t apologize. It was very amusing.”

“Good.” you exhale. “Just ignore anything weird I said, okay?”

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” he smirks. “Now get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

Sleep is certainly what you get, and the next morning before work is full of a head-pounding hangover and chaotic conversation. Your roommates Eli and Chanthou can’t stop laughing about everything that happened, and naturally you’re very nosy about the Sevika situation. Eli tells you every little detail of course, giddy and in disbelief that they managed to make-out with her all night.

“So? Are you guys going to get together again?” you ask on the edge of your seat.

“I hope so.”

“Looks like you both got what you wanted last night,” Chanthou adds.

“Guys, he just walked me home. That’s all.” You’re getting a little annoyed with the constant reminders that your little crush is not, in fact, reciprocated.

“You...don’t remember?” she looks at Eli, then cocks her head at you. “About halfway through the night you were all over him. We just assumed you guys finally confessed.”

You didn’t think you drank enough to blackout, but you definitely don’t remember whatever they’re talking about. Besides, if you really were doing that, why didn’t Viktor say something once you were sobered up?

And what, now you have to see him in the office today, having no idea what you said to him?

“Oh, fuck, guys. What exactly did I do?”

“I don’t know what happened after I went back with Sevika, but before I left you were sitting on his lap on the couch and playing with his hair—”

“WHAT?”

“Wow, you really don’t remember, do you?”

You groan, wishing you didn’t have to go in today. You have a couple important meetings though, so you’ll have to power through. You take some painkillers and grab your things, praying for the first time that you can get through the day without seeing Viktor.

-

Your headache refuses to lessen its throbbing for your entire shift, making the work you usually enjoy completely miserable. You snap at one too many co-workers and find yourself staring at the clock desperately. Why did you agree to drinking on a weeknight again?

Just as you dreaded, you run into Viktor outside, too obviously waiting for you to pretend to ignore him.

“Hey…” you avoid looking into his eyes. “How come you didn’t say anything about what really happened last night?”

“I...wasn’t sure you’d remember,” he confesses. “I suspected you blacked out when you said you didn’t remember seeing Eli leave. And I wasn’t sure you meant what you said anyway.”

“Please, Viktor. Just tell me what I said. All my roommates told me was I couldn’t stop touching you, which I am so sorry about—“

“N-No, don’t be. Everything was consensual, I assure you.” his face flushes. “You just told me you have feelings for me, that’s all. I was going to tell you last night too if you hadn’t said it first.”

Your eyes widen at his words, your heart threatening to leave your chest.

“But it seems you don’t remember, so I can still count this as making the first move, hmm?”

Shivers race down your spine as Viktor leans in, his fingertips grazing your cheek. His lips meet yours softly, your eyes fluttering shut as he presses deeper. His hand remains holding your face when he pulls away, scanning your expression for your reaction.

“I guess the feeling is mutual,” you chuckle, still a bit breathless.

“Quite so, darling.”

-

More Author's Notes: I have a bad habit of getting drunk around guys I like irl bc I literally can’t handle being around hot people sober so that's the inspiration for that situation lol. Also, a part 2 to this is already in the works, it'll be set during Act 1 and probably parts between 1 and 2.

[heartmix]

Dear Santa - LH44

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x driver!reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warning: use of the word hell

Twelve Fics of Christmas - Wish List

A/N: today was the last race :(

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

The Red Bull social media team was certainly an interesting group of people. The amount of content they pumped out of you and Max was comical. Sometimes, a mindless video they made did numbers on TikTok. They somehow convinced Max to do whatever silly video they had planned. You, on the other hand, didn't mind the media aspect of the job. It was why you and Max sat in hospitality with Christmas-themed paper and red pens in front of you. 

"Are we writing letters to Santa?" Max asked eyeing out the team behind the camera. 

"Yup! Try to be honest with this one."

"I think we're the wrong demographic for this." You laughed, eyeing the candy cane border of the paper, as Max laughed beside you instantly picking up on what you were hinting at. 

"This isn't only for kids." a media personnel said.

"I wasn't talking in that sense." You smirked making Max bark out another laugh. "We cannot keep that in."

"Humor us, please." At that, you shrugged your shoulders, thinking, "Why not?" It was just a silly little video, and maybe it would keep the Santa mystery alive for kids who watched it. 

"I don't even know where to start." You really did try to think of things you wanted from 'Santa'. Could Santa gift you a Cartier Love Bracelet or a new car that you could drive and win every Sunday? 

Turning to Max you saw that he already started writing some stuff down. Why not write down some things you've been eyeing out on getting, not like it was going to get gifted to you. After about 10 minutes the team wrapped up the video saying it would do numbers when they released it during the off-season for Christmas. 

"Do I give this to you guys or?" You asked referring to the 'letter to Santa.'

"No you guys can take it." They said before bidding you a farewell. 

Since you had no pockets and there were no trash cans around you needed to carry it around for the majority of the day or until there was a trashcan. Throughout the day the letter went everywhere, meetings, data analysis, and more media content. Honestly, you forgot what the piece of paper was. Somewhere throughout the day, it was forgotten somewhere amidst all the chaos. Not that it was memorable in the slightest. 

The piece of paper was found in one of the outdoor catering areas. Lewis was looking for an open table to sit at and when he found one he found your list. At first, he was confused at the kiddy-looking paper, but upon closer examination, he saw that it belonged to you. It must have been for a video because why else would you be writing a wish list? To Santa no less. 

The more he read it, he couldn't help but feel a weird desire brewing inside him. The urge to buy all of the things on your list. Sure you could buy all of this for yourself and probably only wrote these things for whatever video they had you do, but he couldn't help but feel like you actually wanted these things and you were just too humble to get it for yourself. Why not gift them, after all, you deserved it for one hell of a season and just because of the warmth you brought to the paddock. 

When the week of Christmas rolled around you started cleaning your whole apartment to be ready for when your folks came. In the middle of it all the front desk rang you saying there were a plethora of packages waiting for you. To your knowledge, you didn't order anything and no one said they were bringing anything. 

"All of this is for you." The doorman gestured to the pill of bags on the trolly. What the actual hell was all of this?

"Umm, thanks." You said with a confused smile while you trailed it up the elevator.

When you got into your apartment, you recognized what all the bags were. They were all things from your wish list. This had to be some joke. Sure you revealed the list on the video, but there were a selected few who knew where you lived. No way Red Bull would get all of this, they weren't that nice. One by one you pulled the gifts out of the bag, part of you was curious but you honestly just wanted to find out if there was any clue as to who sent them. 

When you got down to the last bag it was a small box, still no sign of a card or hint. Opening the box it was a pair of keys, but not any keys, it was a set of Ferrari keys. There was absolutely no way someone gifted you the most expensive item on that list. This had to be someone who saw the list because they didn't allow you to say it in the video. A note was also in the box, your first clue as to who caused all of this. 

'Merry Christmas, come see your car' - L

L? Who the hell was L? Was L referring to a first or last name? It did not help with narrowing down people, there were plenty of people you knew who had L as their first or last name. Suddenly it clicked, 'come see your car'. There had to be someone waiting, the same someone who brought all these gifts. Quickly you rushed down, not forgetting the keys. Whoever the hell this person is was in for it. 

Rushing out of your apartment complex you looked around the streets for any sign of a Ferrari car. Unfortunately, this was Monaco so you'd have to go search for your specific car. It didn't take you long to find, with one click of the button of your car keys you heard the car at the end of the street. Rushing over you stopped in your tracks, not because of the beauty of the red car, but because of who was leaning against it. 

"Lewis?"

"Took longer than I expected." He said with a smirk sliding off the side of the car to come face to face with you. He took in your shocked expression and loved every second of it.

Still in disbelief and in the middle of processing everything you couldn't help but blurt out, "You're L?"

"Who else did you think it was?"

At that, there was no holding back anymore, "What are you doing? Are you crazy? Did you really get me every single thing on that list?" 

"It's just a little Christmas present." He shrugged like it was no big deal. It probably didn't even dent his bank account but the gesture was still extravagant. You wouldn't be surprised if Ferrari gave him the car for free. 

"How did you know I wanted a Ferrari? They didn't put that in the video?"

"Who said I did this because of the video?" Now you were back to being confused. If he didn't watch the video how did he know you wanted all of this? It was only then he held up a familiar piece of paper. No way.

"You found my list?"

"It's cute. I thought it was a fan's, but your name was signed at the bottom." He opened the folded paper to show that you indeed sign your name at the bottom of the heart. That part was forgotten about.

"It was just for a silly video."

"So you're telling me you don't like anything you got?" He challenged you, almost daring you to deny you didn't want it. He's been seeing the way you've been eyeing the car every few seconds. 

Letting out a sigh and a pout you confessed, "No no, I love everything, but Lewis you didn't have to do this."

"Well, I wanted to. You deserve all of this and I know you wouldn't get it for yourself. Too humble of a person." 

"I don't even know what to say, I mean I didn't get you anything. How can I ever repay you?"

"Well, there is one thing on my wish list." He hummed out. You were way too distracted to find out how to pay him back you didn't notice the grin that graced his lips. 

"What do you want? I swear I'll get it for you." At this point no matter how expensive or outlandish it was, he was getting his gift. 

"A date."

"A date?" 

"Yeah, with you." He couldn't be serious. Sure you both were great friends and he welcomed you with open arms when you started in F1, but there was no way you saw this coming. You didn't even think he looked at you in that sense. There was no denying that you weren't attracted to him, I mean he was THE Lewis Hamilton. 

"Are you serious?"

"You said you'd get me the last thing on my list and that's a date with you." Seeing as you weren't pulling away and there was a hint of amusement in your eyes he stepped forward taking your hand in his.

"Did you do all of this just to get a date out of me?" 

"Maybe." Now it was your turn to have a grin on your face. He's stupidly ridiculous but that's what's great about him. How could you turn him down?

"Well, how can I say no? I mean it's a fair trade." you hummed with a smile. He couldn't help the huge smile coming from his lips at the agreement. 

"Exactly. So why don't we take the car for a spin and call it our first."

[aspenmissing]

ᴄᴀɴᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴛ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ? || 1245 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ? (ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜱᴜʀᴇ), ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʜɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ?

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɪɴ ᴘɪʟᴛᴏᴠᴇʀ’ꜱ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴏᴛɪᴄ ʟᴀʙ, ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ ᴇɴꜰᴏʀᴄᴇꜱ ʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ᴄᴀɴᴇ, ᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴɪɴɢ ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʏ/ɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴠᴏɪᴅ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀ ᴛɪᴋᴛᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ꜱᴇᴇɴ, ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ꜰɪɴᴅ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ!

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ

The laboratory had seen countless innovations over the years, but none were as infamous—or as feared—as Viktor’s cane. What had started as an innocuous habit of independence had turned into a Pavlovian nightmare for Jayce and Y/N.

Jayce was the first to bear witness to Viktor's infamous cane. It happened on a seemingly ordinary day while the two were deep in brainstorming. Viktor, perched on his chair, shifted slightly as a schematic slipped from the workbench and fluttered to the floor.

Without thinking, Jayce, the ever helpful and sweet man, sprang up. “Here, let me—”

CLANK.

Jayce yelped as the cane met his shin with surprising precision. “Ow!" Jayce quickly holds his shin, rubbing it with a pout. "What was that for?”

“I do not require assistance,” Viktor said, his tone almost bored. “If I did, you would know.”

Jayce stared at him, eyes wide with a mix of confusion and indignation, as Viktor calmly picked up the schematic. “Was it really necessary to hit me that hard?”

“Quite,” Viktor replied. “You will learn.”

Months later, Y/N experienced her own initiation. Viktor was leaning against his workbench, examining a particularly intricate piece of tech when he started to wobble slightly.

Instinct kicked in. Y/N, the sweet woman she too is, darted forward, hands outstretched to steady him. “Careful, Vik—”

WHACK.

The cane struck her ankle with unerring accuracy. Y/N let out a strangled “Ow!” before hopping back. “What the hell was that for?”

Viktor straightened himself, not even sparing her a glance. “If I needed you to catch me, you’d know. I prefer to remain upright of my own accord.”

Y/N glared at him, massaging her ankle. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible, but standing,” he quipped, not missing a beat.

Jayce, ever the optimist, hadn’t yet fully learned his lesson. On a quiet morning, Viktor was engrossed in adjusting the settings of a prototype. The delicate tool he was using slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor.

Jayce, predictably, reacted first. “Let me get that for you—”

THWACK.

“Damn it, Viktor!” Jayce exclaimed, clutching his shin.

“I told you once already,” Viktor said without looking up, “and yet you persist. Perhaps repetition will drive the point home.”

It had been nearly a year since her first encounter with Viktor’s cane, but Y/N wasn’t one to let things slide. When Viktor staggered slightly during a late-night experiment, she moved to his side.

“Viktor, I can—”

SMACK.

Y/N cursed loudly, hopping away. She looks over to see Viktor drawing a line in his journal, besides her name. “Are you keeping a tally or something?!”

“Merely ensuring consistency,” Viktor replied, deadpan as he looks down at his journal.

Y/N: II Jayce: IIII IIII I

Over the years, Jayce and Y/N had been thoroughly conditioned by Viktor’s Cane of Discipline. At this point, Viktor only needed to lift the cane slightly, and both would flinch instinctively, muttering curses under their breaths. It became an unspoken rule between them:

Do not help Viktor unless explicitly asked.

Viktor soon realized just how well they adhered to this rule. Too well, in fact. The two would often grab at each other, a frantic race to stop the other from succumbing to old habits, both knowing the inevitable pain that would follow if they failed.

Y/N, for her part, learned quicker than Jayce. Her last attempt to help Viktor had been particularly memorable. She’d darted forward to steady him during a stumble, her reflexes swift enough to dodge the first swipe of the cane.

“Ha!” she’d crowed, turning to flash Jayce a triumphant smirk.

Her victory was short-lived. SMACK.

The cane struck squarely across her two precious cheeks, the sharp CRACK echoing through the lab. Y/N’s triumphant grin vanished in an instant, falling to her knees as her hands go straight to holding the two victims of the brutal attack. Beside her, Jayce let out an audible gasp of pain, wincing as though he had felt the blow himself. Meanwhile, Viktor straightened with deliberate calm, a smug arch lifting his brow as he tapped his cane lightly against the floor.

“Hubris,” he’d remarked calmly, tapping the cane on the floor for emphasis. "Always someone's downfall."

Y/N had to sleep on her stomach that night, grumbling into her pillow while Jayce dutifully rubbed soothing oil into her bruises, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

Recently, however, Viktor had begun taking his little “experiment” beyond the confines of the lab. His public “jokes” were a new form of torment, designed to test just how thoroughly he had conditioned his partners.

The trio decided to grab lunch at the bustling market square. The fresh air and lively chatter were a welcome change from the lab’s stifling atmosphere—or at least, that’s what Jayce told himself while limping slightly.

Viktor, walking slightly ahead, deliberately dropped his gloves.

“Oh, no,” Viktor said, feigning concern. “It seems I’ve dropped something.” He began bending down at an exaggeratedly slow pace.

Jayce and Y/N froze. They exchanged a quick, panicked look like two deer in headlights. On instinct, Y/N took half a step forward before remembering the last time she’d tried to help him. Her ankle still ached from that day. She quickly stepped back.

“Don’t worry,” Viktor said loudly, drawing the attention of passersby. “I can handle it myself.”

A passing couple stopped to watch, their judgmental eyes flicking between the struggling Viktor and his unmoving companions.

“What’s wrong with them?” one whispered loudly. “He clearly needs help!”

Jayce flushed crimson. “It’s not—we’re not—” He stammered, desperate to explain, but the words tangled in his throat.

Y/N crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of—he’s fine. Trust me.”

Viktor straightened slowly, gloves in hand, his face the picture of innocent triumph. “Thank you for your concern,” he said, addressing the bystanders with mock gratitude. “It’s so rare to see kindness these days.”

The couple shot Jayce and Y/N a final disapproving glare before walking away, muttering under their breath.

Jayce groaned. “You know, Viktor, one of these days, someone’s going to call the Enforcers on us because they think we’re mistreating you.”

“And whose fault would that be?” Viktor replied with a sly grin. “If you two didn’t look so guilty.”

“I’m not guilty!” Jayce protested, voice cracking slightly.

Y/N rolled her eyes, nudging him in the ribs. “Keep it up, and you’re going to end up with a cane-shaped bruise on your ass trying to defend our honour.”

By the time they got back to the lab, Jayce’s nerves were thoroughly fried. He flopped onto a chair with a dramatic sigh, rubbing his face while Viktor calmly adjusted his cane, the very picture of composure.

“I don’t get why you do this,” Jayce grumbled, his voice muffled through his hands.

Viktor shrugged, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “A bit of humor keeps life interesting, no?”

Y/N crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “You know, one of these days, I’m going to steal that cane while you’re napping.”

“Ah,” Viktor said, the smirk growing into a wicked grin. “Then I’d simply build a new one. With enhancements. Perhaps a shock mechanism for particularly unhelpful partners.”

Jayce sat bolt upright, his face paling. “You wouldn’t.”

Viktor’s expression turned deadly serious as he leaned on the cane for emphasis. “Try me.”

Jayce turned to Y/N with pleading eyes. “Please, for the love of everything holy, don’t take his cane.”

Y/N shook her head, muttering under her breath, “Coward.”

The three of them stood there in a silent standoff, tension thickened by a mixture of mutual exasperation and the unspoken bond of affection.

It was just another perfectly chaotic day in Piltover’s most dysfunctional genius trio.

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

Heels ~ Viktor x Reader

Pronouns for reader: She/Her

Relationship type: Platonic, romantic feelings, slight enemies to lovers if you unfocus your eyes a bit

General Idea: Viktor used to hate the sound of those damn boots of hers, but now he's grown to find an odd sense of comfort in the noise. Along with... a series of other feelings.

Content Warnings: Fluff, swearing, Viktor being sassy, s1 Viktor, Takes place between S1E3~E4, Viktor's kinda down bad but in a denial way, Viktor also isn't good at realizing he has feelings for the reader, Jayce needs a 32hr nap

A/N: My Viktor headcanons got a LOT more love than I thought they would... so I decided to write some more Viktor XD

(Nobody's POV, but it's mostly told. through Viktor's thoughts)

~☆~

The lab was pretty much silent. The only sounds heard were the sounds of Viktor tinkering with a Hextech device and the occasional flipping of pages as (Y/N) read some notes that Jayce had written. It was late, definetly past midnight as the two worked.

"(Y/N)," Viktor says, breaking the silence. The girl's head pops up at the sound of her name. "Come here for a second? I need a second pair of hands."

"Be right there." She says, finishing the page she was on. She stands up and walks towards him, the sound of her boots hitting the tile as she walks.

Clack

Click

Clack

Viktor used to hate the sound of her boots. "Those damn boots are so annoying," He had complained to Jayce during the first week of (Y/N) working as a part-time assistant. "Click clack click clack, drives me insane!" He had mocked before sighing.

"Viktor... don't both your boots AND your cane make that noise as well?"Jayce had responded, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smile. This made Viktor at a loss for words.

"Well... It's annoying when she does it!" He had sassed back in response, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

That was 3 years ago. Now, he found a weird sense of comfort in hearing the sound of her boots hit the floor. He couldn't explain why, enjoyment of familiarity maybe?

"What's up?" (Y/N) says, standing behind Viktor. The smell of her perfume was almost overwhelming to him, overloading his senses. Which was weird, seeings as it must've been almost 13 hours since she'd last applied perfume. And that doesn't last long... was he delusional? Or maybe just tired? Whatever. It doesn't matter.

"Yeah, I just need you to hold this in place." Viktor says, not even looking up from what he's doing. He gestures to a little piece of metal he's holding. (Y/N) leans over Viktor and holds the piece in place as requested. The scientist trys his best to ignore the feeling of her closeness and the racing of his heart... holy crap was it warm in here? It must've been. Although it seemed strange to him that it was magically warm in here all of a sudden. This spirals him into a memory, a memory that took place a little less than a week prior to now.

Viktor sat at his desk, for once not to work on Hextech, but to run his hands through his hair and stay deep in thought.

"Viktor?" Jayce asked. "Are you OK? You haven't been as focused as you normally are today. Did something happen?"

"I think... I think there's something genuinely wrong with me." Viktor says. "Like... maybe I'm coming down with something?? I don't know." Viktor stands up, leaning on his cane slightly for support.

"Oh?" Jayce asks, raising an eyebrow. "Could you, uh, possibly elaborate on that?"

"Well, for one everytime Ms.(L/N) comes near me I about have a damn heart attack." Viktor says, his cane clacking softly on the floor as he paces. "Like yesterday, perfect example. She accidently brushed my hand when she was passing me a paper and I actually thought I was dying."

Jayce suppresses a smile, trying not to laugh. Was Viktor really getting THIS worked up... over a little crush? "Oh?" Jayce says, still suppressing a smile. "Is that it?"

"Whenever she's near me, I swear to the gods that I become hyperaware of... like... everything." Viktor says. "Like the room feels warmer, her perfume or her shampoo is ALL I can smell, I'm almost convinced I know every single speckle of color in her eyes... I think I might actually be going crazy." Viktor says, stopping his pacing. "I'm positive. I've actually hit the breaking point and am decending into insanity."

Jayce now can't help but laugh. Maybe it was his lack of sleep from working on Hextech for days on end, maybe it was the seriousness in Viktor's voice about his "decent to madness." Jayce's laughter came out as almost wheezes due to how hard he was laughing.

Viktor throws his hands up in exasperatedness. "Jayce!" Viktor scolds. "This ISN'T funny! There's-"

This just makes Jayce laugh more and more. "Yes it is, Viktor." Jayce manages to say through wheezes. He's holding onto the desk for support as he laughs. It gets to the point where passersby become mildly concerned for the scientist's wellbeing. "I assure you you're not decending to madness."

"Then what the hell is going on????" Viktor exclaims, collapsing into his chair.

"Relax you just have a little crush, it's fine." Jayce says, wiping the tears of laughter away as he tries to steady his breathing.

"Viktor?" The sound of his name snaps him out of the memory. "You good? I think I said your name like five times." (Y/N) says with a chuckle. Viktor shakes his head slightly.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine." Viktor says, continuing what he was doing. He tried to ignore the slight shake in his hands, the side of his own hand pressed against Ms. (L/N)'s own hand. When he's done. He about throws the screwdriver down. "Thank you for your assistance." Viktor says, the weight off his shoulders earning a little sigh of relief.

"Was that all you needed?" (Y/N) asks.

"I'm pretty sure, yeah." Viktor says. (Y/N) hums in response, walking over to her desk. Click, clack, click, clack. Her boots echo in the room. She grabs her coat and walks towards Viktor again.

"I'm gonna head out then." She says. Click, clack, click, clack. The sound of her boots ring in Viktor's head, a haunting sound that he didn't actually mind having on replay in his brain. "You should too soon." She says, her voice kind and soft.

Viktor's stomach feels like it's about to leap out of his body. Even though it was scientifically impossible, he couldn't help but worry about it. "I will soon." He says, the softness in his voice actually shocking him. Normally he'd just lie out his teeth and sleep in the lab, or not sleep at all. However, when he said that he would... he truly meant it. His eyes move away from the project and to (Y/N). "I'm just gonna finish this little bit up."

(Y/N) smiles, it's tired and small, but it's still a smile nonetheless. Seeing her smile along made the corners of his lips feel like they were moving on their own. He suppresses a smile the best he can, but it still shows on his face. "Goodnight, Viktor." She says, her voice still soft. She didn't speak full volume, and that for some reason made Viktor's heart rate skyrocket.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)." He says, the same tone and volume as (Y/N). She turns and walks out of the room. Click, clack, click, clack. He listens to the sound of her shoes until they completely fade out.

"Relax you just have a little crush, it's fine."

Viktor didn't have a crush on (Y/N)... did he?

~☆~

For more fics: my masterlist

Feel free to request fics!!!

~Squeed

[badly-drawn-doflamingo]

Brook’s Past, Military and Everything Between [ An Essay kinda ]

Brook’s past is not a thing many people seem to mention or think about, at least in full, however it’s something that's plagued me. Not only as a Brook fan, but simply out of the odd implications it has towards the future, if any. Oda’s planted too many seeds for it to utterly be nothing; there’s so much odd and seemingly out of place comments and facts stated by Brook and others towards this missing history. However, knowing that the show is beginning to near it’s end, due to time, I am unsure of what exactly will be done.

I believe however, for folks' interest and so we can have everything in one place, that compiling everything found so far can be beneficial, so, I have.

Starting with what we know for sure, Brook is from the West Blue, born 90 years ago to a certain kingdom, the same kingdom he was a military convoy leader from. We know this due to a few factors, however it’s still open to debate if it *is* the same kingdom, however seeing as he was shown as a child to already know what fencing is, practicing moves with his bow, I am just going to say he probably was. In any case, other things worth noting, on the topic of childhood, is that Brook seems to have had money. At least, stability.

Compared to a lot of the other strawhats, Brook is shown dressing very nice. No tatters, no tears, shined shoes and a full violin and bow. He also, as already stated, seemed to be exposed to fencing enough to mirror the moves. If this comes from his kingdom, it means he was exposed to it at a young age. Knowing that he was a military convoy leader, this could be taken that perhaps there were military demonstrations, perhaps the kid saw castle guard or other displays; it’s really up in the air.

We know Brook, again as stated before, became a military convoy leader. Now, the definition of what exactly that means can differ.

Wikipedia states; A convoy is a group of vehicles, typically motor vehicles or ships, traveling together for mutual support and protection. Often, a convoy is organized with armed defensive support and can help maintain cohesion within a unit. It may also be used in a non-military sense, for example when driving through remote areas.

This could mean Brook’s job could’ve been accompanying ships for protection, being a knight for his King, mediating information and goods that come in and out of the kingdom. This would make sense on why his speed was needed, a 9.2 ft man being a great choice for a leader.

His weapon also would make sense for this kind of mission, perhaps secrecy being important or at least the ability to be discreet. His cane sword, a ‘Shikomizue’, is not unique however to just him in the show, one other man using one that has been confirmed so far, that being Fujitora. The pair also share a sea, the west, and both utilize iaijutsu (quick draw techniques.) Fujitora blinded himself with said sword because of something apparently so cruel and inhumane that he rather not see anguish. This may be related to Brook’s departure from his kingdom, which is addressed later in this essay. (Fig 3-5.)

Another thing that’s worth mentioning here is Brook’s attack patterns, being unique even for his kingdom apparently. Once again, during the Ryuma fight, Brook states, and I quote;

“Ryuma: “Now tell me, what part of that wretched excuse for a body would you like me to severe with my special ‘Arrow Notch Slash?’ Brook: You don’t know a thing about that move, so do not use it’s name. I use to serve in my kingdom’s raider squad. The quick draw attack that I was most skilled at was ‘Requiem Lebanderole’. My comrades-in-arms renamed it in regards to my fighting technique.”

(Fig. 1, Brook explains his raider squad and move names. A banderole mind you is a long flag for BATTLE crusades. )

This sets up a few interesting facts. 1. Brook was in a raider squad, a kingdom’s group of marauders, as well as if not the same job as convoy leader. 

2. His techniques were unique to him, or at least specialized to a degree of having a nickname. 3. As expected, he seems to have been close to these men he commanded, adding another layer over Brook loosing the Rumbars.

Being in both a raider squad and being a convoy leader at one point, if not the same point, implies either Brook was simply versatile, acting in both in separate years or periods. Or, the most likely, that he was higher ranking than expected, making him a CO, or commanding officer. (Lieutenant Colonel is another equal rank for scale, making Brook just below a Major.) This makes him quite the important figure, especially for a kingdom that seems to value its military so much, so much so that a child of Brook’s age would already know about their style of fencing, as expressed already. Brook’s devil fruit is worth mentioning here, the revive-revive fruit not likely to be found by a crew like the Rumbars. It is spoken about as if he has always had it amongst the crew, being a fact of life. However, when did he get that fruit and why? I propose where it would be useful; in combat. If your military convoy leader, your best swordsman could be shot and come right back to protect the king, would he not be utterly invaluable? You would never let him leave… But he DID leave. It’s not said why, however we have some extra tidbits of information that may tell us why, and that ALSO may tell us the answer to what kingdom he means.

( Fig. 2. Brook states his leaving of the military for unknown reasoning, the word certain being used in an odd way, establishing his bounty.) This bounty mind you all is in fact, using inflation method, 297,000,000 berries. That is a MASSIVE bounty for just a pirate. Perhaps a certain blond stole a treasure a kingdom could not replace; their convoy leader. Lets rewind for a moment and cover something that may be seen as off topic however I will come right back to the subject at hand; Calico Yorki. Yorki is an odd bird, pirate wise. He makes his crew read his bounties and information, is never shown to play an instrument/sing but makes his crew preform/they all do, and makes Brook make him dinner. (Steak, and Brook continues to be able to make it as confirmed by an SBS.) What is oddest yet, other than his large crew and shirtless habits, is his nature. A man that set to sea to play music for “orphans and crying children” as stated by himself; a crew made for “any men who love music.” Now, I could be reading into this too hard, however from his speech patterns, to this apparent need for a large family, it seems that singing to orphans may be a very personal goal. An orphan turned pirate perhaps, with lofty dreams and a heart of gold, it reads to me that Yorki may have been just that. Knowing this, orphan or not, we now can compare these facts to Brook’s life up until their meeting. A child who probably grew up being taught to fight, being around access to education, expenses and the kingdom’s training. Why would a man like Brook ever join a man like Yorki, and if it’s only music, would that not make Brook a deserter? I do not think that is the case. I will now bring forward some interesting evidence regarding Brook’s kingdom and WHY he would leave. Germa 66. During Zou to Whole Cake, a few mentions of Germa are made with Brook around, garnering interesting reactions indeed.

( Fig. 3. Brook listens but chooses not to add anything utter than silence, his music pausing as well.) This silence could be take as simple ignorance, however Brook later admits he knows of the kingdom, in fact, he knows a lot. A lot more than anyone else did, Reiju admitting interest in his knowledge and once again, Brook brushes it off.

(Fig 4, 5, Brook speaks about Germa 66.) He seems to underplay or simply not elaborate a LOT on his kingdom, as if something happened. Perhaps joining Yorki was not out of simple cowardice or need to be free, (which again if he did would both reflect poorly upon his entire character and not be in character for him what so ever,) but in fact, out of necessity. It could have been Germa 66, it could have been some other grouping, however I believe this will come to be something important. The kingdom possibilities are interesting as well, and I will list the following LIKELY possibilities. (Other options are known to not be military, like Ohara, or literally places like Thriller Bark itself.) - Toroa - God Valley - Illsia Kingdom - Soja Kingdom The most likely candidates, because again, it is labeled as certain kingdom (Fig 2.) is Toroa or Soja, however I will personally lean into Toroa. This is because of a man by the named of Byron.

(Fig 6. Byron and his information.) His nose and face shape vaguely resemble Brook, however honestly that is a stretch. What is NOT however is his familiar attire, family line and the placement of his kingdom. This could easily be Brook’s home, however again, this is just speculation. Brook very well could belong to God’s Valley, or the same kingdom as Issoh, fleeing because of something he did not agree with or literally could not stand any longer. But, that falls under possibility, not fact. This concludes the facts section, now comes the final question; What does it mean for the story? And, honestly, that can be debated. What Oda has done is plant odd seeds of information about the man, similar to Sanji and his ties to Vinsmoke, that have not been addressed nor talked about in full, or so I’ve found sufficiently. These seeds MAY bloom into what I hope will be a tie into some huge reveal, perhaps aid from a past member of his convoy or kingdom, or perhaps this will only spark conflict. Perhaps it will be minute, Brook being able to aid due to his knowledge, the man already in Thriller Bark showing his prowess by being able to command the strawhats into defeating zombies via salt and tactic. In any case, we can only hope these things mean anything, tied into some huge story that could explain why a man like him would quit for a redneck like Yorki, other than perhaps love, and what kingdom would let a man like him go willingly.

Updates:

- Confirmation that he’s educated! Perhaps in military or just as a whole, but confirmation nonetheless!

- I realize the reason he’s so confident with Big Mom isn’t just guts; he’s fought for royalty before. He’s just back in the fucking building again /j

- Sabaody behaviors, a convoy leader

CHECK REBLOG FOR PART TWO!!

[ PLEASE ^^ It contains the rest of his information! ]

[0o-junebug-o0]

Pretty Girl

summary: you have spencer try on a skirt, but neither of you expected to enjoy it this much.

genre: smut

cw: 18+ mdni! sub!spencer, softdom!reader, dirty talking, praise, kink discovery, feminization, spencer in a skirt, use of good girl, use of princess, handjobs, cumming in pants, completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all), no use of y/n, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer), kink discussion at the end

wordcount: 1k

a/n: this is inspired by the fic "FBI's resident pretty girl" by stainlesssteel on ao3, it gave me feminized spencer brain worms so y'all should check it out.

“Would you be willing to try on a skirt?”

Spencer stops reading and looks over at you from across the couch, surprised. You feel your cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“You don’t have to, of course,” you continue. “I just— I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I think you’d look really good.”

You can practically see the gears turning in Spencer’s head.

“Really?” he asks softly.

You nod. “I, um, I bought one that would fit you the other day on a whim. But you really don’t have to. I can always return it.”

He closes his book and sets it aside. “No,” he says softly, nervously. “I’ll try it on.”

You beam at him and practically leap off the couch, holding out your hand to help Spencer up. He hasn’t needed his cane in a few months now, but helping him stand has become a habit. “Wonderful! Come on, sweet boy, it’s in the bedroom.” 

Spencer flushes and takes your hand, letting you pull him off the couch. He lets you lead him to your shared bedroom and park him in the middle of the room. “Stay there,” you say excitedly, patting him on the chest, “I’ll be right back.”

You scamper over to the closet and pull a high-waisted, pleated, white and gray plaid skirt off of a back hanger. You spin around and hold the skirt out in front of you with a smile as you walk back over to Spencer. You hand it to him, and he examines the skirt like it’s some sort of alien artifact.

“Pants off!” you say cheerfully.

Spencer flushes again and drapes the skirt over his arm to undo his belt and push his slacks off his hips. They fall to his ankles, leaving him just in his black boxer briefs, and he awkwardly climbs out of the pants, kicking them aside with a mismatched socked foot. Spencer nervously steps into the skirt and slowly pulls it up his legs. The skirt settles just over his hips and falls to a bit below his mid-thigh. You stare at him in awe. He looks gorgeous.

Spencer’s face is impossibly red when you look back up at him, and he wrings his hands together over his stomach. You reach up, tangling your hand in his hair, and pull him in for a quick kiss. “You look amazing, Spencer,” you say when you pull away. “You look like such a pretty girl!”

Spencer’s breath hitches and his eyes blow wide.

Oh, that’s new. And really fucking hot.

You smirk at him. “You like that, baby? You like it when I call you a pretty girl?” you ask teasingly, stepping closer to him.

Spencer’s gaze drops for a moment, embarrassed, but he nods desperately. 

“Yeah?” you coo. “You wanna be my pretty girl?” He looks back up at you and nods slightly. You’re so turned on your whole body feels like it’s burning up.

“Words, sweetheart.” You run your hands over his chest and down to the waistline of his skirt, rubbing your thumbs over his hips in the way you know drives him crazy.

“Y-yes,” he whispers.

You smile. “Good girl,” you purr.

Spencer whimpers at the praise, and you slip your hand down the front of his skirt and into his underwear, suddenly feeling very glad that you bought a skirt with an elastic waist. Spencer gasps as you wrap your hand around his cock and curls forward to press his head into your neck as you begin to stroke him. He pants and whines, weakly thrusting into your hand and digging his fingers desperately into your hips, unable to control himself.

“Aww, look at you,” you tease, sliding your free hand into his hair. “Pretty girl in a pretty skirt, with such pretty, long hair.” You tug lightly and Spencer whines. “You’re practically a princess.”

Spencer’s hips buck forward desperately. 

“You like being my princess, sweet girl?” you ask.

Spencer nods frantically, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against your neck that make you groan. His grip on your hips tightens and he’s clinging to you like a lifeline.

He gasps your name weakly. 

“Aww, baby, are you close already?” you ask, feigning disapproval. 

Spencer whimpers and nods again, thrusting wantonly into your hand. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, princess?”

Spencer continues to nod, his moans rapidly rising in pitch as he gets closer and closer.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

With a weak cry of your name, Spencer cums hard all over your hand and his boxers. You stroke him through it until he’s trembling and whining, barely able to hold himself up. 

You carefully remove your hand, wiping it clean on your pants, and guide him backward onto the bed. You climb up next to him, holding him gently and pressing kisses to the top of his head. Spencer hums contentedly. “Do you want me to—“ he starts.

You shake your head and cup his cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’m alright, sweetheart. This was about you. Did you have fun?”

Spencer nods. “I-I didn’t expect that,” he says softly.

“Yeah? You didn’t know you wanted to be my good girl?” you ask. Spencer whines and buries his head in your neck out of embarrassment. You chuckle lightly and run your hand through his hair soothingly. “That’s okay, sweetheart. I really liked it, too.”

Spencer pulls back to look you in the eye. “Really?”

You nod. “Of course,” you reassure. “It was really fucking hot. You look amazing in that skirt, and I loved taking care of my pretty girl.”

Spencer blushes. “C-can we do this again sometime?” he asks nervously. “Not always. I still like being your good boy, probably most of the time. But every once in a while, can I be your good girl again?”

Excitement burns in your chest. You smile and kiss him hard, making Spencer gasp against your lips. “Of course, baby. We can do this whenever you want. Now, c’mon, let’s get you a bath and into something clean.”

_____

REQUESTS ARE (temporarily) CLOSED!

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