#as trying to be something less severe than they were
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PSA for THC and CBD users:
you can, in fact, overdose on THC or CBD, contrary to popular belief. it's especially easy to do if you're already on a medication that messes with your serotonin levels (SSRIs, SNRIs, etc.). it's even easier to do if you're on an SNRI and also have bad chronic pain that you're trying to manage via CBD and edibles (hi, that's me!).
i found this out the hard way last weekend by using too much of a CBD tincture in combination with having an edible, and had to be rushed to the hospital with serotonin syndrome.
how did it feel? well, not great. i genuinely felt like i was actively dying and needed to get my affairs in order.
i'm going to talk in detail about my experience below the cut. if you don't wanna read all that, i do ask that you please at least look through this link if you use cannabis products.
before i go on, i want to be very clear that the symptoms of serotonin syndrome are different for everyone. the link above has a more complete list of symptoms. i'm going to be describing my own personal experience with it.
the first signs that something was very wrong were the severe anxiety and confusion (both of which i chalked up to just being high at first).
then came the tremors and rapid heartbeat. i couldn't stop trembling. i spilled my tea everywhere when i tried to pick it up because i was shaking so badly.
by the time i got to the ER, i was fighting hard not to pass out, because i felt like if i did, i wasn't going to wake up. my skin was so hot it felt like i was on fire, and my heart felt like it was going to explode from how fast it was beating.
they wheeled me into a bare, grey room with nothing in it aside from a window with blinds, a black plastic chair, and a single bed. they asked me to put on scrubs and grippy socks. they gave me an anti-anxiety medication. and then all they could do for the next 6 hours was monitor me.
once the edible and CBD oil wore off about 4 hours in, i began to feel less like i was on my deathbed. definitely, absolutely not back to normal, but better.
i'm used to full body pain, but this was something else. if you've ever wondered what it would be like to be put through a meat grinder full of salt and lemon juice while staying alive through the whole thing, i'd imagine that was pretty damn close. i'm not sure if that's caused by the serotonin syndrome itself, or if that was just my body making sure i was still alive, but by god it was not fun.
i'm ok now, but i've decided that i'm not ever going to use any cannabis products while i'm still on my current medication.
if you made it this far, thank you for reading. i do want to be clear that this is not a 'don't ever use weed!!!1!' post. this is an 'if you do use weed, please please PLEASE be aware of how it might interact with any other medication you're on, lest you end up like me' post.
so please, do NOT end up like me. be smart. do your research. it's a lot cheaper and less stressful than a visit to the ER, i promise.
#cedar speaks#colored text#weed#marijuana#cannabis#edibles#thc#cbd#cbn#cbg#kush#pot#stoner#chronic pain#stoned#joint#420#420stoner#420life#420culture
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when'd you get so cool? (always was)
jo togame x gn!reader
pre shishitoren arc, post choji becoming leader
mentions of implied violence
word count: 1022
“fuck.”
jo togame, vice captain to the shishitoren, was currently bleeding pretty hard from several gashes on his arms, and one fairly nasty scrape across his face. you’d found him limping back to the ori, his orange jacket draped over his shoulders as he held onto his arm, applying loose pressure over his wounds—and his characteristic orange glasses dangling unevenly against his nose.
you’d rushed him back to the ori, towards an upper floor where you were less likely to be bothered, and had found the medkit you kept for emergencies like this. shishitoren might be devotees to power, but they didn’t have to be devotees to constant open wounds and injuries. or something like that,
you held a cotton ball with a set of tweezers, just after you dunked it into some rubbing alcohol, but togame kept jolting—not enough to stop you from being able to disinfect his wounds, but enough that he kept pressing closer and closer towards you.
“stop moving,” you say, finally exasperated, your cheeks flushed at the proximity. “i’m trying to disinfect your wounds, genius.”
“aww. you think i’m one?” togame’s eyes brightened for a moment as he drawled. “a genius?”
“…”
the face you made must have been pretty bad, because he snickered, the sound low, almost like a rumbling in his throat.
“when’d you get so cool?” togame mutters, pressing close to your face. your cheeks are flushed—they must be, and you laugh softly, flicking his forehead. his facial expression falters for a second, wincing in dramatic pain. “mean it. when?”
in the rundown room of the ori, you feel a sudden rising of chill air, and you shiver, despite the warm heat of togame’s body pressing close to yours.
“i’ve always been,” you tease. “guess you just haven’t noticed what was right in front of you.”
bolder than you usually are, at least. you think something curdles in you–shame for saying something so bold, maybe? you worry, for a fleeting, desperate second, that togame’s just going to mock you, but he doesn’t. togame laughs. it’s a nice sound, a slow thing that makes his chest shake with each chuckle.
“really…” he whistles, the note low. “didn’t realize, then, i guess. my bad.” his nose scrunches when he laughs. your face feels like it’s on fire, and then you realize you have to get back to patching him up—so you cut some gauze with the scissors in your small medkit, gesturing to togame to extend his arm.
he’s wiry, but you’ve seen this man punch so hard he’s dented metal sheets without even flinching. his arms feel hard.
“knives do this?” you ask as you tie the gauze tightly around his arm.
“yeah,” togame says. he stares down at you, a small smirk crossing his face slowly—at the pace of trickling honey. “worried about me?”
you scoff.
“out of everyone, i worry the least about you,” you murmur. and you’re lying, you know it, because you do worry about him–you lie awake in your bed, staring up at your ceiling fan, at ribbons that you’ve tacked up on the blades that flow hypnotically–and you worry and wonder and hope that togame is safe. even though he hits the hardest, he’s built like a truck–he’ll be safe, so long as he plays his cards right.
“i know you can handle yourself. just wonder if you bite off a little more than you can chew sometimes. with choji, with the rest of them,” you continue, wrapping gauze around his other arm.
togame’s green eyes darken a little bit–you can see the point at which they harden, like flint. you realize maybe a little belatedly that you’d fucked up–choji was a sensitive subject, even now–you never asked about the depth of togame’s devotion, but he was the self-sacrificing type in the end, too–the kind of man that would wade in the river lethe if it meant that his friends wouldn’t touch the memory-erasing waters.
he’d lose himself if it meant protecting someone else. that’s what scared you, what kept you awake at night.
“sorry,” you say, picking up the medkit to pull out some bandaids–fabric kinds, that come in a variety of cute patterns. “i know it’s a touchy subject.”
“... s’fine,” togame says, and his eyes stay that strange, dulled color–but the smile’s back, and this time you can realize how fake it is–the edges of his masked facade coming apart at the seams. you fish through patterned bandaids, settling on an orange one with black cats across it.
“tilt your head,” you murmur. “away from me, so i can put this on. then you’re done.”
togame does so, his glasses almost falling off the bridge of his nose as he looks away. you press the bandage against his face, carefully making sure it adheres. his skin is warm, and you can almost see the places where he’s shaved at his jaw with a razor, and your thumb brushes against the faintest hint of stubble.
“all done,” you say, pulling back.
“thanks.”
togame’s voice is clipped, strained. he seems to be looking at something far away–further than the walls of the ori.
“are you sure you’re okay?” you ask as he stands up, pressing away from you.
“me? never better,” togame says, and you can tell it’s a lie from the way his smile strains, too strained to be genuine. ��don’t worry about me.” he leans forward, taking your hand in his for a moment–and you’re startled by the feverish warmth of his hand for a moment, as he leans down to press a kiss to the tips of your fingers.
his lips are warm, too–a little dry, but soft. the kiss itself is almost reverent, and you think your breath gets strangled in your throat for a desperate, wheezing second.
he smiles, almost sheepishly at you for a moment, before he turns and shrugs his jacket on past his bandaged arms, and leaves.
you raise up the hand that he’d kissed, pressing your fingers to your lips contemplatively for a moment–as if you could, by kissing the faint reminder of his ghost, feel his lips on yours.
#wind breaker#wind breaker x reader#windbreaker x reader#jo togame#jo togame x reader#togame jo x reader#togame x reader#blehhh#fun fact i was watching wind breaker w a friend right#and i was like#"haha my favorite characters gonna show up'#and then this freak of nature known as jo togame#shows up and then my friend starts laughing at me#like yes officer! more of that guy please! more of those guys who have black hair have sleepy eyes and act like That please!#my types so obvious you can find them in the lineup bc they'll probably be asleep or snide as fuck
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An incomprehensive list of Bridgerton S3’s biggest failures
I’ve had the time to reflect since premier and watch a second time, so these are my thoughts. I’m begging Shonda to change my mind w pt2 but as of rn I hold little hope this won’t be the worst season by an embarrassing margin
1. Failure to flesh out Polin’s preexisting relationship (that leads to a huge bungling of Colin and Eloise’s relationship!!!)
The biggest response I’ve seen to a critique I share is that polin had such a strong preexisting dynamic that is makes sense they were featured less heavily than other couples. Now I see conceptually where that idea comes from, Pen liking Colin and him being oblivious have been cornerstones of the last two seasons, however, all their new scenes were presented to us sterile and without either sexual chemistry or a callback to a prior scene they had shared (or something perhaps we hadn’t seen, such as the time a decade prior Cressida mentions, when “the Featherington’s moved in across the street” instead we see confusing scenes that make little sense ESPECIALLY when we have no prior on screen (nor flashback) foundation for Pen and Colin’s friendship WITHOUT Eloise. Without her to act as middle woman this season, and with no flashbacks or reminiscing, the dynamic of true friendship between Pen and Colin feels forced. (And side note— as a sister, if my brother picked a friend of mine over me after we’ve had a relationship-ending fight that I refuse to even talk about??? That’s crazy— this is why I say it ruined both Colin and Pen AND Colin and Eloise’s dynamics— because I’d hope my brother would never do that to me, and without any more context besides mere letters as to why Colin would still entertain Pen now that Eloise has been betrayed by her? Near nonsensical)
2. Sudden appearance of a plus sized debutante(s) and no comments on Pen’s looks/weight
For the past two seasons there have been no size diversity besides Pen in Bridgerton, and don’t get me wrong, I think all the debutantes are beautiful this season, and I am thrilled that there is more expansion and diversity in the cast and the ton!!! But after making it such a big deal for the past several seasons, to try and make the ton size-blind reads as a cop out to me. Colin needs to face that facts head on that he has counted Pen out because of her size, just as everyone else has.
I could continue for actual pages because I have issues from Benedict‘s confounded character to Eloise’s sudden betrayal of her values (and friends/sisters??) to Cressida’s random??? redemption. But these are the two I am most frustrated by !
#briderton#bridgerton s3#polin#polin bridgerton#penelope featherington#penelope bridgerton#colin bridgerton#colin x penelope#Bridgerton s2#Bridgerton spoilers#Bridgerton rant#Polin disappointment#eloise bridgerton#violet bridgerton#portia featherington
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Is George pansexual or bisexual??
Love your books ❤️❤️
I just spent several minutes trying to work out whether he’d actually know what either of these words meant and I think technically he wouldn’t - both pansexual and bisexual were around in the 1940s but bisexual seemed to be more connected to gender expression than sexuality and pansexual … looks like it meant something a bit more like hypersexuality means today (?)
Anyway. That’s not really relevant to your question, I guess - it’s less about what he’d have called himself in 1941 (I think probably he’d have said queer or homosexual) and what he’d call himself if he was around in 2024. And in terms of that … honestly I’m not sure. I’ve been saying bisexual when I talk about him, and I think it’s probably the right term, but … I can also see the case for pansexual. George does not really care about the gender of the people he falls in love with, is the basic takeaway here.
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Didn't even make it til 10AM without sobbing at my desk this time.
#overachiever to the max#less than an hour at work? Time to SOB!#I fucked up an interaction with my doctor cuz they can't read and I can't pretend to be a sane normal human for two seconds#so I said#Hey the anti anxiety med you prescribed works really well and I do still have several left#but I don't want to be anxious about#like rationing them for fear that I won't get more so can we set it up as a recurring prescription like we had discussed?#and she said “I'm so glad it's working well for you! Happy holidays!”#so I said “Thank you. So if I need a refill do I call or?”#and she said “You can always call our office!”#so I called the office to clarify and immediately burst into tears because I am a disaster who hasn't stopped crying for three days#and they were like “do you... want a refill?” and I blubbered something about just needing to know that I CAN get a refill if/when I need t#so they are going to “Check with the doctor and let me know”#which means that she's going to find out I'm crazy#which probably means she won't give me these again#which means I have 12 to make last for the rest of time because I'm a fucking idiot and broke one trying to half it and it just shattered#because I can't even take pills correctly apparently#also found out yesterday I don't even take BATHS correctly like#jesus christ#can I please for the love of god have one single aspect of my life where I do something right#and am not just a fucked up disaster mess
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Cancelled the in person interview for today after discussing phone interview with Mum and Housemate last night (and the numerous red flags and cost of the lyft there and back for a job that ultimately the place wouldn't be able to convince me to take if offered, bc the general consensus was 'this is literally likely to be as bad as the current job BUT with the added cost of lyfts back and forth that they wouldn't be paying enough to offset, why on earth would you (me) take this job lmaooooo')
Which works out good bc the ongoing Mum trauma stuff is hitting hard as soon as I've woken and maybe I can get the Big Cry out today. Or write down any of the memories that have been playing on repeat in my mind
(with all this said, yes, I still asked and do legitimately care abt my mum's opinion and experience with jobs despite this; yes it feels weird; no I don't know how healthy that is or not lmao but I'm gonna lean towards Not Healthy bc im discovering that the work my previous doc did certainly uncovered this codependency and trauma which absolutely was a great help but like...we didn't actually really untangle any of it so I could try and untangle myself from my mum, even from 1600+ miles from one another. So. probably not healthy.)
#text post#Housemate was the far more helpful one of ae and mum tho and im very grateful ae took the time to talk over the interview with me#to help me figure out if doing the in person was worth it#mum did kind of help in that she pointed out several dakota eye like red flags from the employer that in retrospect yeah#were flying right in front of my face but i just. want to find better work so it's hard to ignore the red flags sometimes#until someone else goes uhhhhh hey maybe not this job no matter how desperate you feel#which is what it boiled down to more or less in discussion with both of them last night#it's just a weird thing of mum was still helpful and im glad i had a call with her but also it was low key triggering#and part of me wants to call her back and ask if she knows that she's a major part of why i struggle to say no to anyone#who feels even vaguely an authority figure over me no matter what my feelings are or if im being hurt#because id rather be obedient and pleasing than independent and honest (& possibly disappoint ppl with the latter)#but let's be real she wouldn't have an answer. it's beyond her to even think of this stuff#she'd be upset and offended and I'd be groveling like usual to try and make up for daring to question any part of our relationship#the same groveling i do on autopilot for any potential offense because it doesn't matter even if i asked & was given permission#im still always finding there's something i need to ask her forgiveness for anyway#but i love her and am incredibly grateful for her and how much she's given of herself to me as a single mum#idk im gonna shut up abt emotions for now and figure out what on earth im doing with myself today
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yay weed
#the bin#i shoudk save my money but im not going to. this is the closest thing i have to antidepressants and actually effective pain killers so#whatever. it helps with my anxiety too. it helps with almost everything. unless im in a lot of pain and then it makes that pain way worse#if i have a more than minor headache then it makes that way worse and if something specific hurts really REALLY bad then its not good#but if not then it fixes most of my stuff. its temporary but it whaatever works :/ and the next day is usually pretty good too#its not THAT expensive. ive been getting the cheapest option around me and its not terrible. i wish i could have less but alas#i envy ppl who can do 10mgs and have it help and have a good time. i have 10mg and everything sucks#everything still hurts. my brain is still very much on. im just unable to see straight and my walking gets weird and my mouth gets dry#and nothing is enjoyable. it just sucks. 15 is ok but its not really worth it to me honestly. its kinda boring. if im soending this money#then it has to be good. better to have a much better experience than to save a little bit of money and have several less good ones#that are barely worth it anyway. hhh. my sister is being less weird abt it now at least.#i kinda fucking hate that this works so well but when i oull the 'it shuts my tourettes completely off' card ppl suddenly get very ok with#any amount i wanna have however often. its deeply insulting but also very expected. at least its convenient for me in this case#with my mom its not that insulting i guess. last time she was around mw very often my tics eere real bad and they were obviously very#unpleasant for me. but its mostly bc everything there was so stressful and overwhelming all the time and ut made it far worse#but shes actually pretty normal abt it. at leasts he is now#its rare that people are. ppl look at me like im inhuman. i try very very hard not to tic around people bc of this#the ppl im around rn dont look at me weird but ive hardly ever ticced in front of them.#getting high also helps my ocd so much which is huge. im glad when i move ill have a very not judgmental person to get it for me#at least my other older sister is very normal abt it. shes like yeha its ur body ur money ur choice. whatever man. and that s great.
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The Finer Things in Death
Alastor x Soulmate!Female!Reader
Summary: An AU where your soulmate's first words to you are tattooed on your body in their handwriting.
Oh dear, where's your smile?
You knew those words by heart. Could recite them backwards, in your sleep even. Those damning words have been inscribed on the inside of your ankle for as long as you could remember, the elegant cursive strokes poking out of your shoe line.
In theory, somewhere, someone else was supposed to be sporting your own neat, boxy handwriting. You'd say you lucked out with yours. Some soul marks were less than pleasant, and others were downright embarrassing (imagine having the words move, asshole written on your stomach for the rest of your life. No thank you).
At least your soulmate was trying to cheer you up, right?
Yeah, but there was just one teeny, tiny problem.
Your soulmate was dead. Long dead actually.
Were they stillborn? Did their toddler self die in a house fire or something? Night after night you laid awake in your bed, pondering what the hell could have possibly happened to have altered the entire course of fate.
All you really knew was that your soul mark was a light gray (indicating a severed bond) instead of the usual inky black, and it had been since the day you were born. Everyone was in shock to see the faint words on your little ankle. After all, how could a soul mark exist if the other person wasn't even alive to speak those words into existence?
Simply put, you were a conundrum, and it had been some time since you had dedicated effort into figuring out why? You'd accepted it. Your soulmate was dead. Life went on.
Besides, you'd spent enough time grieving over someone you'd never met before.
Your lifestyle was not extravagant by any means, but it was comfortable. You had a steady income, lived on your own in an apartment in the city, and survived off of more than ramen bowls. Every day you would come home and read in your little fluffy alcove that you'd built yourself by your window, or pop open a bag of chips (and the occasional bottle of wine, if you were feeling fancy) while you watched the latest crime show releases from your couch.
Yes, so comfortable was your little routine, that you didn't notice the robbery happening in the convenience store you were browsing in, or the stray bullet coming for your head until it was too late. Your skull exploded in a world of pain, eyes rolling back as your body crumpled to the ground.
Dying was an interesting experience, to say the least. Your soul floated from your body, the final notes of music that blasted from your earphones fading into nothingness like the sound of a car driving away.
There was a brief moment where you were struck numb, hovering in the air as you stared down at your glassy eyed corpse, blood pooling alarmingly from the circular shaped hole in your head. You heard screams of the other customers behind you, but they were kind of muffled, like you were underwater.
It didn't last long though, because before you knew what was happening, you felt an almighty tug downwards, like an anchor had just chained itself to your stomach.
And that was how you ended up in hell. Fun. What were you here for? You had no idea. Maybe God got mad that your teenage self stole a few packs of gummy bears in high school. But a life of eternal damnation and suffering seemed a little harsh, didn't it?
Before you could contemplate the semantics of it though, something...strange happened. Your ankle, right where you'd tried countless times to forget your soul mark existed, was burning like a fucking brand.
You hissed sharply in pain, frantically pulling down your sock to assess the damage. Was the eternal punishment starting already or something? Shit, you had terrible pain tolerance.
But what you saw made you gasp. In fact, you could hardly believe your eyes.
Because in the place of your faded grey soul mark, the letters had been reinvigorated, darkened with a swift hand and—glowing they were glowing holy shit.
"Hah," you huffed in disbelief, shaking your head slowly. "So that was it, huh? I was destined to meet my shitty soulmate in hell this whole fucking time?" You punctuated the last words with a few angry kicks to an unassuming patch of weeds. What a cosmic joke at your existence.
But, like you always did in shitty situations, you gathered all of your raging emotions, stuffed them tightly in a box at the back of your mind, and cooled your head. Freaking out in this place would do you no good.
Turned out hell was pretty much like the world you'd left, except for the fact that you could kill someone on the street and nobody would bat an eye. Like all of the depraved aspects of humanity were on full display now in a somehow still functioning society.
You managed to snag a job at an old record store, the owner giving you one look before grunting and gesturing to the register—but not before lifting his jacket to show you the long assault riffle strapped across his chest. Yeesh, you got the message.
It wasn't a bad job by any means, especially considering where you were. Sure a little boring and monotonous, but you'd restock thousands of old albums if it meant staying away from the overlords.
Oh, yeah, another thing. Overlords were like the big shots around hell. Messing with them usually meant a death sentence, or worse, a contract.
And if there was anything at all that you picked up from all those nights of watching television, it was that you do not make deals with the devil. Really, elementary level shit. And you'd never actually seen Lucifer, mind you, but these demons were probably a close second, right?
Yeah, so really, you were just living a shittier variant of your life on earth it seemed. Repetitive, safe and comforting. You were even starting to like the scent of musty cardboard, as weird as that was.
And once again, all thoughts of your soulmate slipped your mind.
Until one day, when everything went to shit.
****
It started like this: with the sad sight of your empty fridge.
You groaned, dragging a tired hand down your face. Seriously? You thought you'd restocked already, damn it.
Your stomach growled achingly, and you sighed, wondering if you'd actually die again if you starved yourself. Begrudgingly, you decided that you didn't really want to chance it, throwing on the first set of clothes that you saw and slipping out of your dingy apartment to make a quick grocery run.
You generally hated leaving your apartment, and didn't do so except to retrieve bare necessities or walk across the block to go to work.
Why? Well, see exhibit A to your left: some poor, random demon screeching and running around on fire. See exhibit B to your right: a turf war between two rival gangs. And finally how could you forget, cannibal colony, slurping up intestines like bloody, chunky spaghetti. Disgusting.
The worst thing about hell wasn't the fact that you were in hell, it was the fact that the worst of the worst people were all cramped together like some fucked up refugee camp, and some people were significantly worse than others. Which sucked, for the poor unfortunate souls just trying to get by. Like you.
You sighed, ducking under a stray stream of bullets (you weren't falling for that shit twice) and side stepping pools of blood and guts. Just a regular Monday morning in hell. God damn it.
It seemed luck wasn't on your side though, because an ugly, dog-headed demon blocked your path, sneering down at you smugly. "Hey bitch, it's your lucky day. The big boss is hiring, and you fit the profile."
You clenched your grocery bags in a white-knuckled grip. Nobody would give a flying fuck if you were dragged off of the street in broad daylight. "Not interested."
"Oh it wasn't a suggestion," he chuckled darkly. You tensed as you were surrounded by at least four other demons. Shit, you knew you should have slept in.
"You like apples?" You nodded sharply at the demon in charge.
His face twisted in annoyance. "Why the fuck do y—"
You reached into your bag, before hurling a granny smith straight at his forehead. He yelped as it made contact, stumbling back as he shook his head in confusion. While everyone was still in shock from your weapon of choice, you shoved your way out of the circle, gunning it straight down the street because your second life did depend on it.
"Get her!" You heard a yell of absolute rage, making you shiver. Fuck, that did not sound promising. That apple must have really pissed him off.
Putting your limited aerobics to use, you ducked, dodged and lunged through the crowd like a pro. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, air burning your lungs as you pumped your legs faster. But of course, your grocery bag ripped open, sending all of your food tumbling and you by extension, tripping and face planting in the dirt rather pathetically.
A meaty hand gripped a handful of your hair, yanking it up harshly. You cried out as he pulled, hands uselessly trying to smack his away, but his hold only tightened. A liquor-filled breath and cheap cologne invaded your senses, making you cough.
"Uppity bitch," he growled, giving your scalp a painful yank for good measure. "You actually thought you could get away? Maybe I should teach you a lesson, huh? Sample the goods."
You froze, every nerve in your body going cold. So far in your stay in hell, you'd managed to avoid the more depraved souls here. You kept your head down, didn't draw attention to yourself, and were mostly left alone. Looked like today, your luck had finally run out.
"Get the hell off of me!" You spat, twisting around vehemently, only for your head to snap to the side as you were harshly backhanded.
"Stop your fucking whining and stay still!" He snapped, narrowing his eyes.
You bared your teeth, snapping at him aggressively.
A round of mocking chuckles went around the group of your kidnappers, the one holding your hair giving you a wicked grin. "Shit, that was cute. Really—"
He didn't get to finish his sentence, because his head exploded. Literally exploded, blood and brain matter dripping from your face. His hand went slack, dropping you on your wobbling knees.
Everyone was silent for a second, staring at the bloody mess where the demon was standing two seconds prior.
And that was when you heard it. Static. Loud, crackling and ominous.
Your mouth went dry. Shit. Shitty shit shit. You knew what that meant. How could you not? The asshole broadcasted his killings all over hell like a fucking psychopath. And now, it was your turn to become hell's gory entertainment. Fan-fucking-tastic.
You stood frozen, breath stuck in your throat as dark, menacing tendrils slowly curled along the walls. A large, grinning shadow rounded the corner, before the culprit himself stalked into view, razor sharp teeth on display as he tilted his head. "Oh," his grin widened. "Am I interrupting?"
"N-No man," one of the braver demons stuttered, taking a step back. "You can have her—"
Splat.
You turned slowly to face the bloody wall, eyes wide in disbelief.
"How distasteful," the radio demon shook his head. "As if I'd participate in your brainless thuggery. No, no. Unlike you gentlemen, I have class. Truly," his eyes lit up like glowing radio dials, a dark shadowy mass rising behind him as his antlers branched out like a gnarled, rotten tree. "Did your mother never teach you any manners?"
Faster than you could blink, the demons around you were reduced to blood, cartilage and splintered bone. The overwhelming irony scent made you want to gag, but you didn't dare move a muscle, eyes fixated on the terrifying sight before you.
When the radio demon noticed your staring, his smile sharpened, antlers shrinking as he leisurely approached you. Oh no. Nononono.
You struggled to keep from hyperventilating, your body going into shock as he leaned into your personal space. Two bloody fingers pushed into your cheeks, forcing your mouth into a morbid, artificial smile. "Oh dear," he tutted in amusement. "Where's your smile?"
You jerked back violently, eyes wide as icy cold realization washed over you. Dread squeezed your lungs as you stared at the grinning, bloody figure of your soulmate in horror.
The radio demon. Psychopath and mass murderer.
Your soulmate.
What the FUCK.
"T-This," your voice shook. "This is not happening."
There was a sudden screech of radio static, before his own eyes widened. Shit. "What," he said sharply. "Did you just say?"
"A-Ah," you trembled, leaning back. Every single nerve in your body was alight, screaming at you to get the ever-loving fuck away from him. In what was probably the stupidest and most desperate plan of your life, you pointed over his shoulder fearfully. "Look! Another one!"
As soon as he turned his head, you bolted down the street.
****
You slammed your front door closed behind you, double—triple checking your lock before sliding down to the floor in a panting mess.
Immediately you grew paranoid. What the fuck were you thinking? A lock wouldn't keep the radio demon out. You needed fifty more locks and ten more doors. You needed to barricade yourself inside for the next month. You needed—
"Hello there!" An exuberant voice chirped.
You screamed, throwing the first thing you could grab in his direction. He caught the house slipper, inspecting it in amusement, before tossing it over his shoulder.
"My, did I scare you sweetheart? Apologies," he grinned smugly, relaxing in your recliner with a mug of coffee. Your favorite mug.
You blinked. What the fuck?
"What are you doing in my house?" You squeaked, fingers digging into your welcome mat.
"Oh dear, allow me to introduce myself," he set the mug down on your coffee table, leisurely rising from the couch and offering a hand. "I'm Alastor! A pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart, quite a pleasure."
You didn't take his hand, instead choosing to gape at him like a dead fish.
He retracted his hand, tilting his head with a shit-eating grin. Twirling his cane, he continued like there wasn't just an awkward and terrifying pause. "I hope you don't mind that I followed you! You see, I believe our conversation was cut a bit...short." His eyes glowed as unidentifiable symbols floated in the air around him.
As quickly as they appeared however, they disappeared like they were never there. Jesus Christ, this man was giving you emotional whiplash. "Anywho!" He perked up again, ever the charming grin on his face. "Enough about me! I've yet to catch your name, darling."
Fuck. You really didn't want to give him your name.
But before you could open your mouth, he leaned closer to you, grin widening ominously. "I hope you're not thinking of lying, my dear. I must say, I'm not very fond of that quality."
"Y-Y/n!" You said quickly, raising your hands to shield your face.
There was a slight pause, before a gentle touch swiped at your cheek, retracting after a moment. You peeked your eye open, only to become vaguely ill at the sight.
"You had a little something on your face," he chuckled in amusement, holding out a clump of brain matter. With a swift flick, it was magicked away.
"What do you want?" You whimpered, overwhelmed with the entire situation.
"Oh dear, is it really that strange for me to want to get to know my soulmate?" He tilted his head, leaning towards you uncomfortably close.
"Y-Yes, actually," you stuttered, trying to look anywhere but his prominent red eyes. "I thought you'd do something more along the lines of...killing and eating me." You shrunk back as his grin widened. "Please don't eat me."
"How morbid, I would never!" He waved it away, like the idea was preposterous. "My word! What awful rumors you've been hearing about me!"
"You frequent cannibal colony and I just saw you tear apart six demons like they were freshly baked bread," you stared at him incredulously. "What hasn't been spot on?"
He paused, before giving you a humoring chuckle. "Well it seems your impression of me needs correcting!" Before you knew what was happening, nimble fingers encircled your wrist, pulling it forward gently. He pressed warm lips to the back of your hand, before giving you a charming grin. "Enchanté, ma chère."
You blinked, breath stuck in your throat. "What—What does that mean?"
"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about it!" He gently set your hand down, before pinching your cheek condescendingly. "Well my dear, I'm afraid I have other responsibilities I must attend to!"
He stood up with a flourish, leaning on his microphone cane as he smirked at you. "Not to worry!" He snapped his fingers, and a slim, feminine shadow emerged from the ground. "Missy here will watch over you in my stead."
"What? No, I—"
"I'll be back before you know it!" He offered a chilling smile, before melting into a puddle of shadows.
You gaped at the spot where he once stood, trying to process what the actual fuck just happened. Your gaze slid over to the feminine looking shadow, still standing in the corner of your living room. She grinned at your attention, teeth sharpened.
You closed your eyes, head thumping back against your door in exhaustion.
"I'm so fucked."
****
Enchanté, ma chère : Charmed, my dear
#hazbin hotel#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor#alastor the radio demon#hazbin#radio demon#alastor x reader#alastor x y/n#alastor x you#alastor x oc#alastor x ofc#alastor x original female character#hell#hazbin alastor#alastor being a menace#alastor being alastor
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I’ve gotten a WAVE of asks about this AU, so I decided to flesh it out some more and answer some of those questions!
I’ll probably polish this extended summary up at some point and submit it to AO3. But for now, here’s a rundown of my thoughts–please feel free to send more questions! I’ll update this post if I get any more. But if you’re someone who wanted to write fic for it, don’t worry, you don’t need to take my headcanons as gospel. It’s a pretty basic AU honestly lol
Summary:
The portal accident results in a violent explosion that wipes out the whole block, and condemns all of Amity Park. Danny haunts the city for 100 years, before Sam and Tucker find him.
Setup:
In the 1920’s, 19-year-old Danny went into the incomplete portal on his own, hoping to help out his parents. Ripping the portal open through unnatural means created a huge burst of energy that resulted in a massive explosion. A good portion of the Amity Park population died, many were injured, and the ones on the fringes relocated–Amity was quickly deemed too dangerous due to the excess ectoplasm in the area that attracted ghosts.
While the disaster was in Amity, the fallout was seen around the globe. Before, natural portals were rare, short-lived, and rarely allowed ghosts to fully slip into our realm (the most severe cases being on par with poltergeists that most people didn’t believe in). Now, natural portals pop open frequently around the world, large enough to allow the entirety of a ghost into the physical plane. They’re more common the closer you get to Amity, but they happen enough elsewhere that this change was something of a small apocalypse before people settled back down and found out how to combat at least some of their new, permanent neighbors.
Danny is unaware that he’s only half-dead, believing he’s a full ghost. He ends up sticking around Amity, unintentionally making it his haunt. His grief and guilt over causing the death of his loved ones (and many others) makes him isolate and avoid human contact. Though he has, at times, scared nosy people away from the city in a mix of territorial instinct–and to get them to leave before a less friendly ghost finds them.
Ghosts are much more of an uncontested danger in this AU. Lesser ghosts are practically mindless, and while stronger ghosts are capable of reason, their interests are limited. They’re highly territorial, possessive, and often destructive. Most worrisome is that they also like to snack on the life force of anything alive. No one is sure what dictates a ghost’s propensity to attack or hunt the living for their life force since ghosts don’t exactly experience hunger. At least, not the way we do. If a human is rescued before their life force is fully drained, they can make a full recovery–though humanity has still not yet found what this “life force" is.
And since the Fentons’ research died along with them, there aren’t many tools available to the public to protect them from ghosts. Most homes have standard ghost shields and some weapons are available on the market, but certified ghost hunters are required to take care of anything more powerful than your average spook.
Sam and Tucker met in high school, and are now rooming together for college very close to the Amity border. Rent is surprisingly cheap when you’re a stone’s throw away from a condemned area crawling with ghosts. Sam is the one who drags Tucker along with her fascination over finding out more about the city, and its largely mysterious demise. Sam is aware of the danger, but feels ghosts have a place in this world just like everything else, and does exercise caution–like one would while foraging in the woods with a known tiger population.
What she and Tucker weren’t expecting was to run into a ghost that felt almost human. One that hasn't hurt them, not for lack of trying–while being powerful enough to walk past ghost shields without so much as a flinch. The long white hair is familiar in the whispers of the ectobiologist community, but there’s no way it could be the rumored ghost king Phantom, right?
About Danny:
He has very long hair, claws, and black sclera. His hazmat suit is more torn and ragged, with exposed hands and feet that fade into a burnt black.
His hair tends to float a lot on its own. It can start morphing into fire under duress.
He does still technically have gloves and boots, they've just charred and melted into his skin towards the ends. He can't take them off in his ghost form. His hands and feet have a leathery texture that's tougher than the rest of his skin.
The white of his hazmat suit is both supposed to look like flames, and also a battered look representing his more violent, explosive death.
Overall, he appears rather listless and sad, with an unnerving air of danger around him–even for a ghost.
Danny’s “ghost sense” comes out as white smoke.
He does breathe black smoke at times, usually when agitated.
He's already fought and defeated Pariah Dark by the time Sam and Tucker find him, technically making him the Ghost King. This is heavily speculated by ghost experts, despite there being no real proof beyond a massive battle that scarred Illinois. He has not donned the Ring or the Crown, and captured sentient ghosts are hesitant to answer questions surrounding him. Danny basically has the throne but doesn’t do anything with it, and finds it meaningless enough to routinely forget he has the title. He only fought Pariah because he knew otherwise, humanity would have perished. A lot of ghosts are scared of him because he's so hard to figure out, and he's strong.
Danny is usually very quiet and speaks softly, because his lungs were damaged in the blaze that half-killed him. He's technically healed since becoming a ghost, so it's more of a compulsion due to the traumatic memory. That, and he’s just… very forlorn and distant, shy around humans who don’t seem to understand how dangerous it is to keep hanging around him.
His memories pre-accident are extremely fuzzy. He knows the very basics of who he was, but specifics have been muffled due to trauma and isolation. He routinely forgets human habits, etiquette, etc. and tends to act more like a full ghost with some odd quirks.
He does try to scare Sam and Tucker off numerous times. Unfortunately for him, they realized they shouldn't have been able to escape a ghost that strong–but they did, because he let them.
Sam and Tucker think he's mute at first! He doesn't speak a word to them until several encounters later, when he fumbles his whole scary act and saves them from another ghost.
He’s still half-ghost, though he doesn’t figure this out until Sam and Tucker come along trying to unravel the mysteries behind the Amity catastrophe. Physically and emotionally, he’s been stuck for 100 years–so his human form is still 19. It’s unclear at this point if he can age normally like a human as long as he stays in human form, or if he’s immortal.
Danny's family did not turn into ghosts, though he sometimes worries he'll find them in the afterlife as shells of their former selves. He doesn't know if it's better or worse that he's not sure he'd recognize them.
(Danny also still has some living family. Take a guess.)
Yes, he knows how to Wail. Understandably, he very rarely uses it. You do not want to witness this.
Danny :) is not immune :) from the allure of eating a human's life force :)))
#danny phantom#au#zilly art#I just wanted to draw a boy with long hair and claws how did this happen#fire core au
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You get thrown in post limit jail. You panic, pulling at your hair, asking what you’ve done, how you could let this happen, how you could let your tumblr addiction get this bad. “First time?” I say with a smirk, sat across the cell from you.
#I ask you if you were going nuts at something in particular ‘til you got thrown in here#or if it was just your average run-of-the-mill reblogging spree and you went on just a little farther than they’d like#I tell you about my own exploits#I ask if you’ve got more posts in mind to reblog as soon as you get out#I tell you about the several I have listed that are waiting in my likes and in their own tabs#I clearly take some measure of pride in myself for all this#I tell you I won’t lie and say you don’t go a little crazy in here; get withdrawals and junk#But I point to the number of hours left before we get let out — it’s not THAT many#(I’ve been here longer before and that was when I had pressing matters to attend to in reblogging. which I don’t today.)#I try to get you to feel less ashamed — we have fun with these things don’t we? — maybe not entirely succeeding#vibes#.txt
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Hey, able-bodied folks, if a disabled person is complaining about something being unfair/inaccessible because of our disabilities, you know you don't have to explain to us why that unfairness/inaccessibility a thing, right? Chances are we know it is the way it is. It's still unfair and we still want to talk about it.
I saw a video by an amputee warning other disabled people not to go to Thorpe Park in England, as they paid full price to enter, but were only allowed on 3 rides due to their amputation. This is something I also experienced when I went to the Gold Coast (mostly at Movie World, Wet n' Wild and, to a lesser extent, Dreamworld) and at Lunar Park in Sydney. There were also several others in the comments talking about similar experiences elsewhere.
But among these comments were dozens of people saying, "it's for health and safety reasons! The ride won't be able to hold you in!" And like... yeah, we know why. It doesn't make it any less unfair that we pay the same as you for a fraction of the experience. It doesn't make it feel any less shitty when you scrimp and save to do something like go to a theme park only to have to sit on the side line and watch your friends/family have fun without you. It doesn't make it any less scummy that there's very little warning that this will be the case (most of the time) until you arrive. It doesn't make it any less frustrating that so many recreational and fun activities don't even consider the possibility that disabled people would want to join in.
It's not just this video. It happens a lot. Any time someone complains about inaccessibility, there's always someone there trying to explain why the inaccessibility is there.
A resteraunt or shop isn't accessible? "Have you considered the person just didn't know/didn't have the money to fix it/were renting and weren't allowed to fix it?"
You called to see if some place was accessible, were told it was but when you arrive, it's not? "Have you considered the person didnt actually know/ thought it was and just made a mistake?"
You complain that a device/item/furniture item you bought isn't usable because of your disability despite there being no indication this would be the case before you bought it/no way to further verify it before hand? "Have you considered that disabled people make up such a small minority of their buyers they just didn't realise?"
Yeah, we know. Every single one. We considered it. a lot more than you did, i promise. We know why. We know sometimes mistakes happen, people don't think to consider us, there could be health and safety reasons for the lack of access, that people just don't know, and that it's not usually maliciousness or intentional ableism. I promise, we know all of it. We still need to talk about it though, so things can get better.
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hi! i saw you were taking requests for post prison spencer, so hey
i was thinking about spencer meeting a kinda sunshine reader, and it’s like…love at first sight. she’s literally the one to make him smile for good
feel free to add your magic to it, and to ignore it, don’t feel pressure at all!
have a good day/night <3
babe you guys are saving my life with these requests right now! I'm feeling so good about everything I write again <3 enjoy sunshine!reader x post prison!spencer who looks less tense and serious around you
You’re at his desk, sitting there all perfect in your orange button up and flared pants, Mary Janes clicking on the linoleum tile as you tap your pen against your lips. Your hair is scraped back into a ponytail, the plait brushing the spot between your shoulder blades.
Spencer had asked about you to Penelope, asked about your personality, about how you work- all the important things. What he didn’t ask was if you were gorgeous and Penelope, who loves to divulge, had never said a thing about your looks.
“Hi, you’re Y/n right?” Spencer’s standing before you, not realising how intimidating he must look till you jolt in your chair.
You’d been trying to get your morning crossword and read in before the day had officially begun, a habit you’d been trying to keep up with since you started the job. So far it’s been going- the crosswords are boring so you have to pretend to be distracted by it to let it last a bit more than four minutes.
“Oh sorry, I am. You’re Doctor Spencer Reid,” you lean back in your chair, not bothering to hold out a hand to you. Penelope had grilled you on his aversion to germs and touching people more than needed. “I’m sorry about taking over your desk, but they didn’t have any free ones.”
Spencer shakes his head, you take a moment to look him over. His hair is a bit looser than you’d imagined, Penelope said curly hair and you’d thought tight spirals- he has pretty loose ringlets, dark and mocha-like.
He smells like leather and something else, maybe plum and black currant- it’s a bit of an all encompassing smell that you like already. He’s much prettier too, he looks tired, but still pretty. His stubble presents a problem, you know it’s going to be your downfall.
“It’s alright, we keep a tight ship. Have they been treating you well?”
You tilt your head, “The team or the unsubs? Because it’s been too many cases to have real team building.” You grin when Spencer huffs, making his lips twitch. “But I think getting concussed while saving Newbie’s ass counts for something.”
Luke grumbles as he walks by with his coffee, “You were hired after I was,” patting Spencer on the back when the taller, lithe, man rolls a chair to sit opposite you.
“Do you still experience headaches or migraines?” Spencer kicks himself when he sees your tongue poke into your cheek- you’re trying hard not to smile at his question. He also thinks he’s doing a shoddy job of flirting but that can be fixed- he’s been in prison for the last three months, he just needs to get back in the swing of things.
“I’m pretty sure your first official day back starts with you in Emily’s office and not giving me an impromptu physical, Dr. Reid.” His lips twitch again, cheeks jumping as he shakes his head.
“It’s just a check-up, no physical yet.” he stands, not really giving himself time to overthink what he’s just said. It’s more than a little presumptuous on his part but you don’t call him an asshole or swear at him, so he thinks he’s okay with it.
“Do you want your desk back, Spencer?” you’re earnest in asking, not wanting to fuck up his routines and his norm. You can tell you like him already and it’s hardly been a fifteen minute conversation.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll take the one right there.” Spencer points a finger to the desk right in behind yours with a little less severity to his lips, his stubble looking even more attractive as he does so.
You watch him walk away, willing yourself to be professional about all this, he may be hot but he’s your coworker and you know all about close proximity relationships possibly being shams. You’re not here for that, so Spencer will be a good friend.
You make your way into the kitchen, steps light as you reach for your mug- a cute blue mug with an orca as the handle.
“So you come in and the kid’s already obsessed with you?” Rossi’s right beside you, making you jump as you put more than the recommended amount of tablespoons of coffee into your mug.
“It’s not like that, you all made him out to be this awkward shy mess and he isn’t.” You try to sound as casual as you can, but you profile your own voice and know how it sounds to everyone- wistful.
“Maybe he’s seen a pretty girl and the ‘awkward shy mess’ melted away,” Rossi places his hands on your shoulders. “He’s a good kid. You can trust in that.”
You roll your eyes, stirring your coffee. “I’m pretty sure he’s in his thirties, Rossi.” You take the milk from him, pouring it in till your coffee is just at the lip of your mug and smile. “Definitely too old.”
Rossi waves his hand, “I’ve been married four times, old isn’t a marker for romance anymore. Not when you’re only twenty four.” He leaves you be for a moment, and on your walk back to your desk to fill out the remaining crosswords you mull over his words.
As you sit, you look down and find it all filled out in black ink, opposed to your blue and you know who did it, if the messy scrawled message is anything to go by- ‘You should get The Washington Post puzzles, much more stimulating.’
#spencerreid#spencer reid#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x black reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x yn#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid imagine#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x sunshine!reader
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girl help i need to shit but i keep forgetting to eat 😔
#i’d say not to be tmi but this is my house#i used to have such bad problems w constipation when i was younger like it was so shitty (heh) so now that i can shit regularly#i try to shit like at least once a day#and usually it’s fine but lately i keep forgetting to eat#it’s actually interesting#i think it’s bc the month and a half i was in romania we didn’t keep a lot of food in the apartment#we mostly ate out since we were rlly close to this restaurant my mom and her friends have been regulars at for like 30 yrs#and at friend’s or family’s places since we were staying super close to several of my mom’s friends and all of my grandparents#plus since my mom was meeting up w friends a lot she’d go to a lot of restaurants#we had food but i’m a picky eater so sometimes i just wouldn’t eat it#so i mostly ate snacks which even then got boring and gross to me#so i got used to eating a lot less#plus since bucharest’s public transport is way better than where i live and it’s way more walkable i’d go out more#and like walk and shit#so i lost weight while i was there and then when we got back i got sick and threw up and barely ate for 2 days#so maybe that’s why i got used to eating less#the thing is tho since it’s summer i’ve been eating more ice cream and icey poles 😭 so u’d think tga#t even if i barely ate otherwise having like at least one ice cream a day would make my weight stay the same#but i’m still losing weight#maybe i have a tapeworm or something idk#i should probably trigger tag this#tw food#tw eating issues#tw disordered eating#tw eating#tw ed#i dont have an ed but better safe than sorry for any who do#me
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Heres a reminder for you that being dissociated isn't limited to the common misconception where you are frozen in place, incapable of doing anything or even thinking, or experiencing a significant time gap,, those things. (This is a very important post, read till bottom so im happy!)
And while its hard to spot the milder signs when you're dissociating, don't worry i got you covered by bringing awareness, im showing what those signs could look like:
Dazing/blanking out several times
Hands looking weird (depersonalization)
Surroundings also looking weird (derealization)
Feeling detached emotionally, physically, or both
Light-headedness
Less reactive in responding
Forget things more often
Unable to focus or keep concentration straight
And many more..!
When you have multiple of those signs at once, then chances are you are dissociating (extra note that it can also co-occur with derealization/depersonalization). While it can be caused by various factors, i would like to add that it may or may not get worse as time passes and no one wants that thing to snowball until it got too bad (remember, preventing now is better than dealing later) so having a few tips would help:
Grounding (sensory): listening to music, feeling different textures, paying attention to things in your surroundings, trying different fragrant or scents, have some snacks to occupy your senses
Grounding (physically): feel your chest as you breathe, get your body moving to redirect focus, splash some cold water, hold something you can squeeze (such as a stress ball)
Practice being mindful. As it can help you re-anchor back to reality faster, regulate better, building more resilience, increasing awareness of oneself's state
Sometimes we go do our day without giving a thought that were detached from reality, usually by going autopilot and scrolling through social medias without being aware (well, atleast for me) and forget lots of things while being dysregulated at the end. So by being aware of the mild signs and incorporating grounding skills im sure memory gaps and those funny aftermath stuffs won't be a problem anymore, have a good day peeps.
EDIT: I forgot to mention that another sign is your hearing feels muffled, that you can hear sounds feel more distant despite close, i thought it could be grouped with the “less reactive” before.
EDIT 2: It is true that sometimes these techniques will not work,, so it's recommended to create a peaceful environment in hopes of going away sooner when waiting it out. grab some videos to watch, put some of your favorite musics or cuddle your soft pillows (if any, pets) and stay comfy! Do not stress about it because it'll be counterproductive. Full explanation at here.
- j
#did#did community#actually did#did system#dissociative identity disorder#did osdd#plural#system stuff#sysblr#Jeducates
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WHAT DID I SAY
summary — the four times you fucked up and called your doms by the wrong name
warning(s) — college au, fuck-buddy relationships, marijuana use, alcohol consumption, face slapping, spitting, biting, body writing, restraints, spreader bars, mentions of branding, semi nipple torture, hickies, shotgunning, choking, butt plugs, spanking, ass biting, pussy slapping, doggy style, strap-on usage, cum-filled strap, fingering, oral, overstimulation, edging, orgasm denial, degradation, praise, daddy kink, mommy kink, captain kink, sir kink, literal filth, men/minors dni
authors note — first little headcanon/oneshot for know my place! hope you enjoy my little college stoners who fuck like rabbits. can totally be read seperate from the au!
know my place
♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧
Maria –
The wine is warm beside Maria’s bed. The bottle of Prosecco momentarily forgotten about as a symphony engages beneath the darkness of night and blankets. It’s not often that Maria pulls the blankets overtop of herself as she works to unravel the intricate knots and coils in your belly, but she’s chosen tonight to share the beauty of your body with only herself and the silicone toy secured around her hips. Your moans are muffled by her skin, teeth embedded into her shoulder as she rocks the strap-on into you harshly, the bulbous head dancing along your cervix with every third stroke. She’s practiced in this tango, an expert in knowing your body, but the wine has impacted your reception to her actions, and as she pulls the strap out of you almost completely only to thrust back into you quick and harsh, a name leaves your lips that isn’t her own.
Maria has never been soft with you in moments of time where some part of her body is buried within yours. She’s rough, and assertive, and entirely domineering as she splits you open and gives you only as much pleasure as she’s willing. With Maria, you’re never in charge. The cards are held tightly in her ironclad grasp and you’ve learned better than to try and guess that she’s holding. The wine however, has severely impacted your judgment. You’ve engaged in this dance for months now; been left with the bruises and aches of her touch for days afterward, and yet you’re disoriented enough to cry out for Wanda as she drills your sopping cunt so perfectly.
“Mommy!” The title slips off your lips before you can search for the correct term that’s filed away in a section of your brain labeled ‘Masha’. Maria has never been Mommy, in fact, she’s always turned her nose up at the title and joked that Wanda’s entirely too harsh to be called something so maternal, and she’s less than amused when the five letter name falls onto her shoulders as she works to unravel you completely.
Her hips stutter to a stationary position, the silicone dildo fastened around her hips deep within your pleasure soaked core, but unmoving and unwilling to start again. There’s a moment of silence that passes between the both of you; Maria’s eyes are hard, slitted and dark as she stares down at you in a drunken haze, brain struggling to process what you’ve just let slip. Your eyes are wide, light and soft as you meet her stare and attempt to win her forgiveness without seeing the repercussions of your actions. You were a fool to call her Mommy, but you were an idiot to think she’d let it go so simply.
The silence that had fallen over you ended abruptly, replaced by the echoing sound of a sharp slap meeting your cheek and bouncing through the air before you’d had a chance to process the pain at all. Your head snapped to the side, your unharmed cheek pressing against her pillowcases that smell somewhat of smoke and vanilla. Your eyes pinch closed, anticipating the next hit that will land against your heated skin, but it never comes. Maria’s hand tangled into your hair instead, pulling your head back until your neck is craned and the expanse of your sensitive skin is exposed enough for her teeth and tongue to mark.
“What’s my fucking name?” Her hips snap into yours with each word that she mutters against your neck, sharp bites and sensitive stings encasing your body in a delectable buzz of pleasure and possessiveness. You’ll bear these marks for days to come, indentations of her teeth and patches of purple from her lips adorning your skin that can’t be easily hidden with makeup or your longest turtleneck. Everyone who looks at you will know that you’d found yourself beneath a warm body and had been helpless to their assault, but only you’ll know that it was Maria Hill who had been your intimate attacker. Each lovebite that she presses into your skin is a subtle claim. You’re not Wanda’s in this moment, you’re not Natasha or Carol’s either, you’re entirely Maria’s and she’s reminding you of such as her hips drive hard against your own and the silicone strap that’s coated in your arousal attempts to bruise your cervix in the most addictively painful way. Each strong thrust sends you reeling farther into bliss, but she’s waiting for an answer and you’re not getting anything more until she hears you call her the right name. In her opinion, she’s being entirely lenient with you, there are a plethora of ways she can go about reminding you who you belong to, and yet your wrists remain unbound and your breasts remain unmarked by the leather of her favorite flogger that’s just an arms distance away. “Whats my fucking name, slut? Or do I need to carve it into you? How pretty would you be with my name on your thigh; ruined for anyone else who even tries to get between these legs? My little slut forever.”
A strangled moan falls into the air as Maria sinks her teeth into the skin of your neck just beneath your ear, and your hands that have remained at your sides throughout this entire exchange shoot up to scratch at her back, blood bubbling to the surface as you spare to ounce of lightness to your touch. She’s marked you, now she’ll bear your marks for days to come. “S-Sir!”
Maria hums, satisfied with your answer, but unwilling to forgive you completely. Her hips continue to pound into you until she reaches her high, thighs quivering as she moans in pure delight until she’s too sensitive to continue on with her ministrations. The strap-on leaves your entrance quickly, your overstimulated and sensitive walls pleading for it to stay, but Maria’s done for the night, and she’s decided that you are too. She reaches for the abandoned glass of wine, taking a sip smugly as she straddles your hips, damp toy splayed across your naked belly as your chest heaves and you look up at her pleadingly.
“You’ll get to cum when I don’t have to remind you who I am.”
Natasha –
Natasha’s hips continue to rock into you even as she leans forward and captures your lips between hers. The room is filled with a thin layer of smoke, the scents of weed and sex entangling together and yet it's somehow entirely Natasha as you lay beneath her, willing to take whatever she wants to give you. Your head is fuzzy, filled with only thoughts of her and the lightness that the bud had brought over your senses. Her body is warm as her naked chest presses against yours, already marked by her passionate kisses and bites that will linger for days to come in secret. Her pupils are blown wide, a combination of her lust and the joint she’s rolled skillfully. Her fingers are educated in the art of many things, but unraveling you is one of her most prized hobbies. Her lungs are filled with smoke from the last drag she’s taken, and as the seconds linger on with her lips still pressed firmly to yours, unmoving but eager to claim you intimately, she exhales into your open mouth and forces you to take the smoke that she fills it with. It burns as you inhale, slipping down your throat smoothly and filling your own lungs, but it’s pleasant and you greedily allow her to continue until all that remains is an empty kiss that was once filled with weed. The smoke trails out in wispy strands of white and gray, and they dance between your faces until the open space claims it and the visual is gone.
When she pulls away, there’s a devilish smirk on her lips that even another drag can’t erase entirely. She raises the joint to her lips again, eyes fluttering closed as she sits back on her heels, the cum-filled strap she borrows from Carol still buried within your walls and yet agonizingly still as she lets her head fall back in contentment. The cloud of milky white smoke that settles around her is entirely erotic, almost a halo of intoxication above her head, but there’s hardly a second for you to admire how ethereal she looks in this state before she presses into you firmly and resumes her rocking. Her pace is punishing albeit shallow, the tip of the strap-on hitting your perfect spot so softly it feels like butterfly sings batting against your skin, but she’s ruthless with her speed and the quick motions of her hips are enough to have you gripping at the sheets and looping your legs around her waist to draw her in deeper.
Natasha laughs smugly at the sight of you so fried and desperate. She raises the joint to your lips with one hand, encouraging you to take a hit before her other hand wraps loosely around your neck. She doesn’t apply any pressure as you take a long drag, eyes fluttering closed as you involuntarily shiver at the taste lingering on your tongue, but the presence of her grip is enough to have your hips bucking into hers.
“F-fuck sir!” You cry out when she obliges with your silent request and begins to thrust deeper into your core, the head of the toy pounding right against your sensitive spot with practiced ease as your head falls back against the pillows and your lips release the joint. A cough falls off your lips as you moan around the smoke in your lungs, eyes becoming watery from the burning sting, but you have no time to recover from the hit before Natasha’s hand is tightening around your neck and her hips are setting into you faster and harder.
Her lips purse as she collects spit on the tip of her tongue, letting it fall against your flush cheek before she smears it down your neck, fingers that are still holding the lit join trailing across the expanse of your sensitive and worked over skin. She’s playing with fire now, quite literally, smearing her spit across your chest until she finds a home at your pebbled nipple and pinches roughly, but you have no ounce of self-preservation in your body as you watch the lit joint fall closer and closer to the marked skin of your chest as she tightened her grip on your neck and leans cynically close to your face. Her eyes are dark, clouded with lust and intoxication. Her hips have set a punishing pace and each time she drives the head of the strap into your g-spot your vision goes white with pleasure.
“That’s not my fucking name. Are you really that much of a slut that you’re thinking about Masha as I’m fucking you. We can get Masha if you’d like, I’m sure she’d love to watch as I fuck you into my mattress until the only words you know how to say are Daddy please. I’m sure she’d love to lay between these legs and watch my cum spill out of you before I push it right back in and plug you up. Fucking whore. Is Daddy fucking you too good? Is that little brain so overwhelmed with pleasure that you don’t even know who’s fucking you?” Natasha lightens her grip on your nipple, bringing the joint back up to her lips before she drops it into the ashtray on her bedside table and grips the dildo, throwing her head back as her thrusts become choppy. “I bet you’d let anyone fuck this cunt. All you want is to cum. Fuck!” She curses as she drops her body against yours, lips capturing yours in a bruising kiss as she squeezes the shaft tightly, cum spurting against your walls and marking them with a milky whiteness. “Cum with me. Fuck!”
With her permission, the coil in your belly finally snaps, and you arch into her touch as she rides out her own orgasm, the cum slipping down your legs and coating your inner thighs and her sheets. “Fuck Daddy!”
“Good girl. Scream my name. Let Masha hear how good I’m making you feel.”
Wanda –
When Wanda invited you over to fuck, you’d anticipated something quick. What you hadn’t expected, was for her to bind your wrists to her headboard and force your legs apart with her recently purchased spreader bar. You’d been at her mercy for hours now, writhing on the bed beneath her as she took her time working you up. First it had been her fingers that dared to ruin you, the ringed digits slipping between your folds and teasing your clit and entrance until you were dripping onto the bed sheets and pleading with her to give you something more. She’d agreed easily, not even putting up a fight to prove her dominance over you. Those skilled fingers had turned into a skilled tongue. The hot muscle pressed against your clit, lapped at your entrance and slurped up the damp arousal that glistened beneath the moonlight that bled into the room from the open window. She was relentless in her teasing, and as overstimulated as you were beneath her touch, you were equally as frustrated. She’d been at it for hours, bringing you just close enough to taste the sweet relief of your orgasm before she pulled away and began the process all over again. You’d cursed her out six times since she started, and each time she merely chuckled against your core and slapped her palm down harshly against your cunt, sure to let her fingers brush against your clit for merely a second before it was gone and her tongue soothed the ache but brought nothing more.
Your hands itched to tangle into her hair, and yet each time you reached for her you remembered how she’d so intricately bound you to the headboard with the softest rope in her collection. Your hips bucked upward as she pulled away again, your entrance clenching around nothing as your clit throbbed and protested. A broken cry fell off your lips as you shook your head frantically, needing her back on you and relieving the intense ache that she had single handedly created. Her lips and chin glistened with your arousal as she smirked down at you, the vibrating egg between her legs working her up to an orgasm you could only beg for.
A whine rippled through your chest before it tumbled into the room, the words you’d been chanting for hours mangled and wrong as they came spiraling out fast and strung together. “Captain! P-Please!” Wanda growled lowly at the slip, her eyes dark and sinister as she leaned forward to grab your jaw and force your eyes on her.
“What did you call me?” Despite how she articulated every syllable in the sentence, she wasn’t really looking for you to respond to her. In a swift motion, she’d reached across the bed to grab the panties that she’d pulled from your legs when you’d first joined her in the bedroom, and shoved them into your mouth. The balled up fabric was damp and uncomfortable as it sat on your tongue, but despite how hard you strained to force them away from your mouth, you couldn’t get them out with your arms bound and her body restricting your movements.
Your eyes tracked her movements as she fumbled around in the drawers of her bedside table, thighs straddling your waist as she leaned forward and subsequently rocked the vibrating egg farther into her tight channel. She trembled in pleasure, but everything about her was always so perfectly kept that it was hardly noticeable to anyone who wasn’t you. Her rustling had lasted mere seconds before a black marker that had been used weeks prior to mark up a project poster now in her grip and uncapped. You had no idea what she planned to do with it, but there wasn’t any way for you to ask if you wanted to. You were helpless to watch as she slid down your body and dragged the inky tip across the skin of your breasts before moving downward.
You gasped when the cold tip of the marker dragged across the skin right above your mound, thick black letters that you had to strain your neck to read lingering on your skin only to be gone when you washed your body of her touch later that night. ‘Mommy’s Slut’, was written just above your cunt, but Wanda wasn’t satisfied in stopping there. She dragged the felt tip across the inside of your thigh, holding your legs still as they wiggled away from the ticklish sensations she provoked. A thick arrow pointed straight at your weeping entrance, and Wanda was cruel enough to write, ‘cum slut’ at the tip of the arrow. A cry fell off your lips when she threw the marker onto the floor, and returned to her position between your legs. Her mouth was cruel as it worked you up to the edge, but unlike the times prior, she hadn’t stopped when you’d begun to wriggle around as an indication of your approaching orgasm. You fell over the cliffside in bliss, but that had only lasted long enough for your orgasm to crash over you and then she was gone, forcing you to ride it out with no further stimulation.
A harsh slap met your sensitive cunt when you finally stilled on her bed, teary eyed and desperate for something more as you stared up at her with wide pleading eyes. Wanda wasn’t willing to comply however, and instead of satisfying you fully, she trailed harsh bites up your torso and between the valley of your breasts before her lips, still glistening with your arousal, found a home against yours. The dainty pink panties with a frail little bow on the waistband still between your teeth and properly wet from your saliva, but she hadn’t trailed so close to your face to kiss you. Instead, she settled her harsh glare on you, a sinister smile curling the edges of her lips upward as she let a damp finger stroke across your cheekbones, “I guess Mommy has to remind you of who you belong to. We’ll see if you deserve to cum in a few days.”
Carol –
The buttplug is an added sensation that Carol uses to her advantage as she works to unravel you completely before you both have to leave for class. You’re not new to butt plugs, Maria’s quite the fan of them, but you’re new to them with Carol and the ways that she likes to toy with your stimulated body. You're on all fours in the center of her bed, knees sinking into the mattress as your hands grasp and twist at the comforter, absolutely desperate for relief that’s been slowly building beneath the surface. Her fingers are buried deep into your core, curling into your g-spot and massaging your velvet walls with pride. Her tongue circles the plug in your ass teasingly, and every couple of minutes when you least expect it, she presses against the base of the plug in tandem with her harsher thrusts before she scissors you open.
Carol smirks against your ass as she sinks her teeth into your left cheek, her hand slapping down on you right just as she flicks her thumb over your clit. A muffled moan falls off of your lips as you bury your face into the comforter, your hips rocking back on their own accord as you attempt to chase after her touch, a strangled cry of, “Daddy more!”, vibrating your cheek as you twist your head to rest your cheek against the comforter and stare back at her.
Carol is relatively unbothered by your slip of her title, but she doesn’t let it go entirely, not that you’re aware yet. Her fingers work into you easily, her thumb rubbing harsher, tighter circles around your clit until you're spasming on the bed. She smirks against the globe of your ass, her thumb pressing firmly against the plug with the hand that’s not buried between your thighs. “That’s not my name Princess and you know that.” Carol says smugly, grinding her hips down onto the edge of the bed as she chases her own relief, knowing there’s not enough time in the ten minutes she has left with you to reverse your position and have you go down on her.
“Captain!” You cry out sharply, reaching your hand back to grasp onto Carol’s as the coil builds in your belly almost unbearably. The engineering major merely smirks, digging her teeth into your ass a final time before she encourages you to spill around her fingers. That’s all it takes for you to cave and tremble as she continues to scissor you open and curl her fingers into your cunt, but as quickly as your orgasm comes, she’s pulling away and throwing your clothes at your head. “You’re really going to go to class like that?” You question her, laying dazing on her bed as you twist onto your back and watch her run a baby wipe between her legs before she’s wiggling into a pair of fresh panties and reaching for her pants.
“Yes, and so are you. Get up. That plug doesn’t come out until I take it out.” She says in the most unphased tone, reaching for the crewneck that’s been laying across her desk chair for days, not even bothering to reach for the bra that’s only inches away.
“W-What?” Your eyes go wide as you sit up in bed, wincing slightly at the pressure in your ass as the plug presses against the inner parts of you sweetly, ropes of pleasure shooting through your core.
“You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you, Princess?” Carol merely winks before she’s flying out of the room, shouting that you have three minutes to meet her in the car before she leaves without you and makes you walk to class.
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#dom!wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff fic#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#dom!natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanoff fic#carol danvers#carol danvers x reader#dom!carol danvers x reader#carol danvers smut#carol danvers fic#maria hill#maria hill x reader#dom!maria hill x reader#maria hill smut#maria hill fic#series: know my place#minors dni ৎ୭
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Hello! couldI ask for a headcanon on Rosies, Alastors, Husk, Lucifers, Vaggies, Lutes, Vox's, and velvettes(all separate) reactions to Getting in an argument with the reader(whom they're in a relationship with)
Reader leaves to clear their head for a bit but doesn't return.
About a week later, they find they the reader, bleeding in an alley.
big fan of your work btw, sorry if my request was to complex but thank you for at least reading it.
have a lovely day!
Alastor
Alastor knows he can be an infuriating person to argue with.
He will just continue to smile and speak in a steady tone, as if he’s unaffected even if that’s anything but true.
You don’t get into fights often but when you do, it’s not unusual for you to leave to clear your head.
Normally you’re back the next day. By day two he was concerned. Day three he was worried.
He sent his shadows out to find you.
As soon as one of them saw someone who even resembled you in the slightest, he appeared there even if you weren’t.
When he found you wounded, he was furious.
Not at you, but the person who dared touch you.
His anger nearly consumed him but he pushed it to the side in order to tend to your wounds.
You appeared in his radio tower where he quickly patched you up.
His touches were quick, a bit painful, and precise.
But he got you patched quickly and efficiently.
The argument you had was quickly put aside in favor of the more pressing matter, finding his next guest for his show.
Husk
He’s a pretty reasonable guy most of the time. It takes something pretty big in order for either of you to yell much less storm out.
When Husk woke up with a hangover and you no where to be seen, he cursed himself as he remembered what he’d tried to forget.
He sent you a message, just asking if you were okay.
He followed it up the next day by calling and leaving you a voicemail. He explained that you could take as much time as you needed but please, just let him know you’re okay.
It was Charlie who found you, the princess far more willing to take action than he was. Too afraid of pushing your boundaries himself even if he was worried.
He immediately went into assistant mode as Niffty went into mini-nurse mode.
When you were stable, he took you up to your room and tucked you in bed.
“Don’t worry ‘bout the argument, baby. We can talk about it later.”
He kissed your forehead and laid beside you in bed, hand on your pulse.
Lucifer
He’s not a fighter. He’s an avoider.
He’s not even really conscious of the fact that he does it. He just isolates.
That’s probably what caused the disagreement in the first place.
When he found you, immediately in panic mode.
Just wants to make sure you’re okay.
Being the first Angel cast out of heaven, he knew how to tend to wounds and quickly attended to yours.
Stroking your hair the entire time, just begging you don’t leave him.
Lute
Lute can be stubbornly loyal and it was probably something to do with work or Adam that caused the fight.
Whatever, go ahead. Leave. It’s not like she cares.
She lies to herself so well she believes it until she finds you bleeding.
Which, what the fuck? You weren’t in Hell. These things didn’t happen.
She doesn’t know how to take care of wounds. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’s never seen someone bleed.
She takes you to Emily. Reluctantly.
Emily doesn’t really know what she’s doing but she quickly gets in contact with people who do, being so well contacted to the winners.
She is by your side, fight entirely forgotten, the entire time.
Will actually punch Adam if he says something about her going soft.
Rosie
Rosie is a problem solver.
That’s what she does.
She actually takes off work to try to figure out how to solve your problems and brain storm.
It’s only when she’s figured out several solutions she thinks will work that she tries to find you.
When she does, oh is she absolutely pissed.
But first, she’s stitching you up.
Very gentle but very honest.
A lot of “this’ll hurt” might give you something to bite on.
Will go out and find the poor soul who did this to you and serve their bloody heart on a silver platter to you.
Vaggie
She immediately goes into work mode.
She just overworks herself. She doesn’t know what to so she just tries to be useful.
When she finds you she feels her stomach turn and heart drop. Immediately yells for Charlie to get help as she bursts through the Hotel doors carrying you.
She’s holding your hand the entire time muttering how sorry she is.
She’ll pull you into her lap and stroke your hair.
Her hand will end up resting atop your pulse as she gets sleep for the first time since you left.
If you so much as breathe wrong, she’s calling for someone more experienced to check on you.
Velvette
Velvette’s a ruthless person to get in an argument with.
It’s not surprising when you leave and don’t come back.
She’ll act like she’s not worried but secretly is.
When she finds you, she’s swearing up and down and she scoops you up.
She basically dumps you with Vox. Trusting him to get you to stop bleeding and you to pull yourself together in the end.
She’s going on a hunt.
She comes back bloodied and with a mania in her eyes that is rarely seen.
You don’t leave her side for a while.
Vox
Vox has eyes everywhere.
He’s keeping one on you at all times.
He doesn’t need to find you even when you storm out because he always knows where you are.
You need time away from him? That’s fine. He’s watching you the entire time though.
You don’t even get the chance to start bleeding anything severe because as soon as you get nicked, he’s there.
The soul who dared to hurt you is electrocuted and fried before you even realize it’s Vox who entered the scene.
“Hot as it is watching you fight, I do hate to see you hurt.”
He stroked right beneath the place where you were cut, smearing the blood.
#vox x reader#hazbin vox x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin alastor x reader#hazbin husk x reader#husk x reader#hazbin rosie x reader#rosie x reader#hazbin lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#hazbin lute x reader#lute x reader#hazbin vaggie x reader#vaggie x reader#hazbin hotel velvette x reader#hazbin hotel velvette
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