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fuckmyskywalker · 9 months

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Pussy pleaser — Anakin Skywalker.

— CW: 18+, smut! Anakin eating pussy, Anakin worshipping it, fucking it, basically existing just to eat cunt. Slay. (I may have overused the word "pussy" but hey, can you blame me?). — BASED OFF THIS THOUGHT I HAD AFTER BEING SLEEP DEPRIVED. || WC: 1.2k – Not proofread :P.

— A/N: IMPORTANT! I tried not to use a specific pronoun to refer to reader's vAGINA because I know some people that wanted a larger version of this don't go by she/her pronouns! I hope I did it well and if I missed something please let me know! Your opinion matters to me 🫶🏻. Woops, what's missing here?! ;)

Anakin is an exceptional lover, but if there's something he lacks… is patience.

Especially when it comes to you.

After a rough day, after a good day, to cheer up after some bad news, to celebrate after some good news, after the council either scolded/congratulated him… Anakin always ends his day buried in between your thighs. It doesn't even matter how, if it is his cock, his tongue, his fingers— As long as your pussy is involved, he’s in, figuratively and literally speaking.

But like I said, his patience is little to none, and it shows. Anakin will not only overwork you, overstimulate you and completely ravish your sweet pussy at any given chance, time and place— but he also will give you a short time to even accommodate and keep up with his passionate urges. His large hands start caressing your thighs, trying to hold himself back every time but failing miserably, he will pry them apart slowly, trying to savor the moment (mostly for himself), tracing your skin with practiced ease. He knows every curve, every freckle and mole, Anakin has memorized every inch of your body and he is proud to know what makes you crumble and beg for more.

Anakin tries to be gentle, but having your heavenly offer just inches away within his reach and not be buried deep inside you is a crime. He licks your pussy until you have no idea if you are this wet because of the arousal he provoked on you or his own spit.

Which, let me add to the list how disgusting he is sometimes: Anakin is filthy, and his devotion to you only seems to make his obsession even worse. One of his favorite activities is parting your lips with his thumb, before licking a long, lazy stripe from your entrance to your clit— and then spit right on your cunt. He will throb like a horny teenager, he will hump the mattress of the cheap beds in the Jedi Temple like a desperate bitch while watching how his saliva slides and mixes with your own wetness.

Speaking of his obsession, Anakin lives, fights and comes back home every day for you, of course… but for your pussy too. His favorite breakfast, meal and dinner. His favorite treat and his favorite prize.

Countless times you had laid down on the bed, legs open wide like a cheap whore from a dirty brothel straight from the most dark, disgusting corners of Coruscant, with his head buried in between them, tugging on his blonde curls moaning and grinding his nose against your clit for him to mumble something so quietly you mistake it with an insect flying across the room.

“I missed you.” He whispered, his blown out irises fixated on your pussy. “My pretty thing.”

The first time it felt flattering. It was nice to know your boyfriend missed you so much. You ignored him, thinking he was just eager.

The second time, it was the same.

Same quiet murmurs, same praises: “God, I can’t get enough of you…” Anakin had his eyes closed, sucking on your clit and pausing every now and then to whisper sweet words to you.

Sure, to you.

Over and over, you gobbled up his praises, his need, his lust for you. Anakin had the power to push you to heavens, to reduce you to a blabbering puddle, to lit up your darkness fantasies, so why stop him? He sounds like he’s enjoying himself, and who are you to deny him such pleasure?

There's always a breaking point though.

Remember how I mentioned how impatient Anakin is? Well, this time it didn't worked on your favor. Instead of prepping your pussy, allowing you to have a nice, slippery stretch to be able to fit his thick cock without any discomfort, Anakin couldn't wait. It wasn't particularly painful, but a sharp sting was there, something momentarily but significant. Anakin bottomed out, groaning loudly at how tight your pussy was in that moment, his horny, selfish mind not being able to register his lack of consideration.

“You are tighter than usual.” He huffed, his fingers digging in the supple flesh your waist. You tried to protest, to tell him he didn't stretch you first, but he began to trust relentlessly, hitting your sweet spot over and over.

Every complaint quickly died in your throat, replaced by moans of pleasure and delight. Even if it felt amazing, your pussy was still struggling to accommodate to his size, and Anakin, the little shit, was in heaven.

“You missed me? You missed my cock pretty thing? Missed me using you like a toy?”

Despite your blissful state, something about his words just seemed… off.

Almost as if he wasn't talking to you.

Anakin’s hips slammed against yours again and again giving you no break at all. Your hands had to grab the edge of the wooden bed frame at some point, the discomfort of his girth now long forgotten. He hovered over you, staring at your pretty, glassy eyes, watching them roll back, silently beg him for more and then looked downwards, locking his devil eyes with your pussy. If there was something Anakin would never, ever, not in a million years get tired of, was the breathtaking view he had every time he had the privilege to witness how your tight little hole struggled to keep him inside, as if your delightful, hot cunt was desperately trying to keep him inside forever.

“Fuck… I missed you too, wish I could stay inside all fucking day.” His incessant gibberish began to have an effect on you, your hazy mind slowly putting the pieces together.

“Anakin—” You called him with such a tone that he snapped out of his trance.

“Yes?” He asked, not stopping his movements, just slowing them.

Next, a question you never imagined asking. Your sweaty, flushed face had a hint of confusion, a pretty valid confusion.

“…Are you talking to my pussy?”

Anakin froze, looking almost— guilty?

“What if I am?” He answered your question with another question, something you hated.

“Anakin, answer the question.” You sighed, waiting for his answer as if you two weren't naked on his bed, him buried balls deep inside of you.

Your boyfriend pouted, was he really throwing a tantrum? “Maybe.” He whispered. In response, you laughed quietly trying not to ruin the moment. It wasn't odd, probably a bit perverted and a bit— hot? The fact that Anakin was so in love with your pussy he treated it as if it was another whole being worth his wholehearted attention.

“I think it’s… hot” Your words were followed by a shrug, staring at him, batting your eyelashes.

Giving him that look.

And if Anakin Skywalker isn’t the most patient person in the Galaxy, he certainly is the designated pussy pleaser of the Galaxy.

He pounced again, wasting less than five seconds to resume his reckless assault on your poor, overworked pussy. “See?” He practically growled, his teeth sinking in his lower lip, curving into a wicked smile. “This tight, little cunt missed my big cock so much.” He is on full rampage mode, fucking you brainless.

“Feel how I stretch your tiny hole, angel?”

“Look at you, is my cock too big for you?”

One hand let go of your hip, grabbing your face and squeezing your cheeks, breaking eye contact with your bodies merged into one and forcing you to look at him. His face was inches away from yours, his hot breath hit your face and a string of drool falling from his lips landed on your lower lip. The fire in his eyes was incomparable.

“This pussy belongs to me, not you, do you hear me?”

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker prompt #anakin skwalker #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin eating pussy like a champ.

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wlntrsldler · 1 month

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we can't be friends (wait for your love) | luke castellan

synopsis: where luke survives the battle of manhattan and returns to camp half blood, only to see you (his ex) in a new relationship.

based on we can't be friends (wait for your love) by ariana grande

luke didn’t plan on making it out alive from the battle of manhattan, but here he was, back in camp half blood, wishing that he succumbed to his wounds instead of fighting to stay alive. the camp was different, cold and foreign to him, even though he’d spent a good chunk of his life on the campgrounds. all his best and worst memories were made at camp half blood, but that life seemed unreachable now. at this point, luke didn’t know if the memories that he recalled were actually his or if they were just tricks kronos was still pulling on him.

the campers knew him as the ‘traitor.’ the kids he used to help with their sword skills cowered in fear whenever he approached them. the apollo kids only tended to his wounds because they had to and even then, they glared at him and wrapped the bandages just tight enough not to cut off blood flow. the satyrs who used to slip him strawberries from their fields, spoke about him in hushed whispers whenever he walked by them. but the thing that hurt the most was seeing you walk around with theo harvey, hand in hand, just like he used to do with you.

he didn’t have the right to be upset. it’s been years since the two of you were last together, years since he held your hand in his, kissed your lips, felt you asleep on his chest. it was before he turned into this monster with hands stained with the blood of the people he considered friends, considered family. he knew you’d move on. he told himself that he wanted you to be happy, to receive the love that you deserved, but selfishly, he knew deep down that he wanted you to have that with him– not the theo harvey, child of athena, favored by the gods.

at first, luke thought he’d be able to make it through the summer. as far as he knew, the older kids didn’t stay at camp half blood throughout the year, but he was thoroughly disappointed when he found out that a lot of the older kids stayed to guard camp just in case something happened. luke blamed himself for his own suffering. getting used as kronos’ host hurt less than seeing your lipgloss on theo’s cheek when they sparred; or noticing that the necklace he made for you when he was 15 was replaced by the one that theo bought you; or hearing your giggles from across the campfire while theo whispered corny jokes in your ear. he did this to himself.

it made him sick to his stomach. he discreetly moved into the poseidon cabin with percy (he grew tired of his siblings falling silent every time he walked into the hermes cabin. he no longer knew how to sleep in silence because it was always loud and rowdy when his siblings were involved, but alas, that changed too). luke was scared of it at first, knowing that he was on thin ice with the gods, but percy, being percy, scoffed.

“you already tried to dethrone them,” the younger boy joked, trying to lighten luke’s broody demeanor, “i think you staying in a cabin you’re not assigned to is on the bottom of your list of offenses.”

“dude. too soon.”

“my bad.”

the trio tried their best to cheer luke up. they knew that it was probably difficult for him to come back to camp after everything, but it became clear quickly that luke’s mood was not just due to everyone at camp hating him, but rather because one person at camp wanted nothing to do with him.

anyone who saw you and luke interact before everything went down, knew that there was something between you guys that nothing in the world could touch. none of them knew the extent of your bond until it was your voice that snapped luke out of kronos’ control. it took one word. one syllable. luke. the second he heard your voice, it was like a switch was flipped in luke’s brain.

percy made an ill-timed joke after the dust cleared, “if y/n was all it took to bring you back, we would’ve dragged her to see you a long time ago, buddy. would’ve saved us a lot of time.”

“percy.”

on the way back to chb, luke revealed that he made a deal with kronos to keep you out of harm’s way. he only agreed to be kronos’ host if it meant that he would protect you, keep you away from all the bloodshed of the war. the titan agreed but underestimated your stubbornness and prowess. when you showed up to the battle of manhattan, a part of kronos knew that his plan was spoiled.

so luke’s actions, sulking during meals, spending too many hours training, opting to be alone, made sense to them. you hadn’t so much looked in his direction since he arrived at camp half blood; not even a smile, a wave, an acknowledgment of his presence. it was painful to watch luke stare at you from across the room, longing evident on his face, only breaking his gaze when theo finally showed up to take his usual spot next to you. luke still loved you, that part was clear, but at what point was it too much?

annabeth, who’d watched your love story unfold, and was your number one fan, was heartbroken to watch your relationship crumble. she liked theo, her half-sibling was great, but luke was her brother and as much as he messed up, she felt bad for him. you were it for luke. if luke was going to end up with someone, it was you. she always believed that it was written in the stars, crafted by the hands of fate, professed by the goddess of love herself, that in this life you and luke would prevail and when your time came to exist in the afterlife, you’d find each other in elysium. but with how things were looking, annabeth began to question her own belief system.

it happened during one of the many nights luke couldn’t fall asleep, no matter how hard he tried. he threw on one of the hoodies he left behind at camp before sneaking out of the poseidon cabin to smoke a cigarette, a habit he picked up during his days on princess andromeda.

he saw you then, standing by the lake seemingly on patrol. he didn’t know that you’d be assigned to guard tonight. if he did, he probably wouldn’t have come out of the cabin. as much as he stared at you and scratched at his palms wanting to talk to you, he never made an effort to. he knew you well enough to know when you wanted nothing to do with someone and how you were treating him right now made your intentions very clear.

luke was trying his best to be quiet, but he accidentally burned the tip of his thumb with his lighter and let out a hiss. you turned around immediately, sword drawn, in a fighting stance. you narrowed your eyes, trying to make out who was out of the cabins this late at night.

“shit,” luke mumbled, stuffing his cig and lighter in his pocket. he’d been so distracted looking at you, trying to hide himself, that he didn’t notice the fire was so close to his skin. he raised his hands up, trying to show that he wasn’t looking for trouble, “i-i’ts uh, it’s just me. sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you.”

you froze in your spot, arm slowly falling to your side. you placed your sword back in its place, walking over to him, “luke?”

it was pathetic how the corners of his lips quirked up in a smile at the sound of his name leaving your lips. he hadn’t heard it since that day and it made a warmth spread across his chest. he wiped the smile off his face as you got close enough to see him, afraid that you’d think he was making a joke out of the situation. he stood there awkwardly as your eyes studied his face and his body, probably assessing if he was a threat.

“hey, y/n,” your name tasted sour in his mouth. he hadn’t called you that in years, always referring to you as baby, or babe, or love, or another cringy pet name that you pretended to hate but the blush on your cheeks said otherwise. using your real name felt too formal, like you were strangers. perhaps you considered him a stranger now. the idea made luke want to disappear. “i just uh, came out to get some fresh air.”

you stayed silent, pursing your lips as you continued to stare at him. luke tried not to think about how much of a mess he looked right now. the sweater was a size too small on him, sleeves falling short on his wrists. his pajama pants were wrinkled and stained with mud where they dragged on the floor on his way to the lake. his curls were a mess on his head. he ran a hand through his hair one too many times while he tossed and turned on his cot. the bags under his eyes weren’t the most flattering and the smaller scars that had been added on his face since the battle were disgusting to look at.

he cleared his throat, “i can go back to the cabin, i-it’s really not a big deal. i’ll just crack a window open or something.”

“where are you staying?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, “i know you’re not sleeping in the hermes cabin. the stolls told me you haven’t been there in days.”

luke rubbed the back of his neck, “i’ve been staying with percy. ‘m not really welcomed in my cabin right now.”

“i see,” you replied.

“yeah.”

“you need to stop it.”

luke gulped, “stop what?”

“staring at me,” you licked your lips before taking your bottom lip between your teeth. you scruffed the bottom of your shoes on the grass, a tell that you were feeling awkward. he was brought back to the day you confessed your feelings for him.

you were sixteen, he seventeen, right after he returned from his quest. he’d taken you out into the woods to get away from the judgment of the campers about his failed quest. he was lying on his back, pointing out the constellations in the sky, when you got up with your hands on your back. you shyly rocked back and forth on the tips of your toes and the balls of your feet, staring down at him with a red flush on your cheeks.

you started dragging your feet on the floor, ignoring the dirt that kicked up from your actions that stuck on the fabric of your converses. you had mumbled that you liked him and luke couldn’t believe it. he asked you to repeat yourself, louder the second time, partly because he wanted to hear it again, and partly because he thought he was hearing things. when you groaned and walked away, fully believing that he was messing with you, luke jolted from his position and ran after you. he wrapped his arms around your waist and spun you around, proclaiming his own feelings for you in between fits of giggles and kisses to your cheek.

this scene was the opposite of that. your stare was cold and serious, needing to get this point across. luke thought you looked different. physically, you still looked like his y/n– same hair, same eyes, same lips, but the look on your face was distant. you’d never looked at him like this before, like you didn’t know him at all, like he had no place in the life you created for yourself. luke didn’t know if it hurt more to have you ignore him like you had been doing for weeks, or have you look at him like this.

“i have a boyfriend, luke,” you sighed, “you can’t keep looking at me like that.”

“i-i’m sorry,” he stuttered out, tears burning his eyes. “i just miss you.”

“please don’t do that,” you whispered, turning your head away from him. luke watched you wipe your tears with your forearm and all he wanted to do was engulf you in his arms like he’d done a million times before and hold you until the storm was over. “you don’t get to say things like that to me.”

luke rubbed his jaw, trying to keep his hands occupied, “you know i can never lie to you.”

“i need you to lie to me this time, okay?” you refused to look at him now. “i need you to say that you don’t feel anything for me anymore.”

“i can’t do that, y/n.”

“i spent years loving you and you left, luke. you chose to betray us,” you placed your palms on your stomach, trying to steady yourself. you felt like you couldn’t breathe. this is why you’d been avoiding him. you knew that the minute he made his way back into your life, you’d fall on your knees, at his mercy. a part of you knew that he wouldn’t do anything like that again, but you also knew that in the off-chance that he would, you wouldn’t survive a second blow. you barely made it out alive after the first one. losing luke for a second time would ruin you. “i like theo. i’m finally learning to live without you and i can’t lose all this progress over some wishful thinking. luke, i can’t do that.”

“it’s not wishful thinking,” luke replied, sniffling.

“stop it!” you sobbed, turning to look at him. your tears were streaming down your face, despair and hurt clouding your eyes, “stop it, please! i’m begging you to let me go. i-i can’t have you in my life. don’t you get it? i’m tethered to you. you’re the other half of my soul. you own a piece of my heart that i can never ever get back, but i-i’m exhausted trying to fight you off.”

luke’s shoulders deflated at the sound of agony in your voice. he took a step back, mouth opening and closing as he tried to will his mind to say something, anything, in response to you. but he couldn’t. where does he even start?

should he tell you that it was the memories with you that kept him sane all those years he was held captive? should he tell you that he visited camp half blood despite knowing that it would cause more harm than good during those years just in the hopes that he could catch a glimpse of you? should he tell you that when the corners of his vision began to blur, it was the feeling of your hands pressing against his wounds that made him fight to stay alive?

he’d stay alive just to feel your touch, warm and steady hands on his tattered skin as he’d always remembered, for a second longer. he’d use his last bit of strength to place a kiss on your knuckles, injuries be damned because he needed you to know how he felt. he’d use his last breath to tell you that you looked beautiful, bloodied and bruised, under the light of the world burning around you. he’d spend the rest of his life hated by everyone in the world just to have you glance in his direction. he’d spend his time in the afterlife in tartarus if it meant that he had a shot at rebirth, in a life where you loved him again.

“make it easier for me and put me out of my misery,” you choked out, “you at least owe me that decency.”

luke knew that he was difficult to love. his mom went crazy because she loved him. his dad abandoned him because he was too much. thalia hated him because of who he had become. annabeth still flinched when percy made jokes about kronos because it reminded her of what luke did. luke knew that loving him was a chore, a burden, but he never thought that loving him would cause someone so much suffering. especially not you, who told him once that loving him was effortless, as easy as breathing in oxygen in the air. you once said that loving him was simple. it was second nature to you.

now, he watched you cry out in pain. pain that he caused. and he knew he couldn’t in good conscience deny you of your request. luke stuffed his hands in his front pockets, “okay.”

he looked at you, for the last time, before walking away, stumbling in his steps as he left you alone.

#frances writes #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfic #luke pjo #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you

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writeyouin · 2 months

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Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Misery Loves Company

A/N – Okay, so for anyone who loves Stand-up comedy as much as I do, I highly recommend you watch Daniel Sloss’ tour, Dark. That’s his first tour, and it was where he coined the term Wanker-Anchor, which is used in this story.

Warnings – None.

Rating – M

TAG-LIST: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch @reverse-soe @koirb @usernameunavailable2 @lavenderkita @kannakanan @mcueveryday @amarokofficial @mbruben-stein @tyrythewolf @lasagna-501 @bizzardvark @firefirefeline @kaylanotkk @missme-07 @memontica @angelsdemonsmonsters @tj4shy @midoria-kinnie @meesachan @fusehoundshipper @velvettenoctus @crescent-z @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @rosiescannibalwife @skylerbutterfly @hamthepan @latersgaters-steven @kryptidkova @sleepyhead-number27 @cherry-4200 @harcourtholmesii @alastorandluciferspouse @holyspacething @kedelman24 @becsmarvel @vash-yuu

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

“Whoa,” Charlie said upon seeing you.

She had seen your Demonic form before, but it was a rarity and it usually meant that you weren’t doing well mentally.

“Are you okay?” She asked, sucking in air through her teeth, her voice pitching high, indicating that she already knew the answer but didn’t want to point out the obvious in case it upset you further.

“I’m fine,” You answered shortly.

“Really? Because you uh, well,” Charlie twisted her hands back and forth, “You uh, you look a little- I mean, hey, I think you’re beautiful inside and out but when you’re like this it usually means- It’s normally-”

“You’re fucked up,” Vaggie finished for her, getting straight to the point.

“I’m fine,” You insisted, using the words everyone used when they were decidedly not fine. “Where’s Angel Dust?”

“In his room,” Vaggie explained.

“What happened? He was doing so well.”

Charlie’s eyes welled up with tears and she threw her arms around you, sobbing out an explanation, “It was my fault. I asked him about his contract, and he told me not to worry, but I did worry, and then I wanted to make sure he’d be okay when me and Vaggie go to visit Heaven, but he said he didn’t need a babysitter, and then I got Husk involved and Husk told me not to fuck with things I don’t understand, and then Valentino came-”

“Wait, Valentino came here?!” You pulled Charlie off you so you could look her in the eyes.

“Well, not exactly, but he sent his crew here and told Angel they had to film and I said no, and-”

You left Charlie and ran to Angel’s room. Both Charlie and Vaggie followed you as you pelted through the corridors. No wonder Angel had relapsed. That piece of shit Valentino had used Angel’s contract against him. As part of the deal they had made, Angel had to do any work Valentino demanded of him, and that fucking scumbag had dared to invade the one place where Angel felt safe.

Knowing Charlie, she would have pointed out that Valentino couldn’t use her property and would have to wait for Angel at the studio, but that wouldn’t matter. Valentino would play by the rules; it wasn’t really about filming at the Hotel, it was all a matter of proving that Angel belonged to him and that there was no safe place he could hide away.

Besides, even if Valentino hadn’t gotten his way at the Hotel, he would take it out on Angel the next time he was in the studio. It was a lose-lose situation, something that Hell was always too eager to provide.

When you got to Angel’s room, you paused to compose yourself. It wouldn’t help if you sounded too desperate or concerned; Angel didn’t respond well to that. It would make him blame himself for making you worry, and then he would spiral further.

You knocked on the door, “Hey Angel, it’s us. Can we come in please?”

“Go away,” Angel’s heavy accent came through the door, marking him more as Anthony than Angel Dust, though you didn’t say anything about that; there were very few people who knew his real name, and he didn’t like to be reminded of it.

For better or worse, he was Angel Dust; that was who he needed to be to survive.

You glanced at Charlie and Vaggie, then tilted your head, indicating that they should leave. Charlie hesitated until Vaggie placed a hand on her shoulder, then after an affirming nod from you, she let Vaggie lead her away.

“Come on Angel,” You said when they were gone. “It’s just me. Let me in.”

“Piss off.”

You sighed, then sat outside the door, and began talking. You didn’t have a grand speech planned, only what was on your mind, and if Angel wasn’t going to let you in, then it became a matter of letting him know that he wasn’t alone and that you wouldn’t abandon him, though you would respect his space.

“I get it. Valentino fucked with you. He love-bombed you, and that didn’t fucking work because you’re stronger than he is and you’re not going to fall for his shitty manipulation tactics. Now, he’s sending his goons here. It’s all just another one of his games, Angel. Don’t let him win.”

There was no response. You stayed quiet for a minute then were struck with a thought; misery loves company.

“Hey, I also kind of feel like shit today, you know? I kept thinking about Hell and… a lot of things. I told Charlie’s dad how I died. That was fucked up.”

Again, there was no response, but you thought you heard Angel shuffle closer to the door. Until that evening, nobody had heard anything about your mortal life, and now you were talking about it for the second time.

“I was murdered for a snuff film. I still have nightmares about it.”

There was a bluntness to your tone. Although it hurt to state the memory aloud again, albeit in less detail, you decided not to put too much thought into it. If your death could help someone, well, there had to be some good in bringing it up.

You stared at the peeling red wallpaper across from you, just so you had something to focus on. “I’m terrified that one day, I’m gonna walk down the street and see the guys that killed me. Like, what do you even do in that situation? Call them out? They’re in Hell, that’s punishment enough, right? Will they find it funny to see me again? Find new ways to hurt me?”

I honestly don’t know what I want in this scenario. I don’t want them to die, ‘cos then they’ll be here, but if they live, they’ll do this to other people. Kidnap them, sell them to the highest bidder, film it for the black market. I dunno… I’ve been here for a year, and I keep thinking about that.”

The door opened and you fell back, looking up at Angel’s concerned face.

“That’s the most fucked up shit I’ve ever heard.”

He lifted you up, setting you right with two arms, while the other two brushed you off.

“So… this is you?” He asked, taking in your rag-doll appearance.

You laughed and imitated his voice, your Demonic abilities kicking in to mimic him perfectly, “I can be anything you want, bay-by.”

“That’s the hottest you’ve ever sounded.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You waved him off blasély. “Just let me in, okay? I can help.”

“So, uh, with the voice, and the-” Angel gestured at your new look, moving his hands in a circular motion, “Can you uh- Be other people?”

“I don’t know,” You said slowly, looking at your hands, “Never tried.”

You concentrated for a moment, trying to transform back to your original self. Usually, it was effortless. Yet, as you stared at the stitches that bound you together, you found it difficult to do more than revert to your original skin colour. Seeing that beneath the stitches was somehow worse, so you stopped trying to change, accepting that for now, you were a ragdoll.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Fuck it. I am what I am, and that’s all that I am.”

You caught sight of Angel’s precious pet pig. Scooping him up into your arms and cuddling him, you cooed in a baby voice, “Besides, you still love me, don’t you Fat Nuggets, yeeeees, precious baby.”

Sitting down on Angel’s bed, you looked up at your friend, deciding that it was better not to let the difficult conversation wait and fester.

“Soooo…” You scratched Fat Nuggets behind the ear, “Charlie told me that you relapsed. Wanna talk about it?”

Angel sighed and flopped back onto the bed so he was lying next to you, his legs planted on the floor.

He dragged two hands over his face, the other two lay despondently over his stomach.

“I- It was just such a shitty day, and Val sent those pricks here, not that they could fill any holes. Wrong kind of pricks, you know?” He half laughed, but it died when he realised the joke wasn’t funny in such a shitty situation.

Still, you smiled at him. When Angel was sad, he didn’t always need someone to sympathise with him. He needed to see that you weren’t going to change and start treating him differently. Sometimes that meant just listening, but other times it meant making the meanest jokes you could think of and laughing at how horrible everything was.

You were his Wanker-anchor, chaining him to reality by being a dick; Husk was the best at it, but seeing as he was nowhere to be found, Angel had you instead.

“Here,” Angel held up a small sealed bag, with his stash in it. So, he hadn’t relapsed after all. He’d just come very close.

“No thanks,” You joked, “I’m full from all the crack I had at breakfast.”

Angel got up and punched your arm, “You’re such an asshole.”

“Takes one to know one,” You took his stash, tucking it away in your pocket, then you stood up, leaving Fat Nuggets on the bed, and you offered Angel your hand. “Come on.”

“What-”

“You need a distraction. So, I challenge you, Angel Dust, teach me how to dance.”

“You’re fucking kiddin’, right?”

You shook your head. “You can dance, I can’t and I’m bored. So, come on, give me some lessons. It’ll be good to get moving.”

“When you fail, can I call you a retard?”

“Fuck no. You can’t say retard anymore, what the fuck is wrong with you. You can insult the shit outta me, but keep your terms acceptable, okay?”

Honestly, Angel had thought he was up to date on what insults and trash talk were deemed acceptable, but evidently, he was wrong.

“Alright, I’ll teach you to dance, but you gotta keep me updated on all the latest slang, and what’s changed up there,” He glanced up as if he could see Earth.

“I’ve been dead a year, bud. A lot can change in that time,” You said, thinking about all the ways you were probably outdated.

Angel grabbed his phone and turned up the tunes, “Sounds like a coward’s excuse to get outta teaching.”

And so it was that you and Angel started to dance. It was nothing like his work, or when he was forced to pimp himself out in clubs as a form of ‘networking.’ Instead, it was stupid, fun, and uncoordinated with you as his partner. Christ, he had never danced with someone so terrible. You let him lead, and together, the two of you laughed at each other’s expense and forgot all about the shitty things that had happened that day.

Up in his Radio Station, Alastor grinned sinisterly. He had heard you quite clearly as he went about his business in the Hotel. You were murdered? How delightful. Victims were so easy to manipulate. Furthermore, you were a ragdoll. Oh, how wonderfully he could exploit that power.

All it would take was an invitation of friendship, a desperate situation, and an offer of assistance. When Alastor had sent Husk away on an errand earlier, he hadn’t imagined it would turn out so wonderfully.

Now, there was a new piece on the chessboard, and Alastor was determined to capture you as his pawn.

Your soul would be his.

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decolonize-the-left · 9 months

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(to preface this, i am white. figured i should make that known off the bat) i wanted to come bounce an idea off of you that i've been rolling around in my head for a bit. i have this pet theory that, for the population ill call here "white progressive queers who know very little about poc and racism", a large underpinning of this group's interaction with poc is a Fear of Fucking Up and more generally, moral purity thought. they (maybe even "we"- im still hopefully learning myself) get so paralyzed by this idea and line of thinking that goes something like this: "1) since i know nothing about poc & racism, then 2) clearly in discussions about these topics, i will fuck up and say something wrong or perhaps even Bigoted, which if i did 3) makes me an Irreparable Ontologically Evil Racist, hence 4) i should just be quiet and never ask questions/speak on these topics" which then results in said White Progressive Queer and those around them never learning. i wanted to know what you think abt this and tell me if im on the mark or not

also thank u for the work u do on this blog, ive found so many helpful resources through you

You're right. In my experience that's exactly how it is.

I want to add tho: yes they're uncomfortable that they might fuck up and be considered racists sure, but a huge part of that stems from the massive inability to place the discomfort where it belongs. Which is with their own guilt.

Instead they blame the conversations for making them uncomfortable.

And let's take some worthy notes here: this is not how white people feel all the time. Because white people are not uncomfortable making these fuck ups in front of other white people.

So it's not that the conversation is uncomfortable. They are made uncomfortable. And they are made uncomfortable because even when discussing anti-racism they step into the role of oppressor (the little fuck ups or accidentally bigoted comments) so naturally and God forbid other (not white) people can See how easy it is.

My advice for white people that are like this (that nobody asked for) is

Your fuckups do not define you but how you react to them does

Listen, respect, learn

That's it. That's the whole list. Say something bad? Apologize, but don't over-explain yourself. Ask how to fix it. Google how you fucked up so you understand why it wasn't okay. Google again to get idea of how your fuck up hurts people. Google some more to make sure you don't do it again. Go to some safe space and ask some clarifying questions. Listen, respect, learn.

Maybe the people you fucked up with don't forgive you and that's okay, they don't have to. But YOU won't ever make anyone feel bad or less than in the same way ever again and that's what matters.

Having one less person making racist comments matters even if it's a struggle for that person to get to that point.

I need y'all to understand that none of you are gonna just wake up being suddenly perfect anti-racist allies. And we will literally never ever have allies like that if y'all refuse to even sit with your own discomfort.

•°•°•

This weird morality issue white people have over looking racist is also just such a non-problem. Like if y'all want a PoC perspective: white people are already being racist ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ ....we Already see y'all as racists. And also I'm gonna experience racism anyway so I'd rather it be because someone was just being ignorant on the path to anti-racism.

Y'all are so worried about how shit Looks that you can't be bothered how really things are? Like you're so afraid of looking racist you'd allow yourselves to continue being actually ignorant and casually racist. And to avoid what? Being uncomfortable for a minute? Being called-out? A mean comment?

We are trying to stop hate crimes and genocide. Like that's what we are dealing with okay. Accountability for your actions is an acquired taste but I think y'all can handle some discomfort considering.

#every time im confronted with the idea that white feelings are why BIPOC are being killed daily i get umhinged tbh #like i might die if i call the cops cuz YOUD feel bad if you talked about racism? AND YOURE JUST KEEP NOT DOING IT?? WHY #asked #answered #sorry #some asks just like #do this to me #white people like this make me wanna shake them back and forth viscerally #whiteness

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shanastoryteller · 7 months

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Its spooky season!!! Any chance for a continuation of the gryfindoor draco?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4

Colin Creevey is an ickle firstie and extremely annoying - no matter what Harry says, he couldn't have been that bad as a first year - and Draco feels sick to his stomach thinking of him lying petrified in the hospital wing.

Of course his house is being targeted. Of course they went for a muggleborn, of course whoever is doing this went after an eleven year old muggleborn who hadn't the first clue on how to defend himself against whatever the hell this asshole thinks he's doing -

"Calm down," Harry says, his grip on his shoulder just a shade away from painful.

"I am calm!" he shouts.

Calmly.

Neville pats his back, apparently less interested in leaving finger shaped bruises on him than Harry is. "It's okay, he's going to be fine."

"He will," Draco says darkly. "And what about the next victim? I am done. Hogwarts doesn't need another student death ruining it's reputation."

"What are you planning to do?" Ron asks, but he sounds more curious than derisive.

"Please let it not be something stupid," Hermione says, the first time she's spoken since they've gathered together.

Draco doesn't blame her. If Gryffindor muggleborns are the targets, she's next on the list, regardless of her friendship with him and Neville. Maybe even because of it. Certain people, like idiotic teenagers emulating Voldemort, consider it a sign of muggleborns not knowing their place when they make connections above their assigned station.

"I'm writing my father," he says. "Kids are in danger, and Dumbledore clearly has no idea how to stop it. So I'm going to do what none of the mugglborns' parents know to do or even can do."

Hermione and Harry just look confused, which is to be expected, but he expected better of Neville. Ron, depressingly, just raises an eyebrow. "You want to get aurors involved?"

"They won't interfere in Hogwarts unless they're requested, Dumbledore's influence and reputation gets in the way. No muggle would know that, so I'm going to have my father push it through instead."

"Dumbledore could still block it," Neville says slowly.

Draco doesn't like to think of himself as having a temper. He decides to blame it on the influence of his house. "Then he should be thrown out of the school! Children are in danger, someone is walking around the halls trying to kill us, the aurors should already be handling it!"

Ron grins at him. "I'll talk to my father too. He might not have the scary reputation of yours, but he is a department head, and he knows a lot of the aurors. Anyone your father can't bribe or intimidate, my father can likely bring around."

Draco looks at him in surprise, but just inclines his head. Ron's probably right - his parents fought in the war, just like his father did, only on the opposite side. They probably do have connections to the entire department between them.

His dad will likely be put in a mood with having to work with a Weasley, but Draco's already gotten over it himself so it's time for his father to do the same.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #harry potter

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jessicalprice · 1 year

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christian universalism strikes again

(Reposted from Twitter)

So a rabbi I know came back from LA pretty jazzed about a Jewish addiction treatment facility there called Beit T'shuvah and so we talked about their approach and that got me curious about non-AA approaches to dealing with addiction which, my friends, was fascinating.

I’ll admit that almost everything I know about AA is more or less from The West Wing. I'm fortunate in that no one in my immediate family has dealt with substance abuse issues, and as far as I know, none of my close friends are alcoholics. My knowledge is pop culture knowledge.

But hearing about Beit T’shuvah was very interesting to me because:

I'd heard that a lot of people who aren't Christian have a hard time with AA because it's so Christian.

The difference in philosophy was subtle at first glance but actually paralleled a lot of the differences between Judaism and Christianity if you dug into it.

Anyway, I got curious about whether success rates were different for Christians vs. non-Christians and started googling. I didn't find much in the way of the data I was looking for, but I did find something a lot more disturbing, which is that the whole 12-step thing is not science-based. At all. For example:

The National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse compared the current current state of addiction treatment to medicine in the early 1900s, when there weren't a lot of standards for who could practice medicine. In order to be a substance abuse counselor in many states, you don't need much more than a GED or high school diploma.

A 2006 survey found "no experimental studies unequivocally demonstrated the effectiveness of AA or TSF approaches for reducing alcohol dependence or problems."

And I want to make clear here that I'm not saying AA is bad--clearly it's helped people. The problem is that it's touted as a universal approach, which is a problem when it's not based on any sort of actual science.

AA claims that its success rates for people who "really try" are 75%. (And boy does that mirror gaslighting diet language.) But the most precise study out there that's NOT coming from AA (https://amazon.com/dp/B00FIMWI1O) put actual success rates at 5-8%. One of the major textbooks on treating addiction ranks it at 38th out of 48 on its list of effective treatments.

So just like most fad diets, it fails for almost everyone who tries it, and then blames the individual for its failure.

A glaring issue is that the 12 steps don't really acknowledge--or provide any guidance or structure for dealing with--other mental/emotional health issues. That’s a giant problem when people with substance abuse issues have higher than average rates of those issues. (Take a moment to consider how the victim-blaming approach of ��if you didn’t succeed, it’s because you didn’t try hard enough” is going to intersect with someone’s major depression.)

Now, if 12-step programs were just one available treatment approach out of many, this wouldn’t be that big of an issue.

But 12% of AA members are there because of court orders. Our legal system is requiring people to undergo treatment that is:

Christian-based

Not scientifically supported

A failure for the vast majority of people

I mean, here's a pretty comprehensive breakdown that talks about the lack of scientific support for it, alternative treatments (like those in Finland, and naltrexone), and the fundamentalist origins of AA.

The founder was a member of the Oxford Group, an evangelical organization that taught that all human problems stemmed from fear and selfishness, and could be solved by turning your life over to divine providence, basically. Sound familiar? He based AA on those principles, and given that the only alternative was "drying out" in a sanatorium, and that AA members would show up at bedsides there and invite inpatients to meetings, it must have looked really enlightened to people. In 2022, it bears a queasy resemblance to evangelizing to people in prison, literally a captive audience.

To be fair--to their credit--they were some of the first people out there saying alcoholism was a disease, and not a moral failing. But they didn’t treat it like a disease when it came to testing treatment options:

Mann also collaborated with a physiologist named E. M. Jellinek. Mann was eager to bolster the scientific claims behind AA, and Jellinek wanted to make a name for himself in the growing field of alcohol research. In 1946, Jellinek published the results of a survey mailed to 1,600 AA members. Only 158 were returned. Jellinek and Mann jettisoned 45 that had been improperly completed and another 15 filled out by women, whose responses were so unlike the men’s that they risked complicating the results. From this small sample—98 men—Jellinek drew sweeping conclusions about the “phases of alcoholism,” which included an unavoidable succession of binges that led to blackouts, “indefinable fears,” and hitting bottom. Though the paper was filled with caveats about its lack of scientific rigor, it became AA gospel.

And then Senator Harold Hughes, who was an AA member, got Congress to establish the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism, which promoted AA's beliefs, and sometimes suppressed research that conflicted with them:

In 1976, for instance, the Rand Corporation released a study of more than 2,000 men who had been patients at 44 different NIAAA-funded treatment centers. The report noted that 18 months after treatment, 22 percent of the men were drinking moderately. The authors concluded that it was possible for some alcohol-dependent men to return to controlled drinking. Researchers at the National Council on Alcoholism charged that the news would lead alcoholics to falsely believe they could drink safely. The NIAAA, which had funded the research, repudiated it. Rand repeated the study, this time looking over a four-year period. The results were similar.

The standard 28-day rehab stay, prescribed and insured:

Marvin D. Seppala, the chief medical officer at the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation in Minnesota, one of the oldest inpatient rehab facilities in the country, described for me how 28 days became the norm: “In 1949, the founders found that it took about a week to get detoxed, another week to come around so [the patients] knew what they were up to, and after a couple of weeks they were doing well, and stable. That’s how it turned out to be 28 days. There’s no magic in it.”

The last sentence here (bolded for emphasis) is especially chilling.

That may be heartening, but it’s not science. As the rehab industry began expanding in the 1970s, its profit motives dovetailed nicely with AA’s view that counseling could be delivered by people who had themselves struggled with addiction, rather than by highly trained (and highly paid) doctors and mental-health professionals. No other area of medicine or counseling makes such allowances.

There is no mandatory national certification exam for addiction counselors. The 2012 Columbia University report on addiction medicine found that only six states required alcohol- and substance-abuse counselors to have at least a bachelor’s degree and that only one state, Vermont, required a master’s degree. Fourteen states had no license requirements whatsoever—not even a GED or an introductory training course was necessary—and yet counselors are often called on by the judicial system and medical boards to give expert opinions on their clients’ prospects for recovery.

And, again, the idea that this is the One True And Only Way to deal with alcohol abuse leads to medical professionals ignoring research and treatment options that could be helping people. They are, in essence, taking all this completely on faith.

There has been some progress: the Hazelden center began prescribing naltrexone and acamprosate to patients in 2003. But this makes Hazelden a pioneer among rehab centers. “Everyone has a bias,” Marvin Seppala, the chief medical officer, told me. “I honestly thought AA was the only way anyone could ever get sober, but I learned that I was wrong.”

Stephanie O’Malley, a clinical researcher in psychiatry at Yale who has studied the use of naltrexone and other drugs for alcohol-use disorder for more than two decades, says naltrexone’s limited use is “baffling.”

“There was never any campaign for this medication that said, ‘Ask your doctor,’ ” she says. “There was never any attempt to reach consumers.” Few doctors accepted that it was possible to treat alcohol-use disorder with a pill. And now that naltrexone is available in an inexpensive generic form, pharmaceutical companies have little incentive to promote it.

I'm not saying that AA is bad. I'm saying its hegemony is bad. It clearly is effective for some people--a minority of people. But it's not for the majority of people, and that's a problem when it's being prescribed by courts (and doctors) as if it's a one-size-fits-all approach.

It’s not an accident that a Christian approach to treating addiction presents itself as the One True Way For All Humankind, insists that courts and doctors privilege it, demands that people take its effectiveness on faith, and blames anyone for whom it doesn’t work for not believing/trying hard enough.

Hegemony is a problem.

(Photo credit: Pixabay)

#christian hegemony #addiction #christian supremacy #aa #maybe courts should be recommending treatment with a better than 8% success rate and actual science behind them just saying

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libraryofgage · 9 months

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Please write for 42. Maybe it could be something dealing with Steve overhearing something he shouldn't have,maybe something the kids say, or Eddie says to someone. Whatever it is it makes him feel like shit. He talks to Eddie, or Robin (or both!) about how much he's changed over the past few years and how he didn't end up being the person everyone thought he'd be, but after what hes overheard he's crying because even though he did all he could he feels lonelier than ever.

Anon, I love you

Prompt 42 for this prompt list!

“Who’s laughing now?”

“…Clearly not you. You’re crying, dear God.”

I didn't use these quotes exactly, but I came close. It still fits them, though lmao

---

"I should be right back," Steve says, throwing open the van door before hopping out. The moment it closes, Eddie blasts the heavy metal he usually can't because of Steve's sensitive ears. Steve snorts with amusement and heads towards the diner, the smell of fried food and grilling beef overwhelming him the moment he opens the door.

Steve heads up to the counter, flashing a charming smile at Paula, a woman who's been working at the diner longer than Steve has been alive. "We got your usual almost ready, sugar," she tells him, returning the smile as she grabs a receipt from the turning rack and leads him over to the register.

It's a Friday night, which means the diner is bursting with teenagers hanging out in groups or trying to have a romantic date. Steve doesn't usually see anyone he feels like greeting when he picks up food, but a quick sweep this time reveals a table where Jonathan, Argyle, Nancy, Mike, and Will are sitting. Their table is close to the bar, but none of them seem to have noticed Steve because of their conversation, which is just fine with him.

If he gets dragged into a conversation, he might take too long and make Eddie worry. And if Eddie worries, he'll come bursting into the diner, and there are too many people in here that still blame him for...well, everything, for that to be safe.

"Your total is gonna be $12.93," Paula says, watching as Steve distractedly pulls a twenty from his wallet.

"Keep the change. I'll be waiting over there," he says, nodding to a bar stool somewhat close to where his friends are sitting. He then slides into said stool, leaning on the counter and trying to ignore how sticky it is.

He's close enough now to hear the tail-end of Argyle saying, "--eems like such a nice dude, though."

Mike snorts at him. "You didn't know Steve when he was dating Nancy," he points out.

Oh. They're...talking about him. Steve gets the feeling he should walk away, but he also feels stuck in the stool.

"He wasn't that bad," Nancy says. Silence follows her words, and Steve can imagine the looks she's getting. "Okay, yeah, he was an asshole."

"He smashed my camera," Jonathan says, and Steve wonders if he's imagining a trace of bitterness in his voice.

Here's the thing: Steve apologized for smashing the camera (though, he feels it was still justified) and got Jonathan a new one. A fancy, new one. But it doesn't sound like Jonathan is going to include that detail, too.

"He's a lot better now, though," Will says, and Steve wants to get him a new set of dice for trying to stick up for him.

He then wants to cry and maybe break something when he hears Jonathan and Mike snort and bark out a short laugh.

Steve feels himself grow tense as Nancy and Jonathan regale Argyle with how shitty he was in high school. He keeps waiting for one of the kids to refute or bring up how he's changed, but Mike only adds to it all while Will stays quiet, probably unwilling to get himself laughed at again (not that Steve blames him, honestly).

None of them actually point out how Steve's changed. They laugh at how much of a douchebag he was in high school, and Jonathan tells Argyle to "watch out for King Steve coming through" now that nothing is trying to kill them again.

And Steve feels sick to his stomach. Has...has he not actually changed? Is he really the same King Steve he was in high school? Is he still that asshole who didn't give a shit about others because he was just trying to survive himself, no matter who it hurt? Is this how everyone sees him?

"All right, sugar. Here's your cheeseburgers," Paula says, placing a bag in front of him and jerking him out of his thoughts. "One without tomato but with extra ketchup, and the other with grilled onions."

Steve blinks and smiles at Paula again. "Thanks. Same time next week?"

He waits to see Paula's amused smile and playfully dismissive wave before grabbing the bag and practically running out of the restaurant. He doesn't know if it's good or bad that nobody at the table seems to have noticed his presence or departure.

Steve jerks the door to the van open, not waiting for Eddie to turn the music down before hopping in and slamming it shut. He silently pulls on his seatbelt, holds the food in his lap, and stares at the glove compartment.

"Uh, you okay, Stevie?" Eddie asks, his hand lingering on the volume dial.

"I don't wanna talk about it here," Steve says. Because he's going to talk about it with Eddie, the only other person he trusts to be honest with him is Robin. But this is date night for him and Eddie, and even when he's drowning in self-doubt, Steve doesn't want anyone else to interrupt their date night.

Thankfully, Eddie just nods. "Okay, sweetheart," he says, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road.

Steve doesn't say a word the whole drive, too consumed by forcing himself to focus on Eddie's hand on his thigh. There's a warmth that he feels through the fabric, grounding him and keeping his brain from spiraling too far.

When they finally park (a secluded area close enough to the local make-out spot to still see the romantic stars in the sky without getting caught by anyone else) Eddie turns to Steve and softly asks, "Wanna move to the back, sweetheart?"

Steve grips the bag in his lap tighter, takes a deep breath, and looks at Eddie. He feels a little bad for ignoring the question, but he can't help his worries and fears bubbling out now that they've stopped driving. "I've changed, right? Since high school?"

Eddie blinks, caught off guard by the sudden question. But then he nods. "Yeah, Stevie, you've definitely changed."

"Jonathan and Nancy were in the diner with Argyle, Mike, and Will," Steve says, trying and failing to seem more nonchalant by unbuckling himself and moving to the couch that barely fits in the back of the van. Eddie follows, sitting closer than necessary to eat the burger Steve hands to him. "They were...talking about me. High school me. King Steve. And Jonathan told Argyle to be wary of me. Do they really think I'm the same person?"

"Stevie-"

Steve doesn't let Eddie get far. He's too wrapped up in what happened, too consumed by self-doubt and guilt and the wish that he'd said something to them. His chest feels tight, he feels like the world is going to cave in on him, and the only thing keeping him steady is the way Eddie puts down his burger and pulls Steve into his lap. "And the worst part is that they were laughing. Will tried saying that I was better now, and they fucking laughed. Like it was ridiculous. Like I could never change.

"And I just....I wish I'd said something. I could have ruined their night so fucking easily, Eds. I could have turned around and asked if they always talked shit behind the backs of people who saved them. I could have asked if Jonathan didn't like the replacement camera I got him, or if he still used it to sneak photos of Nancy."

"Is that why you broke his camera? Fuck, I don't blame you."

Steve manages a slight smile for Eddie. "Thanks. I...I don't know. For all I've changed, it would have been so easy to just turn around and be who they thought I still was. And then I would've torn them down to the size of ants. And...and...I wish I had but I don't but I do, so I could've ended it with who's laughing now?"

Steve's chest feels a little looser, and that's a fucking relief, but then he feels Eddie's hand cradling his cheek. "Well, it's definitely not you, sweetheart. Your crying."

Oh. Eddie is right. He is crying. Steve hastily wipes at the tears before just giving up and leaning into Eddie's touch. "Sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't apologize. I almost wish you had done it. And that I'd been there to see it."

"No, you don’t."

Eddie grins, pulling Steve closer so they're chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart. "Yeah, I do. I love when you get bitchy, sweetheart. Especially when it means we can be bitchy together."

Steve blinks, and he can't help laughing. The words were simple, but they still managed to erase all the doubt and some of the hurt. He still probably needs a few days before he can actually look at Jonathan or Nancy or Mike again, but he doesn't feel so immediately devastated.

"Somehow, that was the perfect thing to say," he tells Eddie, closing the distance between them to kiss his lips, getting a hint of ketchup on his tongue.

"Perfect enough to earn me some fun?" Eddie asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Steve sighs dramatically, pretends to think about it as he actually laments that their burgers will get cold, and then pushes Eddie down on the couch.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington angst #steddie fluff #established steddie #prompt list #my writing #i hope you like it anon!

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fortuna-et-cataclysmos · 10 months

Text

In defense of s5 finale

I hear and see a lot of people expressing dislike of the season finale, some also in the tags and comments of my analysis/speculation posts. So I wanted to further expand on this.

Gabriel's victory -being remembered a hero despite everything wrong he did, especially abuse to Adrien- has left a sour taste in many people's mouth; many blaming the scenarists and not shying away from calling it "bad writing."

But I think that that was exactly what the scenarists wanted to do? The perfect world Gabriel leaves behind is unsettling, unfair, and I think that the creators have done their best to show that implicitly but clearly. I think that we are supposed to be irked by the finale.

Why do I think that? Because there were a lot of small things that gave the message that, as @emsylcatac iconically put it, "this is the bad place." I touched upon some of those in my previous post on how this was a victory for Gabriel and Lila, and a defeat for Ladybug. I'll try to list them more clearly here.

Gabriel a hero

This is the one thing everyone has the most problem with. At the end, Gabriel was declared the hero who gave his life to defeat the Monarch, who was none other than himself. Some artistic choices here are so over the top that I believe they were specifically made to irk us.

If the silver statue itself wasn't enough, the exact quote of Caline Bustier is:

All the rings that have been highjacked by the Monarch have been recycled into a statue in honour of the great Gabriel Agreste.

Then Tsurugi Tomoe goes on to say:

Beyond the visionary entrepreneur and genius creator that he was, we are celebrating a hero today.

See, everything bad about Gabriel has been flipped. If you count literally exploiting people visionary entrepreneurship, sure, he was that. And genius? He couldn't get the miraculouses of two teenagers for an entire year despite having all the resources, and he ended up succeeding only with the help of another extremely powerful person (Tsurugi Tomoe) and even then he ended up dying himself.

As of creator, he was literally a destructor. He destroyed Paris more times than anyone can count, and everything was fixed every time only thanks to Ladybug. Let's not also forget how he destroyed the Miraculouses to exploit their power.

Adrien's comment about his father

This is another thing many people have had problem with. It is so outrageous that I won't believe the creators would expect us to take at face value.

At the end, Adrien acknowledges that his father died to take down the Monarch, and says:

I don't know if one day I'll manage to become like him.

Lo and behold, the man who had emotionally neglected and abused his son to no end has turned into the said son's hero and role model. Adrien not only looks up to him, but also wants to make an active effort to become like him. Hell, he even doubts if he can be as good as him.

No way this line can taken at face value. There are many children's shows with abusive parental figures nowadays (like She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, the Owl House) that have all handled the conclusion to that abuse generally well. The watchers' expectations are high in this respect; the scenarists would know that such conclusion, if not ironic, would not satiate the expectations of the spectators.

Lack of accountability: Gabriel and Tomoe

As many many people have pointed out, the general lack of accountability in this season finale is infuriating. So Gabriel mentally tortured THE ENTIRE WORLD POPULATION and not only never faced consequences in life, but also is remembered as a hero in death?

What about Tomoe?

Not only she has not faced any repercussion for being basically a supervillain, but also she is still a respected public figure who can go and make a speech backed by the mayor, in front of the freaking French flag. If that doesn't irk you, I don't know what will.

Worse is that, she goes as far as saying in her speech that:

I'll make sure to continue his legacy.

So she'll continue to be evil. Great hint that she'll continue being an antagonist in season 6.

As you can see, the new world that has been created is extremely unfair and problematic. No way this can be "the good place," an actual "happy ending."

Everything is fixed! No problems anymore!

Also, you'd realise that the world is perfect, a little too perfect. It is like a green utopian dream.

Caline Bustier has been the mayor "only for a few weeks" (direct quote from the episode), and she has already fixed all the problems possible in Paris. Not only that, she has also solved inequality and class struggle (again, mentioned by herself). Let's make Caline the President of the World already.

Funny that LITERALLY ALL THE PROBLEMS of a city could be solved, while the exact same episode showed Majestia, the freaking Supergirl of the ML universe, acknowledged in her nightmare that:

Even with all my superpowers, I'll never manage to solve all the problems of the world.

Well, Bustier says that she has no superpower, that people working together can accomplish that. Kudos to her and her democratic spirit. But like, perfect city in a few weeks? Even Mayor Bourgeois who wanted to send all the trash of Paris to space would realise that that's impossible.

There is no perfect solution, yet the world is perfect

Ladybug acknowledges that there is no perfect solution to Gabriel's situation. Trying to bring back his wife, he has caused irreparable damage to himself and to Nathalie, effectively leaving Adrien an orphan. He still hopes that Ladybug can fix it all. But she can't because of the nature of the wish: for one thing gained, another thing should be lost. In Ladybug's words:

There is no perfect wish. Every time a power is used for personal gain, it causes catastrophes. (...) We'll find a solution, but it will never be as perfect as one would wish.

Interesting, given that the world ends up being completely perfect?

All the problems are solved, literally everyone is happy, Marinette and Adrien are finally together. But the wish was made for personal gain, no? So where are the consequences? Where is equivalent exchange? The catastrophe, the price of the perfect, green, just world? I think we'll see that in season 6.

The dream world

The new world is seriously giving me weird vibes. Like it is a movie set. For those who have watched The Good Place, you'd know how in the town everything feels a bit too bright, artificial, perfect. I get the same vibes from the post-wish world.

The Agreste mansion is covered by green vines?? Way to hide the atrocities that were planned and happened here.

Here is a screengrab I found on the internet from The Good Place (the ladybug is a funny coincidence lol)

I am getting the exact same vibes!

Also, I have expanded on that in my post on "running out of time" theme, but basically in the ML universe usually the "real" stuff are associated with the night and the rain while things that happen in the sun turn out to be fake or erased/forgotten. So the feeling that I get from this finale is that, this new "perfect" world is not genuine; that the seeming happiness it brings will be soon destroyed (I doubt erased), just as it happened in other fake reality episodes like Chat Blanc, Ephemeral, Oblivio, or Jubilation. As I argued before, this is not a permanent victory. Hell, it isn't even a real victory, not with the secret Marinette is left to keep from Adrien.

Not a real victory

Another thing that makes me think that this ending is not genuine is the lack of Chat Noir in the finale. Yes, I am a fervent Ladynoir stan who was hoping for some Ladynoir action (if not reveal) and was hugely disappointed by the lack of Chat's engagement in the final fight, but now that I think of it, this may have been on purpose.

Notice how in Conformation, Ladybug says:

Our only way to win against him is to fight him together.

And yet, soon thereafter, she is catapulted into a fight with the Monarch.

Notice also it wasn't her choice to unify the miraculouses and face the Monarch alone. She had to, because Chat Noir wasn't there.

Let's remember that this show spent the entire season 4 explaining how Ladybug assuming all the responsibility alone leads to disaster, how she needs Chat Noir to share the burden with him.

Let's also remember how in season 5, especially at the beginning of it, we see Ladybug change her behaviour towards Chat Noir: she gives him more responsibilities (the Bunny Miraculous, the identity of certain holders if I am not mistaken), and how at one point she confesses that Chat Noir has been very serious and responsible lately (and then promptly develops a crush on him).

So taking on the Monarch herself is really against everything they have built up in season 4 and the beginning of season 5. That's why I think that this "victory" is so wrong: it was "won" only by Ladybug. Maybe if Chat Noir were there, he would have prevented the Monarch from making the wish (hypothetically, then we would have an entirely different timeline). If his identity were revealed the way Marinette's was, Gabriel could have controlled him through his amok. In any case, their defeat or victory would have looked very different from this.

In the end, we must remember that this world is far from being a victory for Ladybug: she has, after all, LOST. She couldn't stop Gabriel from making the wish. And while this world looks perfect, and we got what seems like a forever happy after ending for Adrinette, their happiness is set in a non-genuine victory and world.

So I think we shouldn't be angry with the show-runners: there is a reason why this ending feels and is wrong. If it were all wonderful, it wouldn't be the season finale. It would be the finale, period. And I believe that everything that has been disturbing us in this season finale will be addressed, if not consist of the core conflict of season 6. Let's all take a deep breath and turn to fan fiction or fan art till we get the new season now :) (at least that's what I'll do lol)

#miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #ml season 5 #from fortuna #ml conformation #ml recreation #ml analysis #ml meta #ladynoir #adrinette #ml speculation

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aurora-starwars · 1 year

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So yk when the silly family went to a new home to escape bloodshed? What if they went to an island full of sky people who actually lived in Pandora and didn’t need masks to the breathe to air, they have wings and can fly? Neteyam and Lo’ak take an interest in one of the winged girls. The girl takes notice and secretly blows them a kiss? Can you give headcanons (separate) pls?

Being The Daughter Of The Winged Sky People And Winking At Neteyam and Lo’ak Hcs

Pairing: Lo’ak x fem!reader, Neteyam x fem!reader (separate)

Warnings: None, just fluff <333

A/n: Thank you so much for requesting! I had almost no idea how to explain how the sky people worked but I tried my best without explaining it! Also, I have never written his so please bare with me. Enjoy!!! <333

Masterlist

Their trip to the floating islands, no different then the Hallelujah Mountians, miles away from their home was long

But they made it

Although Lo’ak would say “barely”

The island they landed on was much bigger than they have ever seen

Which is saying something,

And was surrounded by smaller floating islands connected by roots and vines

The place was beautiful, that is the first thing the Sully family observed as they landed

From where they landed, they could see people

Not only people

Sky people

That was nothing they hadn’t see before

But these humans didn’t wear masks and had these massive wings attached to their backs

To say the Sully’s were shocked was putting it lightly

The leader approached carefully

Studying the Na’vi family

It was obvious she was the leader because she was the only one in the most decorated attire

Jake introduced himself and his family

Asking for assistance from the sky people to hide from…

…well, the sky people

They agreed, seemingly more than happy to go against the sky people actively colonizing the planet

As Jake and Neytiri continued conversing with the leader, she suggesting she introduce her daughter

After making a strange calling sound that sounded much like a bird,

A teenage girl came flying from the sky, her big wings carrying her

Neteyam:

Neteyam watched as she swooped down towards her mom in awe

The only thing on his mind was how one human could be so beautiful

How one being could be so beautiful

After being introduced by her mother, she said hi to each of them in perfect na’vi

Neteyam couldn’t take his eyes off [Name]

Smiling softly, he waved

She only smirked winking and blowing a kiss

Neteyam could only watch her fly away with a small smile on his face

He hoped that he would be seeing a lot more of her

Neteyam went on to only talk about that for the rest of the day

Lo’ak:

Lo’ak’s jaw dropped as he watched her land

Neteyam laughed at his reaction

Kiri had to elbow him to remind him to close his mouth

Could you blame him though? [Name] was gorgeous

Lo’ak thought that gorgeous wasn’t a strong enough a word for the sheer beauty in front of him

As [Name] was introduced, she waved at all of the kids with a bright smile

Lo’ak felt like his heart would stop when her eyes shifted past him

He put his hand up to wave awkwardly

Seemingly having seen this hesitation, [Name] smiles softly and blows him a kiss before walking off

An stupid smile grew on the youngest brother’s face

Which Neteyam made sure to tease him about

Lo’ak made a mental note to try and talk to her

And he had that stupid smile on his face for the rest of the day

A/n: i don’t know how much I liked this, but hope you enjoyed! Feel free give me critique and let me know what I can do better! Thank you for reading! <3333

Master-list

Tag list: @lwesodra @nyotamalfoy

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hotchfiles · 4 months

Note

hiii !! i’m here to req no. 14 from the prompt list + james ( literally bc i can just imagine sirius telling them to kiss and make up ) 💘💘

send me one of my boys + a prompt

james + reader ⋆ "can you both just kiss and make up-" both of them: "SIRIUS"

there were things everyone in hogwarts knew. some of them where: you and james were extremely competitive, the sorest of losers, partners in crime? yes, but stubborn from the biggest to the smallest bone you both had. having you both playing for the quidditch team was a blessing for gryffindor. and also a curse. a blessing because it meant the red and golden lions had never won so many matches in a row. a curse because you were both insufferable during quidditch practice and even worse than that, sharing dorms and common areas with the both of you after a losing match? hell. literally.

"told'ya that stupid strategy wouldn't work," james' hands go through his hair, exasperated by the terrible beating slytherin had done to the team's score, and to his self esteem. "but nooo, you're always miss right." his face twisting in a mocking expression. "didn't work 'cause you didn't do your bloody part, potter." you're just as frustrated, arms flailing around, the game ended hours ago, this is the fourth or fifth time you both are discussing this exact same point. the common room getting emptier and emptier each time, leaving only you both, sirius, remus, peter and lily, as your friends they were morally compelled to stay and keep you both from each other's throats. both your wands already perfectly secure in remus' pockets to avoid any disappearance of brows or cutting of hair. exhausting really, dealing with you two was becoming exhausting, especially because you were both very easy going people with everyone else. james was a charmer, you were always a delight. it was fascinating how irritating both of you became in situations like these, how easy it was to get you both riled up because of the other. so it clicked to everyone, but you two, apparently, that you simply had feelings for each other. none of you knew how to react upon those, so you bottled it up and when james made something stupid it got you so mad because the feelings you had for him were all intense, all or nothing, no middle ground. and it was the same for him. best friends who had so much in common and loved doing most of it together, who made each other laugh, and helped each other when things got bad. and then suddenly, a screaming match. quidditch strategies, blaming each other for some prank, arguing about the right answer to a test, it was the stupid way you two found to actually feel and deal with the strength of your emotions. lily and remus leave while the argument went from the yelling to the huffing, both claiming to need tea if they were going to endure all that for longer. peter debates staying for a while, he actually had plans with james for the day, but as soon as the yelling gains speed again, he knows those are gone and gives up, leaving only james, you and sirius and the thick weight of the horrible mood the room was filled with. "i won't be doing idiotic stuff on the field just 'cause you want me to, honey." james keeps the nickname, not matter how mad he gets, but there's nothing sweet on his tone. and you want to reply, you really do, you want to say he's the only idiot, that you lost because of him, but instead you suddenly feel a strong push on the back of your head, making you and james touch foreheads. "can you both just please kiss and make up already." sirius isn't even joking, he sounds tired, his hands still holding both of your heads as you and james yelled his name, shocked he would even dare to say such thing. why would james ever want to kiss you? or you kiss him? just because you enjoyed having him around and he made you heart feel a bit weak and you wanted him to validate how smart you are? just because james always got your favorite treats from honeydukes, always asked his dad to make you cosmetic potions if you wanted, and he would always have a spare scarf and gloves when you forgot yours? and the ball finally fucking dropped for you both. you saw it in his eyes as he saw it in your tiny grin, but oh, you were not going to give this so easy to sirius, so you just crossed your arms over your chest, scoffed loudly and went straight to your dorm. sirius was happy to get you both to shut up at least. and he did find out a month later that when he was napping on the common room couch, james went to your dorm and did kiss you, and that was probably why all arguments had turned into just light banter, with flirty laughs and touches. james did have to learn to accept you were mostly always right, but he gained a gorgeous girlfriend, an infinite supply of kisses and the hottest make out sessions, so he got over it pretty quickly.

#james potter scenario #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james x y/n #james x you #james x reader #lari writes blurbs #tumblr is kinda irritating me but hm

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ohtobeleah · 7 months

Text

My Brothers Keeper // Jake Seresin

Summary: Five seconds faster and Jake Seresin wouldn’t be standing in his bedroom telling the love of his life the biggest lie he’d ever told.

Warnings: Relationship breakdown. Jake Seresin x F!reader.

Word Count: 2k

Author Note: Day Four of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Betrayal. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“You have to stop taking your grief out on me.” There wasn’t an awful lot more Jake Seresin could have done about it. And the only thing he could think of that could fix the situation he found himself in was to go back in time, fly a little faster, and save your brother and what Jake could only describe as your ‘adoptive’ fathers, lives.

But he couldn’t bend the laws of physics anymore than he could bend time. So, he stayed standing in your living room—watching as you folded up the remaining bits of laundry you’d been neglecting to put away.

You hadn’t spoken in three very long, very silent days. The home you shared had become a silent battle ground of unspoken fear, grief and anger. You could cut the tension with a knife it had gotten so bad—but Jake gave you the space you so clearly needed. Until now—

“Leave me alone Jake.”

During those three days all Jake could think about was how he might lose you because he wasn’t a good enough pilot to be able to save Maverick and Rooster. He wasn’t fast enough, he wasn’t prepared enough—

Hell he wasn’t brave enough.

“Okay, I cannot, no matter how much you blame me—no matter how much you ask, no matter how much you criticize, ignore my existence or question me, I cannot bring them back baby.” Jake made his way across the space when you didn’t answer him, he missed the way things used to be before that damned mission. He crouched to his knees across from you—piles of washing kept a little distance. But none of that stopped Jake from tilting your chin up so that you had no choice but to look at him as he spoke. Nothing stopped him from cupping your cheeks in his hands just to run his thumbs across your soft and supple cheeks.

“I’m right here, I’m right in front of you baby—“ You and Jake had been on rocky rounds since he’d called you to inform you that your brother, Bradley Bradshaw and your uncle or, as some would be more comfortable referring to him as your dad, Pete Mitchell had both been killed during a mission. “Please look at me?” Jake continued to guide your gaze to his eyes. He smiled softly when you finally gave him the time of day. “I’m right here, just talk to me.”

He had to be the one who told you.

Jake couldn’t leave that task to anyone else—it was the least he could do, considering he had been the one who’d gone after them.

“I don’t even know who I’m looking at anymore.” There was a sickening feeling that hadn’t left your body since Jake had told you two of the most important people in your life had both died. “I don’t believe you when you say that you, Hangman, did everything you could to try and save them.”

You never called Jake Hangman, you knew deep down how much the meaning behind his callsign kept him up at night. But here you were, throwing it right back in his face.

Jake Seresin thought you loved him, understood who he was to the very bone. Jake thought you trusted him, knew his mind, body and soul. He had a ring tucked away in his bedside table—a Diamond worth more than he could afford. But yet here you were:

Just like all the others who ever came before you.

Jake thought you were different, that you saw him for who he really was. You were Bradley Bradshaw's little sister, the barista who made the world's most perfect oat milk vanilla lattes and just so happened to work at the coffee stand on base while Jake was stationed in Lemoore. Did he know you were Rooster's little sister? Not initially. Did he back down when he’d connected all the dots? No—he still thought you were just the sweetest thing.

But now you were sitting right in front of him, folding laundry that you’d neglected, calling him a liar after he’d told you all that he knew and all that he did.

“I don’t believe you when you say you didn’t hold back, that you did everything you could have to get there in time because I know you—“ Jake had dropped his hand a long time ago at this point. But he still sat there right in front of you and took the metaphorical beating you gave his person, his very being. “And I know that deep down, you and Bradley hated each other with such a passion that as soon as the opportunity came up where you could get rid of him? you took it.”

It was misguided anguish, Jake knew that. But this was getting a little too personal for his ego to handle.

“Is that what you really think?” Jake asked softly as he watched you get up off the ground with a huff. You’d promised you wouldn’t cry anymore, but you should have learnt by now not to make promises you couldn’t keep. “Do you really think I hated your brother so much that I'd just let him die?”

It wasn't just a question of morality, it was a question of character. Just who did you really think Jake was?

“Don’t walk away from me!” Jake hissed as he got up off the living room floor to follow you. Hell three weeks ago he thought he’d follow you anywhere on earth. Now he wasn’t too sure if you’d even let him. “Y/n! Don’t you dare walk away from me.”

“Leave me alone Jake!” You spat back as you made your way down the hallway towards your bedroom. “Before I say something I’ll regret.”

“Oh no honey, let's air out all our grievances now!” It was the condescending tone you didn’t appreciate the most as Jake followed you into your shared bedroom. He slammed the door so hard behind him that it nearly came off its hinges. It made you freeze in your place, the loud obnoxious sound of the door slamming shut rattled in your mind as Jake's footsteps grew heavy as he walked closer and closer to you. “Fucking tell me you don’t mean what you said.” He growled with a disdain in his temperament. “TELL ME!”

You’d never seen your boyfriend so mad before. Usually Jake was pretty content, but it was clear that your suspicions had struck a raw nerve.

“You killed my brother.” Was all you said as the backs of your legs hit the side of your bed. “And you killed the only man who was ever remotely my dad.” Jake could see it in your eyes—you believed every word you spoke with enough conviction that he even questioned what the truth of the matter was. “You're meant to be the best! But yet you weren’t good enough to save the two most important men in my life!?”

“I did everything that I could!” Jake was beginning to lose his damn mind as he pulled at his hair and clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might break. “I love you, I really do but you are taking this too far Y/n—I didn’t kill your family! The enemy did, they were the ones who flew a little faster in better jets with better equipment and they were the ones who fired the missile—NOT ME!”

Jake knew you didn’t believe him, he knew that you’d already left before you had the guts to say it. He could see it written all over your face like a bad breakup song from the nineties. You couldn’t sleep beside the man who you blame with every fiber of your being for the deaths of your father and brother.

But you just couldn’t pull the trigger.

“Is this really how it’s gonna be?” Jake asked as he stepped a little closer, his chest was practically pressed against yours as you held your ground. “You blame me, I deny deny deny until my dying breath and we keep going around in circles like this?” The feeling of Jake's palm against your cheek had your tears welling, his thumb brushed against the apple of your cheek and all those stray hairs were now tucked back behind your ear. “I thought you knew me baby, c’mon, look at me yeah? Do you really think that I didn’t do enough?”

The silence that lingered spoke volumes. Jake knew right then and there that he had to leave, he had to step away. He couldn’t keep doing this—begging you to remember who he was because you were so clouded by your own grief.

Never once had you asked if he was okay. Never once had you asked how he was, if he was going alright after getting there just five seconds too late. You never asked if he laid awake at night playing that scenario over and over in his mind—never. You never asked because you didn’t care. You didn’t believe he was an innocent man in all of this.

“You know what?” But Jake Seresin was good at putting up walls to protect his heart. He was good at playing pretend, playing the part in people’s lives that they needed him to be. It was just easier to be The Hangman than it was to be Jake. Standing before the love of his life realizing that he would always and forever be remembered as the man who killed her brother was a role he never thought he’d play:

But for you he’d do it, and he’d do it well.

“Fine—I admit it.” Jake stepped back to put some distance between the two of you. He knew he’d never be so close to you again. It broke his heart into a million pieces but if this was who you really needed him to be he’d be that person. “I could have done more, but I chose not to.”

“Jake—“ You’d been thinking about it for days, the possibility, the probability that Jake had more involvement than he was leading you to believe. But hearing him actually say it threw everything you thought you knew out the window, along with your relationship.

“All your brother ever did was sit on that fucking perch of his and the one time he needed to get off? He wasn’t nearly capable enough to get himself out of a tough situation.” Jake had never hated Bradley, sure they had their tiffs and differences over the years but never did he ever hate the guy. “And Mav? His arrogance finally caught up with him! You should take some fucking comfort in the fact they’re both with your dead daddy now—it’s one big family fucking reunion because I chose to not take the shot when I so clearly had it!”

It was the biggest betrayal you’d ever experienced.

“Get out!”

“What! You’ve been blaming me for everything since before the funerals and now you wanna stand there and pretend you didn’t see it fucking coming?” Jake scoffed as he made his way across the room to collect a few things he’d need before showing up to Coyote's front door with his tail between his legs.

It was the biggest betrayal Jake had ever experienced.

“Leave! Get out of my house! Get out of my life before you have a chance to take anything else away from me!” You had never felt such a heartbreak, felt such a loss than when you finally heard Jake admit it. He could have saved them, but he chose not to for his own selfish reasons.

But Jake was a good man, he had his morals and his own heart to protect. He’d never forgiven himself for not being just a fraction faster—because when he saw that F-14 explode with two of the most important people in your life inside as his thumb grazed the trigger—he knew he’d lost you too.

“Trust me Bradshaw, you’ve got nothing left to fucking lose.” ***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**~***~

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #Leah’s whumptober Masterlist #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman fic

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klbwriting · 2 months

Text

Finally Home - Jason Todd Blurbs

Tim Sets You Two Up

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Tim knew that his TA and Jason would love each other, so he tricks them into meeting

Notes: this is a request for a DM to have Jason meet the reader because Tim is tricky

Jason hadn’t expected you to be his perfect match when the two of you first met. It was a blind date set up by Tim of all people. He had a TA in a class of his that he thought Jason would like and he convinced (tricked) the two of you meeting in the campus library, saying he needed to study, and Jason needed to bring him coffee. You were there to tutor him, even though you weren’t sure what problem he was having in the class you TA’d for, but you went to the designated study room, seeing a stack of books in the corner of the small room. You went to pick them up, laughing at seeing both Pride and Prejudice and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies on top. You heard the door close and turned around, expecting Tim but instead seeing possibly the most gorgeous person to ever exist.

“O, sorry, I was looking for Tim Drake?” he said, carrying a couple coffees. You were about to speak when you looked through the window that faced the rest of the library and there was Tim, locking the door.

“O that little shit,” you said, going to the door and trying the handle. The rooms were soundproof to keep distractions from the studiers so you knew yelling was pointless. Tim held up a piece of paper with ‘You’ll Thank Me Later’ before walking away.

“I may shoot him,” Jason said, looking like he actually might. You turned to him and offered an embarrassed smiled.

“I don’t know what that kid is thinking, hi I’m YN, I’m a TA in his required literature class, he’s doing great, it was very suspicious that he asked for tutoring…I’m sorry I ramble sometimes,” you said, blushing now as this guy stared at you. He didn’t seem annoyed, in fact the little smile on his face made you think he was actually listening intently to you, and it was nice. You were a lit major who took a lot of extra technical classes because you liked science fiction so much, most people looked at you like your rambling was annoying and like you didn’t belong.

“I’m Jason, Tim’s my little brother,” he said. You looked confused for a moment and then he chuckled. “We’re all adopted, there’s quite a few of us.” You thought for a second and it dawned on you, Tim had mentioned once that his dad was Bruce Wayne. And Bruce Wayne had a gaggle of children he had adopted. “He told me he needed coffee, which is weird, I figured it was in an IV drip at this point.”

“It should be for that one,” you said with a laugh. “Wonder why he left these books.” Jason walked over and picked up a couple. “I mean, don’t get me wrong I would love to ramble about the absolute silliness of putting zombies into Jane Austen I’m not sure if you would be into that.”

“You would be surprised,” he said. “Although still not sure how I feel about that weird parody of adding dumb things into classics.” You stopped and stared at him.

“Ok, listen, zombies are a fantastic form of describing the crumbling of civilizations without blaming a specific group of people for the crumbling…” and that started what turned into a three-hour discussion about books while locked in a study room at Gotham university. By the time Tim remembered to come back and let you guys out you had exchanged numbers and were planning on meeting at a bookstore, and you had a list of books that Jason needed to read and he had a list that you had to get.

“Thanks Tim,” Jason said as he slung an arm around his brother’s shoulder, waving to you as you headed towards your apartment. Tim smiled, proud of himself.

“I knew you two would fall in love, next time you see her can you tell her to grade my symbolism paper nicely?”

#jason todd x y/n #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jasontodd #red hood x reader #red hood x you #redhood #red hood #red hood x y/n #jasontoddblurbs

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writeyouin · 2 months

Text

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Misery Loves Company

Warnings – None.

Rating – M

TAG-LIST: @lxkeee @moonieper @sle3pyh3ad2 @gomib0 @mixplara @ica1 @loser-monologue @blackbeautyiloveyouso @equkki @literalzxmbie

FEMALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE