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pathologicalreid · 6 months

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buried alive | S.R.

in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angsty

content warnings: kidnapping, case stuff (murder yk), suffocation, being buried alive, hospitals, blood, nausea, CPR, funerals, use of pet names, guns, and drugs. i think that's all.

word count: 2.9k

a/n: okay, so i've been reading so much spencer fanfic and i started writing it and yesterday i realized i have 20 fics written and they're doing no one any good just sitting on my computer. i decided to finally try posting one. i wrote fanfic in high school (so like seven years ago) but this is my first time writing for a TV show. i've also never really posted on tumblr so please bear with me while i try to figure out formatting. tysm for checking out my post.

part two part three

You walked into the conference room and dropped the file on the table, allowing it to land on the wood with a satisfying splat. “The unsub’s burying them alive,” you said, letting the rest of the team know the conclusion you had come to with the medical examiner. “The M.E. found metal shavings and satin threads under the nails of our last victim. The most common materials to make up a casket.”

“There’s no way someone could bury someone alive in a casket alone, we’ve got to be dealing with a team, at least three people,” Emily concluded, standing in front of the evidence board.

It was the team’s third day on a case in Nebraska, four women had been discovered dead. Asphyxiation by hypoxia. Carbon dioxide poisoning.

“Approximately 420 people in the United States die from accidental carbon dioxide poisoning every year,” Spencer said, grabbing the file off of the table and flipping through it, taking a few seconds to read through it.

Rossi looked over Reid’s shoulder to look at the file, “but there’s nothing accidental about these deaths. Who would have access to these caskets?”

You shook your head, placing a hand on the back of Spencer’s chair, “A funeral director seems most likely.” You looked around at the Omaha field office, different agents running about in an attempt to solve these very murders. “They’d have the most access, write it off as displays. It could be hard to match the materials since they’re so common.”

Hotch leaned over the table and pressed the conference phone, “What can I do you for?” Garcia’s bright voice rang through the speaker.

“Garcia, I need you to look into funeral homes within the comfort zone. Look for a director who’s ordered more caskets than they’ve had funerals. Find anything, nothing is too small.” He told her.

“Absolutely, I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something,” she said, hanging up the phone.

There ended up being four funeral homes in the unsub’s comfort zone, so the team split up. You went with two locals to a family-owned business, Garcia had sent you all of the files you’d need on the location. “It looks like the Varn family has been in the funeral business since the seventeenth century,” you read aloud to the two agents you were in the car with.

“Does it mean they’re more or less likely to be the killers if they’ve been in business for so long?” One of the agents asked you, a younger man named Harrison.

You pursed your lips as you continued to look over the files, “I’m not seeing any glaringly obvious stressors before the murders started, but over the years I’ve learned that’s no reason to write someone off. Psychopaths can be tipped off by the slightest thing. Things none of us would bat an eye at.”

Harrison nodded in the passenger seat, looking over to his partner Jimmy, “You and your guy sure do make an interesting pair.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment, so thank you.” You and Spencer never explicitly stated to the field office that you were dating, but you walked into the precinct this morning holding hands. The agents must have drawn their own conclusions.

The younger officer cleared his throat, “It is a compliment, ma’am. The two of you are very impressive, your whole team is.”

You smiled, “Thank you, Harrison.”

The funeral home was run by a mother and her two sons, you held up your credentials for the mother when you knocked on the door. “Are you Sheila Varn?” You asked her, raising your eyebrows.

“Yes, what’s this about?” She inquired. She didn’t really look the part of a serial killer, a middle-aged woman who was running her family business.

Pocketing your credentials, you spoke, “We’re investigating the recent murders in the area and we were wondering if you had samples of the materials your caskets are made out of. Might we be able to come in?” You asked, adding a charming smile for effect.

Something flashed across her face before she returned your smile, opening the door and welcoming the three of you inside. “Hold on, let me get my boys up here. They’re so much more versed in the goings on of the town than I am,” she said, opening the door and calling for her sons. Felix and Joss came up the stairs from the basement, now they definitely had the physique to load dead women into caskets and bury them alive.

“Why don’t you two men come with me? I’ll get you those samples,” Sheila said, motioning for the agents you were with to follow her. To your horror, they followed her around the corner. “Felix, Joss, show this young lady what you know,” she instructed.

You took a deep breath before you looked up at the two men.

They were tall, maybe Spencer’s height, but they were built like wrestlers. There was no way you could physically subdue them on your own.

You passed out before you even had the chance to pull your gun.

Hotch was in full Unit Chief mode, Spencer watched from the corner of the room as he separated people into groups and gave them specific instructions. JJ and Morgan walked into the precinct, “What’s going on?” JJ asked looking around the room.

“The Varn Family is the team; two agents were found drugged on the side of the road and when we went to the funeral home Y/N was missing. Her badge, gun, and phone were all there, covered in blood,” Spencer said morosely, watching as Hotch finished giving orders and called the rest of the team over.

Your picture was up on the evidence board with the word “missing” written in bold letters beneath it. All of your belongings had been put into evidence for the time being. “Reid?” Hotch said his name, causing his head to snap up. “Are you okay to keep working?”

Spencer nodded affirmatively, “Yes.”

“Good, I need you to estimate how much time we have, I want a clock on these screens,” he ordered.

Morgan turned to Reid, “What do you think she has, kid?”

“The tidal volume for the average adult is point five at rest. That ends up being about six liters per minute. The average casket is approximately 886 liters in total volume and the average volume of the human body is 66 liters, leaving 820 liters to be filled with air for her to breathe. If she’s been gone for half an hour already, I’d estimate she has less than five hours of breathable air left.” Spencer explained, doing all of the math in his head while Emily put a timer on the screen next to the evidence board.

After a moment, Hotch continued, “Rossi, JJ, go back to the funeral home. Tear it apart, there has to be something there we haven’t found yet. The rest of us will split the list of cemeteries in the comfort zone and search them.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover, we don’t have anything else to go on?” Morgan asked, looking at the list of burial sites he had been handed.

Hotch looked at Spencer, but Spencer stayed silent. “That’s all we have right now,” Hotch responded, “hopefully we’ll come across leads as we go.”

It smelled like a garden around you. The memory reminded you of spring with your mother, tending to the vegetable garden.

The only difference was that instead of the sun beaming down on you, it was pitch black. The space surrounding you was so dark that you weren’t totally sure your eyes were open.

Your head was throbbing just above your right temple, and you observed your surroundings. Slowly, you lifted your arm until it hit a ceiling.

Not a ceiling. A lid. You were in a casket. You pressed one hand to your chest and tried to slow your breathing. Chances were that the casket was already buried beneath the surface of the earth, trying to open it could be catastrophic. You patted the pockets of your jeans, only to find your phone missing, so the team wouldn’t be able to trace the location.

Even if you had it, there likely wouldn’t be service six feet under.

Your team would find you. They had to find you.

They found Spencer, they found Emily, and they would find you.

Spencer shifted in the passenger seat of the SUV, “You know, carbon dioxide poisoning is a rather peaceful way to die.”

“Reid,” Morgan said, turning the vehicle onto the main road, they had just finished scouring over another cemetery with still no sign of you.

He sighed and stared at his hands, “No, it’s good. We see so many people killed in so many different ways that it’s good that she won’t be in pain when she runs out of air.” He tried to convince himself.

Morgan cleared his throat, “We aren’t out of time yet, kid. We can still find her. Y/N’s smart, I’m sure she found a way to make more air or something.”

But they were running out of time, less than an hour remained on the timer set on all of their phones.

They pulled into the next cemetery, “There’s some fresh dirt over there, what are the names on the graves of people who were actually recently buried?”

Spencer starts to recite the names, and the two of them start to comb through the cemetery.

You had done enough research on this case to understand what was going on. The light-headed feeling had started not long ago, but now you felt like you were spinning, despite the knowledge that you were stuck in place.

It was a high. Not unlike the good kids high. Except instead of trying to chase a feeling, you were dying.

The timer went off when they were still scouring graves, shovels in hand. Derek stopped in his tracks, but Spencer kept going.

“Wait,” Spencer called out, reading the name on the card next to the fresh grave he was standing at, he moved to start digging. “Essie Dunbar was a thirty-year-old woman who was mistakenly buried alive in 1915,” he said, digging. “This has to be it.”

Derek called Hotch, putting the call on speakerphone so he could help Spencer dig. “Hotch, we got her, but she’s buried.”

“We’re on our way, Omaha police have one of the brothers in custody,” Hotch told Emily to have an ambulance dispatched.

What Reid knew that Derek didn’t was that it could take four hours to dig a grave by hand. The soil had been overturned, so maybe call it three. Your odds were still negligible. He didn’t stop, he didn’t stop when a caretaker came running at them, and he didn’t stop when Derek told him to get his digging equipment out here now.

Derek flashed his FBI badge to get what they needed. He had to physically pull Spencer back from the grave so the backhoe could dig, only going until there was less than a foot between them and the casket.

Spencer crudely attached a chain to the casket and the caretaker's vehicle. Carefully, the caretaker dragged the white container out of the earth and up a slant they had dug. It was locked shut, “Reid, move,” Derek ordered.

He leaned back and Derek fired at the lock, taking it off and opening the casket. Spencer gasped, there was blood on the side of your head, dried and raked through your hair. He was vaguely aware of Hotch and Emily arriving as they pulled you out of your satin prison. You had no pulse, but you were still warm. Immediately, Spencer started CPR.

“Reid let me do it,” Derek insisted.

What he was trying to say is that he shouldn’t have to be the one to try to save your life.

Morgan repeated himself and Spencer pulled away, allowing the other agent to immediately take over. There was a siren in the background, an ambulance. More people showed up, Spencer heard their voices, but he just kept watching you. CPR was effective if it was done shortly after your heart stopped, and even then, permanent brain damage was likely.

It had been eight minutes since they pulled you out of the ground. Clinically, you were dead for eight minutes before you gasped.

Spencer smoothed your hair back, away from your face, while you desperately tried to catch your breath. You weren’t moving, and Spencer started running through symptoms of hypoxia. His biggest fear was brain damage, that they had done more harm to you in bringing you back than they would have had you died.

The EMTs came running over to where everyone had gathered, dispersing the crowd, and placing an oxygen mask over your face. As they were loading you on the stretcher, you started trying to talk, reaching your arm out to your side. “Wait, what’s she saying?” JJ asked.

“Sometimes it’s hard to talk after CPR,” the male EMT said as they moved you closer to the ambulance. He listened to what you were saying, “It’s not coherent.”

Spencer didn’t move, all of the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body all day was leaving.

Aphasia. They were saying the lack of oxygen to your brain was causing aphasia. “No,” Emily said, realization dawning on her features as she strained to listen to you. You were whispering, rasping the same word over and over again. “She’s saying ‘Spence.’”

He stood quickly and looked at you, sure enough, you were reaching out your hand and whispering, “Spence, Spence.” Your voice no more than a whisper.

Grabbing your hand, Spencer squeezed it, “I’m here,” he answered. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he told you, moving your hair out of your face. Spencer secured your oxygen mask over your face as you tried to take it off, “You have to keep this on, angel.”

To his relief, you squeezed his hand back.

You had been instructed to get some rest, but you couldn’t close your eyes. You asked Spencer to go back to the hotel and change his clothes because he smelled like dirt, and it made you nauseous. Your head had been bandaged, you’d been run through an MRI, and you did an EEG, so far, the only brain damage that had been incurred seemed temporary.

According to the doctors, the nausea and fatigue should wear off, but they hadn’t been able to fully assess if any permanent damage was done. At this point, the worst of your injuries had been caused by being given CPR, resulting in cracked ribs.

Despite your headache, you kept most of the lights on in your hospital room, not quite ready to be left in the darkness again. “Hey,” a voice called from your doorway, Spencer stood, waiting to be invited in. He was wearing different clothes, a button-up with a green cardigan thrown over it, and clean pants. “How are you feeling?”

A nasal cannula slightly restricted your movement, but you were sat up in the hospital bed, “Better than I was, but not perfect.”

He shook his head, walking in and taking a seat next to you, “No one expects you to be perfect right now.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand, skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “They found the mother and the other son, and all three of them are going to go away for a long time,” he told you, speaking in the kind of hushed, reverent tones that are reserved for hospitals.

You sighed and tilted your head back, “Good,” you maundered. “That’s uh, good,” your voice was barely audible.

“So why do you look so worried?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

In an attempt to dismiss his concern, you joked, “I think I owe Morgan some sort of life debt now.”

Spencer offered you a soft smile, “The two of you tend to trade those off, I’m sure you’ll find some way to make it up to him.” He inclined his head towards you as if to silently say, So what is it really?

You swallowed thickly, “I’m scared to close my eyes, Spence.”

His shoulders dropped, “oh, Angel,” he breathed. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, looping a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Wait, what are you doing?” He asked, watching you as you lifted yourself, so you were on one side of the bed.

Shyly, you patted the new empty half of the bed, inviting him to sit next to you.

He had no choice but to comply, he had the hardest time saying no to you. Leaning the bed back slightly, Spencer kicked off his shoes before he laid down next to you, wrapping an arm around you as you set your cheek on his shoulder.

Your body relaxed into his and you sighed, “Spence?” You murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, “Yes, angel?” He whispered back to you.

“Thanks for coming to save me,” you mumbled, slowly relaxing enough to fall asleep.

Spencer exhaled, “I’m always going to come to save you.”

part two

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #derek morgan #penelope garcia #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x you #h writes (hypothetically)

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u3pxx · 21 days

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ah, dungeon food... delicious in dungeon!

1 | 2 | 3 | one out of three dungeon meshi illustrations i did for a class! 🍲🐲

id in alt text | like this art? it's a print, here! | like what i do? support me on ko-fi!

hi there! this is actually the first illustration i finished out of the three but i decided to post the falin one first because it seemed fitting when the dragon episode came out pftt

and since a while has passed, i'm very happy to say that i got a high grade for the mock covers i did! which i'm really happy for since ngl, the venn diagram of "drawings for school that i got a high grade for" and "drawings for school that i'm actually proud of" is very, very small lmao

to save time, i had to forgo coloring in the lines for this drawing which gives it a fair amount of contrast, while i still enjoy looking at it, i wonder what it would look like if i softened it with colored lineart.

i used a different pen for inking this and i was actually surprised at how quick i was! if you don't know, i love doing lineart but i usually am terribly slow at it, inking this one was a pretty fast ordeal!

i streamed this over on the klapollomb server as i was drawing it and i just distinctly remember that after the flats stage and onto shading it: i paused, pen in my hand, looking at the screen with a blank look before i typed into voice chat in all caps, "I FORGOT HOW I RENDER" ASKSKSK

it's been a while since i've actually drawn anything digital that's like, a fullass piece, so yeah 😭 i can forget sometimes. i've been doing trad art for school for like 2 years straight now so the moment i got the opportunity to do digital art i went all out lol

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #senshi of izganda #marcille donato #chilchuck tims #laios touden #sunnysidedraws #sunnysidemeshi #described #id in alt text

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vanteguccir · 1 month

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You're mine | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N is a ray of sunshine, and Matt is her dose of grumpness.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Yes, by @httpsm4tti

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Get out."

Y/N smiled as she heard Matt's short and authoritative voice echo through the walls of their shared room.

"Hi baby, are you okay?"

Matt lifted his head instantly, pulling his attention away from the computer screen in front of him and toward the door, where his girlfriend was standing.

A tray was resting securely in her open palms as a teasing gaze looked back at him.

A sigh escaped his lips, and Y/N knew it wasn't because he was stressed about seeing her but rather completely relieved. His tense posture gradually eased, and his frown dissolved, giving way to a calming stance.

"What are you doing here, petal?" Matt's tone came out soft, his hands leaving the keyboard and resting on his gray sweatpants covered thighs.

"You've been locked in here for hours. I haven't seen you get out to eat or drink anything until now..." Y/N began, starting her quick steps towards the brunette. "And since I know you're on a task to answer every email sent to the channel, I decided to bring you some snacks and drinks." A big smile spread across her face, her hands working on resting the tray on the empty space of his desk.

Matt glanced briefly at the contents on the wooden surface, fighting back a smile as he noticed all of his favorite snacks, plus a handmade sandwich and a can of rootbeer.

"You didn't need to do all this, sweetheart." The boy brought his blue orbs back to his girlfriend, his right hand coming up and resting on her hip lightly, gently stroking the covered skin.

"Anything for you, my love."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The sound of the door to his shared room with Y/N opening echoed through Matt's ears. The boy was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for himself and his girlfriend, the sun's rays streaming through the living room's large windows serving as his only source of lighting.

Y/N's muffled and quick footsteps sounded through the small hallway that led to where he was.

The boy didn't need to turn around to know that she was now standing behind him, probably just the large wooden table separating them.

"Good morning, baby!" Y/N's voice was like music to his ears, and Matt found himself wondering how she could be so happy at this time of the day, a small "morning" escaping his lips in response. "You won't believe the dream I had."

A smile almost imperceptibly appeared on the right corner of Matt's lips, the kind of smile that only Y/N was capable of eliciting from him.

The boy turned around with Y/N's favorite mug in one hand and a small plate with flowers drawn on it in the other, both containing coffee with a dash of milk and waffles with honey, just the way his girl liked.

The brunette placed them both on the surface in front of the seat that Y/N had already designated as hers, picking up his own plate and mug before sitting down in front of her.

"Nick and I were at this different theater, and we were going to watch a horror movie, which already started out weird because we know how much he hates horror movies..." Y/N started quickly, pausing momentarily to take a bite of her waffle, a hint of honey smearing the corner of her mouth. "But the weirdest thing was that the movie wasn't horror. It only had two main characters, and they rode horses the whole time. And then, out of nowhere, they adopted a mute dog and a blind cat, which were the cutest little things I've ever seen..."

The girl kept going, her voice changing intonation with each word while her expressions moved quickly, her free hand gesturing while her other hand held her waffle tightly, taking bites from time to time.

Matt remained silent, a serious - but relaxed - expression took over his face, while his mouth slowly chewed the pieces of his own toast, nodding his head every now and then, showing to her that he was paying attention, just like everyday.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

To outsiders, the scene unfolding there seemed to be amusing.

Y/N, with a big smile on her face and yellow flowing dress surrounding her, was quickly pulling a serious-looking Matt with completely black clothes, which covered almost his entire body.

"Come on, baby! There's an ice cream cart right there." The girl repeated the information that had already been given previously, pointing enthusiastically with the index finger of her free hand at the small pastel-colored cart on the other side of the street.

"I can see that." Matt muttered, feigning annoyance, but everyone who knew them knew how much he was loving it.

"Can I get a strawberry one? Please! Oh, and which flavor will you want? I know you love the chocolate one, but it's so nice to change things up sometimes." Y/N rambled, finally approaching the cart, smiling big at the salesperson in greeting. "So?"

"You can order anything you want for me." Matt surrendered, catching the intense gleam in his girl's eyes with his response before averting his own, fishing his wallet out of his pocket, ready to just make the payment and seat on a random wooden bench, looking forward to hearing her ramble about her week.

"Good afternoon! Can I have a strawberry one and a cream one, please?"

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Baby, can you get me a Diet Coke? Please." Y/N briefly interrupted her conversation with Tara, looking at her boyfriend.

Matt was sitting next to Y/N on one of the couches at Tara's big 1 million party, his arms were crossed and his expression was serious - almost angry -, his eyes carried a steady gaze that circled around the people in the room, ignoring the screams and loud music, only his girl's voice echoing in his ears.

The brunette looked at her momentarily, nodding and leaning down slightly, sealing his lips on the side of her head gently before standing up, walking with firm steps towards the nearest bar.

It didn't take long, and soon the boy was returning to his previous spot, his hands balancing a can of Diet Coke and a can of Rootbeer.

His blue eyes almost instantly found the figure of his girlfriend, who was still talking to Tara, but now Nick was with them as well.

A small smile appeared on his lips as he watched her speak with so much passion, gesturing too much and changing her expressions too quickly.

But his own smile quickly fell when he saw a strange guy sitting in his previous seat, wrapping his arm over the back of the couch right behind Y/N's head and bringing his body closer to his girlfriend's, too close for his liking.

It was obvious that the guy knew Tara, as he immediately started talking to her, but his body language showed his interest in Y/N.

"Move. Now." Matt's serious and rude voice suddenly sounded as soon as he approached them, startling the small group. His eyes were fixed on the unknown boy, glaring at him.

His action brought small reactions from the others; Nick rolled his eyes, already used to his brother and his way of acting with everyone - except his girl. Tara raised her right eyebrow, her eyes traveling from the boy to Matt and back again.

But Y/N just smiled sincerely, ignoring the rudeness of his tone. Her eyes instantly lit up upon meeting her boyfriend and even more so upon seeing him holding her order.

"I won't repeat myself." Matt demanded, keeping his gaze steady on the guy, who quickly understood the message and got up from the couch, raising his hands in surrender before leaving.

Matt sat back down in the now empty space, handing his girl the Diet Coke before placing his arm right where the other boy's was, his fingertips caressing the exposed skin of her right shoulder.

He took advantage of Tara and Nick starting a new topic and brought his head closer to Y/N's, pressing his lips against her ear.

"You're mine, babe. Only mine."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Are you ready, honey?" Y/N asked as she finished fastening her necklace around her neck, her eyes fixed on the mirror next to their closet in the room she shared with Matt.

"I just... I don't know which sneakers to wear." Matt's voice sounded tired, his brow furrowed as his eyes traveled over the extensive row of sneakers he owned.

The girl turned around, approaching him while throwing her hair over her shoulders, running her hands over the light pink dress that hugged her body just right.

The two were getting ready to go to the Snapchat event that would take place in a few hours, and as usual Matt always asked his girlfriend for some tips on one of the pieces he would wear for the day.

"Wear the white and blue Jordans. I like how they look on you." Y/N opined, pointing to the indicated pair, caressing his right bicep before turning around, crossing the already open bedroom door to check if Nick and Chris were ready.

The duo was lying on the sofa, both ready and using their respective phones, just waiting for the couple.

"Finally! If I knew how to drive, I would have left you two behind." Chris grumbled, adjusting his posture on the upholstery and putting his cell in his pants pocket.

"You still didn't learn to drive properly because you're lazy and too comfortable with me just driving your ass around." Matt's voice echoed behind Y/N, his figure leaving their room and closing the door behind him, his expression straight and his eyes carrying a serious gaze.

"Oh my God, you look handsome, baby! I knew Jordan would work out just fine." Y/N ignored the small fight between them, her eyes traveling over Matt's body, admiring his clothes despite them being simple and black - as always.

Matt rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance, but the traces of an almost non-existent smile appearing on the right corner of his lips while his cheeks took on a red hue said otherwise.

"Oh, how handsome you are, Matt." Nick joked, imitating Y/N's voice and fawning his right hand over his face, blinking his eyes repeatedly, earning a loud laugh from Chris and an amused smile from Y/N.

"Shut the fuck up. Get moving. Now!" Matt barked back, glaring at his brothers before finally approaching his girl.

He placed his left hand on the small of her back, gently guiding her to the stairs that led them to the garage, ready to go.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

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sunshinesteviee · 6 months

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quality time - s.h.

summary: steve has some quality time with his newborn wc: 1.1k warnings: descriptions of steve's scars, dad!steve & mom!reader a/n: so i'm pretty sure this was originally a request from an anon literally forever ago, but i cannot for the life of me find the ask, i'm so so sorry! it's been a while since i've posted, so just a lil something for y'all. hope you enjoy! <3

Masterlist

“You wanna hold him again, love?” you ask your husband in a murmur, barely able to pull your gaze up from your newborn. He’s tiny and perfect, and you just can’t get enough of him, even after a couple of hours.

Steve’s perched next to you on the bed, one strong arm around your body. His thumb traces short, gentle lines over the hill of your shoulder, nose pressing against your temple as he gazes down at your son, “Mhm, yeah, if—“

“You better not be saying ‘if it’s okay with me’, he’s your son, too, Steve. Here, you take him,” you elbow him gently, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. It’s adorable, but totally not necessary.

His cheeks flame red as he carefully takes the bundle of blankets from you, sheepish as he mumbles, “That’s not what I was gonna say—“

“Save it, baby, I know you better than that.”

He huffs but doesn’t say anything, immediately drawn to his baby boy in his arms instead. He looks like a mini version of you, your nose and eyes that he loves so much; it makes his heart grow ten times bigger. He does have a full head of hair that’s definitely the Harrington gene, though. And maybe he has Steve’s lips, too.

Steve pulls his arms up, pressing a kiss to his head gently before he moves towards the chair in the corner of the room that he’s claimed as his. Just as he’s about to settle into the chair, a nurse enters the room to check on everyone. She smiles at the sight of your baby boy in Steve’s arms and says, “You know, there’s a lot of benefits of doing skin-to-skin with your newborn. Especially for dad and baby. Helps to regulate baby, and is great for bonding with your baby. Wanna give it a try?”

You expect Steve to say no. Not that he doesn’t care or doesn’t want to, but you can count the number of times you’ve seen him with his shirt off in public on one hand. After his time in the upside down, he’s marred with scars. Deep ones that eat into his sides and pucker his skin, that are rough and not pleasant to look at. The first time he’d gotten up the courage to take off his shirt at the pool, scars still fresh and pink, he’d gotten incredulous looks and nasty stares. He’d quickly learned that it was better to keep his clothes on to keep the questions to a minimum. He wasn’t ashamed, it was just easier that way. The only times Steve took his shirt off in public was if it was around people who knew what had happened, and even then, sometimes he didn’t want to. The scars were a reminder of all the shit they’d been through, and sometimes it was easier to pretend they didn’t exist.

So, to say you’re surprised when Steve immediately agrees is an understatement. You watch in shock — and admiration — as Steve hands your son back to you for a moment so he can pull his shirt over his head. In fact, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him remove his shirt so quickly, even after all your years together. The bite-shaped scars, though not as prominent as they once were, are on full display, still slightly pink and raised against his tan skin. If the nurse notices, she doesn’t say anything; she only smiles, suppressing a laugh as Steve trades you his shirt for your son.

He takes him carefully, as if your son is made of glass and could break at any moment. He handles him so delicately it makes your heart burst, and you cradle Steve’s shirt to your own chest. Steve finally sits down, placing his little boy in his lap so he can unwrap the blankets and get him out of his tiny onesie. It’s so small that it nearly makes you cry, even more so as you watch your husband lift your son back up and lay him against his chest once the onesie has been set aside.

He pauses for a moment, not quite comfortable in the chair yet, eyes flicking to the nurse in the corner of the room as he asks, “It’s not— he’s not gonna be too cold, right?”

“Not at all! Skin to skin is actually great for regulating a baby’s body temperature. He’ll be just fine.”

Steve considers what she’s saying and then nods, finally leaning back into his chair, holding your boy to his chest, “Yeah. Okay, yeah, that’s good.” For someone who had been almost as terrified about being a dad as he was excited, he’s taking to it quickly, just like you knew he would. You knew his insecurities had more to do with his parents than his own ability to be a parent, and so far, he’s already proving himself wrong.

The newborn scrunch is in full effect, your son’s tiny limbs tucked mostly underneath his body against Steve’s chest. He looks content, and you honestly can’t blame him — Steve’s chest is also one of your favorite places to be. Your husband looks just as content; one hand covering the entirety of your son’s back, fingers behind his head for support, the other hand on his small, diaper-covered bum to keep him in place. Steve’s eyes flutter closed after a few moments, settling back into the chair comfortably.

There’s a Polaroid camera sitting on the bedside table next to you, and you reach for it so you can take a picture. You want to remember this. Not only for the sweet moment, but also for Steve’s clear and immediate love for his little boy. The noise of the camera is a lot louder than you anticipated, and Steve cracks one eye open, sending you the best fake glare he can muster with just one eye. It’s ridiculous and it makes you laugh behind your hand, not wanting to wake your sleeping baby. You murmur a half-hearted apology as the picture prints, not really meaning it.

Steve snorts his own laugh, his chest moving enough for your little boy to grunt quietly in protest, shifting his position against Steve. Quick to soothe, Steve pats at his tiny back gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I know, I know, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mama’s interrupting our quality time, huh? She had nine whole months with you, and she just has to interrupt us.”

“Steve,” you giggle, shaking your head as you hold up the now developed picture, “I was trying to capture the moment!”

“Shhh, we’re bonding!”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #sunshinesteviee #sunshinesteviee writing

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hannieehaee · 6 months

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18+ / mdi

content: friends to lovers, pussy drunk mingyu (metaphorically), smut, f reader, dry humping, pining, sub!reader, etc.

wc: 840

masterlist

bestfriend!mingyu who's been crushing on you since you met but you were dating someone at the time so he pushed his feelings aside and befriended you instead

now that you had been broken up for a while, mingyu had a constant feeling in his chest urging him to make a move or at least try to get with his pretty best friend. the only problem was he was terrified of ruining your friendship.

little did he know the reason you broke up with your ex was because you couldnt stop thinking about mingyu. his sweet personality, the way he treated his family (he was always so so nice to his parents and sister), how caring he was with his friends, how respectful he was to his staff, how tall and handsome he was, how tenderly he always held you, how much you'd love for that tenderness to turn into something more.

you and mingyu were both stuck in a catch 22, unknowingly waiting for the other to make a move despite being completely incorrectly certain that the other did not like them back. until the dam finally broke.

"jesus christ" he exhaled against your ear, bare chest pressed up against yours.

it had been a regular hang out with completely innocent intentions (he swears !!) but you just looked so pretty that day and you were sitting so so close to him, he couldnt help but be a little extra drawn to you today.

it started with sitting a little closer than usual. now that you were single, the touchiness between you had gone up quite a bit, allowing for mingyu to finally indulge in your touch as he'd always wanted.

having been sitting closely on the couch, gracing each others hands at times, it was easy for mingyu to wrap his arms around you, and much easier for you to scoot and take a seat on his lap (after all, you were besties, right?).

you're not sure who started it, but you had found yourself guiding his hands under your loose shirt, allowing him to run his fingers up and down your abdomen, clearly warming up for something more.

in a very predictable turn of events, his hands ended up groping your bare breasts under your shirt, making you exhale at the warm and gigantic touch of his hands.

one thing led to another and you'd found yourself in your current position. almost completely bare with a six foot tall mingyu in a matching lack of apparel on top of you as he dragged the last clothed part of his body against you, rutting right against your clit, causing you to mewl as his head remained glued to your neck, licking and biting softly at it.

"jesus christ," he had exhaled against your ear a moment ago.

"baby, is this okay? are you sure?", he questioned, showing no signs of stopping his movements, even increasing the force behind them.

"y-yes. fuck. more please," you begged fruitlessly, half-aware that mingyu would give you anything you wanted anyway.

as he sped up, you wrapped your legs around his back, attempting to grind against him, obsessed with the drag of his massive size against you.

your high quickly approached. and with this knowledge mingyu sped up, grabbed your legs and wrapped them more securely around his waist as he rutted against you maniacally.

"do you know? do you have any idea how long i've waited?", he rasped against your ear.

'there wasnt a single day where i went to sleep without thinking of you first', he continued. "wishing i could drag this pussy up and down my cock and have you crying as you feel how much i want you."

"is this enough?", he questioned. "it'll never be enough for me. i need you again and again. need to be inside you. need you in my tongue. need to take care of you in every way. gotta take care of my pretty girl, right?", he rambled, rutting harshly against you as you almost reached your breaking point.

moaning and crying under him, you clawed at any part of him you could reach, feeling insanely euphoric at his words and at the heavy drag of his cock against your most sensitive parts.

"g-gyu- fuck pl-please dont stop. fuck. fuck please!", you begged, knowing your end had arrived.

"i wont. fuck. never. im gonna make you cum. and then im gonna bury my face between your legs and make you cry again. gonna make you come over and over so you can be ready to take me. gonna treat you so so good, my pretty thing. gonna love you so good," he sounded exasperated as he himself reached his end inside his boxers, feeling like a horny mess knowing he had much left in him to give.

as you both fell from your highs, mingyu got off the bed and swung your legs around his head, getting ready to give you yet another orgasm that would have you regretting not leaving your ex the moment you met your best friend.

a/n: uhhh once again not proofread im running on fumes atp. if theres any inconsistencies im so sorry </33

#seventeen #svt #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen oneshot #mingyu fanfic #mingyu scenario #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagine #mingyu smut #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen x reader

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alllgator-blood · 20 days

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I posted these on reddit a while ago and I've gotten multiple messages asking if I had any other social media? Which I didn't at the time, but after years of not bothering to post my art I think that was the boost I needed to finally re-emerge from the rock I've been living under.

ANYWAY uhhhhhh I've drawn these guys so much since I posted this that they might look a little different when I eventually post my newer art of them. Mostly because I don't bother drawing the little crosses on their heads anymore besides on leshy because frankly the antennae are really funny. If anyone has any questions about my hcs or what I intend to do with the characters, my ask box is open and I don't have anything better to do than endlessly ramble about gods that 100% would rip my head off immediately if I ever encountered them!

SPEAKING OF WHICH, the reception I got for these on reddit was way more positive than I was expecting which I am immensely grateful for, but there was definitely some miscommunication about the afab shamura headcanon so I'm just gonna dump about that below the cut if you want to hear me ramble about my nonbinary-ness for a while:

OKAY SO it's canon that the bishops were feral little animals before they found their crowns, right? Leshy and Shamura both talk about it during their follower quests. Feral animals do not have a concept of gender, only biological sex, so if they ascended to sapient godhood they would suddenly have a grasp of gender. My hc is that Shamura was a female feral spider, ascended to godhood, lost their bio sex in the process as with all the other bishops, and was just like "you know what? I don't want to be anything. This is kinda swag actually" so they just became War and Grief and Cosmic Horror incarnate. I am fucking desperate for any relatable enby representation in the media I like, so I just want to clarify me saying they were female at some point just is me going "I am living vicariously through this character who shed their mortal flesh prison to be an eldritch spider war god devoid of any sex characteristics" and not "I'm one of those numerous people who for some reason lumps this canonically agender character in with a binary sex". Anyway thank you for reading this far, here's an unfinished voidpunk shamura from a pride flag color palette thing I did of the bishops:

#cult of the lamb #cotl bishops #shamura #leshy #heket #kallamar #narinder #the one who waits #cotl headcanons

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 month

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Wolfsburg

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Wolfsburg vs Bayern

"If we keep our heads down," Magda mutters," We can pretend that she's not with us."

"Magda!"

You're walking ahead of your parents, practically skipping as you wear an old Wolfsburg Harder jersey. It's much too big for you so Pernille had to tuck it into your shorts this morning when you refused to wear anything else.

This match was all you'd been talking about for weeks, ever since you'd seen the fixture schedule for this month.

Even if you loved the Bayern jersey because it had red, it did not supersede your deep love for Wolfsburg.

It was slightly embarrassing and Magda stubbornly kept her head down as she headed out to inspect the pitch.

"Do my eyes deceive me," A voice that you used to be very familiar with says," Or is that the future of Wolfsburg?"

You grin. "Alex!"

Magda watches as Popp picks you up, spinning you around as Pajor appears over Pernille's shoulder.

"She's grown."

"Kids do that," Pernille laughs.

"She still supporting the right German club?"

"Unfortunately," Magda mutters.

"What position are we talking? We need to start training her up young."

"Goalkeeper," Pernille answers," Zećira's been training her for a while now."

Pajor laughs. "Then I'm sure she'll be great when she grows up."

Your hysterical giggle echo around the pitch as Popp turns you upside down and shakes you.

You stick by the Wolfsburg girls all throughout the pitch inspection and Magda has to actually drag you away when it's time to go in to change.

"I'm going to play for Wolfsburg one day," You tell Momma when she walks you out for warmups," Like you did."

Momma gently strokes the hair out of your face. "And I'm sure you will. Now, remember, you may support Wolfsburg but we're still Bayern so you can't celebrate too hard if they score a few goals, alright?"

You huff but agree.

Scottish Sam and Georgia laugh uncontrollably when you join them on the bench, happy in your Wolfsburg green.

"Don't be too sad when Wolfsburg loses," Georgia teases, ruffling your hair.

You shrug. "It's okay if they lose now," You say," Because when I play for them, they won't."

"Wow," Georgia says," Someone's sure of herself."

"I'm going to be really good," You reply earnestly, brows drawn together as if to stress how much you want this," Because Zećira is taking a lot of time to teach me and I don't want to let her down."

Georgia's face softens a fraction. "I think you're going to make her and your mums very proud."

You smile.

Georgia's right. Wolfsburg lose to Bayern but you're still in a good mood because it means Morsa and Momma are happy.

You let them both give you celebratory kisses but escape pretty quickly to see Alex and Ewa.

Ewa picks you up instantly, holding you on her hip as she and Alex speak with one of the Wolfsburg girls that joined after you and Momma left for England.

"I hear," Alex says," That you've started to collect jerseys."

You nod. "I got a Keira Walsh one at the world cup and I've got a Leah Williamson one on my wall."

"Wow," Ewa says," Have you got any more?"

"I do! My Tia Tana sent me ones for everyone on her team! And Daan gave me a Lyon one when I last saw her! Daan used to play for Arsenal before she moved to France, which is how I know her. I like Arsenal almost as much as I like Wolfsburg!"

Ewa laughs. "Good. Keep it that way. Wolfsburg's got to stay on top, right?"

"Uh-huh!"

Alex grins at you. "You know," She says, lowering her voice like she's telling you a secret," Pernille's jersey is kind of old."

You look down at it, tugging on the collar. "It's from when Momma used to play with you."

"I know," Alex says," How about we get you a new one?"

She grins at you and pulls her own shirt up and over her head.

"Really?"

"Come on, take it. I'll see you in it next time we meet, agreed?"

"Agreed!"

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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wishmemel · 2 months

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cherry blossom springs, ft. fushiguro megumi

synopsis: megumi's oblivious to a lot of things. he's just never seen or lived. not really, not like you do. the sky is blue, the grass is green, and you’re sunshine. but what is he supposed to do with that and when did he get so lucky to be able to call you his? tags: megumi x f! reader, non-curse au, megumi’s pov, established relationship, fluff, characters are in uni (2nd year?) but have known each other since high school, sanrio lover! reader as always, reader is a spring baby cw: i don't think there's any! wc. almost 1.2k posted: 08/03/24 a/n: i've had this in my drafts forever, just felt iffy posting it since the word count is so low and it doesn't exactly come off as a story :(( but then i thought it was too poetic not to and it'd be a shame if no one else saw megumi the way i do so enjoy!!

Your pinky is interlaced with Megumi’s and even though you’re here—at your class, where you’re supposed to be—he’s reluctant to let go.

He’s only just found you, how is he supposed to let go so soon?

The two of you pause outside the door, locking eyes with each other shyly.

Megumi’s gaze softens, his tone hesitant and cautious, as if he’s still afraid that you’ll turn tail and reject him. “You’re… you’re my girlfriend, right?”

You blink at him, then giggle a little in response at his insecure question. “Duh, of course. What, you want a kiss to make sure?”

He’s already protesting, eyes wide, ears red, but you plant a quick kiss on his cheek before he can say anything, and he just watches, dumbstruck, as you wave goodbye at him, still giggling to yourself, before heading inside the classroom.

He blinks, dazed, and wipes his cheek, staring at the pink lipstick smeared on his fingers with a stupid smile.

You chatter off about your classes and he nods, pretending to listen while he’s captivated by the sight of your lit eyes and your bright smile. The high pitch of your excited voice is music to his ears and he's convinced he must’ve been unable to hear before he met you.

It’s like seeing love take form in a person. He can’t help but be drawn to you, and, more than that, he’s still dazed, head spinning from trying to wrap itself around the mere idea that you were his and he was yours.

He can call you his girlfriend now. He can talk about you all he wants without feeling guilty or self-conscious about the idea. He can hold your hand like this in public, your thumb softly stroking against the back of his hand in ways that make his heart race. He can stare at you like this for hours, enchanted by what you’re saying and not have you question him because you’re his girlfriend and he can look and no one’s going to stop him.

Is this what love is?

He can never tear his eyes off of you—things that should be embarrassing, he finds endearing. He has the urge to stare at you all the time and he’s always resisting the urge to reach out and touch you, even in small ways, even a little, like brushing the hair out of your eyes or making you pause so he can wipe away a stray eyelash. You have this way of keeping his face constantly hot and red—he’s always blushing and it’s so humiliating, but it feels like love.

He swears he can see little hearts floating next to your head when you speak to him, and it’s like all your words come out as music, lyrics that wrap around his head and go through his ears like some kind of alluring song he can never get enough of.

He sees Hello Kitty themed things and immediately thinks of you, wondering if you’d like a keychain that he spots on a student’s bag or some large sunglasses on another—all so ridiculous and shameless and so utterly you.

He finds it senseless how you don’t care about anyone else’s opinion, how you flaunt your style and your likes. He finds it ridiculous that he’s stopped caring the longer he’s with you too. But why look at anyone else, why think of anyone else, when you’re right there?

You’re his sun, the centre of his universe—life without you would go back to being dark and gloomy and unbearable.

You tap his shoulder. He flinches.

“Megumi,” you giggle enchantingly. “You’re not paying attention to me.”

Has he ever stopped?

“Come on, we’re going to miss our next class!”

Spring brings with it cherry blossoms and it seems like you can’t get enough of the beautiful pink flowers that decorate every corner of campus.

You love spring for more reasons than one—it’s your favourite season and you love to see the blossoming flowers, always stopping in awe to point out each new bud to him with buzzing excitement. He finds it contagious, he can’t help the smile that twitches at the corners of his mouth.

When the two of you are apart and he’s missing you, he sends you pictures of the pink petals fluttering to the ground to remind you that he’s always thinking of you. You send him selfies of half your face in class, barely concealing the wide smile that you bear.

Before your dates, he plucks flowers from the courtyard of your university, late at night so he won’t be caught, and brings them home to colour coordinate into blooming bouquets tied with white ribbons. But when he shows up he never tells you where he brings the bouquets from and you never ask, though you must have noticed the coincidences.

Instead, you have on your brightest smile, this tender look in your eyes that says, for me? you did this for me? every time and it makes it so worth it that he forgets the bleeding palms and the thorn scratches and the hours he spent coming up with arrangements until his eyes started mixing up colours.

Spring brings with it your birthday and you haven’t said a word about it.

He’s sure you think nothing of the event—he wonders how you’ve spent it in earlier years—but he’s determined to make it everything you want, gaudy heart balloons, tacky surprise party, and all. Even if he hates such events. There’s nothing that isn’t worth sacrificing for you.

You're always giving—you insist on paying for his meals when the two of you go out together (though he never lets you), you're the one to initiate any physical contact between you and him, and it's because of you that the two of you are able to talk through your problems (because lord knows Megumi is the type to remain silent and ruminate over such things.) For once, he wants to take the first step, he wants to give you something that'll light up your face. More than just "seeing him smile" like you claim. Something satisfying and worthy. He's sure he'll come up with something in time for your special day.

Spring brings with it rain and it means, more often than not, that you two forget your umbrellas at home and have to run to classes on the other side of campus. Still, you’re always laughing beside him as he uses his jacket as a cover, and he finds his head whipping at the sight, trying to take you in as much as he can.

You see him staring. You laugh harder. You tell him to look ahead before he trips and falls.

He thinks it’s too late, but he’s afraid to say that out loud.

Spring brings with it blossoming, blooming love like the flowers you adore and the growing smile he can’t wipe off his face.

Under the cherry blossoms, Megumi thinks he could love you like this forever. This is his third spring loving you, but it can’t be his last. He wants to make sure this love continues forevermore.

comments and reblogs are appreciated!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fluff #jjk x reader #jjk megumi #fushiguro megumi #jjk imagines

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msbluebell · 5 months

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How We Fall For People Like James Somerton

We're all joking, but this James Somerton thing has me really fucked up.

I wasn't a huge fan of James. I saw a few of his videos and liked them. In the ones I saw he was calm and explained things straightforwardly and even the one or two times he said things against white women...well, that's language I've been seeing on Tumblr since I joined back in my tweenage years. I thought it was just a dismissive joke pointing out a frank reality.

I didn't watch him too much. Just a few videos. I kept meaning to watch more, but I didn't because sometimes I wanted something easier. But I regarded him sell because of how informed he seemed.

And that's the thing, isn't it? He SEEMED informed. He spoke confidently and sometimes quoted queer sounding articles and I trusted him blindly. And why? Because he was giving me information that SEEMED well researched.

Illumanaughtii too. I WAS a consistent fan of hers before other youtubers came out. Because she presented information really well and I like hand drawn characters and because she read academic sounding quotes. I trusted her and her information was stollen. And I feel like a fool for ever having trusted her now, but at least her stollen facts were apparently accurate. Maybe.

James though, he straight up lied. Todd in the Shadows went through a lot of effort to expose those lies. He did so much research that I didn't bother to do. And he admitted he only did it because he happened to know people more informed than him that noticed the lies and went down a rabbit hole.

And maybe if I was more involved I would have noticed. But that's beside the point. what's getting me is I didn't bother to check myself, I just blindly trusted.

And the worst part is I can see why it happened.

I work.

I work, and then I get home, and when I get home I stress. I stress about work I have to do tomorrow, or classes, or finding a new job that actually pays a livable wage. And to escape that stress I go online to AO3, or tumblr, but especially Youtube.

Because I like youtube, I like to have noise in the background while I work. I like to listen to things while I read. And some of the time it's ASMR videos, or watching someone cook something. But mostly? It's history things or video essays.

And when I'm working, or reading, I'll hear a fact, and I'll look up, and I'll think "Huh, that's interesting to know, I didn't know that." And I won't think anything about it.

Because I'm busy, or I'm tired. I'm tired from work, and I don't want to do more work. Or sometimes it's mental health. This is my coping mechanism. I'm trying to learn things, do something to distract myself. I'm not looking to disprove things.

In other words I'm lazy. Or, if I'm being kind to myself, I'm tired.

Maybe if the topic was something I was an expert in I would have noticed. I'm a former ballerina, I'm a failed history major dropout. Maybe if he'd said something like "Holodomor never happened" or "Boudica is a Finnish folk hero" I'd have noticed. Maybe.

But he didn't, and I didn't notice. I assumed he did the work, and why?

Because surely a gay man wouldn't spend hours on youtube talking about Queer history if he wasn't passionate. Because he, a queer man, would surely know about queer history. Surely he wouldn't want to spread lies and hate. And he's quoting from books and articles so why wouldn't I trust him?

My trust was blind and unfounded.

And now I'm reeling from that. I'm reeling because I'm starting to feel like I can't trust a lot of people. How can I listen to any Youtuber casually now?

I can't, I never should have assumed I could.

Now every informative video feels like I need to do tens of hours of research just to be sure what I'm hearing is true. I feel like I can't trust anything unless I do.

James Somerton took my trust.

And it's not only that either. That's not what scares me the most. It's that there are THOUSANDS of people like me. Millions like me. Who are learning something from a video or a tweet or a tumblr post from someone they assume is an expert and are blindly trusting because they assume they can trust it. They don't intend to do their own research because they're tired, or don't know how. And that scars me. I was a history major, I studied tyrants and misinformation and the rise of propaganda, and I, with all my tools to notice, was still blind.

You cannot blindly trust a video, you cannot blindly trust a tweet, you especially cannot blindly trust a tumblr post.

YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO PROPOGANDA

#hbomberguy #todd in the shadows #james somerton #plagerism #misinformation

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cannibalbuffe · 2 months

Note

hi! I've honestly been craving some qpr headcanons with Alastor as someone who's also aroace! The concept piques my curiosity so much considering most of the stuff with him is purely romantic (no offense to those writers, I just wanna see more qpr stuff! :])

Of course! But do forgive me, annon, I got so carried away with this 😅. I just really like Alastor a lot.

I ended up writing some backstory to your relationship first, but I highlighted the start of the proper qpr headcanons if you feel like skipping that.

Obligatory I'm sorry if this is ooc, I'm still getting used to writing about these characters. This is also all based on my own perception of him.

(Also, I am aware that qprs are very different from one another and there is no single mold for a qpr, I'm just going off of what I think it would be like with Alastor.)

Uhh, I also finished this at 1 AM, so forgive any mistakes. And I'm pretty sure I changed the verb conjugations(? Is this how you say that in English?) from present to past at some point. Sorry. Enough with the A/Ns now. Hope you enjoy!

Alastor queerplatonic relationship headcanons

(gender neutral reader, Alastor x reader)

‼️Trigger-warning‼️: mentions of cannibalism (not graphic), a single mention of tongue-kissing and making out (spoiler: he doesn't want either of those things in this work.) Usage of the word queer, but not as a slur. Alastor is a grandpa and you have to explain LGBTQ+ stuff to him, but he gets it.

› At first, before you were close, it's likely that he didn't see you as an equal.

› Truly, in his eyes, it seems not really is his equal. He is the most powerful overlord in hell and he knows it.

› Unless you are someone he holds in high regard (and this is mostly based on vibes, barely anything to do with power, as we can see by how he is with Lucifer of all people) before your first meeting, like Zestial, you won't be on equal footing at first.

› You only really start getting close when his perception of you shifts.

› You respect his boundaries, you are interesting, you and him share quite a few interests (or not really, but you're at least interested in hearing about his), and you're, surprisingly, pretty wise and mature.

› And caring. I personally believe he would be drawn to that in a way that he may not even understand fully- or realize it at all.

› Still, the point is. He respects you, and you respect him.

› (And not in the way some others do, where they're only "respectful" out of fear. You would act like this regardless of his power.)

› This, by the way, is important. You don't treat him like a superior, but as an equal.

› You'd think someone like him would love to be treated like a superior, and it's true. He very much does.

› But he has to admit to himself that it does feel nice whenever someone isn't shaking in their boots and can hold really good conversations with him while still not being pushy, annoying or just generally disrespectful.

› Anyways.

› Ever since you became friends (which took long), one could say, you just kept becoming closer and closer.

› You were the first one to be vulnerable with him, of course. It happened on accident, but you trusted him enough for that.

› You were also the first one to share any more intimate information with him. Something you wouldn't tell just anyone.

› Between this, your conversations, and maybe even helping each other around (honestly, he probably helps you more than you do him, but you always offer it and always in a sweet way, never condescending, and he appreciates that.)

› He eventually felt more comfortable sharing personal things with you too.

› (He may have distanced himself a bit when he realized this, but it was short-lived. You can't be without each other for so long, and you were pretty upset at his suddenly withdrawal. You may not have mentioned it to him, but he could tell, and as much as he hated to admit it, it hurt him to see you sad because of him.)

› This marks the beginning of the path toward your queerplatonic relationship.

› I mean, you didn't initially label it as such, but it definitely started there.

› Surprisingly, I feel like the first one to ever do any sort of affectionate gesture towards the other was him.

› You knew he didn't like to be touched, so you didn't.

› But! He just started getting more and more comfortable with touching you. At first it was hands on your shoulders, or putting his arm over them.

› I can even see a head pat or two, which he probably passed off as some sort of joke the first few times, but, if you liked them so much, just became a thing he does to you.

› And then one day you, completely absent-mindedly, intertwined your arm with his while walking around.

› When you noticed you had done it and he hadn't said anything, you questioned him about it.

› "Alastor, I'm sorry I didn't ask... is this alright?"

› "This?... Oh, you mean the arms? Ah, dear, don't worry, if it weren't I would have simply told you so!"

› From them on you only got more and more physically affectionate with each other. At first you would usually be the one to start it, but eventually you were both shockingly equal in doing so.

› (You still would always ask if you could touch him beforehand, but after a while he just gave you a free-pass.)

› Not a lot in public, though. Mostly just hand holding, or intertwining arms (if in public, that is.)

› Alastor also was so protective of you. You were the person he treasured most, after all.

› Well, demon.

› Even if you told him you were going to be okay, he would watch out nonetheless. He couldn't afford to lose you, not when he's never trusted and cared for a person this much.

› You two also cuddle a lot. You were the first one to ask, as usual, but now both of you feel weird sleeping alone.

› Alastor loves being the big spoon, if you're doing that.

› But he is also quite fond of occasionally being the little spoon, although he wouldn't be caught dead admitting it.

› A hobby you two do together is cooking. Cooking with Alastor is fun... especially if you're okay with cannibalism.

› But if you don't like that, he won't insist, of course.

› He's pretty good at cooking, though! If you're also good at it, then great. If not, he'll tease you about it (in a friendly way), but still teach you.

› On teasing, he teases you quite a bit, but never in a mean way. If you don't mind, of course.

› You also may tease him occasionally, but he doesn't appreciate you teasing him in public.

› The two of you also have a good amount of inside jokes that probably confuse the hell out of the others.

› Kissing... well. I don't really see Alastor as the type who would enjoy kissing on the lips too much.

› Tongue is out of question for him, as well as any sort of making out, but otherwise... if you like it, he can do that for you.

› He might actually like a peck or two. An acquired taste for him. Don't overdo it, though.

› Of course, him being from the 1930s and not very familiar with anything LGBTQ+ related, he would, at first, be somewhat confused by the request.

› You would probably have to explain to him that nothing is inherently romantic, especially not if you don't want it to be.

› "A kiss on the lips? Well... we aren't courting, Y/n."

› "We can put our own meanings to things, though. Would you like this kiss to be romantic?"

› "Definitely not!"

› "Well, me neither. So it's not!"

› "... That is very sound logic! I can't believe I've never thought of this myself."

› Kisses on the rest of the face are something else, though. He does enjoy it whenever you kiss him on the cheek. He himself might occasionally kiss you on the forehead.

› But overall I don't think he's big on kissing.

› If you want to really solidify that you're in a queerplatonic relationship you'd also have to explain what that means to him, sorry.

› Again, he's old and not up to date with things.

› Thankfully he understands things easily.

› "I see... I suppose we do have quite the queer relationship, don't we? And it is certainly platonic. I don't see why not!"

› Going back to vulnerability. It will never feel fully natural for him to just be vulnerable with you — or anyone else, for the matter.

› (In case you couldn't tell, he's using the word queer as meaning odd (and doing a little pun. You know. Because it's a. Queerplatonic relationship. Queer. Hehehehe), as it defies the norm of what a platonic relationship usually looks like, despite being one.)

› But you know him well enough at this point to recognize whenever there's something going on with him.

› And if you show concern and give him enough time he will share whatever it is with you.

› If it's not anything too big he might even reach out to you first.

› He can also read you like a book and gives surprisingly good advice, and is also pretty good at comforting you.

› You are the only person allowed at his studio while he's live on the radio. You usually read as he speaks in the background, his voice is very relaxing. He enjoys having you around.

› He's also particularly gentlemanly to you, more than to the others. When you're with him you never have to open a single door yourself, for one. If it's raining, he'll hold the umbrella for the two of you. When walking together on the sidewalk, he's always on the side closest to the street instead of you.

› You two often go out for dinner. If you also fancy some cannibalism, he will definitely show you his favorite restaurants around. If not he will just pick the best non-cannibal places (but you know those are not his favorites, haha.)

› He just cares about you a lot, even if it took him long to admit (it may have seemed fast-paced during this, but Alastor is someone who really takes long to get close to.)

› And you care about him lot too!

› (And you're probably never going to be in a life-threatening situation again, at least not at the hands of most demons. Who would ever want trouble with Alastor?)

#alastor x reader #platonic alastor x reader #queerplatonic alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #headcanons #buffet tag

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