#don’t get me wrong. that’s still true. but it doesn’t mean i’m like taking a break or some hiatus-
Note
def need more ditzy reader with mechanic 141- the only thing that tops my love for military men is blue collar boys <333
make sure to take care of yourself tho lovie!! don’t burn urself out :))
I for sure want to write more of her. Hopefully after this insane week at work I’ll be able to really sit down and crank out some writing. For now I’m battling my way through Ch 3 of Across the Way
But pls enjoy this little not proofread experimental snippet I wrote for ditzy reader
“Look.” Your landlord sighs loudly. Like you’re the one inconveniencing him. “I’ll send someone out.”
“That’s what you said two days ago! And three days before that!” You stomp your foot at no one just to get some of the anger out.
“I’ll get to it when I get to it.”
“Why can’t you-“ The line cuts before you can finish. The jerk hung up on you! What the hell!
You pout, plopping down into your desk chair and sighing. What are you supposed to do? You’re not allowed to call a handyman according to the lease and you don’t have a boyfriend right now. You can’t keep washing pans in the bathroom. It’s gross.
You huff.
“Alright?” Simon asks and you whirl in your chair. How does he walk so quietly?
“Yeah…” You pout harder under his steady gaze, slipping down further into the chair.
“You’re a terrible liar, luv.” His eyes crinkle in corners with a smile.
“Well…” You shrug, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. “My kitchen sink has been broken for a whole week and the landlord won’t do anything about it! I called and called and he just keeps saying he’ll send someone and then doesn’t!” Your voice pitches at the end, real annoyance bleeding through into the edges of your words. You fist your hands in your skirt.
“That’s all?” He raises an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you just ask one of us?”
You blink twice, staring up at him. Your face heats and you look away bashfully - not wanting to admit you didn’t think to ask for their help. Stupid. “I don’t want to be a bother…”
“I’ll come by after work.”
“You don’t have to-“
“I’ll be there.” He nods before marching back into the garage. You just blink after him as he goes.
True to his word, Simon shows up at your door with a massive tool box in hand. Really, he still can’t believe you live in such a shit complex. Price pays you well enough. The locks might as well be paper-mache. Simon lowers his mask before knocking. He trusts you with his face - hell you probably forget it every time you look away - but he also wants you to trust him too. For whatever reason.
You’re staring when you open the door. Big doe eyes looking up at him and blinking slowly. He wonders what goes on behind those blank eyes of yours - if it’s nothing at all or such a chaotic dialogue that you can’t process it enough to pay attention.
All or nothing.
“Gonna let me in, doll?” He asks. You startle, not realizing how intensely you zoned out.
“Oh! Yes!” You jump out of the way, letting him into your small studio apartment. Every time he thinks your shorts can’t get smaller he’s proven wrong.
Simon takes a look around, huffing at the net full of stuffies hanging on the wall. Everything about your home is soft - soft colors, soft fabrics. It smells like vanilla, just like you always do when you come into the shop. His eyes lock briefly on a well-loved sewing machine covered in stickers with a project still under the needle. You must have been working on it before he got here.
Did you mean to leave your bra hanging on the back of that chair right by the kitchen? Lacy and lilac. He’ll have to remember that for some other time. Maybe your birthday.
“Let’s ‘ave a look.” He sighs, knees popping as he crouches in front of the sink. It’s a fucking mess, that’s for sure. At least you figured out how to turn the water off.
“Pipe’s busted.” He says. “I can seal it but it’ll take a sec.”
“Okay.” You murmur.
Simon sighs as he turns onto his back to get a better look. He doesn’t miss the way you stare blatantly at his midsection as his shirt rides up. He might adjust some to expose just a bit more.
You really are the least subtle thing in the planet, aren’t you?
“Can you come hold the light f’me, luv?” He points to the toolbox.
“This one?” You ask, as if it isn’t the only flashlight in the box.
“Yeah.”
“Like this?”
“Yup.” At first he expects you to sit silently so he can concentrate, but he quickly realizes that was far too presumptuous.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Si?” You ask quietly.
He huffs. “No.”
“Oh.” You chew your lip. “You seem like the kind of guy that would.”
Simon has never heard a bigger misread in his damn life but he’ll take it as a compliment, he supposes. “Why do you ask?”
“Cause this is boyfriend work and you’re good at it.”
Simon tries to see your logic - he really does - but he just has no clue how those things are even remotely related. Sure, guys fix things for their girlfriends but calling it ‘boyfriend work’ when anybody with two cents could do it is a bit silly. More than, if he’s honest. He just grunts in response, at a total loss for how to respond.
Simon looks down at you. The way you kneel as your cleaving spills out of your tiny tank top - one of many you insist on wearing so often. He can give into temptation just a little bit, right? “Gonna need you to get closer, doll.”
“Oh!” You scoot forward until your knees brush his side. So ready to listen. Cute.
“Can you lean in a bit?”
“Like this?” You lean forward, chest pressing against him while your hand splays over his midsection for balance. Fucking hell.
“Perfect. Good girl.”
It’s bold and a bit uncoordinated even for him. Something Johnny would try. The purposeful choice of words seems to go right over your head. Instead you blush and smile, shifting your hips just a bit. Your chest pushes further into him. So soft.
Fuck.
You’ll be the death of him. Thank god you’re too unobservant to notice that he’s rock fucking hard.
He’s already done with the sink by the time of this little exchange, but he pretends to tighten some useless bolts anyway just to keep you against him a little longer before shooing you away. It’s cute, the way you scramble to get out of the way. Simon turns the water back on before standing, and gesturing toward the sink.
“Give it a try, luv.”
A little furrow forms in your brow as you step forward to turn it on, crouching and standing to make sure the leak has stopped. You turn the faucet off and whip your head around with a grin.
He’s pretty sure you burst an eardrum with the pitch of the squeal you let out, bouncing over and tightly wrapping your arms around his waist. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
“It’s no pro-“ he cuts off as you push up onto your tip toes and press a kiss to his cheek. He can’t help but bark out a laugh. Little minx.
“Oh, I got some lipstick-“ You reach up to smudge it off but he bats your hand away. He’ll wear it back to the garage and show off the kiss he got. Johnny’s going to absolutely fume.
#answered#simon ghost riley#call of duty#ghost cod#cod x reader#ghost x reader#cod#simon x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#fem reader
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The Bad Batch Finale and Joel Aron’s cryptic tweet
Okay so Joel Aron, Director of Cinematography Lighting & VFX at Lucasfilm, tweeted this:
Initially, I thought that this was going to be the runtime of S3E15 The Cavalry Has Arrived. This episode being longer would make sense as it’s the finale of the show and it’s close in length to S1E1 Aftermath. However, I saw a screenshot floating around the other day that says the runtime of the final episode “spans 24 to 25 minutes”.
If this episode is the typical length then this timestamp must be referring to a different piece of media. The question is, what media? In an effort to determine what could happen in the finale, I went to that point in the films to see what I would find. None of them strike as much fear in me as what’s happening in A New Hope.
The Phantom Menace - Anakin has just won the pod race and they are celebrating his victory.
Attack of the Clones - Jango Fett and Boba Fett have just attacked Obi-Wan with seismic charges.
Revenge of the Sith - Anakin is looking out over Coruscant from the Jedi Council room. He has just revealed to Mace Windu that Palpatine is a Sith.
A New Hope - Before leaving to disable the tractor beam on the Death Star, Obi-Wan delivers a line which may foreshadow what’s to come in The Bad Batch.
Empire Strikes Back - Luke is trying to lift the ship out of the swamp on Dagobah.
Return of the Jedi - Luke, Han, and Chewbacca, along with the droids, are captured by the Ewoks.
Star Wars: The Clone Wars - Anakin and Ahsoka are heading towards Tatooine to deliver Jabba’s son back to him.
At 01:09:56:01 in A New Hope, or as close to it as I could get (Disney+ sucks) this is what we see:
Sorry it’s a photo of my computer, I don’t know how y’all take screenshots of Disney+.
“Your destiny lies along a different path from mine.”
Many people have been theorising that the show could end with the Batch and Omega surviving but being separated, either by choice or by circumstance. This line from A New Hope, as well as the fact that Omega’s voice actor, Michelle Ang, has described the ending as “bittersweet”, definitely make that a solid theory.
Maybe I’m barking up the wrong tree though. There’s also speculation about whether Omega is force sensitive, so maybe Luke using the force in Empire Strikes Back is the real clue. Despite Ventress not believing Omega to have a high m-count, and her not being one of Hemlock’s designated m-count specimens, we have seen characters with a low m-count who were capable of wielding the force. Sabine Wren, for example.
Still, Omega being force sensitive doesn’t prevent the theory that she gets separated from the Batch from being true. It could actually be a reason for that separation because she may pursue training or decide that her proximity to the Batch endangers them.
But wait, there’s more!
At this timestamp in S1E1 Aftermath, Omega is on the Marauder with the Bad Batch (minus Crosshair) and they’re setting off on what will be her first big adventure. Omega’s Theme is playing and she’s gazing out at space with child-like wonder. While they’ve just parted ways with Crosshair, the overall feeling in this scene is hopeful.
If the tweet is referring to this episode, it could mean that we get a wholesome Bad Batch family moment. Whether Tech is there or not may rely on CX-2 being unmasked. Perhaps it’s bittersweet because Tech truly is dead or because he’s alive but they cannot save him from the Empire. Or maybe it’s bittersweet for a whole host of other reasons.
Honourable mention
@kiffobaby also looked into what is happening at this timestamp if you combine the runtimes (including credits) of all episodes in clone relevant story arcs and didn’t really find anything of note. If credits were removed then it would put at us a different point in the arc, however it’s unlikely that we’d be looking for a timestamp in an arcs combined duration anyway.
If you’ve read this far, I love you and don’t worry, we’re almost done.
Secret 16th episode?
Seasons 1 and 2 each had 16 episodes which leads me to speculate that this timestamp could actually be the runtime of the final episode, a secret 16th episode.
Is it likely? No. Can I dream? Yes.
#star wars#star wars the bad batch#star wars the clone wars#the bad batch#tbb#bad batch#sw tbb#tbb spoilers#the clone wars#the bad batch spoilers#star wars rebels#the bad batch speculation#star wars the phantom menace#star wars attack of the clones#star wars revenge of the sith#star wars a new hope#star wars empire strikes back#star wars return of the jedi#hunter tbb#hunter the bad batch#tech the bad batch#tech tbb#echo the bad batch#echo tbb#wrecker the bad batch#wrecker tbb#crosshair the bad batch#crosshair tbb#omega the bad batch#omega tbb
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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
Angel - Paige bueckers
part 2
• summary {when an unsuspecting girl falls for the basketball star}
• warnings {smut}
• comment if you would like to be added to the taglist
bellas’s pov
paige
- you wanna come over
what. the. fuck. yes, yes i do. but i don’t want to be ‘just another girl’ to her
fuck
bella
- why
- don’t you have other girls to fuck
i know that sounds rude, but its true. i’m not gonna get used by that tall, blonde, gorgeou-
wait, what am i saying.
paige
- i want u tho
fuck. should i go?
no i shouldn’t, yes i should, no, yes, no, yes
bella
- i’m straight
i mean, its the truth. i guess
paige
- you sure angel
no i’m not sure, also call me angel again. fuck
bella
- i’m sure
i’m not
paige
- then why don’t i believe you
cause its not true
bella
- you should
- cause its true
paige
- i don’t wanna believe it
fuck.
bella
- goodnight
“fuck” i scream into my pillow, thank god Avery is at Jakes tonight.
should i go
no
yes
ugh.
i cant stop thinking about her, for the past hour my favourite activity hasn’t been executed because of this tall, blonde, gorgeous girl.
fuck. im gonna regret this
bella
- whats your dorm number
paige
- 354
bella
- coming
i quickly put on some mascara and change into sweats and a hoodie. this is fucked
i start walking (running) to paige’s
i’m gonna regret this
“i knew you would change your mind” paige says, while opening her door. fuck she looks good, she has changed into a white t-shirt and boxer shorts. fuck
“shut up” i say, smashing my lips to hers, wrapping my arms around her neck and she grips my waist.
after a couple minutes, her tongue begins to explore my mouth and i let out a soft moan and she lets out a soft chuckle in response.
without breaking the kiss, she begins leading us to her room
i’m gonna regret this. i’ve never done anything with a girl before, i want to, but its my first time. i guess i’m nervous
paige throws me on her bed and kneels on-top of me, taking me in.
“you still straight” she says smugly. fuck i hate her
“i dont know” i say breathlessly, fuck i hate how vulnerable i’m being right now
she laughs, literally laughs in response.
“i think your straight” she says, at the same time taking off my hoodie.
fuck i didn’t wear a bra
“no bra princess” she says, smirking at me
fuck.
“its for you” i say, shocked at my own confidence, why am i so confident, i wasn’t 5 seconds ago
“good girl” she says, latching onto my left side and massaging my right nipple.
fuck. call me good girl again
i let out soft, breathy moans and she hums in response.
dont get me wrong, i love what shes doing. but i want her downstairs, you get me.
“paige” i say, almost out of breath
“yes baby” she says, still attached to my skin
“can you touch me” i say, almost begging
she moves from her old position and she is now extremely close to my face “where do you want me to touch you princess”
folded
i take her hand and move it to my core
she raises her eyebrows and begins to take off my sweats, painfully slow.
i let out an agitated grunt, and she doesn’t speed up. is she truing to kill me
after 3 hours, my sweats are off and she spots the wet patch on my panties. fuck. thats embarrassing
i cover my face in sheer embarrassment and she tears them away.
she starts to touch the wet patched formed and lets out an accomplished sigh.
“paige please, stop teasing”
she begins to take my panties off, with her teeth. fuck i’m dead.
my pussys glistening from my wetness and i want to die. why is she doing this to me
“so wet angel” she says, admiring me
i let out a moan, extremely annoyed by how long this is taking
she gats the hint and begins lowering her tongue to me.
“oh my god” i moan, shamelessly arching my back
flattening her tongue and licking up and down my folds, she hums against my core. i cant stop moaning
she moves to my entrance and begins teasing, and a string of pornographic moans come from my mouth.
she begins to pump her tongue in and out of my entrance, while looking up at me. fuck
“fuck paige, my clit please” i say, begging
“desperate slut, aren’t you?” she says, cocking her head up at me and i cant help but moan at that comment.
she attacks my clit and moves two of her fingers up to my mouth. fuck
“fuck paige, fuck fuck fuck fuck” i moan
“suck” she demands
i try my best to suck her long, skinny fingers but its probably a shitty attempt.
she moves her fingers from my mouth and moves them to my entrance. shit
“paige fuck” i scream as she enters me, mouth still on my clit. my hands are in her hair, pushing her down
she curls her fingers, hitting my g spot exactly and i cant stop moaning, borderline screaming.
“fuck paige, im close” i say, barley getting the words out
“cum for me angel” and those words send me over the edge. i feel myself tense around her fingers, and my back arching more that i thought i ever could, paige helps me ride out my climax
“fuck” she says, laying down next to me, im completely out of breath
“ok, you can go now” she says, facing me
i shouldn’t have done this.
#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers headcannons#paige bueckers smut#paige bueckers fic#paige bueckers#uconn#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball
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OH SHIR REQUESTS ARE CLOSED OMG IM SORRY CANCEL OUT THAT REQUEST SORRY
plz take breaks and take ur time sorry I didn't read before I sent that in I just noticed it.
-🍄
it’s alright, don’t worry about it <3 mistakes happen.
i’m not gonna delete your ask, so don’t worry abt resending it when they’re open again. don’t beat yourself up over it, and have a nice day. have a cup of crisp ice water if you haven’t.
#m1d : [chats]#🍄 anon#that’s such a cute emoji btw 10/10#ngl i kinda forget whenever my requests are closed-#for me that means that i have enough on my plate and anything new sent in likely won’t be answered for a while bc i’m busy#don’t get me wrong. that’s still true. but it doesn’t mean i’m like taking a break or some hiatus-#plus you were simply prompting me abt something i’d said before so it barely registered as a request to me#i should probably have been clearer abt that but tbh i like the boundary set by ‘closed’ better than ‘second priority’#but. anyway. have a good day 🍄!#also @ tumblr: you can make a whole tab for the shop on mobile but you can’t give me a number for how many messages are in my inbox??#my object permanence is SHIT that’s why it’s TAKING ME SO LONG#i don’t even know they’re there!!! a bitch forgets!!!!#sorry to highjack your post 🍄 but like. TUMBLR PLS
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2. Rafe x innocent (and kinda naive/ airhead?) reader where reader and rafe are dating (still very new) and reader keeps reminding him she wants to wait longer (when they are making out/feeling each other up) and he keeps trying to go further, so he tells/manipulates her that it’s not normal for girls to not want to go further and something could be wrong, so he “checks” her (rubbing her clit and fingering her) and asking things like “does that feel good?” “Doesn’t that make you want more?” “Something probably is wrong if you want me to stop”, just so he can convince her to say she wants more (so then he fucks her).
-💎
ur asks have me going FERAL. your brain is so beautiful and it must be treasured and protected at all costs. i actually hate the way i wrote this but i was too far in to change it by the time i realised i didn’t like it😒😒 nevertheless, this is a long one guys so buckle up!! (1.5k words!!!😱😱)
₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧
you and rafe had only been dating for a few weeks, relationships were pretty much a whole new thing for you since your upbringing hadn’t really allowed it. you hadn’t had sex before, ever. and rafe wasn’t going to be patient for much longer, the furthest you two had went is making out, when it got heated you pulled back.. pushing him away and saying you didn’t feel well.
rafe was getting desperate, you didn’t even realise what you did to him. he was painfully hard most of the time since you were oblivious to how sexual you were being. such as bending over right infront of his face, showing him your cutesy pink panties or accidentally grinding against his cock when you squeezed past him in the kitchen. rafes frustration was at its peak and he couldn’t take it any longer.
rafe stretched his arm around your waist as you both lay in bed watching tv, biting his lip in thought before reaching out to grip your jaw gently, turning you to face him. he leant forward, catching your lips in a deep kiss, it didn’t take long knowing rafe before it got heated, as his tongue began battling your own for dominance you pulled away, taking deep breaths as you stared up at him with big innocent eyes.
“what’s wrong, pretty girl?” he muttered, lifting his thumb to wipe his drool from your mouth.
“n-nothing rafe, i just.. i don’t… i can’t go any further with you, i-i don’t think i’m ready for that.” rafe’s patience was out of the window by now, all rational thoughts evaporating as his cock grew harder, straining against his pants, desperate to be inside your sweet cunt.
“baby…” he sighed. “this isn’t normal.”
you stared at him with a confused expression, your eyebrows knitted. “i-i don’t understand, did i do something?”
he was quick to shut that thought down “no, no, no, my sweet girl, it’s more about what you didn’t do. see, other girls your age…they love being good for their daddy’s, and i just don’t think you are being good f’ me.” tears began to whell up in your eyes, his negative feedback not sitting right in your stomach. “daddy?” you questioned gently, your bottom lip wobbling.
“yeah, i’m your daddy, baby. and i think it’s about time you start calling me that. it’s true, no? i take care of you, i feed you, pay for your clothes, hell, i even take you to the bathroom. i may aswell be your daddy, so that’s what your gonna’ call me from now on, you got that?” he speaks softly, not wanting to discourage you or push you further away but needing to be firm enough so you understand. he’s testing the waters. seeing how easy it is to control your sweet mind in ways only a man like him could.
“i mean.. yeah, that-that makes sense i guess.”
a sly smile appears on his face, his thumb wiping a salty tear from your cheek “good girl.” he lifts your skirt with one hand, pushing into your panties and rubbing your clit, you gasp in surprise at the new sensation. “daddy! w-what are you doing?” you ask in shock.
rafe sighs “daddy needs to give you a check up baby, just to make sure nothin’s wrong. all i need to do is rub that sweet button of yours and fuck my fingers into your pretty pussy, mkay?” your cunt involuntarily clenches around nothing. “mkay, daddy.” you moan. rafes fingers stray from your clit to your entrance, his cock growing impeccably harder from the feel of your wetness, your pussy leaking around his hand.
“d-daddy, feels s’ good.” you whimper as he pushes his fingers into your hole, your walls clenching instinctively around his thick digits. “yeah? you like that? you like it when daddy fingers your sweet pussy?” he groan into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
he picks up his pace, fingering you roughly until the knot in your stomach begins to tighten, you grab at his wrist, pushing him away, which doesn’t really do much since your strength is no match for his own. “daddy! stop, i-i think i’m gonna’ pee.” you whine, embarrassment flooding through your veins. your cheeks flushed from the humiliation.
he lets out a small laugh, his famous smirk still painted across his face “no baby, your not gonna’ pee.. your gonna’ cum. your gonna’ cum with my fingers deep inside your cunt. ask me. ask daddy for permission.” he growls, a flip switching inside his brain. “p-please daddy, make me cum, please can i cum? please please please.” you beg, tears streaming down your face as you try desperately to hold back.
“cum.”
he growls, watching as your legs begin to shake, your pussy sucking his fingers further into your cunt. you cry out as your body spasms, a thick creamy fluid leaking out of you and into rafes palm. “that’s it, let it all out. dirty fuckin’ girl. creaming all over your daddy’s fingers.”
your breathing begins to slow as you come down from your orgasm although rafe keeps his fingers deep inside your pussy, catching you in a deep kiss. he takes your hand in his own and leads it down towards his cock, making you instantly recoil. rafe lets out a mixed groan of annoyance and sigh of disappointment under his breath. you look towards the bed, feeling guilty as ever. he turns you to face him again, his pretty blues simmering in darkness. “listen. pretty baby, i was trying to be nice earlier but… i think there is something wrong with you. all the other girls your age wanna’ fuck daddy, so why don’t you? i’ve been so patient with you sweets but, the clock’s tickin’.”
rafes fingers begin to fuck into you once again at a rapid pace, your whimpers and cries filling the room as he fucks you with his fingers. “see? doesn’t that feel good? doesn’t that make you want more?” you nod your head, dazed with pleasure. not even fully understanding his questions. “good girl.” he mutters before taking his cock out of his pants, before you even realise whats happening, rafe had removed his fingers and crawled on top of you, pushing the mushroom tip of his swollen fat cock against your entrance.
your eyes burst open in shock at the feeling “wait, wait, wait, da-DADDY! Oh fuck!” you practically screamed as rafe bottomed out in your pussy with a single thrust. essentially, popping your cherry. his hand is quick to cover your mouth as he glares down at you from above. his sanity is long gone by now, the crazed look on his face scaring you into submission.
“shut the fuck up. i-i’m done playing games now. your gonna’ shut your pretty little mouth and-and daddy’s gonna’ fuck your cunt until he cums deep inside you, okay?” you didn’t respond seeming as his hand was covering your mouth.
he lifted his palm from your mouth before quickly striking you across the face, you cried out as your skin began to fluster due to the impact of his hit. he swiftly gripped your jaw making you look him in the eyes once more “you-you fuckin’ answer me when i’m talkin’ to you. you nod your fuckin’ head when daddy asks you a question.” this time you were quick to nod your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed a “y-yes daddy.”
if anything they just seemed to turn rafe on even more. “good… good girl.” he groaned before pummelling his cock further into your cunt, he began thrusting at a rapid pace, fucking you so hard the headboard began to bash against the wall. your screams of pleasure probably being heard for miles. “ohhhh shit, you see that, you fuckin’ slut?” he pointed your face towards where your cunt and his cock connected, a pool of pink cream surrounding the base of his cock, a mixture of blood and cum. you were too far gone to talk at this point, moans and whimpers spilling out of your lips as you simply nodded your head, your eyes rolling back.
“fuck i can’t believe you tried to hide this shit from me, tried to hide how much of a greedy fuckin’ cock slut you are. it’s okay though baby, daddy loves when you turn into a desperate little whore. gonna’ have you writhing on this fat cock every day of the week from now on.”
#💎anon#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fic#dark rafe cameron x reader#dark! rafe cameron#drew starkey#drew starkey smut#drew starkey x reader#rafe cameron prompt
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i'll keep it all to myself
7x04 coda (she's back, baby xoxo)
-
“Hey, killer.”
Buck winces, mouth already tripping over an apology as he moves into the Diaz living room. “Eddie, I’m so sorry-“
“Buck, I’m kidding,” Eddie interrupts, exasperated and just a little fond. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of that tone in a few days. It’s embarrassing to say he missed it. “Sit down.”
Buck takes the armchair instead of sitting on the couch next to Eddie. He’s not sure why. He never sits in the armchair. Sitting in it now he almost feels…off balance. But then catching sight of Eddie’s foot propped up on the coffee table sobers him immediately and he forgets all about the strange discomfort in his stomach.
Reaching for the cushion behind him, he gets up again. “You should have something under that,” he says, gently lifting Eddie’s leg to place the cushion on the table. He lowers it again carefully, nodding in satisfaction when Eddie’s foot is nestled safely in the cushion. “The table is too hard.”
“Oh sorry, I thought I was the one with real medical training,” Eddie quips but there’s no bite behind the words.
“Yeah but I’m the one with crush injury experience,” Buck says, kicking his own legs up on the table in proof.
Eddie opens his mouth as if to argue back but then closes it again, rolling his eyes, but his lips twitch a bit. Just at the corners.
“Eddie, I really am sorry,” he says, straightening in his seat and forcing himself to meet Eddie’s gaze properly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just got so-“
“I know,” Eddie replies, quiet and careful and devoid of any of his earlier teasing. “But you know you can talk to me, right? Like, it’s me Buck. You can just tell me when something’s wrong.”
Buck does know that. He knows he can tell Eddie everything. Anything. The bad and the good.
Which means he should be able to clear this up right away, right? He should just be able to say, ‘Hey, I was apparently working through some latent feelings I never knew I had. And I took that out on you. But guess what! I like Tommy and he likes me back and we have a date Saturday!’
But thinking about telling Eddie that Tommy kissed him makes his chest constrict in a way that he doesn’t expect. So he tucks it up in a neat little box in the corner of his mind for now and focuses on making sure Eddie’s okay. Because he can do that. He knows how to do that.
“I’m an idiot,” he says. “And if you want I will totally give you one free punch so we’re even.”
Eddie huffs a quiet laugh. “I could never hit you.”
“Should I go get Christopher’s Legos instead and step on them with my shoes off?”
Eddie lets out a real laugh then, the kind that makes his eyes close and his head fall back against the couch cushion, and Buck feels so much affection for him well up inside him he’s almost breathless with it.
“You’re an idiot,” Eddie tells him. “And a martyr. Seriously, Buck, I don’t care. I just want to make sure you and I are okay.”
“Of course we are,” Buck says, without actually stopping to interrogate if that’s true or not.
They are, he thinks. The fact that something absolutely life altering happened to him an hour ago and he somehow can’t make himself tell Eddie about it is…inconsequential.
He’s just hedging his bets. Not trying to get ahead of himself before he has yet another failed romance.
“In that case, can you go to the fridge and get us some beers?” Eddie asks, pulling Buck back to reality.
“You shouldn’t be drinking,” Buck says, even as he stands. Maybe they can split a beer. Half a bottle shouldn’t hurt. “Tommy says you’re on pain meds.”
“Oh, so you guys talked?”
Eddie says it unassumingly and when Buck freezes at the dining table and looks over his shoulder he finds that Eddie isn’t even looking at him. He’s leaning forward on the couch, adjusting his leg, but when Buck takes too long to answer he raises his head and gives him an expectant look.
“Yeah,” Buck murmurs, the phantom rasp of Tommy’s stubble against his mouth still tingling and making him want to reach up and touch his lips. That would give too much away though. “We talked.”
Eddie smiles, nodding his approval. “Good. Maybe all three of us can actually hang out together now.”
The thought immediately makes Buck’s stomach swoop with something unnameable but he doesn’t let it show on his face.
“Sure,” he breathes. “Sounds great.”
#buddie#evan buckley#eddie diaz#911#911 spoilers#7x04#my fics#i wrote this in 20 mins and read it twice but here u go lmao#i will try to write a couple of the prompts/suggestions people sent me tomorrow when my brain is functioning normally again 😘
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Kurt Cobain Will Have His Revenge on the Straights
Had a video call with my brother Chuck the other day. Things got heavy:
KATE: Was Kurt Cobain a trans woman?
CHUCK: What?
Kurt Cobain. Rock musician. He was in a band called Nirvana.
I’m familiar with him, yes.
Was he a trans woman?
Um. No?
OK. Why not?
I mean, he wasn’t. It’s like asking why he wasn’t an astronaut.
He wasn’t an astronaut because he never went to space. Why wasn’t he a trans woman?
Because he didn’t transition. I mean, he didn’t ever say he was a woman, didn’t ever say he was trans. So no. Kurt Cobain wasn’t a trans woman.
So someone is trans if they say they’re trans. Self-determination.
That’s what you’ve told me. Is that wrong?
No, that’s right. We know ourselves better than anybody else can know us. If we say we’re trans, nobody can say we aren’t.
And Kurt Cobain never said he was trans.
So was I trans in 1994?
I don’t know, were you?
Yes, but if you’d asked me in 1994, I would have told you “no”.
So if I tell you I’m trans, I’m trans…
Right.
But if I tell you I’m cis, I might still be trans?
If you tell me you’re cis, I believe you.
That’s not the same thing as “I’m cis”.
That’s a really good point. This is sort of what some queer people are getting at when they say “gender is a construct”.
Come again?
Well, you’re cisgender, right?
As far as I know, yes.
Aha.
Hmmm?
You hedged. “As far as I know” isn’t the same thing as “yes”. “As far as I know” opens up the possibility that you could be trans and not know it.
It doesn’t seem terribly likely.
That’s an interesting statement. Early on in transition one of the biggest problems I had was dealing with the sheer unlikelihood of my being trans. I mean, I knew trans people existed. I knew somebody had to be trans. I just couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that it would be me.
Do you think this is why you’re on this whole “Kurt Cobain was a trans woman” kick?
Hey now, I’m just asking questions. You know. Like J.K. Rowling is “just asking questions”.
Kate, you are literally wearing a T-shirt that says “KURT COBAIN WAS A TRANS WOMAN” on it right now.
Am I? Oh, shit. I thought I was wearing my “Skip school, take hormones, kill God” T-shirt. To your question, though - yeah, I do think that’s part of it. Honestly, the hardest thing about growing up trans was believing that nobody in the world had ever experienced what I was experiencing. I didn’t have any role models. I didn’t wonder if I was the only one. I was convinced of it.
So being able to say that this incredibly gifted songwriter, the voice of a generation, was a trans woman like you…
I need someone like that. I need to not be the first of my kind.
Of course you’re not the first trans woman.
No, but before a couple of years ago almost every trans woman would tell you they always knew, unquestionably and innately, that they were women.
So it’s not just about him being trans, but specifically his being a trans woman who didn’t know he was a trans woman.
An egg. Right.
Why Kurt Cobain, anyway? What’s so special about him that you’re trying to induct him into the Egg Hall of Fame?
He knew things. Things cis guys don’t know. Things I didn’t know until after I started transition. He understood women, what we’re like, what we experience. “Pennyroyal Tea”. “Rape Me”. I just have a hard time thinking of a cis man who could write songs like that.
It wouldn’t be the only way in which he was exceptional.
True. Ahhh. I don’t know. I mean, I know, I can give you all the reasons, but there’s something in his eyes.
Something in his eyes.
All the pictures of him. No matter what he’s doing. If he’s grinning, or sad, whatever he’s doing, you can see something trapped there. Trapped and in pain, wanting to get out but not quite knowing how.
Huh. You, uh, know that what you’re doing is pretty much the textbook definition of projection, right?
Maybe. Chuck, do you think I’m happier?
Since you transitioned?
Yeah.
Of course. Absolutely. Night and day.
Everyone says that, and honestly, I see it. Even in pictures, you know? I see it. You’ve seen some of my transition timelines, right?
You do look really different.
It’s not just me. Every single person who transitions looks like that. We look so much happier, so much more alive, so much more us. I don’t understand how anybody can hate us.
I don’t get it either, Kate.
And when I look at any timelines, I look at the before photos… and I see something in their eyes. Transmasc, transfem, doesn’t matter. There’s something trapped wanting to get out. Every picture I’ve ever seen of Kurt Cobain looks like the “before” picture on a transition timeline. It’s just that with him, there aren’t any after pictures.
And it’s not just the eyes, either. The way he dressed, the whole “grunge look”. It’s just literally egg fashion. We dress with total disregard for our appearance or how we look because no matter what we do it’s wrong.
“Egg fashion”, egg this, egg that… isn’t it a little bit anachronistic, judging him by 2022 standards, 2022 values?
Is it? Chuck, I was alive in 1994. I was an 18 year old egg. I know what that feels like. I know what that looks like. I lived that. Why didn’t I come out as trans in 1994? Because I didn’t have the opportunity. Because self-determination needs to be informed, and none of us were. None of us. Look. You know what he said to Melody Maker in 1991? “I knew I was different. I thought that I might be gay or something because I couldn't identify with any of the guys at all.” That’s what he said.
Holy shit. Really?
Really. September 14, 1991.
Hold on, let me look that up. Oh, yeah, I see it. Look, if you look at the full quote he’s just saying he’s not a jock. Like he didn’t fit in with the jocks.
Well, what about the dresses?
What dresses?
Kurt Cobain wore a lot of dresses. Like, a lot, both onstage and off. On MTV in 1991, he said “It’s ‘Headbanger’s Ball’ so I thought I’d wear a gown.” He said in a 1993 interview, “I personally like to wear dresses. I wear them around the house sometimes.” This is not some shameful secret he kept hidden from the world. He was open about this. He was proud about this.
Yeah, but… it’s just clothes.
Except it’s not just clothes. Listen to his songs. Listen to his lyrics. “Should have been a son”. “I’m a lady, can you save me?” “Everyone is gay.” The original lyrics to “All Apologies” from his journals – “Boys write songs for girls. Let me grow some breasts.”
I mean they’re song lyrics. There are all kinds of ways to interpret song lyrics.
Sure. All kinds of ways. You ever read Michael Azerrad’s biography of Cobain, Come As You Are?
Nope.
Azerrad spent weeks talking to Cobain. He was Cobain’s biographer, but also his friend. And he has his own interpretation of the lyrics. For instance, Azerrad talks about all the lyrics about guns, and to me, now, I look at that, and I think of how he died, but Azerrad, when Kurt was alive, he looked at it another way. He thought it’s about dicks. “To paraphrase Dr. Freud,” he says, “sometimes a gun is just a gun. But not this time.” He talks about “Come As You Are”, where Kurt keeps singing “I swear I don’t have a gun.” That’s not my interpretation. That’s never been my interpretation. That’s what this cis man says. More than one cis man. Kurt says Dave Grohl’s dad, he said the same thing. Yeah. There are all kinds of ways to interpret lyrics.
“By this time,” Azerrad wrote, “one begins to wonder how Kurt rationalizes being a man at all. His first response is revealing. ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘Castration.’” I don’t wonder how Kurt rationalizes being a man. I rationalized “being a man” in all kinds of ways. What strikes me is that he needed to rationalize being a man. Had to come up with some kind of excuse. It just strikes me kind of funny.
Kurt’s songs have meanings. The lyrics to “In Bloom”, Kurt was pretty explicit about that. The lyrics he wrote have meanings. “Heart-Shaped Box”. You know what that refers to? When Courtney Love was flirting with Kurt, Michael Azerrad says in Come As You Are, “She gave Dave (Grohl) a package to give to Kurt – little sea shells and miniature teacups and a tiny doll, all packed into a small heart-shaped box.” A tiny doll locked away inside a box shaped like a heart. That was what I felt like before I came out. A tiny phantom doll. Kurt and Courtney first kissed after a show at the Cabaret Metro in Chicago. Rumor was that they fucked against the bar, but they denied it. What actually happened, Azerrad says, is that “Courtney had a bag of lingerie with her for some reason and Kurt ended up modeling the contents.” And then they went to Kurt’s hotel room and they fucked.
You’re making it sound…
Maybe it was. Because you look at that and you think that if it was like that, it was perverted and wrong, because that’s what you were told, that it’s a sick fetish thing, and I look at it and it isn’t. To me, that’s normal. That Kurt Cobain was sexually aroused while wearing Courtney Love’s lingerie, that’s normal.
Kate, he was a punk! He hated jocks, and wearing a dress pissed off jocks, so he wore dresses. He talked about wanting to wear a dress and piss on a redneck A&R man’s desk! You think that was some kind of sex thing?
Sexuality is part of being a woman. Part. Rage – and Kurt Cobain had a lot of rage inside him – that’s another part. Am I interpreting, am I looking at things from my perspective as a trans woman? Yes, certainly, just like you’re interpreting, looking at it from your perspective as a cis man. When cis people interpret things, their conclusion is never “they were trans”. Never.
Ed Wood wasn’t a trans woman. He was just a transvestite. He was a man.
Pete Burns from Dead or Alive wasn’t a trans woman. Sure, he got all sorts of feminizing surgeries, but he never said he was a woman. Man.
Prince Nelson adopted a female persona, feminized his voice, and recorded a song about wanting to be a woman's girlfriend, but he was also a Christian and believed that being queer was wicked and sinful, and that's the identity of his we need to respect. Man.
Richard Wright, who wrote the Phish song “Halley’s Comet”, spent most of the 1980s telling everyone he knew he was a transsexual lesbian named Nancy, but after being consistently treated like shit changed his mind about that, so none of that counts for anything. Man.
Dave Carter was on HRT when he died, but he was just questioning. He didn’t tell anybody for sure that he was a woman. Man.
Quentin Crisp said just before he died that if he was younger, he absolutely would have transitioned, but wanting to transition isn’t the same as actually transitioning. Man.
All men. Always, always men, whatever they do, whatever they say. I know how that works. I was told all these same things about myself for decades, all these same reasons, and now, I don’t know, I guess people will make a personal exception for me, but for everybody else, the same old assumptions, the same old arguments, they still apply. They’re still legitimate.
I thought we were talking about Kurt Cobain.
And the only way to do that is to talk about him in isolation. There’s no larger context to consider, no bigger picture. I can’t really know. I can’t really judge.
I mean, everybody else does. I guess I can’t tell you not to. But all of this circumstantial evidence, all of the dresses and the lyrics that you I guess know the real meaning of – none of that makes him a girl.
Sure. And nothing can make him a girl. Because he’s dead. Because he killed himself.
Oh, here we go. After thirty years and countless speculation, you have at last uncovered the real reason Kurt Cobain killed himself – gender dysphoria. Do you have a book deal yet?
Working on it. And yes, people say a lot of stupid things about Cobain’s death, like it’s this big shock that this guy who hated himself and wanted to die killed himself.
Right. He was pretty well-known for being a heroin addict, which isn’t exactly something that improves one’s quality of life.
Sure, but why did he start heroin?
I don’t know. Why does anybody start heroin?
To help him cope with his eating disorder.
Wait, what? Eating disorder?
You don’t know about that? He had stomach problems, for a long, long time. He could only eat certain kinds of food, certain kinds of food that wouldn’t make his stomach hurt. Doctors looked but they could never find any organic cause for it. Nobody took it seriously. So he self-medicated with heroin. “It was my choice,” he told Azerrad. “I don’t regret it at all because it was such a relief from not having stomach pain every day.” I know, though. Lots of cis guys have eating disorders. Doesn’t mean anything.
Kate there’s a lot of interpreting going on here.
Yeah, I guess there is. Is that necessarily a bad thing, though? Is that necessarily wrong? Like. You’ve seen The Matrix, right?
Only the first one.
Yeah, that’s fine. So you know how important The Matrix is to a lot of trans women, right?
Yes, but I’m not really sure why. Just seems like a retelling of Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave” with extra fight scenes.
It’s pretty trans, though, right?
Clearly. It was directed by two trans women.
And trans women who watch it – eggs or otherwise – find their own lives and experiences reflected in it in ways that cis people, like you, don’t.
I guess, but the fact that it was actually made by two trans women carries a little more weight with me.
OK, but what if the Wachowskis had died in 2000? In, like… a car crash or something? Does that mean The Matrix isn’t a trans film?
Well, no, because it’s still a film made by two trans women.
A film made by two trans women that speaks to the trans experience, and that is recognized by living trans women as speaking specifically to the trans experience. The only difference is that, in this scenario, nobody knows the Wachowski Sisters are trans women. And we can’t prove it. We can’t possibly prove it, and nobody is going to just believe us when we say it’s a trans movie, that the Wachowskis were trans women, because they didn’t say it, they didn’t say the special magic words. Self-determination. You know what self-determination meant to Kurt Cobain? I remember seeing Courtney Love on television reading his note, I remember her interrupting to say that he was an asshole, that what he was saying was bullshit. She didn’t respect his self-determination.
Um…
“Pennyroyal Tea”. Cobain told Azerrad “It's a cleansing theme where I’m trying to get all my bad evil spirits out of me and drinking Pennyroyal tea would cleanse that away.” Pennyroyal is an abortifacient – but, Azerrad notes, only in lethal doses.
Hell, not just that song. The whole album. In Utero. The collage on the back cover, the one Cobain described to Azerrad as “Sex and woman and In Utero and vaginas and birth and death". The occult symbols surrounding it, taken from Barbara G. Walker’s The Woman's Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects1. There was something inside Kurt Cobain, something inside him waiting to be born, but he was told, over and over, that it was a monster, so he killed it, the only way he could. By killing himself.
That could have been me. That could so easily have been me. I was told all the same things he was. We all were. When I was 27? When I was 27, I was addicted to benzos, benzos they prescribed me because I was trying to bury, trying to kill this thing, this thing I had inside of me. I was a zombie. Walking dead. When I quit, I quit cold turkey. Nobody told me about the withdrawal syndrome. Nobody told me it could have killed me. And if it had, everybody would remember me, everybody would think of me, as a cis man. Forever. They would perpetuate the Lie. That’s why I transitioned, why I chose to go through all the shit I went through. The writer and musician Margaret Killjoy, in 2017 she talked about what she went through the day before she came out:
“All I could think was: ‘Oh god, I don’t want to die a boy.’”2
I felt the same way, came out for the same reason. I figured no matter what I did, I was dead. I didn’t do it live, but to at least have an honest death. I genuinely believed transition would kill me.
It didn’t, though! You’re alive and you’re beautiful and I’m so, so glad for that. It didn’t kill you.
It could have. Still could. Transition has helped, has made it easier for me, but it’s not that way with everyone. People have been kind to me, in ways that they aren’t kind to other trans women. Others of us… aren’t so lucky.
Who are we respecting, exactly, by remaining silent about our shared experiences, our shared perspectives, things we see that you fucking don’t, that you can’t see? Of course I can’t prove it. I can’t prove that I’m trans. You can’t prove that you’re cis. Cis people, though, cis people never have to prove anything. Their prejudices are the null hypothesis3. If I was to go out there and say that Kurt Cobain was a cisgender man, would anybody say I was wrong? Would anybody object or complain? Even though my saying that is an anachronism, is meaningless. The word, the concept, it literally didn’t exist when Cobain died. Have you ever heard the word “agnotology”?
No?
It means making a false claim to ignorance. Claiming that we don’t know something that we do. That we can’t know something that we can. We know things now, Chuck. We know what the symptoms of gender dysphoria are. We know what it does to people. How eggs think. How eggs act. How eggs die. But we pretend we don’t. We still pretend. We pretend suicide is an individual act, even when we know it’s not, that the reasons for it are wholly personal. We pretend that when someone dies by suicide, their reasons for doing so die with them. And they don’t, Chuck. We’re still dying, still dying for the same reasons Kurt Cobain did. It’s not just that we aren’t allowed to recognize ourselves. We aren’t allowed to recognize each other. Individual choice or social contagion. Those are the options we’re given. And neither of them are right. Neither of them are who we are.
Kurt Cobain wrote, thought, talked, died like eggs do. I don’t care if he never said the magic fucking words. We know our own. We recognize each other. And if someone is alive? If someone is alive I will go my whole life without ever breathing a word. Because as long as we’re alive, we do choose, and that means we can choose ignorance. What I think, what I want, for someone else, for us, it doesn’t matter. I do that, I follow that code, for the benefit of one person – the egg themselves. Once they die, all bets are off. Omerta no longer applies. Kayfabe no longer applies.
To be queer is to be erased, to experience erasure. I still hear straight men arguing, as if they have any right to argue, as if they know, that Emily Dickinson was not a lesbian. Emily Dickinson! I’m supposed to listen to people who say this shit? I’m supposed to take them seriously when they say well, actually, calling Dickinson a “lesbian” is historically anachronistic, we can’t apply the standards of the present to the past, and Jesus fuck have you read her letters? She liked girls. She really liked girls. Kurt Cobain was a trans woman. Kurt Cobain was every bit as much a trans woman as Emily Dickinson was a lesbian. Refusing to say it isn’t “respect”. It’s perpetuating the crime perpetrated against Cobain, against every other trans woman who ever killed herself because of the lies we were told about ourselves. No more. Kurt Cobain was a trans woman. I can’t, as an individual, say that. I don’t have the right. No trans woman can say that, individually. But collectively? All of us together? The things we see in each other, we see those things in him too. Not all of them, and not all of us. Absolutely not all of us. But enough of us. Enough that we have the right. We have the right, and I will fucking say it, and if you don’t like that, you can go fuck yourself.
Kate, are you ok?
I’m fine.
Do you want a hug?
Fuck you, Chuck.
OK, well. I’m, uh. Gonna go to the other room. You should, uh. Drink some water. Stay hydrated. Love you, Kate.
Love you too, Chuck. Sorry.
Shhh. It’s OK, Kate. It’s OK.
1 Diane Purkiss criticizes the occult nature of Walker’s encyclopedia in "Women's Rewriting of Myth", in Carolyne Larrington (ed), The Feminist Companion to Mythology, London, 1992, p. 444: “In Donna Haraway's influential terms, these women may wish to be goddesses, but they are cyborgs all the same”. The work she’s referencing is Haraway’s “A Cyborg Manifesto”. Haraway was, it happens, an academic advisor to the trans woman Sandy Stone, and her “Cyborg Manifesto” was a pivotal influence on Stone’s “The Empire Strikes Back: A Post-Transsexual Manifesto”, one of the foundational works of transgender theory.
2 Margaret Killjoy, https://birdsbeforethestorm.net/2017/06/im-not-even-going-to-try-to-pass/
3 Natalie Reed, https://freethoughtblogs.com/nataliereed/2012/04/17/the-null-hypothecis/
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What does the pre-Fall scene actually mean?
I’ve been thinking about that first scene, with pre-Fall Crowley. We are all swooning over how sweet and innocent Angel!Crowley is, and how smitten Aziraphale is, but on reflection there is something odd about this scene.
The action takes place before the rebellion, before the Fall, when bad things hadn’t even been invented yet. So why is Aziraphale already worried about Angel!Crowley getting into trouble for asking questions? Shouldn’t he also be a cute innocent bundle of fluff without a care in the world?
There is a meta that examines this (sorry, I can’t find it, I’m useless at this), which comes to the conclusion that Aziraphale later on is suffering from guilt (that he might have unwittingly prompted Crowley to seek answers and hence fall), but this still doesn’t explain why Aziraphale knows that asking questions might be a Bad Idea, and Angel!Crowley doesn’t. After all, Angel!Crowley has apparently been working “very closely with Upstairs”. Shouldn’t he be a bit more clued up?
This leads me to think that there are 2 possible explanations for this.
1. Angel!Crowley has been so far out of things playing with stars that he really is clueless about everything (possible but doesn’t really match up to the Crowley that we know today).
2. This is not a true record of events.
Either: it is one of Aziraphale’s memories, but coloured by what he knows today, so the conversation that actually occurred might have been quite different. Maybe it is because of Aziraphale’s less than perfect recall, or maybe the memory was tweaked (e.g. by the Metatron) to emphasize the innocence of Angel!Crowley and the injustice of his later fall.
Or: IT NEVER EVEN HAPPENED AT ALL. Their true first meeting was as S1, on the walls of Eden, and it is all a false memory planted by the Metatron. (This could also explain why we don’t get to hear Angel!Crowley’s name. It’s not actually known, so can’t be added to the ‘memory’). Why would he do this? It could be to make Aziraphale think that Angel!Crowley was so full of joy that he should be reinstated to recapture that innocence.
There are plenty of theories about the other flashback episodes in the series, all of which could be interpreted as showing off Crowley’s 'good' side, to make the thought of his reinstatement as an angel more plausible or even necessary to right an ancient wrong.
If any or all of this is the Metatron’s doing, what is the motive? He clearly loathes Crowley. Maybe reinstatement as an angel would automatically wipe out his memories of being Crowley and all of his Earthly experience, so you would end up with a cute innocent (and ultimately useless) angel with no memories of his friendship with Aziraphale. Or perhaps it was a way to get him to come up to Heaven where he could be ambushed and imprisoned.
Or maybe the Metatron always knew that the very concept would go down like a lead balloon and that its aim was to make Aziraphale and Crowley part in such a way that they would be less likely to try to contact each other later.
There are so many pieces to this puzzle. Just when I think that a couple might go together I find others that don’t fit with the patterns already made, and which sometimes seem to belong to a different puzzle altogether. I’m sure that I already have 5 corner pieces.
#good omens#aziraphale#crowley#aziraphale x crowley#crowley x aziraphale#good omens 2#neil gaiman#good omens analysis#good omens meta#before the fall#Why is Aziraphale aware of bad things before they were invented#angel crowley#too many questions#good omens theories
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it's not my fault
gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: tsumiki and megumi get into an argument
warnings: sibling stuff, fluff, two oblivious (stupid) parents
last part | next part
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year five.
“couldn’t you say something nice?” tsumiki is asking megumi when you walk in. “she just wanted to—“
you set your bag on the table, just barely able to make out their words.
they were... quiet in the car, you realize suddenly. but you hadn't thought that anything was wrong. megumi's typically burnt out after school, and tsumiki waits until you all get home to start telling you about her day.
but it only took a minute of you running back out to the car to grab something for it all to fall apart.
megumi groans. “i don’t even know her.”
you round the corner, just stopping there so you can observe. neither of them seem to notice you, or your wide eyes at both of their stances. the matching scowls on their faces.
they look so similar that it shocks you just briefly.
tsumiki has her arms crossed, shaking her head. “you still don’t need to be mean about it.”
“i wasn’t mean.”
“yes, you were. you told her to leave you alone.”
“that seems like a pretty straightforward request.”
“everyone at school thinks you’re mean,” tsumiki is pouting, looking dishearted at his reaction. typically, megumi will agree with her just for the sake of it. “and i always have to defend you, even if it’s true.”
megumi sighs, shrugging. he's got his satoru-type scowl on, and even though he looks disinterested--as usual--you can see it when his frown deepens, and he shifts away from tsumiki. “well, stop then. i don’t need you to come to my rescue. i don’t care what people say.”
“well, i do! you’re my brother.”
“that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like your responsibility. i can handle myself.”
“you’re always alone at school,” tsumiki disputes, almost whining at him. “if you were nicer—“
“i’ve never complained—“
“okay,” you turn the corner, brows already raised. “there’s a lot of raised voices going on. you two are going to wake up the neighbor's cat.”
tsumiki is pouting at megumi and he just rolls his eyes. both children stand facing each other, standoffish in the living room, arms crossed.
usually, they fight about what movie to watch, or who got to sit in the front seat last.
but those fights don’t typically involve yelling.
sure, they’re both sensitive about their childhood. about living here and being with you and satoru. they'll bicker about being little, megumi hating it when tsumiki mentions either of their biological parents, and tsumiki hating it when he refuses to listen.
but even then, tsumiki goes to hide, and megumi just shuts down.
this seems… different.
a part of you rationalizes that they're both exhausted from school and getting to that age where their priorities differ.
you don't have any siblings, but you quarreled enough with nanami and haibara back at school to know how these types of arguments work.
and unless one of them admits that they're wrong, it's never going to end.
with that thought in mind, you put on a learned smile, standing between the two of them so you can look back and forth between the two children, observing both of their very closed-off body language.
it's a little cute, honestly. they both look very different, but their matching stances and glares are worth much more than biology. you almost want to stop them to take a picture.
satoru would do it if he was here.
“tough crowd,” you say, feeling the tension between the two. “what’s going on?”
“nothing,” they both say, at the same time, but megumi with an attitude and tsumiki with a sniffle.
really, you should find a book about expressing emotions. you and satoru are teaching them far too much about denial and avoidance.
you make a mental note to look it up later.
you blow out a breath. “yeah, well, i heard the yelling, but i’m missing some context."
you look between the two of them, but they’re not looking back. both sets of eyes are focused on each other, identical glares bouncing off of each other. they could be communicating in some secret language and you would have no idea.
in fact, you can basically see the thoughts they're forcing towards each other on their faces.
“hey,” you poke them both on the forehead at the same time, trying to get their attention on you. “talk to me. what happened?”
they both remain still as statues for a moment, not bothering to consider the question.
but after a moment, tsumiki blinks, and her frown increases, which makes megumi roll his eyes--like he already knows what she's going to say, and doesn't care.
“megumi was mean to a girl at school,” tsumiki says, finally looking at you with big doe eyes. her face is pained, confused, and worried.
and honestly, she could ask you for anything with that look and you'd give it to her.
but megumi sighs. “i wasn’t mean.”
“you told her not to talk to you!”
he looks to you, less pleading but confident. “if i want space, shouldn’t i tell someone that? isn't that what you say?”
you open your mouth. “well, it depends, megs, you can’t—“
“you’re always mean,” tsumiki’s eyes are filling with tears. she looks at you too. and usually, she would apologize for interrupting, but not right now. “nobody at school wants to be around him. he scares everyone, and they don’t believe me when i say that he’s nice.”
“tsumiki," you begin, face softening, "you shouldn’t—“
“that doesn’t make me mean. why would i want to hang out with people who don’t like me?”
you turn, “megumi—“
“they would like you if you weren’t always saying mean things!” tsumiki tells him, her sweet voice rough with frustration. the tears begin to slip from her eyes.
and you can feel it when megumi moves another inch away, wanting to flinch back from her sadness the same way you do.
“i don’t want them to like me,” megumi corrects, shaking it off. “i don’t care what they think.”
tsumiki frowns even deeper, eyes growing wide. “what about what i think?” she asks him.
“are you going to stop hanging out with me?”
“maybe.”
“how? we literally live in the same house. your room is down the hall from mine.”
“guys—“
“i’ll ask dad to move rooms. he won’t mind.”
“oh, sure. because you’ll be able to avoid me at the dinner table—“
“why are you always—“
“guys.”
they both look to you, glares immensely misplaced. their mouths are still open, ready to interrupt each other at a moment's notice.
you look between them, finding matching pictures on either side. clearly, they're both upset about something different. and still, you don't really understand, but it doesn't seem like they're going to explain anything further.
why would they when they can just keep arguing?
you purse your lips, closing your eyes for a moment, trying not to laugh.
really, if they wanted you to take them seriously they shouldn’t have grown up to be so cute. they shouldn't look like that.
harsh, angry breaths fill the room as the two of them wait for your instruction. you should probably be able to fix this problem immediately--you could by sending them both to their rooms and forcing them apart--but you'd rather talk this through.
plus you don't want either of them to think too hard about any of it. you hate it when you fight with satoru and take a break, just to linger in that anger like a quicksand you can’t pull out of.
“okay,” you say, once there’s a moment of silence. “i know you’re both upset.”
“i’m not—“ you look at megumi and he stops, little frown on his little face. his cheeks are red in indignation, and he's got clenched fists. you can tell that he wants to say something, maybe to you, maybe to tsumiki, but he won't.
you ruffle his hair. “it’s fine to be upset with each other,” you tell him, looking to tsumiki, her face entirely sad. “but going back and forth isn’t going to solve the problem, okay? and neither is saying anything just to hurt each other's feelings.”
“but he just—“ you shake your head, wishing with everything in you that you could go get one of satoru’s blindfolds right now.
it physically hurts to look at them, they're so precious.
you are a terrible mother for finding this moment slightly amusing. to be fair, you spend far too much time with satoru, and deflection is a family trait.
you finger tsumiki’s hair, pushing it from her eyes. “should we take a break?” you ask them both. “or do you want to talk about it now?”
“break,” megumi says, immediately.
“talk about it now,” tsumiki answers, at the same time.
for two people who are so alike, they sure think differently. you want to smile at the very predictable answers but refrain.
“okay…” you pause, thinking. “tsumiki, why don’t you tell us why you’re upset? megumi will do the same, and then we can take a break, or keep going.”
they both glare at each other.
“and nothing mean," you add because it feels necessary.
tsumiki sniffs. “everyone at school says that you’re cruel,” she tells him, a devastating pout on her face. “and i don’t like that. you’re my brother, and i want people to like you like i do.”
you both look at megumi, waiting.
he's silent for a moment, processing his sister's words, but then he’s got a scowl on his face. “i don’t care what they think, they’re all stupid anyway—“
“megumi.”
he looks at you, pleading blue eyes. you can see that tsumiki got under his skin, but you shake your head.
“see?” tsumiki complains, voice high-pitched. “he’s always—“
you wipe away a tear, nodding. “i know, sweetie, but it’s his turn. you can go next.”
you turn to megumi, wanting to laugh at his annoyed face. “don’t call your classmates names," you say, giving him a look. "it's your turn. tell tsumiki why you’re upset, megumi.”
he sighs again, looking towards the floor. he kicks at the hardwood, shaking his head. “i don’t like it when you baby me. i don’t need you to defend me, or try and take care of me at school. i’m fine.”
tsumiki swallows, not saying anything.
you look between the two of them, trying to read the complex emotions of your almost-teenagers. unfortunately, they're closed off from you, and you can only guess.
both of your hands rest on one of their shoulders, squeezing. “do you both want to answer? or should we sit down for a bit? i can make a snack or something. it might be good to cool off."
you say it mostly for yourself, because, honestly, any second you're going to break.
the two children look at each other, communicating telepathically, and then they nod.
“you should treat everyone respectfully,” tsumiki says, as an answer. “even if you don’t care what they think, you should still be nice.”
megumi frowns. “if i don’t want to talk to someone, i shouldn’t have to.”
“but you just told her to go away. she probably feels bad now, and—“
“i don’t even know her," megumi interrupts, brows furrowing.
okay, so maybe you should've separated them a couple of minutes ago.
“chiyo's my friend!”
megumi rolls his eyes. “just because she’s your friend doesn’t mean she has to be mine.”
“but you were mean.”
you look between the two of them, megumi annoyed and tsumiki frustrated.
“okay, kids.” you breathe out, wishing you had a brother to fight with, just so you knew what it felt like. just so you could be a part of this argument. “i know you’re both mad, and you disagree. that’s fine. let’s take some space, breathe, maybe i can—“
“just because you think i was being mean doesn’t mean that i was," megumi blurts out, like he can't hold it in.
you pause, mouth opening. you're about to say something, but you don't get the chance.
“if everyone doesn’t like you,” tsumiki argues, “then it’s because you’re mean.”
“maybe they just suck.”
“they don’t suck. this is—“
and then it all breaks down.
“well well,” satoru peeks his head around the corner, white hair a shock to all three of you. “look who’s falling apart without me.”
you sigh immediately, a hand against your temple. of course he would come in at the worst moment possible. “satoru, please go back out the door. i'm sure you forgot something at the store."
the two kids look at satoru, neither one of them happy to see him. there's a similar fire in their eyes, and you know that if he hadn't shown up they would've continued arguing until you pulled them apart.
he walks over to you, slinging an arm across your shoulder. his grin is far too self-satisfactory. "what'd you do?" he asks, tapping you.
"i didn't do anything," you tell him, "leave them alone. they're working it out."
"by yelling at each other?"
you push his arm off of you, glaring. "you just walked in at a bad moment--"
you say something else, telling him to get out again, and satoru laughs back at you, asking if you missed him, and neither of you seems to realize that the two kids are just staring at you.
megumi and tsumiki share a look, like this is a typical occurrence (it is), then shake their heads at the same time, like an echo of each other.
their faces have cooled, scowls fading as you and satoru bicker.
tsumiki sighs and megumi scratches the back of his neck, and for a moment, they both avoid each other's eyes.
but eventually, you and satoru look back at them.
"i don't want to talk anymore," megumi tells all of you, beginning to walk away. satoru tries to grab the back of his shirt to keep him in place, but megumi just shrugs him off.
and then he walks down the hallway to his room and closes the door gently, clearly no longer bothered by anything tsumiki said. or maybe too bothered.
but, you think, at least he didn't slam the door.
you can recall yourself telling satoru to give him space, to let megumi deal with his emotions as he pleases before you force him back into the spotlight, to apologize or hug tsumiki, or...
you blink and look back at her. she's still got a small pout on her face, but her eyes have relaxed, as red-rimmed as they are. you know, and tsumiki knows, that she's really just worried about him. trying to protect him in her own, sisterly way.
and, really, there's not much you can teach her about that.
so you just smile gently at tsumiki, wiping away some moisture from her face. "just give him a bit, hmm? let him think."
she sighs but relaxes into your hand for a moment, her shoulders slouching as she gives into defeat. and then tsumiki shrugs at you, agreeing despite herself, and walks over to satoru to give him half of a hug.
it's not a moment later that she follows megumi and walks down the hall, escaping to her room. you both listen as her door closes.
"wow," satoru whispers, shaking his head. "you did a number on them."
"they had a fight about school," you say, nudging him. "i had no part in any of it. i just walked in."
he wraps two arms around the back of your neck, smiling eagerly at you. "so what you're saying is, it isn't your fault?"
he's mocking himself, and the reoccurring events that happen when you leave him in charge. which you've sworn to never do again, by the way.
you scoff. "when i get home you've started all the problems," you tell him, shaking your head. "they're fighting because you instigated something."
"we're communicating."
"whatever."
satoru quirks a brow at you, eyes just barely visible behind his glasses. "the parenting books aren't doing much for you, are they?" he asks, rhetorically.
"you realize i caught you with those in your room multiple times right? i know you read them."
"you'll never prove it," he says, smiling maliciously.
"and neither will your parenting skills."
satoru snorts, nudging his nose against yours in an odious way. "clearly, you guys can't last a day without me."
"it wasn't a day," you argue, shivering at his touch. "more like an hour. you just went to the store..." you pause, tilting your head at him. "and where are the groceries, by the way?"
satoru looks away, hands tapping on the back of your neck, humming innocently. "oh, i might've... slightly misplaced those."
"satoru."
"i got distracted--but it's not my fault. there's a new kakigori shop down the block."
you look at him blandly.
satoru, because he cannot be trusted, smiles sweetly at you as he places a peck on your lips, as a sort of apology.
obviously, you don't return it. not even in the slightest.
satoru hums as he pulls back, already knowing that he's won. "so, i'll just get dinner..." he says, grinning at you.
you roll your eyes but wrap your hands around his neck, letting a little smile fall across your face.
*
you and satoru are sitting on the couch when you see megumi creeping down the hall, on his tiptoes, purposefully not looking at the two of you.
it's been an hour or two, the silence echoing across the house almost a bad omen.
but you decided not to bother either of them. considering the fact that you still don't know why they were really fighting, or why they didn't just talk about it like they usually would, it seemed like the best option.
and also, satoru shouldn't be involved in any conflict resolution. he'd probably suggest wrestling it out in the backyard.
still, as you watch him pass by, you lean away from satoru, your legs completely tangled in his. you stretch your neck to watch him, relying on satoru's hand around your waist to keep you steady, but he's too far down the hall for you to see where he's going.
but a moment later, you hear him knock on a door, and then a small, quiet voice telling him to come in.
you relax back against satoru, already grinning proudly. "see? i fixed it."
satoru laughs, his breath soft against your temple. "you didn't do anything. megumi just felt guilty."
"well, i taught him that."
satoru noses the side of your head. "mmm, i'm pretty sure i did."
"of course you didn't."
he shakes you a little, as a punishment for your words, but sighs. "what were they fighting about anyway?"
"megumi was mean to one of tsumiki's friends, i think. i missed... pretty much all of it."
"who?"
you frown. "chiyo?"
satoru snorts a little, and you shift to look at him, raising your brow. "megumi mentioned her."
you turn even more, eyes wide. you poke his cheek with a finger, and then wave for him to continue.
satoru groans, fingers trailing through your hair. "he said that he overheard some girls talking about 'miki."
"behind her back?"
satoru smiles, a bit sadly, nodding.
"oh."
"yeah, oh."
you frown. “what did they say?”
satoru licks his lips, watching your eyes as you concentrate on him. “dunno. megumi wouldn’t tell me.”
you roll your eyes. “of course not,” you say, sighing. “and he didn’t tell her?”
satoru winces. "okay, so… maybe i told him not to,” he whispers, like a confession, voice going a bit high at the end. and then he laughs at your annoyed expression. "what? i didn't want her to get sad."
you shake your head at him, tsking.
you could scold him for protecting tsumiki, but you know that you probably would've done the same.
so you just turn back towards the hallway, resting your head against his shoulder. after a moment, satoru nuzzles himself into your neck, humming against your skin.
it's a very unpleasant feeling.
"do you think i should go get them for dinner?" you ask him, quietly.
"nah," he kisses the side of your neck, looking down the hall with you. "give them a little while."
and it's about twenty minutes later that the two siblings walk back into the living room, megumi's lip quirked at tsumiki, and tsumiki beaming back.
after all, you and satoru have taught them well.
*
next part | series masterlist
#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru fluff#satoru gojo#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#satoru x reader#satoru x you#satoru x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujustu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen#a typical family
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Megumi losing his will to carry on until (y/n) shows up
Pairing: Megumi x reader
Word Count: 1,5k
Synopsis: Megumi can't take it anymore. All the death, the grief, the misery he caused. He'll never forgive himself for losing you...But are you really dead?
Warnings: THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS! but more in a really decent way, like I actually think if you have no idea of the manga you don't get that these are spoilers lol, HEAVY angst but also comfort, poor Megumi is at his lowest so TW if that offends you
I know I promised you a Sukuna fic it technically is and I will serve, but this basically wrote itself so I hope you like this as well hehe
Take a deep breath in and out, calm your tingling nerves, allow your feet to walk at normal pace. You waited so long for this moment, recovered from your endless injuries Sukuna conflicted on your body and soul. It took Shoko forever to stitch you up again, to make you look like a human being again. But there you go, walking on your very own legs, to finally see the true love of your life again.
When was the last time you spoke to him? Oh, you remember it exactly.
“I’m scared. Scared of what will happen, scared about the things we’ll lost…”
“Hey, you’ll never lose me, okay? I will always stay by your side.”
Little did both of you know he’ll break that promise a few weeks later and that he won’t return to your side for over a year. How hard you fought, how desperately you tried to stand a chance against Sukuna – only to get thrown out of life yourself.
“Are you sure you can handle this, that you are fit enough?”, Yuji questioned with his hand resting on your shoulder.
“You know you don’t have to-“
“This might be the only chance to get him back, right?”
Yuji smiled at you with that pained expression on his face you saw countless times these last months.
“Yuta and I think it might work. After all, everyone knows how much you mean to him.”
You clench your hands into fists. There is no doubt in the fact that Megumi Fushiguro is still in there, that he is still the boy you know and adore with all your heart. Even if it means you’ll get attacked again, even if it might end your life, you’ll have to try.
-Megumi-
Megumi’s body doesn’t move an inch, lifeless eyes staring into nothing but darkness. What time is it? He couldn’t care less. No, time doesn’t make any sense right now. Not when he lost everyone he loved. His family, his friends, his self-control. You.
His heart stings immediately. Oh, your gorgeous face hunts him down like nothing else. The way you talked, the way you laughed. The way you looked at him with widened eyes when your lifeless body fell to the ground, the way your blood pooled around his brown shoes.
Why? Why didn’t you listen to him when he told you earlier to stay away from Sukuna? Why did you decide to show up anyway, without Yuji or Yuta by your side? There was absolutely nothing he could do to save you.
Just like his sister.
Just like Gojo-sensei.
Just like everyone else.
It seems unreal to him. Unreal that he’s the one still alive, that all these people lost their lives through his very own hands. Oh, he’ll never forget the way you cared for his sister, your dumb inside jokes with Gojo. He’ll never forget the way you held his hand that one night, how your soft smile outshone the heavy moonlight.
“Don’t worry Megumi, everything will turn out alright eventually!”
Oh, how wrong you were. How awful these words make his guts turn, how desperately he wants to close his eyes forever.
No, you didn’t deserve your fate. Everyone didn’t deserve their fates. But he? He deserves nothing but death.
Nothing but emptiness.
Nothing but darkness.
“Megumi.”
Is he hallucinating again? Is your voice hunting him down like it always does? It sounds so clear, near to reach. As if he could open his eyes, stretch out his hands and-
“Megumi.”
Again.
His skin suddenly starts to feel warm, as if someone touches his arm. Impossible, no one should be here, it’s just him in this prison that never ends-
“Hey, I’m here. It’s me, (y/n).”
“(y/n)?”
That name. That gorgeous name he adores to the moon and back, that last name that saved him from giving up until you died in front of his eyes.
“Hey, it’s been a while.”
“You’re dead.”
That voice sounds so unknown, so far away that you flinch for a second. Is this really Megumi and not just a cheap copy of him? You swallow hard, desperately try to contain your emotions. Oh, how much you longed for this moment, to finally hold the love of your life again. But on the other hand, you can’t take the sight in front of you. Him laying curled up on the cold floor, face showing absolutely no emotion.
You shake your head. No, you have to be strong right now. If not for yourself, then for him.
“Open your eyes, silly. I’m right here”, you reply.
Gently, you cup his cheek with your hand the way he always secretly adored. This just has to work, you need to get him back.
He hesitates for a moment, breath stuck in his throat. Is this really you or just his own sorrow reminding him of the things he’s done? But what…
He opens his eyes.
His gaze finds yours.
Time stands still.
“I missed you, cutie patootie.”
Reality hits him with full force. This might be a cruel trick, a hallucination. But that nickname was always a little secret between both of you, how you called him in private. No one except you knows about it. No one except you looks at him with so much love gleaming in their eyes. No one except…
“(y/n)”, he breathes out.
“I know you think I’m dead but…I made it, Megumi. I never gave up hope to see you again.”
You can’t hold back the waterfall of tears that now streams down your cheeks, eyes holding onto his gorgeous face for dear life, afraid to lose him all over again.
“(y/n).”
And for the first time since you know him, his eyes get watery to the point where they overflow with tears, the salty stream getting caught in your hands.
“(y/n)”, he whimpers again.
“Don’t feel sorry for what happened. It wasn’t you but him. I don’t blame you”, you blurt out immediately.
“(y/n)!”
Faster than you’re able to comprehend what’s happening, he wraps his longing arms around you, presses you so close that your lungs refuse their service for a second.
“I thought you’re dead. I thought…I killed you.”
The sheer agony in his voice forms a painful lump in your throat. Oh poor Megumi…He doesn’t deserve to feel this way, doesn’t deserve to hold all these horrible memories. How much you’d wish you could simply take his pain away, could make him forget what happened.
But all you’re able to do is holding him tightly.
“You would never harm a single hair on my body-“
“But I did!”, he screams.
“I hurt you! I almost killed you! Just like Gojo-sensei, just like Tsumiki!”
His voice breaks, a dry whimper escapes his lips.
“I…I can’t do this anymore. I can’t hurt another soul. I don’t wanna li-“
“Stop right there.”
Desperately, you force him to look into your reddened eyes.
“This wasn’t you, Megumi. Did you hear me? No one ever thought it was you. We loved you, we missed you, we want you back. When Shoko stitched me up, all I was able to think about was you. Fuck that shitty jujutsu world we’re living in, fuck all the curses and monsters and humans. Think about us, Megumi. Think about what you told me back then, that you’ll always stay by my side. Because that’s were I need you, this is why I love you more than anything else. In my eyes, you’ll never be anything apart from Megumi Fushiguro!”
Without thinking twice, you press your despairing lips against his, taste the salty tears of him and you that mixed on each other’s faces. His arms wrap themselves around your back and waist, hold you into place while you get lost against the lips you know so well but yet not at all. Megumi just needs to come back to you, needs to find his willpower again.
“I need you”, you mutter against his mouth.
“I love you.”
The agony radiating from his voice becomes almost unbearable, lets you hold onto his neck even tighter. No, Megumi didn’t deserve what happened to him. He didn’t deserve to see his loved ones die right before his eyes. He didn’t deserve all the things he’s been through. But this right here, this is just right.
This is a reason to hold on, right?
“Promise me you won’t give up”, you urge.
“Promise me you’ll give yourself the chance to heal, that you’ll stand with me and Yuji and the others. Just promise that you’ll come back.”
“I swore to myself not to be a burden to this world anymore, that I’m done with my pathetic life, that I deserve to die. But you’re alive, you’re lying in my arms…And now I’m too selfish to do that.”
Again, he caresses your lips with his in the gentlest way while his arms hold you in place.
“If I’m not able to look at myself in the mirror, I’m able to look at you.”
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Could you write headcanons where luffy, sanji, law, and zoro react to their s/o shouting i hate you in a heated argument out of anger and it’s angst to comfort because she didn’t really mean it? thank you <3
A/N: Wow! Talk about complete opposites here with Sanji & Luffy vs Law & Zoro. This was a fun angst request! Thanks!
Characters: female reader x luffy, sanji, law, zoro
Cw: angst (but all happy endings!)
Total word count: 1k
Hate is Such a Strong Word
Luffy
You can see the shock in his eyes, the pain in his face. It’s so clear that he’s taken aback by your words and for the first time in your recent memory, Luffy is silent for a long time. He just stares at you, trying to decipher your words.
You instantly regret saying it. He’s like a little puppy who’s been scolded and didn’t even realize what he did wrong. Except he does realize what he did, he just didn’t realize it was such a big deal until this moment.
His voice trembles when he speaks. “You don’t mean that, do you? You don’t really hate me, right?”
He wraps you in a hug, not giving you a chance to respond. He holds you so tight there's no chance for escape. “Take it back,” he begs. “I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.”
You sigh, wrapping your arms around him too. “No, Luffy, I don’t hate you. I'm sorry I said that.”
He gives you an extra tight squeeze and then releases you. He’s not one to hold a grudge, so he apologizes again for upsetting you and promises to do better in the future, already forgetting your misspoken words.
Sanji
As soon as the words came out of your mouth, Sanji knew his worst nightmare had come true. You were finally done with him.
He spent a moment deciding if he should beg for forgiveness or if he should accept your hatred, but you stormed out of the room before he could make a decision.
He prepares the finest snacks for you and the girls to share. He silently sets them down while you all are chatting, even though you’re still giving him the cold shoulder. He lets you vent and get everything off your chest with them, even if it makes him look like the bad guy.
He spends all afternoon preparing your favorite dessert, and when he sees that you’re finally done talking with the girls, he calls you over and apologizes for his wrongdoing that made you so upset. You accept both his verbal apology and his dessert one.
But things are different between you two. He’s more distant, more nervous around you than before. Finally you confront him about it, and he admits your words have been weighing on his mind.
It’s then that you realize how important words are to Sanji. You apologize with words and kisses and anything else you can think of to make it up to him. You remind yourself to give him more words of affirmation to help show your love, and you swear that those words will never come out of your mouth again.
Law
His eye twitches when you scream it out to him, and his face turns to steel. “If you hate me so much, then leave.”
He storms out of the room without letting you respond. He wants the satisfaction of having the last word in this argument. You’re too angry to care.
He locks himself in his office for the most part. When he comes out of his room, he rampages through the ship. He’s slamming doors and cabinets shut, throwing things down harder than normal, everything he does is just super aggressive.
“Why don't you just apologize?” Penguin finally asks. “Because I didn’t do anything wrong!” Law yells back, his words echoing through the whole ship.
This man is too prideful to apologize first. It’s a waiting game between the two of you. You don’t sleep together, he stops eating meals with the crew.
You finally cave, and knock softly on his office door. He doesn’t answer.
“I’m sorry I said I hated you,” you say through the door. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why I said that. It was a really stupid thing to say”
The door finally opens, and you can see dark circles under his eyes. He pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head. “And I’m sorry for what I did. I’ll do better in the future.”
The whole crew breathes a sigh of relief, knowing you two are okay again.
Zoro
At first the words didn't faze him. You continued screaming at each other, voices rising louder to outdo one another.
And then the words came again. “I hate you Roronoa Zoro. I’ll never forgive you for this!” you screamed, and you stormed out the door, slamming it behind you.
It was in the silence after that he realized the impact of your words. And he realizes that he’s scared.
He tries to push down his anxiety by hiding in the crow’s nest and working out relentlessly. He’s avoiding everyone, but mostly you and your wrath.
He prays that you’ll come apologize to him, but after two days you still haven’t appeared in the crows nest. He’s constantly glancing out the deck, trying to find a glimpse of you whenever he can without getting caught.
On the afternoon of the third day, he realizes he’ll have to spend another night without you if he doesn’t apologize soon, and he finally gives in. He climbs down the ladder and walks over to where you and Nami are sunning in some lounge chairs and stands over top of you, clearing his throat. “Can I talk to you alone?” his voice comes out irritated unintentionally.
“Not with that tone,” you shoot back, still mad at him. He grits his teeth, and you see a blush start to appear over his cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and you can hear that he’s being genuine. “I didn’t mean to make you so upset.”
You sigh and get up from the chair, leading him away to talk in private. He continues to apologize, asking you how he can do better in the future.
You’re pleased with this development, and you give him a quick peck on the lips to show all is well again. “I’m sorry too,” you say. “I said a lot of things I didn’t mean.”
“So, we’re okay?” he asks, looking at you inquisitively. “We’re okay,” you assure him.
#one piece#one piece scenario#one piece imagine#one piece x reader#monkey d luffy#monkey d. luffy#luffy#luffy x reader#luffy x y/n#vinsmoke sanji#sanji#sanji x you#sanji x reader#sanji x y/n#trafalgar law#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar law x reader#trafalgar law x y/n#law x reader#law x y/n#roronoa zoro#zoro#zoro x reader#zoro x y/n#zoro x you#✧˚ luffy✧˚#✧˚sanji✧˚#✧˚law✧˚#✧˚zoro✧˚
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Use Me
Hello there! I know I’ve been M.I.A. for awhile. And literally haven’t written anything in like 8 months. I’ve been going through a shit ton. (Divorce, job change, all kinds of fun stuff) And I really lost my spark to write. And then the Fnaf movie came out. And seeing Josh Hutcherson on screen again lit a fire inside of me! That boy was my original crush (long before Evans). Peeta Mellark will forever have a piece of my heart. That being said, here’s a little something starring Mike Schmidt! I know, I know. It’s not a Chris Evans character? What’s wrong with me? Josh is fucking pretty. That’s what’s wrong with me. Like, I have a problem. Don’t get me wrong, I still think Chris is pretty and hope the best for him. But…he’s not been my muse lately. I said a long time ago that I wanted Josh to fuck me like a screen door in a hurricane. And it apparently still holds true today! So, I hope you enjoy it even though this is not a part of your regularly scheduled programming! Also, this takes place after the events of FNAF. Also, Also. Not sure if the people on my Taglist for Chris’ characters want to be tagged in Josh’s. If so, just let me know!
*DISCLAIMER*, If you’re under 18, this is nothing for you to be reading. Go away.
Words: 3.3k
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Smut, p in v smut, oral(f rec), unprotected sex, language, Mike being good, um I think that’s it
💙💙💙💙💙
“Listen Y/N, I’m gonna need you to stay and work the next shift.”
You turn around and look at your manager as if she had suddenly grown 3 heads. “Excuse me? I don’t think I heard you right. It sounded like you said you needed me to stay and work the next 8 hour shift.”
She rolls her eyes as she goes back to charting the current patient she’s working on. “You know that’s exactly what I said. Look, I have no other options. Hannah called off.”
“Again? This is like the third day in a row! How is that fair exactly?” You put your patient’s paperwork down and cross your arms over your chest as you stare at her expectantly.
She doesn’t even bother looking at you as she answers. “I don’t know what to tell you Y/N. She says she’s sick. I can’t have her come in if she’s sick.”
Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “If by sick you mean hungover! She literally posted on Instagram last night about her night out on the town!”
She glances over at you. “There’s no way to prove if that was from last night or if it's older. Now just get back to work and I’ll let you have an hour and a half break instead of an hour.”
Now you’re pissed. “Yeah, see, that's not going to work for me. I’ve already been here for 16 hours because Kim was late. I’m not working Hannah’s whole ass shift. I have plans. I finally get to see my boyfriend after weeks because our schedules weren’t lining up. I’m not staying.”
“You really don’t have a choice. I wasn’t really asking you, I was telling you. There’s no one else to cover.”
Tears started welling up in your eyes out of frustration, exhaustion, and the possibility of not being able to see Mike again. “There’s a bunch of other people that can cover! What about you? You’ve only been here 8 hours. It would make more sense for you to stay.”
She turns in her chair to look at you now. “Y/N, I have actual plans. My husband has a work party. And the rest of us have husbands and children to attend to. Not just ‘hanging out with my boyfriend.’
Now you’re seeing red. “So what you’re saying is because I’m the only nurse on this floor not married, I get the shitty end of the deal and have to cover when other people call off?”
“No. If you had legit plans then I’d be more sympathetic. But you haven’t even been with this boy that long. You don’t need to spend every free moment with him.”
“I’m sorry but who do you think you are? My mother? Because I’m a grown ass woman. And if I want to hang with my boyfriend on my time off then I’m going to! I don’t really need your approval for it. I’m not staying.”
You grab your Stanley and start heading towards the locker room to grab your stuff.
“Y/N! If you don’t stay, then you can forget about this job.”
You turn around just before reaching the end of the hallway. “Well, then I guess you’re going to have to stick around and cover Hannah’s shift. Stick it up your ass, Jan. I quit.”
You don’t even stay to hear what she has to say. You quickly run to your locker and grab all of your stuff out before you start to cry. You can’t believe you just quit. And it’s not just because of your boyfriend. You haven’t been treated right since the first week you started. This was just the last straw. You just hope Mike won’t be disappointed in you.
💙💙💙💙💙
After a quick shower and outfit change at home, you reluctantly find yourself pulling into Mike’s driveway and getting out of the car. You haven’t gotten to see him in about 3 weeks and you know you look like shit from not only your long ass shift but also because you cried on the way over.
You head to the front door and open it up. He always leaves the door unlocked when he knows you’re coming over, and get hit with the aroma of pasta. Mike’s cooking you dinner. That makes you want to start crying all over again. He’s the sweetest.
“Babe? Is that you?” You hear him call from the back of the house. He quickly comes towards the front and sees you. His smile falters when he sees the state you’re in. “Babe, are you okay? What happened?” He quickly wraps you up in a hug.
You try your best to keep it together but a few tears fall. “I quit today.”
He pulls out of the hug but keeps his arms around you. “You did? Babe, that’s fantastic!” He pulls you back in for another hug and picks you up to twirl you around.
Your mood instantly lifts and you can’t help but laugh. “It is?”
He sets you down and pulls you in for a quick kiss. “Of course it is! That place was treating you like shit! And Jan was a bitch! What finally made you do it?”
He lets go of all but your hand and leads you into the kitchen so he can continue making spaghetti. He sets you down at the table and pours you a nice big glass of wine he bought just for tonight. “I want to hear all about it.”
He goes back to the stove and continues making dinner while you rehash the last 16 hours.
He turns around with the sauce spoon in his hand and his other on his hip. “Hannah called off again? Jesus, how does she still have a job? Didn’t she do this to you last year during Christmas?”
Oh, shit. You had forgotten about that. She did do this last year! You had plans to fly home and see your family for the holidays when Hannah unexpectedly came down with ‘the flu’. Jan had called and needed you to work since nobody else could cover. You felt like since you were still new at the time that you couldn’t say no. Now you’re getting pissy all over again.
“Oh my god! You’re right! Maybe the bitch has some vendetta out against me. I’ve never done anything to her though! I’ve been nothing but nice!”
Just then your phone dings, alerting you of a text. You quickly check it. It’s from Hannah.
I can’t believe you threw a tantrum and quit just because I wasn’t feeling my best and couldn’t come in. Wow. All so you can hang out with your piece of shit delinquent boyfriend. You sure have your priorities straight.
“Fucking cunt!” You yell as you throw your phone across the table. Then immediately you slap your hands over your mouth just as Mike turns around to see what you’re yelling about.
“What’s wrong? Who was it?”
You remove your hands from your mouth. “Mike, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to curse that loud. I hope Abby didn’t hear me.”
He waves you off. “Babe, she’s not even here. She got invited to a sleepover at Natalie’s house. We’re alone. You’re good.”
You sigh in relief. “Thank god! I don’t want any of my bad habits to rub off on her.”
Mike just chuckles and turns back to the sauce. “If she turns out anything like you, I’d be entirely okay with that.”
You can’t help but feel a blush creep up your neck. He was always saying sweet stuff like that. You get up and hug him from behind and press a kiss to the back of his neck. “You’re too sweet.”
He turns around in your arms and grabs your face and gives you a proper, toe-curling kiss. “I mean it.”
After a few more shared kisses, Mike finishes up dinner and fixes you both a plate and a glass of wine for himself. As you’re sitting there twirling your spaghetti around your fork, you can’t help but think about Hannah’s text again. And then all of the little snide remarks she’s ever made to you come flooding back.
“Babe?”
You snap out of your thoughts and Mike comes back into focus. “Yeah?”
He puts his fork down. “I asked if there was something wrong with the spaghetti? You’ve hardly touched it.”
You look down at your plate and realize you’ve just been twirling it around your fork. “No, it’s fine. Just thinking about what Hannah said and how much it pisses me off. I’m sorry, I’m not meaning to ruin our time together.”
He smiles and grabs both of your plates and gets up and places them on the counter. He comes back over and holds his hand out to you. “Come on.”
You grab his hand with no hesitation and let him pull you out of your chair and let him lead you to his bedroom.
He turns around to face you right before you get to his bed. “First of all, you could never ruin our time together. I love getting to spend time with you no matter what. Second of all, it sounds like you need to let out some anger and need a distraction.”
You can’t help but feel all tingly at the smirk he’s giving you. “What did you have in mind?”
He backs up a little and sits on the bed and looks up at you. “Use me, Y/N.”
You shake your head. “What? What do you mean?”
He reaches out to grab your hands to pull you towards him. “I mean use me. Use me to distract yourself and to take your anger out on. I’ll be a good boy and do whatever you need.”
That almost had your knees buckling. “Oh.” He lifts your shirt up and starts pressing kisses along your stomach while running his hands from your back to your hips and down to your ass. You’ve never been in this position before. Sure, you guys have only been together for like 5 months but anytime you’ve ever been intimate, he’s been the one who’s taken charge.
He pulls back and looks up at you. “Use me, baby. I got you. Tell me what you need.”
You decide to run with it and take control and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I wanna sit on your face.”
He lets out a little whimper as he moves back on the bed. “Fuck, baby. Please sit on my face. I want you to suffocate me.”
He lays back and patiently waits for you to remove your pants and panties. You hesitantly climb up on the bed. You’ve never done this before with anyone but have always wanted to try it. You climb up until you’re straddling his waist and lean down to kiss him.
He returns the kiss enthusiastically and grinds you down onto him so you can feel how hard he already is for you. It makes you let out a small moan into his mouth. The making out only lasts for a few more minutes before you pull away and start climbing up until you’re hovering right above his mouth.
Before you fully lower yourself onto him you grab his hair and yank so that he has to look at you. He lets out another beautiful whimper. “I’m going to ride your face until I can’t think of anything else but your tongue. You’re going to be good and make me cum as many times as I want, right?”
He nods instantly. “Yes, I promise I’ll be good for you.”
“Good boy.” You tell him, which makes his eyes roll to the back of his head. Hmm. Who knew he had a praise kink?
You let go of his hair and grab onto the headboard with both hands before you slowly lower yourself onto his waiting mouth.
He immediately grips your thighs and pulls you even harder on him and starts eating you out like a man starved. “Oh, fuck!” You throw your head back and start grinding on his tongue. He gives you a few more licks before he sucks your clit into his mouth and starts lapping his tongue back and forth against it. “Oh, god. Fuck, Mike! You’re so fucking good at that.”
Your praise has him moaning and whimpering into your pussy, heightening the experience that much more. He moves his right hand towards your ass and gives it a nice squeeze before moving towards your pussy and immediately inserting two fingers. It makes you start grinding faster, feeling yourself already close to the edge.
He starts pumping his fingers in time with your grinding, pushing you even closer to the edge. You can’t believe how quickly he got you there.
“Mike, please! Gonna cum! Make me cum.”
He pumps his fingers even faster and lightly bites down on your clit, knowing it’ll make you fall over the edge.
You scream his name out and grind on him until it’s too much and you lift yourself away from his mouth. To which he whimpers out, “where’s that pussy going? I wasn’t done yet.”
You let out a breathy laugh. ��Jesus. I almost passed out from how hard I came. Give me a minute.”
“So I did good?” He looks up at you with big eyes and his chin glistening with your juices.
You pat his hair. “You did so good, baby. Made me feel so good.”
He smiles and wraps his arms around your thighs and presses soft kisses to the inside of them. You close your eyes and take a minute to enjoy that before you look behind you and see his erection pressing painfully against his jeans. You need that inside of you. Right now.
You remove yourself from his face and he lets out a little whine. “Don’t worry. I’m not done. Need your cock, baby.”
You’ve never seen him undo his belt and slide his jeans down that quickly before. It almost makes you chuckle. “Eager, are we?”
He nods as he pushes his jeans down far enough that his cock springs free and hits your ass. “Need to feel you around me, babe. Please.”
You lean down and pull him into a kiss which he returns generously. You can taste yourself on his tongue. He grabs his cock and hits it against your ass, signaling that he’s ready for you to slide onto him. You take the hint and lift up and back until he catches at your entrance. He’s the first one to break the kiss as you slowly slide down onto him. The little whimpers he lets out as you sit flush against his thighs is music to your ears.
You decide to tease him and just stay resting there for a minute while looking down at him. He has his eyes clenched shut and a death grip on your hips. He opens his eyes after a few moments and looks up at you. He reaches his right hand up and places it on your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “Go ahead and use me babe. Take what you need from me.”
You slowly start moving your hips back and forth, never really lifting them up and down. The friction against your clit is so delicious. You place both hands on his chest and start moving your hips a little faster. “Oh, fuck baby. You feel so good. You’re so deep.”
“Yeah? Am I making my girl feel good?”
You smirk down at him. “Oh, yeah. You’re being so good for me.”
He lets out another whimper as he grabs you by the back of your head and pulls you in for a heated kiss. This one sloppy and desperate. His hand that’s still on your hip starts moving you a little harder against him. He pulls away from your mouth and kisses his way up your neck towards your ear. “Come on babe. Cum on my cock. I can feel you clenching around me. Cum for me so I can be good and cum for you.”
This time you’re the one letting out a whimper. “Yeah? Want me to be your good boy and cum for you? Fill you up?”
“Please.” You whine out, moving your hips even faster than before. You can feel your orgasm coming like a freight train. There’s no stopping it.
“Oh yeah. I can feel it. You’re gonna cum for me. Do it. Make a mess on me babe. Please, I need it.”
“Yeah? You need me to cum for you? Need to feel me cum? Oh, god Mike. I’m almost there. Please don’t stop.”
He continues helping you grind your hips against his. You’re almost there. Just a little something…..
“I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”
That did it. You’re pitched off the edge and silently scream out. The edges of your vision going white. You can vaguely hear Mike whimpering out your name as he does as promised and fills you up. You slow your hips down until you can’t move them anymore and slump down against him with your face tucking into the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around you and rubs his hands up and down your back.
You both stay like that until your heartbeats return to normal. You lift up your head just until you can see him, almost nose to nose. He’s the first to speak. “So, did I do good for you?”
You let out a chuckle. “You were so good, baby.” You can feel him twitch inside of you at the praise. “But, we need to talk about what you said.”
Mike scrunches his brows for a few minutes before his eyes go wide and he realizes what he said. “Shit, I did not mean to say that.”
You can’t help the disappointment that crosses your face. “Oh, well that’s okay. It was in the heat of the moment.”
He quickly wraps his arms tighter around you. “No! That’s not what I meant. Shit. I one hundred percent meant it. I just wanted to make it special when I told you. Not in the middle of an orgasm. You deserve better than that.”
You smile and press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I appreciate the thought. But I really don’t need anything special. I already have you.”
His smile lights up his entire face. “I love you, Y/N.”
This time you press a kiss to his lips. “I love you, too Mike. Like, a lot.”
“I bet not as much as I love you.”
Just as you’re about to retort, Mike’s cell starts vibrating, causing you to jolt with fright since his phone is still in his pocket which your leg is pressed up against.
“Jesus Christ.”
You quickly get up so that he can grab his phone. “Hello?”
You go into the bathroom to clean up. You come back in with a wet cloth to clean Mike up. He just hangs up as you come in the room. “Everything okay?”
He smiles in thanks as you hand him the cloth. He goes about cleaning himself up. “Yeah. That was Natalie’s mom. Apparently Abby has decided she doesn’t wanna stay the night so I have to go get her.” He stands and pulls his jeans back up and smooths his shirt out. “Sorry we won’t be alone anymore.”
You pull him in for a quick kiss. “Nothing to apologize for. I love you Mike. And that means loving all of you. Which includes Abby. Whom you know I just adore. Go get her and we’ll have a movie night or something.”
He shakes his head and pulls you in for another kiss. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
You just smile in return. “After the past year you’ve been through, you deserve to be happy.”
He chuckles as he heads out the door. “Ain’t that the damn truth!”
#mike schmidt smut#mike schmidt x y/n#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt#josh hutcherson#josh hutcherson smut#fnaf#mike schmidt x you#mike schmidt imagine#fnaf x y/n#fnaf x reader#michael schmidt#five nights at freddy's
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The Magnus Protocol - Glitch theory
In light of the current theory/assumption that in The Magnus Protocol, the audio glitches when the characters lie, I’ve been re listening!! And I’m going to be using this post and others to explore what this means for our beloved characters
The glitches aren’t on the transcript, sometimes there will be a direction like (uncertain) or (unconvincing), but thats the best i can do you for, otherwise you will have to take my word
First though, quick clarifications: what exactly is a lie in this context? - this is fairly obvious but i am including it for the avoidance of any doubt what i have gathered is that, in this theory we are assuming a lie is a character saying something they KNOW is not true in attempt to wilfully deceive someone
It is NOT:
A joke, or sarcasm
Believing something but being wrong
Finally, a lot of the lies i have so far are ones that are known to known to be untrue, what i will do is have a list of the blatant lies SO FAR to make my point, to work as support for the theory on this post then leave out any following ones to avoid making it excessively long.
The rest of them will be under the cut and more on a thread, sorted by episode. If i miss any, feel free to say!!
BLATANT LIES (theory support)
1.
Teddy: Colin was just saying how much of a BLAST he’s having (GLITCH) isn’t that right?
Lena: oh really.
Colin: Aye, sure (GLITCH)
Teddy: And how he’d love to take the after party to the Pub (GLITCH)
2.
Gwen: Sam? You okay?
Sam: um. Yeah. (GLITCH)
3.
Sam: cinnamon swirl. Please. (GLITCH)
4.
Gwen: Wait. Did you get me a coffee?
Sam: yeah. (GLITCH)
5.
Celia: Sorry, sorry, there was an emergency at home (GLITCH)
EPISODES 1-11 (where applicable) UNDER THE CUT
Episode 1
Teddy: Nahh, we’ll stay in touch, right?
Alice: Course…(GLITCH)
Alice either did not intend to keep in touch with Teddy, or genuinely just does not believe they will.
* saying she’ll miss him was NOT a lie, so it’s probably the latter
Episode 3
Sam: right, right i get it. Consider me *scared straight* (GLITCH)
He wasn’t taking Alice seriously, underestimating how serious it actually was (maybe even as light payback for her not taking him seriously)
Episode 5
Lena: I am certain that if he finds his current assignment unmanageable he can request assistance (GLITCH) or resign, of course…
She knows what the deal is with Central IT (whatever “the deal” may be), and just refuses to help. Maybe even sets up a little hostility between Lena and Colin?
Episode 7
Alice: listen, if you need to step out for some air-
Celia: no, I’m fine, really (GLITCH)
Celia was infact, not fine, probably because she recognised Chester’s voice as Jon “The Archivist” Sims himself and she’s freaked out
Episode 8
Gertrude: well I’m…sorry, but I don’t think gerry can help you. (GLITCH)
—
Gerry: -And then i left
Sam: and that’s all?
Gerry: Yeah I’m afraid so! (GLITCH)
Gertrude and Gerry know more than they’re letting on, and intentionally not sharing.
*Gerry not remembering most of it being true, means that while he’s probably leaving something out, there’s more he genuinely is lost on
Sam: I…may have given you a quick google
Celia: then…yeah. I’m doing a favour for Georgie. (GLITCH)
She Is Not Doing A Favour For Georgie - the research (teleportation, time travel, different universes) is more personal!
Episode 11
Sam: you keep glancing at the door
Alice: ah. It’s nothing (GLITCH)
—
Alice: it’ll be nothing! I’m just jumpy (GLITCH)
Alice is dismissing her anxiety following the trip to the institute.
Alice: “What have I told you about thinking?“
Sam: “Don’t.”
Alice: “That’s right.” (GLITCH)
Probably meaning that Alice is starting to doubt her own ideas, but is just pushing that uncertainty away because that’s what she does and she’s still more comfortable in ignorance, even if she doesn’t think it’s exactly RIGHT to ignore.
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how do you fall in love with yourself
unlearn the idea that confidence is conceit. i see this belief imposed on women especially, that if they’re very unapologetic about loving themselves it automatically means they’re narcissistic / think they’re better than everybody else. that’s not true at all. you can love yourself while also acknowledging you’re not inherently better than anyone else. you can love yourself while also being kind & supportive to others. it’s okay to be both of these things at once.
let go of the scarcity mindset. women (everyone really, but especially women) get pitted/compared against each other all the time. you see it w female celebrities in the media, but it’s very prevalent in real life as well. this is very much years of societal conditioning & both women & men partake in this behavior. ignore it. rest easy knowing that there can be multiple beautiful women, multiple smart women, multiple funny women in any environment at any given time. there is enough clout to go around; you don’t need to feel like if there’s another pretty/smart girl it means you no longer have the space to also be a pretty/smart girl. instead operate from an abundance mindset: always (alwaysss) be happy for other girls when they succeed, when they’re praised, when they’re loved, whatever. see them not as competition but as inspiration. envy is such a colossal waste of time bc nobody else’s accomplishments have any bearing on your own!!
get to know yourself more. i love the analogy of dating yourself bc it’s true. i went through a rough period of being around my ex 24/7 to the point i didn’t even know myself, and then i spent the post-breakup year hanging around everyone else constantly to numb my thoughts. now i’m spending more time alone than ever & i’m getting to know myself so much. learning about my taste in fashion, music, everything. and i’ve had so much more time to invest in hobbies & skills, which is very instrumental to building healthy self-esteem. ofc there’s a more balanced way to do this, but make sure you’re not running away from yourself!
what do you like outside of everybody’s opinion? don’t interpret this the wrong way—it’s completely fine to be inspired. every single person you know has copied someone else to an extent. but if you find yourself going too far, not trusting yourself to make the simplest decisions, just following trends blindly and nothing else, you’ve left the inspiration territory and started crossing into plagiarism. move from a place of self-direction and really think about what is naturally appealing to you. it doesn’t matter if it’s not popular or nobody else likes it. if you like it & if it makes you happy, that’s all you need.
practice self-love! i had to do this lol but it works wonders. i started intentionally telling myself that i trust my own taste, that i trust my own choices, that if i think something’s cool it’s good enough, talking to myself kindly etc etc. eventually all this stuff will become natural to you & you won’t find yourself having to expend so much energy into simply loving you for you. don’t give up even if it’s hard to believe at times.
don’t give a fuck. seriously. just don’t give a single flying fuck what someone else has to say. there will always be That One Person who tries to tear you down, belittles you, gaslights you etc etc and if you know in your heart you’re not doing anything wrong, just ignore and keep it pushing. you can’t be everyone’s favorite person (nor should you want to be). think of your favorite celebrity. anyone ever. they probably all got subjected to hate. now think of how they’re successful still & how it didn’t take anything away from them. there you go <3
if literally everyone on this planet starts hating you, loving yourself is still the antidote. to clarify, how others perceive us does hold weight. but if legit every single person i know started hating me, and i still loved myself, i’d probably still live a full life bc my perception is all that really matters in the end. i don’t need anyone else to be my #1 fan—i can do that myself just fine. it technically is actually your world & everyone else is just living in it. so enjoy that! stop giving a hard time to the one person who will always be w you through thick and thin (yourself). eat good food & watch good shows & read good books & just have fun. i love u
#i have a lot to say ab this bc i went from being in a very low place to now being my own favorite girl in the world so#also i refer to women a couple of times here but really this is applicable to everyone!!#ask
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I'm loving the stories! I'm heading to Mexico in a few weeks with work, but hoping to immerse myself in the culture a bit. Can you help me out?
You find yourself in front of your local Spanish-language association. You thought that taking a few classes in Spanish would help you recover some of the long forgotten classes you took in high school… though in all honesty, it won’t likely do much. You’re quite old, now, so it means that your brain cannot learn new languages as easily as it used to...
As you enter, you see the Mexican flag front and center, along with flags of many other Latin American countries, as well as that of Spain. You walk up to the receptionist, and she tells you, directly in Spanish :
“¡Bienvenidos! ¿Cuál es el motivo de usted venida? (Welcome ! What is the reason you came here ?)
- Er…” You try to conjure some of the very old memories, and only manage a “Hola !” Before going back to English. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know Spanish… I’m here to take classes, in fact.”
The receptionist nods, and thinks a bit before taking out a timetable.
“Okay, well, you see, I have a... beginner’s course of Spanish in a few hours… It’s not perfect because they already started in January, but I think you can still catch up if you work hard enough.” She says, with a perfect American accent. She is visibly bilingual.
- Oh, in a few hours ?”
You are quite interested, considering that you did want some beginner-level courses, but in a few hours… That’s too short to just go back home and come back later, but that’s also too long to just stay here and wait without getting bored !
The receptionist notices your embarrassment.
“You know, we are also a place where Spanish learners and native speakers can hang out. If you want, you can go to the hangout room while waiting ?” She offers sympathetically.
- Well yeah, I could do that.” You nod. It may be geared towards more hard-core learners, but you can always try to immerse yourself…
You go to the room she waves you to. It isn’t loud, but there’s quite a lot of people in it, all speaking Spanish. You go and find somewhere to sit, when, on your way, someone hails you.
“¡Hola! ¿Cómo te llamas? (Hello ! (...) ?)”
Your long-buried memories start churning, as you recognize the second sentence as meaning something like “What’s your name ?”. You think a while, and then, flash of brilliance.
“Me llamo Charlie.” You answer, giving out your name in the most American of accents.
Your conversation partner smiles, and speaks quite slowly to let you understand what he means.
“¿Cuántos años tiene?” You understand the sentence to mean ‘How old are you ?’
- Er… Soy… cuarenta y dos… años ?” You try, but he shakes his head.
- No, ¡es ‘Tengo ventidós’ o ‘Tengo ventidós años’!”
You blush of embarrassment as he corrects you. Yes, you now remember that to mean “I am x years old” you say “Tengo x (años)”… you even remember the worksheets from way back when… Huh, it seems like it was less far of a memory than you thought.
“Lo siento…” You excuse yourself with sentence that came back strangely fast.
- ¡Jajaja!” He laughs. “¡No te preocupes! ¡Hablar español es difícil! (Don’t worry ! Speaking Spanish is difficult !)”
You are surprised how easy it is to understand him. Visibly, you had more memories than you expected ! Then, that guy continues.
“¿De dónde es? (Where are you from ?)
- Soy de… Mexico… Nuevo Mexico. (I’m from… Mexico… New Mexico.)”
You almost stumbled on yourself. There seems to be something wrong with that statement. You know you’re American, but something seems wrong…
“Ah, de... ¿Nuevo México? Pero tu acento no suena asi… (Ah, from… New Mexico ? But your accent doesn’t seem like it comes from there...)
- Si, es verdad… (Yes, it’s true...)” You’re about to tell him that it’s because you’re American, but then you say : “La gente dice que tengo un acento de la Ciudad de Mexico. Sabes, Mexihco Hueyaltepetl. (People say that I have an accent from Mexico City. You know, Mexihco Hueyaltepetl (?).)”
Wait, why do people say that ? You never went to Mexico City ! Okay, yes, you did go there for the holidays, after all, your father lives there… Wait, your parents aren’t separated !
You get more and more confused as multiple versions of your history start competing with each other.
“¡Ah, tenía razón! Puedo verlo en tu cara que eres… eh… ¿mexiqueño? (Ah, I was right ! I can see by your face that you are… er… from Mexico City ?)
- ¡Jajaja!” You laugh. “¡No se dice ‘mexiqueño’! ¡Se dice capitalino, o chilango si estás familiarizado! (You don’t say “Mexiqueño” ! You say “Capitalino”, or “Chilango” if you’re familiar !)” You don’t quite know where this knowledge comes from. It seems like something only locals would know…
- Perdón, soy chileno, no lo sabía… (Sorry, I’m Chilean, I didn’t know...)”
You smile at him. Of course, he couldn’t know that, you’re familiar with these terms because you’re a Chilango through and through ! Born in the city, lived in the city ! Yet you furrow your brows, as something still feels off.
Somehow, you’re convinced that you’re American, even though it seems to be a more and more distant fact. Well, when you look down and see those tan arms, you know that you aren’t, like, a total gringo, you’re at least part Latino…
“¿Cómo es la vida allá? (How is life there ?)” The Chilean guy asks you, a torrent of memories coming back (?) to you.
- ¡Es complicado de describir! Pero México es muy dinámico, ¡entonces siempre es interesante! (It’s difficult to describe ! But Mexico is very dynamic, so it’s always interesting !)” You think back to how frantic life is over there… and how much you love that. “Especialmente comparado con aquí, parece que esta citudad está muerta… ¡En México siempre hay un xochitzin con el que te puedes topar! (Especially when compared to here, this city seems dead… In Mexico, there’s always an xochitzin (?) you can run into !)”
As the Chilean nods, you keep getting quite confused. You know you’re from Mexico City, you know you’re American, yet somehow there is like… a piece of the puzzle missing. You keep on thinking strange words like “Mexihco Hueyaltepetl” or “ihni”, and you know it’s not Spanish, nor English – not that you would know too much of that language.
You continue thinking as your body starts feeling strange, as you feel it shifting. You put your hand on your forehead and sense your wrinkles relaxing. You feel quite queasy…
“¿Estás bien? (Are you alright ?)
- Me siento un poco mareada… (I feel a bit dizzy…)
- Sólo tienes que ir al baño. ¿Quieres que te ayude? (Just go to the toilets. You want me to help ?)
- No, estará bien. Tlazohcamati. (No, it’s gonna be alright. (???))
- Okay… eh... ¿Eres indígenas? (Okay… er… Are you a Native American ?)”
You don’t answer the Chilean, only giving him a small wave to thank him. You find your way to the toilets, still queasy, and look at yourself.
You’ve got your usual short black hair, your nascent beard that doesn’t want to come along, your brownish tint, as well as your light muscles. Nothing looks out of place, yet something seems wrong.
Is it the fact that you are so youthful ? You know you’re quite twinky. Is it the fact that your skin looks weird ? You know that it’s clearer than the other’s because your mother is gringo.
You feel even more queasy, as you feel your entire body tensing. Memories come back of your time in the gym, but also of the time with all your xochitzmeh (bros)… Yes, you now remember how you’re the son of an American linguist and a Nahua man. How you grew up speaking Nahuatl along with the other kids from around Mexico City. How you started going to the gym to prove that gays aren’t cuiltemeh (sissies/fags). How you now cringe to that line of thought, yet continue doing it to attract guys.
As the pieces of your life go back together, your queasiness dissipates, and you feel better. You drink a bit of water, and then you go back to the hangout room. As you go in there, the Chilean hails you once again.
“¡Charlie! ¿Esta mejor? (Charlie ! Doing better ?)”
Laughable, “Charlie” is only the nickname your grandparents use when you’re at their house… Why does that guy even know it ?
“¡Mi nombre no es Charlie, es Carlos! ¡Carlos Zopiyactle! (My name isn’t Charlie, it’s Carlos ! Carlos Zopiyactle !)” You say in a very matter-of-fact fashion.
- Lo siento, pensé que te llamabas Charlie… (Sorry, I thought that you were named Charlie...)
- No es nada. (It’s nothing.)” You answer with a very Mexican accent, aspirating your ‘s’. “Pero, tengo que irme ahora. ¡Adiós! (However, I need to go now. Goodbye !)
- ¡Adiós, Carlos! (Goodbye, Carlos !)”
You leave the room, go past the receptionist who smiles at you a bit weirdly, and make your way back to your grandparent’s home. You don’t really like going there, because you’re not very good in English, but eh. Pleasing your mom is a good enough reason.
Suddenly, you hear a very familiar-sounding sound from your phone. You open it, seeing a notification, smile, and answer it before calling your mother.
“¡Cualli teotlaltzintli! ¡Amo niyaz tlacualpan! (Good evening ! I’m not going to be there for dinner !)
- Pff… ¡Aic timotlamahzehua nanmonahuac! (Pff… You never come eat with us !)
- Nomati, pero tengo cosas que hacer. (I know, but I have things to do.)” You say, switching back a bit to Spanish.
- ¿Zannima tihual mocuepaz? (You will come back soon ?)
- Quema. Nantli, nimitz nequi. (Yes. Mom, I love you.)
- Ohuihqui nimitz nequi. (I love you too.)”
You finish the call and smile. She doesn’t have to know that you’re missing the family dinners to be pounded. Those jocks on Grindr don’t know what your pseudonym “Moiztactlaca” means, but it sounds foreign, and they love it.
Soon, you’re going back home to Mexico City, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t take advantage of all the hot guys here in the meantime !
#male transformation#male tf#twink tf#twunk tf#twinkification#twunkification#age reduction#latino tf#mexican tf#nahua tf#mental change#reality change#transformation#tf story#ask
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