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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

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Call Up

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You get called up

Your first senior call up happens when you're seventeen (nearly eighteen) and still playing at Arsenal.

You've got a day off before the derby against Chelsea so your mothers have flown out to support you and, somehow, you've ended up at Millie Bright's house.

You're surrounded by your Momma and Morsa's old teammates (and a few of the Arsenal girls who were on the team when you were very little). There aren't enough seats for everyone but you're happy to sit on the floor in front of Momma and let her slowly card her fingers through your hair.

It's one of the things you've missed about being in England. You miss the little things about Momma and Morsa like this. You know they miss you too because there's never a day where they rearrange your daily video calls or don't send Leah around to your apartment when they think you're feeling especially sad on the call.

You miss them. They miss you. But you all know that it's best for you to be here, in England. You're still the second choice keeper but you know that if you keep working hard then by your eighteenth birthday, you'll have managed to clinch the number one spot.

After the derby, it's international break and you know that, while the senior teams are calling everyone up this week, you need to wait a few more days until the Denmark youth team sends for you again.

You've settled in well in the under-nineteen squad and you know that there's a round of friendlies coming up soon that you're excited to be apart of.

"The third choice keeper broke her arm," You can hear Morsa complain about the Swedish team," It was such a freak accident. It was gory to even watch. I almost threw up."

You don't pay much attention though, leaning back easily into Momma's hands. You're not paying attention to anything actually because you almost miss the vibrating of your phone on your leg.

You don't recognise the number but you pick it up anyway.

"Hello?"

"Is this y/n?" A professional-sounding voice asks," The Arsenal keeper?"

"Yes? Who is this?"

"Excellent. I'm calling up on behalf of the Swedish Senior team. I'm sure you know by now but our usual third keeper has been injured. We're offering you the call up in her place."

"W-What?"

You must sound especially panicked because everyone in the room has turned to look at you in confusion.

"I understand that you usually play for Denmark's youth teams but we've had our eye on you for a while. We've got a round of three friendlies coming up, one for each keeper, and would love to have you with us."

You feel frozen in place, capable of nothing but blinking.

"I..."

"Sorry," The person says," I'm getting ahead of myself. I understand completely if you wish to stay with Denmark. You're such a talent. Forgive me for wanting to have it on my team. I understand if you need to discuss this with your mothers as well. Do you need some time to think about it?"

"No!" You say quickly.

You've never really thought about a senior team call up. You just kind of assumed that Denmark would be the obvious choice. You've spent so much time in a Denmark shirt that you just assumed Sweden didn't want you anymore.

"You've already come to a decision?"

Your feelings on this call up must have already been decided. It must have been decided for years in some deep, hidden away part of your brain because there's no need to even think about it. There's no need to even discuss it with Momma and Morsa.

Somehow, you think you've always known the decision you would come to.

"I'd love to join you for the friendlies."

You can hear the person's smile through the phone. "Excellent," They say," The details will be sent to your email as well as your agent's, who I'm sure will forward it to your mothers. Just in advance, what would you like on your jersey? Your name or Eriksson-Harder, like your Denmark jersey?"

You make eye contact with Momma, who looks increasingly worried the longer you stay on the phone. "Harder-Eriksson," You say," Please."

"You've got it. I'll see you very soon, y/n."

"Yeah, you too."

The call ends and you stare at your phone for several seconds.

"It's a bit early for the youth team call up," Morsa teases," You're changing your name? Does Eriksson-Harder not cut it anymore for Denmark?"

You blink. "More like Harder-Eriksson suits Sweden better."

"Sweden called you up?" Momma asks," That's strange. You've never had any problem rejecting their call if it came before Denmark's before."

You shake your head. "No, it wasn't the youth team. It was the senior team."

The room's quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Morsa's voice goes hoarse. "What?"

You look at her. "I got called up for Sweden's senior team."

Someone else in the room, Leah, you think, says," Holy shit."

Momma pulls you into a hug. "Harder-Eriksson?" She asks, eyes glistening with tears.

You manage to shrug. "Morsa got Eriksson-Harder when I played for Denmark. You get Harder-Eriksson when I play for Sweden."

Morsa is still frozen in shock, looking much like how you feel. Her hands are shaking a little as she crushes you in her embrace. When she pulls away, she's crying too.

"Magda," Momma says," Why don't you call Frido? I'm sure she'd want to know."

Morsa nods robotically. "Right. Yes. Frido. Would want to know. Yes."

"And you," Momma says fondly, cupping your face and kissing your forehead," I think you should call a certain retired keeper, shouldn't you?"

You've already got Zećira's contact lined up on your phone.

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

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spankinganthologies · 3 months

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Stepmoms from Spankingwomen

"Is there any way we can not tell my dad about this?"

On Christmas Eve, Andrea cuts a deal with her new stepmother, a woman she barely knows when you get right down to it, in order to keep her father in the dark when it comes to a few winter break transgressions. The only thing Andrea didn't realize was that her stepmother, who was only 13 years older than her, was a firm believer in old school discipline.

When she agreed to take a spanking in exchange for secrecy, Andrea didn't realize she was going to be put over the knee to take a panties down, bare ass beating with a big nasty brush. By the time her eyes were blurry with tears, staring directly into the lights on the Christmas tree as she got her bottom blistered, she had already realized that maybe the smarter play would have been trying to charm her way out of punishment with her daddy.

(this should have happened to me fairly regularly, but it didn't)

It turned out, that despite her youthful appearance, Mary's new stepmother was rather old school when it came to matters of discipline. She knew how to handle a brat efficiently and effectively - even a brat well into her college years. Over the knee, skirt up and panties down - there was nothing Mary could say to talk her way out of it.

And it was as if her new stepmother was making up for lost time, for all those years that Mary had gone unspanked. When she took Mary across her knees, the spanking would seem to last forever, until Mary's poor bottom was red and swollen and her throat was sore from hollering.

It's an embarrassing routine but one that Trisha knows well.

Before being taken across her mother's lap and spanked, she is required to stand naked in the corner and think about the reasons she is not being permitted to wear clothes, about why she is going to be getting a spanking, how her bottom will be burning before too long and what exactly she needs to change in her behavior to avoid a scene like this playing out again in the future. Trisha knows she will be asked about these things both while getting her butt blistered and then in the immediate aftermath as well, so she knows that she had better have some good answers.

And then, the spanking itself.

Two sessions. First, her mother's hand, which is plenty bad enough. But then a humiliating naked trek down the hall and into her mother's bedroom, crying and bottom very much reddened already, to retrieve the hairbrush and bring it back to the living room. Then back over the knee for the finale which will leave Trisha squealing as her mother spanks some much needed sense into her with that evil brush. Face covered in snot and tears, Trisha will be stood back up (not allowed to rub her bottom at all) and the lecture will continue.

Finally, it's back to the corner, still naked, while she tries to catch her breath and stop boohooing. Now, her little backside is fire engine red. Shamefully, she's very damp between her legs - something that happens whenever she gets a damn good spanking. She can't help but think about how she'll masturbate for hours later before falling asleep. Her nipples are hard and ache. But the lesson is learned. If she can be a good girl in the corner, she will be allowed to get dressed and go upstairs before her father or brother get home.

She's going to spank that defiance right out of her spoiled step-daughter. All toughness will soon melt away and the tears will come. It's quite humbling to be crying like a baby with your jeans and panties around your knees and your bum rapidly turning bright red. A good spanking can really take a brat down a peg or two!

***

If Candy's monster of a stepdaughter refused to listen to reason and continued down this path, then you can be damn sure Candy was going to do something about it.

Candy may have only been 14 years older than the bitch, but she knew in her heart she could teach her lesson. The little brat had never been spanked in her entire life and she also didn't have the guts to fight back. Even if she did, Candy could overpower her easily. She was 100% confident about that!

There was no faster path to a real and meaningful attitude adjustment than the path of a crimson behind and that was exactly the path Candy intended to take her stepdaughter down. She intended to take her over her knee, pull down her panties and give her the spanking of all spankings. Things were going to change. There was a new law of the land.

And after she blistered that nightmare's bare bottom, Candy intended to go to the store and find a suitable hairbrush - just like the one Candy's mother had used on Candy's behind years ago - and then she was going to put that hairbrush to good use going forward. The little brat may never love her, but she was damn sure going to respect her.

(okay, I wasn't a full-blown 'monster' or 'nightmare' but I'm sure she wanted to spank me plenty hard more than a few times!)

There were plenty of lessons learned with her butt bare and her panties down around her knees. Sometimes the cane, sometimes the strap - her mother was a resourceful woman who could punish a naughty bottom with the best of them. A countless number of their "little chats" ended in tears.

Mary's new stepmother has her own ideas about how to deal with errant young ladies, no matter how old they are or how mature they think they might be. It seems like Mary is in for a rather rude awakening.

***

Jenny was always punished in the living room. This sometimes proved to be awkward as there were times when her stepmother sent her to her room to wait for a spanking. Then, when her stepmother decided she was ready, Jenny would have to come back downstairs where a chair would then be waiting in the center of the room. It was always the same: over-the-knee, panties down and one very sorry girl. The awkward (and most humiliating) part was the walk of shame back upstairs. Jenny would be trying not trip over her underwear, shuffling and still crying hard as she marched her fire engine red ass to bed.

Her stepmother was a cold, calm and firm disciplinarian. She was strict and knew how to spank. Jenny begged her father for reprieve, claiming she was far too old to be spanked, but he just shrugged. "If you don't want to be punished, then you need to learn how to behave," he would tell her and the matter would close.

The spankings themselves were long and painful. Both of Jenny's cheeks would be sore and swollen for days making sitting uncomfortable. But it wasn't just her ass that her stepmother would target. Oh, no. Jenny's stepmother spanked the backs of her thighs too. Hard smacks over and over causing Jenny to shriek and kick. Jenny would be left raw from the top of her bottom nearly to her knees. The rest of the girls on the swim team always knew when Jenny had earned herself another spanking.

#spankingwomen #stepmom spanks #mom spanks #college

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whatsthethinking · 1 year

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Somebody's Lover

Neteyam x Fem!Reader

◈ Word count: 3.3k

◈ Warning: n/a? Maybe just Neteyam being in love

◈ Note: Second request :) based on this video? Maybe, I tried. I'm finally getting around to the requests that have been collecting dust in my inbox

◈ Lo’ak version

The elders of the Omatikaya clan were becoming concerned with Neteyam, he was to pass his rites in a matter of weeks and yet, he hasn’t shown any indication of even thinking about choosing a mate. It was no secret that the young Na’vi had many admirers, many fighting amongst themselves to get a sliver of attention from the Olo’keytan’s eldest son.

But none of them seemed to have a chance. Neteyam did not show that he favoured one person over another. Everyone was treated with the same level of respect, and greeted them with perfect manners. Everyone was equal, even if Neteyam didn’t particularly like you.

Some parents would even go as far as having their children befriend Lo’ak or Kiri, even little Tuk and those who were really desperate would seek out Spider but these schemes did not go very far once they were met with Neytiri’s fiery gaze, the protective mother was able to detect their plans from miles away.

It seemed like no one had a chance, Neteyam hadn’t shown interest in anyone within his clan for what seemed like years now, not that anyone was counting. There was a time when the clan thought that Tahé was to be the ‘one’.

Tahé is the eldest daughter of Jake’s most trusted warriors, she would often train alongside Neteyam in their youth and was close to the Sully family growing up but as time went on, it was clear that the Tahé and the Sully children had grown distant. You would no longer see Kiri and Tahé skipping through the forest in search of flowers to weave, or Lo’ak dragging the girl along to get into trouble. You would see Neteyam following clan members around, learning how to forage for food, Tahé would be trailing behind him with a dazed look on her face as Neteyam soaked up all of the information.

But, it was clear that the distance started to form once Tahé had started making friends with the older children in the clan. Those older children would take time out of their day to bully Kiri and Lo’ak for being different, Tahé standing behind them not saying a word. More often than not, it would be Neteyam stepping in to put an end to the teasing, Tahé would bat her eyelashes, dismissing her new friend’s behaviour but Neteyam isn’t stupid, nor is he deaf. He could hear the teasing, he could hear his siblings cry at night. As much as Neteyam disliked the girl, he knew he had to keep up appearances and bite his tongue.

And tonight was no different, the clan was having a communal dinner to celebrate this week's very successful hunt, one that Neteyam had taken part in and was being praised for. Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk sat to Neytiri’s left, conversing with her and their grandmother. Neteyam had been sandwiched between his father and Tahé, Tahé’s father and mother beside her.

“You should be proud of yourself, Neteyam. I was told you worked extremely hard today.” Tahé’s father praised.

“Thank you, sir.” Neteyam replied looking down at his food, “Everyone worked hard.”

“Yes, yes. But you made two sturmbeest kills mere seconds apart from each other.”

“You did?” Tahé’s eyes lit up, “you’re very talented, maybe you can teach me how you did it?”

Even though Tahé’s voice filled the air, Neteyam didn’t hear her, he was too focused on the events happening in the distance. A Na’vi girl his age was swatting a Na’vi boy's hand away from her food, while their parents ignored them, indicating this was a common occurrence.

The boy stopped his antics when his eyes met Neteyam’s, the boy’s face broke out into a large grin as he waved his hand above his head enthusiastically. The older girl rolled her eyes dramatically before offering a smile in Neteyam’s direction which he returned.

“He would love to,” Jake started, looking at Neteyam and tapping the boy’s arm to regain his attention, “isn’t that right Neteyam?”

Neteyam’s face flushed as he had been caught not paying attention to the conversation. He looked at his father for any indication of what was happening but he was just met with his father’s smirk and a twinkle of mischief in his eye that Neytiri would suggest meant he was up to no good.

“I guess?”

“Great! Tomorrow?” Tahé questioned, clearly not sensing that the boy was not interested.

“N-no. Not tomorrow, I have plans.”

“Oh, the day after then?”

Neteyam looked at Tahé and her family, he felt all eyes on him. He was sure he could hear Lo’ak howling at his expense.

“Sure?”

Damn it

Something else about Neteyam that the clan noticed? His inability to say ‘no’.

—

“No,” Neteyam said flatly, adjusting the bow on his chest

“Bro come on, please, dad’s already on my ass for sneaking out after eclipse, just come with me. Please.” Lo’ak all but begged as he watched his brother saddle his ikran

“That’s not my problem, I told you and Spider not to go but you did anyways and now Spider’s wrist is broken, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak looked at his brother in confusion, this side of him was different. Yes, he was used to his brother scolding him or helping him cover up his antics or coming along so no one got hurt, but in the past months, Neteyam had been brushing off his plans to cause trouble.

“You’re gonna ditch me for Tahé, aren’t you? That’s low.”

“Tahé?” Neteyam’s face contorted in confusion, “why would I ditch you for her?”

“You don’t remember?” Lo’ak stared at his brother in disbelief, “You really don’t remember. Oh my. You agreed to help her with hunting or whatever today. She’s been running around telling everyone it’s a date or something. You would know that if you were around yesterday.”

Neteyam lept onto his ikran forming the bond and getting comfortable, “I’ll reschedule.”

Before Lo’ak could make a snide comment, Neteyam and his ikran took off into the sky.

“Oh, I can not wait to see her face.” Lo’ak smiles cheekily as he walks off, excited to tell his old friend that the love of her life stood her up.

—

“You need to hold the bow like this or you’ll drop the arrows.”

Neteyam nodded trying to focus on the instructions being given to him, but he was distracted by his teachers' close proximity.

Y/n circled Neteyam before stopping beside him, adjusting his fingers and stepping back.

“Okay, shoot.”

Neteyam took a deep breath before releasing the two arrows, both arrows had hit way off centre, one was right at the edge of the target, a small breeze could send the arrow hurtling into the bush beside it.

“Oh?”

“Shut it,” Neteyam blushed, shooting two arrows at once was harder than the girl before him made it seem.

Y/n quickly retrieved the arrows and made her way back towards Neteyam, a teasing smile on her lips, “looks like the mighty warrior needs more practice.”

Neteyam reached a hand out, placing it on top of y/n’s that were wrapped around the two arrows and pulled her forward gently until she was standing directly in front of him

“I’ll need all the help I can get.”

Neteyam smiled sweetly, taking in his lover's face.

When he was with y/n it was like time stood still and nothing around him mattered. Being with y/n he felt like he could be himself, he could relax, there was no one to impress, no one holding him to a high standard. Being with y/n he felt nervous but also with her, he felt at peace.

Neteyam leaned down slightly and y/n closed the gap, Neteyam’s hand moved up and gently held the side of her head as their lips met. Y/n’s free hand held Neteyam’s arm, her fingers giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

Neteyam could feel his heart pick up speed as y/n dropped her arrows and raised her hands to rest them on his shoulders and then slowly around his neck. He followed suit and dropped his bow on the ground, bringing his hands to her waist.

The sound of his ikran chittering brought the pair out of their embrace. Neteyam’s face flushed as he suddenly felt shy, not looking y/n in the eye. The girl grinned, bringing a hand to his chin and moving his head so he could meet her gaze.

“Always so shy.” She teased placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Neteyam chuckled under his breath, a hand gently caressing the small of her back, “What can I say? You’re absolutely stunning.”

Y/n’s face blushed at the compliment, causing her to look down slightly.

Y/n took Neteyam’s hand, leading him to her ikran. When they arrived, y/n let go of his hand and opened the bag she had attached to its saddle. Reaching in and pulling out a small parcel wrapped in fabric. She handed it to Neteyam, her hands fidgeting nervously as he began to unwrap it.

“I remember that you said you like the one I have, so I made you your own,” Y/n admitted shyly as Neteyam ran a finger over the woven cords and then the stone sitting in the middle.

Neteyam reached around and quickly untied his beaded choker, replacing it with the necklace. When he was sure that it was secure, he grinned at her before placing his hands on either side of her face and dramatically kissing her forehead.

“Mwah!” He exclaimed as she laughed, “I love it.”

—

As Neytiri chopped the vegetables, her ears twitched hearing Jake half-heartedly apologise to Tahé’s father for her eldest son's disappearance. Her eldest son had been disappearing more and more recently. She had an idea what could be going on with Neteyam for the past few months but she felt like she should leave it to him to tell him.

“Neteyam’s back!“ Tuk exclaimed, pointing to the sky, sure enough, Neteyam and his ikran were making a slow descent in the distance, moments later, the boy in question stepped through the low-hanging trees into view. As the boy emerged, Neytiri instantly noticed the change in her son’s appearance, his usual beaded choker that he wore with pride had been replaced with a woven necklace, and his hair had changed too. The beads that resided at the front of his hair were now in a different colour order and there was also an orange feather dangling behind his ear.

The whispering was almost instantaneous but it did not seem to affect Neteyam as he made his way towards the family tent. Passing Jake and Tahé’s father in the process. Seeing him, Jake said bye to the other man and followed his son into the tent. Neytiri stood up as well and walked in with Tuk rushing behind.

Just as Neteyam entered the family tent, Jake’s hand reached out toward the boy’s back, pulling a white and blue feathered arrow out of the quiver. Jake instantly noticed that this arrow didn’t belong to his son or anyone in his family and at a stretch anyone in the clan.

Neteyam spun around at the slight weight change and his eyes locked onto the arrow being twisted between Jake’s fingers.

“This isn’t yours.” Jake stated, “Where were you?”

“Practising.”

“Practising?”

“Yes?”

Jake hummed as he took in this lie, he liked to believe he knew his children well and one thing about Neteyam, he was a terrible liar. Something they clearly had to work on.

“Who did you practise with?” Jake questioned with humour in his voice and Neteyam’s eyes failed to keep contact with him.

“A friend.”

“Oh? And does this friend have a name?”

Neteyam’s mouth opened and closed quickly, looking at his mother for help.

“Ma Jake, you’re embarrassing him,” Neytiri interjected, taking the arrow from between her mate’s fingers.

“I am not, I'm just asking questions.”

Neytiri gave Jake a look before handing Neteyam the arrow. Jake cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You ditched Tahé, again.” Jake stated to his son, putting on an authoritative tone, “Her dad was just here telling me how upset she is.”

Tuk rolled her eyes at her father’s antics, taking the arrow from Neteyam, everyone in this tent knew that Jake did not like Tahé around his children but for the sake of keeping the peace, he bites his tongue.

“I forgot.”

“Forgot with your friend?”

Neteyam paused momentarily before nodding, “Yes?”

Jake dropped the act at his son’s hesitant honesty.

“She make you that necklace?” Neteyam nodded

“She do your hair?” Again, Neteyam nodded

“Have you kissed her yet?”

“Ma Jake!” “Daddy!”

“What? I’m just asking.”

—

The next evening, Neteyam found himself walking confidently through the camp, hoping to not be stopped on the way to his destination.

Neteyam led the pair through the bioluminescent forest, being sure to brush any low-hanging vines out of the way.

“Where are we going?” Y/n questioned, looking around, no matter how many times she ran through the forest during the day, it does not dull the beauty it holds at night

“Just a little further, I promise.” Neteyam smiled, squeezing her hand.

Walking along a thick branch, moving the flora away from her legs, he motioned her to step forward onto the mountain edge as he placed a small basket on the ground, the moss beneath her feet lighting up with every step she took.

“Wow.” Y/n breathed out taking in the view. From here, you could see almost the whole forest

Neteyam walked behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“This is beautiful, Neteyam.” She whispered, placing her arms on top of his and taking in the view. “How did you know to come here?”

“Running around after Lo’ak has some advantages.” He smiled, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

Y/n laughed slightly at the thought of the younger boy that always seemed to attract trouble, he was very similar to her own brother, the only difference was that Lo’ak was the Olo'eyktan’s son so if he was to get in trouble, everyone knew about it.

Neteyam placed another kiss on the girl's shoulder and slowly made his way up her neck. Y/n turned her head and their lips brushed against one another.

“What are you doing?”

“Admiring you,” Neteyam replied softly, “is that okay?”

Y/n nodded, turning around, the boy pulling her into a kiss, much more passionate than the ones shared the day prior.

—

Y/n straddled Neteyam’s lap, her knees sinking into the moss. Neteyam’s hands ran up y/n’s thighs and rested on her hips.

Y/n placed one arm behind the back of his neck and used her free hand to trace the bioluminous flecks across his forehead, down his nose to his chin. Neteyam looked up at y/n, eyes full of love and admiration.

“I love you,” Neteyam said without a hint of hesitation or the usual shyness in his voice, a gentle smile on his face.

“I love you, too,” Y/n replied, smiling down at him lovingly.

—

Y/n walked into the clearing where other teens were training, her brother, Kalä, trailing behind her complaining about not wanting to train this early.

“We’re here for you, not for me.” She reminded him, rolling her eyes as he started to complain louder.

Y/n ignored him as she lent her bow against a tree and started to sort out her arrows.

Out of the corner of her eye, y/n noticed Tahé walking into the clearing with her obnoxious group of friends. As the group passes, Tahé eyed the girl before stopping fully next to her.

“Y/n, it’s been so long, are you here to train with us?” Her tone was somewhat condescending

Y/n looked down at the arrows in her hand and then back at the girl, “Did the arrows in my hand tell you that?”

Kalä bit back a smile at his sister's response which didn’t go unnoticed by the other girl who glared subtly at him.

“It’s just that I haven’t seen you around in such a long time, I was concerned, I thought something happened.”

Y/n resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the girl, instead looking to the other side of the clearing where Jake Sully, Neytiri and their two sons had walked in. Tahé’s eyes followed, her eyes lighting up at the sight. The girl quickly ran her hand over her hair and down her outfit before slowly turning away, y/n noticed that Kalä had extended his foot out but she pushed him to the side so he didn’t succeed in tripping the annoying girl.

“Behave.” She muttered, turning away to finish organising the arrows.

Tahé’s friends followed behind, chatting amongst themselves, none of them having the courage to walk up to the Olo'eyktan directly.

“She’s just so, urgh. I can’t stand her. Look at her, drooling over Neteyam, wait until she finds out he’s been shoving his ton-”

Y/n turned to her brother swiftly, hitting him in the arm with the end of an arrow, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Ow! I’m sensitive!” Kalä exclaimed defensively, holding onto his arm.

This caused the siblings to start bickering amongst themselves, which started to draw the attention of some clan members around them.

—

Neteyam looked around the clearing, he tried to make it seem like he was just surveying the area but in reality, he was looking for the girl he spent the whole night speaking to, the pair only making it back to their tents just as the sun was rising.

At the far end of the clearing, Neteyam spotted a familiar sibling poking each other in the shoulder.

Neteyam smiled, looking down at the grass surrounding his feet.

“Neteyam!”

He raised his head slowly to see Tahé walking toward him and his family, Lo’ak sighed and rolled his eyes as Neytiri nudged him. Jake looked back at his eldest son, s smile creeping onto his face as he saw Neteyam resist the urge to copy his brother.

“Good morning.” Tahé greeted cheerfully, a grin stretching onto her face.

“You’re very chipper this morning, so you must’ve already ruined someone's day,” Lo’ak stated only to receive a stern look from his father.

Tahé was about to retaliate but she was stopped as someone rushed forward, almost knocking her to the floor.

“Sorry! Neteyam! Finally, you’re here!” Kalä announced, skidding to a stop next to the boy, “Save me.”

Neteyam smiled at the younger boy, excusing himself from Tahé and his family, walking towards where y/n was standing, testing a bow.

“Look, Neteyam’s here!”

Y/n turned to smile at Neteyam before glaring at her brother, pushing the bow and an arrow into his chest before crossing her arms, “Go.”

“But-”

“Go, I’ll join you in a minute.” Neteyam intervened nodding at the younger boy

Kalä smiled smugly before walking off quickly to where other teens were waiting for an instructor.

“You don’t have to help him, you know,” Y/n sighed, uncrossing her arms, letting them fall to her side and placing her weight onto one leg.

“I want to,” Neteyam confirmed with a smile, watching the boy join his friends.

With their backs to the clearing, everyone was able to see Neteyam’s hand slowly make his way towards y/n’s, taking hold of it and bringing it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles, causing the girl to turn and smile at him.

Jake nodded approvingly while Neytiri smiled fondly.

Lo’ak was proud of his brother for finding someone he liked and he was even happier when he watched Tahé’s face drop and her shoulders sag in defeat.

Request from @tigermoon3

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mitsies · 6 months

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❊ ceilings - itoshi rin . . forever ago doesn't have to be forgotten.

you don't remember the last time you saw him.

it's all blurred together, somewhere in the mess of parcels and packing tape, and decorating your new room, and new friends at a newer school. your formative years are something of a blur. in all honesty, it's hard to recollect what he even looked like.

you remember big, bright eyes. and you remember him being shorter than you, and him hating it. you remember that his shoes were always too small because he was always growing, and you remember that his favourite colour was blue but he'd always say red because that's what his older brother would say. and you remember his name; rin. not a last name, just rin.

rin lived in the housing next to yours, and went to your school, and was in your very same grade, and in the very same class. it was basically fate that you'd become friends. fate, and the fact that you'd been determined to make it happen. even through the mess of your mind, you remember purposefully forgetting your lunch and looking as dismal and glum as a human being could, sulking in a seat near him, hoping he'd take action— and he did. that day when you were 6, the day rin split his lunch in half to share, was the day you knew you'd be his friend.

you don't remember how it happened. when your innocent, childhood friendship turned into a full-blown infatuation. but at some point, a switch flipped. you think you were 8 when you realised. and you felt even younger when you told him, and he just blinked at you. with those big, bright eyes, he just looked. and then he did that thing he does, where he kind-of smiles but never quite manages to make it noticeable enough to anyone who didn't love him like you did. you don't remember what he said to you. but you remember that he held your hand.

it wasn't the first time he's done this. he'd held your hand to pull you through crowded spaces, to help you onto your feet, to guide you to your 7th birthday when you were blindfolded. but he's never held your hand like this. you really feel his skin— it's rougher, but still soft with youth. you feel the callouses on his fingertips and you think that you'd like to be there to watch them grow.

yes, it's clearer now— you were 8 when you told him you liked him. and you were 9 when you left.

there's a love there, when you think of him. unbridled in nature and intensity. a love made of scotch tape and salad days, and lunchbox meals and playground playdates. you remember sneaking around so his brother wouldn't catch him, and you remember daring him to sit on the roof with you without your mother noticing. you wonder if she knew that you weren't just best friends. you think she did, because when she told you that you had to move house, she gave you a great big hug and told you it'd be okay. yes, you think she knew. you're sure she did.

the first time you kissed him was when you said goodbye. it wasn't anything— looking back on it, this whole childhood romance was more embarrassing than anything— but all those years ago, you remember kissing him on the cheek and trying your best not to look back as you walked away to your mother to never see him again. the look on his face is lost to memory. you wonder if he was sad. you wonder if he remembers you at all.

these are the thoughts running through your head as you sit at a hotel bar, visiting your hometown years later. it's not too crowded, but nowhere near empty. the crowds seem to move around you in a haze. you're not really focused on them, though. instead, you're fixed on him— with big, bright eyes even now. with dark hair, a little too grown out. with a blue crewneck and jeans. you're more than likely delusional, and more than likely not thinking straight. if you were, you wouldn't be staring. but you're so close to sure that it's him. rin, no last name, sitting with his friends at a table only a little ways away.

it's not him that realises your presence first. instead, a shorter boy of the same age with longer brown hair beams at you and whispers something to rin. he gestures in your direction, and rin looks. he scans the area for a moment before his eyes settle on you— you forget to look away. you wonder if it's still okay for you to say you recognise that look in his eyes, even after so long. but you do; you recognise it. he's surprised. he blinks. he glares at his friend, who you notice is beginning to make his way in your direction.

his voice is bouncy, you note as he speaks to you. you think it suits him. "hey! just wanted to let you know that my friend over there— you see the tall, brooding one? yeah, him? he thinks you're really cute. but he's too shy. so i thought i'd let you know!"

he walks away— or, really, skips— back to where rin is scowling at him and the rest of the group is laughing. you observe the scene— rin is muttering something under his breath. one of his friends slaps his back and he glares daggers at them, which makes them laugh more. he's tall now. you can tell even when he sits. his face is sharper than your memory serves. you suppose that's what time does. you wonder if you've changed a lot, in his opinion, or if you look the same. your gaze drifts back down to the bar counter, watching people mill about. you wonder who they've forgotten about. you wonder what the odds are, that you saw him again.

you're hardly paying attention anymore when someone takes the seat in the barstool to your right. in all honesty, you don't even think to look up until he speaks to order a drink— it's a deep voice. a little raspy. not at all what you'd expected, or remembered, but who were you to be surprised? when you finally look at him, he's staring straight ahead, stiff as a board. it makes you smile a little. your eyes settle into all the creases of his face— the slight bags beneath his eyes, the lines framing his face, the sharp curve of his jaw. he's your age, so 22 now. and you don't think you've ever considered another person beautiful in the way you consider him now.

"rin," you greet, mouth moving disjunct from your mind. you feel fuzzy with nostalgia. you're not sure what's going through your own mind.

he opens his mouth. closes it. and then he says your name, and everything clicks into place.

there's something about the way your name sounds on his tongue that makes you melt, just a little. it sounds like summer birdsongs and winter winds, and scraped knees and whispered secrets on the playground. it sounds like laughter and spilled snacks and the amber joy of youth that you'd forgotten you'd missed.

you smile. you can't help it. and then he does it— his smile-ish. you bite the inside of your cheek because you're not sure if the surge of emotions you're feeling will cause tears or an embarrassing proclamation or something. you say instead, "i didn't think i'd see you again."

"i didn't either."

the bartender slides him his drink. he doesn't touch it. a beat of silence passes, and he looks at you. he really, really looks. it feels like he's taking in every detail of your face, studying every detail. you feel hot and embarrassed under his scrutiny. but for the first time since you were 9 years old, you feel like someone is seeing you.

when you were younger, you might've believed in fate. you're not too sure, because you believed in a lot of things— the tooth fairy, and santa, and the inherent goodness of the people you loved. but you weren't sure if destiny was one of these things. it seemed like it would be. the naivety of a child would entail a belief that everything was meant to happen. as you got older, you certainly didn't keep up with this belief. the world grew into greyscale, and life became what you made it. fate was deemed childish, and irrelevant to the now. but at this very moment, in this bar, it's just the two of you, and you think you might just believe again.

you feel the smile in your eyes when you say, "we have a lot to talk about."

and rin does that stupid thing that he does— the little curl of one corner of his lip that makes him look annoyed— but you know him. you still know him well enough to know that it's him returning the gesture.

there are a million things he might be thinking. he could hate you for leaving him. he could possibly have forgotten every single thing about you. but oh, you know him. his hands don't quite touch yours but they shift the littlest bit closer. his body angles to face you better. because he knows you, too. and you knew him best then, and fate is kind enough to give you the chance to know him again now. there's familiarity in the air. there's a certain warmth, and comfort. there's love shared and love yet to be shared. if that was not the end of your story, at 9 years old, then this would not be it either.

people pulse in and out, sliding into the seats beside you and leaving. time ticks on. your surroundings become nothing but a haze— a mess of boxes and ribbon, and shared chocolate bars, and a love so bright that years could not dim it. the world could change. people could change. but this love would stay, it'd always stay.

flowers chosen: fern & lilac . . secret bonds of love & joy of youth

❊ send a request! ❊ 5k masterlist ❊ event info ❊

#itoshi rin x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin x reader #bllk rin #bllk #mitsies 5k #ngl what is this sorry jennifer

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cowboyjen68 · 5 months

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Hi!!

I just wanted to ask some advice from one butch to another.

I recently got my dream job of being a warden on a nature reserve (and i love it!), while interacting with people there I get called a young man very often (i am 18 lol) and it gives me euphoria to know im masculine enough to even pass as a man. I've also had some volunteers ask if I was a man or not (despite my feminine name).

But recently I got called a "lady" outside while out with my mother. It drove me INSANE I cried alot.

Don't get me wrong I do identify as a woman but I hate being seen as a lady.

I've even thought about using he/him pronouns recently and changing my name but i'm too scared to as most people won't understand bc im still a lesbian.

Is this strange?

ps love u and ur blog lots xx

This is an easy answer because I was 18 once and looked enough like a teenage boy that I got "hey sport" and "hey young man" all the time, especially when in my work clothes. I worked for The Mayor's Youth Corp in Iowa City in the summers of my 15th and 16th year. Mom and Dad let me get a work permit AND bought me a used Datsun Pickup so I could drive myself the 20 miles there and back each day.

I was a volunteer with the Corp of Engineers youth from 14 to 16 and Dad knew I was super excited about this job. Mom was not thrilled that I wanted to cut my hair but my "grand mullet" was really hot under the hard hat in the summer heat of Iowa. (in the 1980's boys and girls had the short in front long and permed in back look) We compromised and I cut the sides really short. (photo of my me at 16 in my uniform for reference)

Using "he" would never have occurred to me because "EWWW Boys". This is not to say, however, that I hated being mistaken for a boy, on the contrary, it felt good. When someone thought I was a young man it meant they treated me as such. They didn't talk down to me, I knew they assumed I was capable and willing to get dirty. I knew unconsiously that along with the mistaken identity came many perks. This was nothing I analyzed but little girls see very early on the difference in treatment they recieve from their brothers, male cousins and neighborhood boys. This difference leads us to become negotiators to control our circumstances and not entittled to treatment based on our skills and actual personalies.

When an adult recognized me as a boy, even for a second at first glance, I knew I didn't have to prove myself. They, for an instant, assigned to me words like "strong, capable, demanding etc". No negotations required.

When someone realized I was a girl they literally had a change in their face. They smiled at me, softened their voice. When I was called "young lady" or "Miss" it always seemed to be backed my the worst assumptions (in my mind anyway). Lady is steeped in all kinds of traits I didnt want assigned to me. "quiet, weak, likes to dress pretty"OR "motherly, submissive, meek" Nothing good in my teen brain, that is for sure. Lady felt so OLD, so married to a man and reliant on him for survival, so polyster pants and ugly flats and scratchy blouses with a flower imprint. NONE of these things are inherent to being a woman or even socially forced on us but that is not how things work sometimes. Words that describe people get stereotypes and myths and traits attached to them all the time. Woman and girl are no different.

I can tell you, the best feeling in the world when I was in that job was when my supervisor, who damn well knew I was a young woman, trusted me with all the same tasks as the boys. Who valued my opinions and abilities equally to the young men. He took time to teach me what I didn't know, just like with them and didn't assume I couldn't or didn't want to learn things on the job. He didn't shame ANYONE for not being strong enough or for getting tired or needing a break.

Don't let the assumptions of others force you into another box of conformity. You don't need a boys name or to use any pronouns you don't feel connected to just to please others. In fact, none of that effort will change perceptions of those around you. I can promise that one day being called Lady will just be another word that you can hear and know it does not change your personality or your interests or control the hope you have for your future. What does waste a lot of time and energy is trying to adjust things in your life to fit incorrect or snap assumptions about you as a person. You can never control the thoughts of those around you but what you can do is stop worrying about it and enjoy YOU.

You have a job you love and are sure to thrive in. You are solid in your sexuality and love of women, you are in a unique position to possibly change the perceptions of others when they think of "young women". Your interactions with the public are sure to effect the assumpions of at least some people when they think of young women and their roles in our society.

Congratulations on your new career and I bet you rock that uniform.

#lesbian #butch #stereotypes #careers #words #lady

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simpjaes · 4 months

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HIIIIOOOOO ;_^_;

I’m on my period dreaming abt Jaykeeeeeee as the number 1 Jaykeeee whore I thought I’d let you know I can’t stop picturing Jayke so obsessed with their girl they even eat her out on her period ;O

Don’t hate meeeee oymygod I love you smmmmmm ;’~D heartttuuuu<333333!!!!!

oomf all you had to do was say "saltburn jayke" but you rly went full out cotton candy slut mode with this but okay ily i guess

warnings: period munching, if you can't deal with blood don't read this bc it's a mess but they like it so............

It's a thing.

These days anyway. Then again, you probably shouldn't be surprised considering you've managed to bag two boyfriends who love you to the end of the earth and back.

It's the fact that they don't even compete. They actually contrast each other, where one may be too tired and the other is full of energy. Or one rough, the other too soft to lay a hand on you in a way that might sting.

It's kind of nice.

Especially during your period.

For months, every month, they try to encourage you. They're not grossed out. They're just your happy, pretty boyfriends, wanting nothing more than to taste another sweet flavor of you.

You could argue this flavor isn't nearly as sweet as they hope it to be, but it doesn't change the fact that they're the only one to make you feel safe and comfortable enough to allow such a thing.

It always started with Jake, rutting himself against you despite knowing what time of the month it is. Leaving little sighs of "please," and "blood doesn't scare me, it'll help your cramps." Followed shortly by Jay just behind you, hugging you away from Jake unemotionally just so you can feel how turned on he is. "He's right, baby, we can lay down a towel? Get in the shower?" You always denied it, up until this point anyway. Where Jake is already crawling between your legs where Jay is holding them open. You feel gross, but they don't entirely let you give in to that insecurity. The point is, you were okay with them fucking you like this, not tasting it.

They both seemed to be on a war path though. The second you nodded Jake was on his knees and Jay was jumping into action to give his girlfriend's boyfriend easy access. It's the fact that Jake likes it. Dips in like there's nothing seeping out of you but the sweet essence of arousal. Arguably, you'd think whatever it is he's tasting is much thicker than usual. Much more metallic.

But oh, when he pulls back with that drunken and crooked smile on his face, lips lined with red, dripping down his chin, you find it hard not to hide your face initially.

He looked so beautiful. Jay made sure you could see it, gently removing your arms with his own smile, flicking his head back to Jake as if he couldn't wait his own turn.

"Come on, he loves it. Don't be embarrassed." Jay says, voice seeped with ease and arousal. And Jake would remain silent, licking his lips, thumbing the blood against his chin up and against that same already bloodied tongue before Jay moves down and makes room for himself. Spreading your legs impossibly wide, Jay appears far more eager after seeing Jake enjoy himself with each and every scent and flavor of you. Licking up the blood like he was truly born a vampire. Like the blood fills him with life and youth. It kind of fucks you up, really, watching them take turns dip in as if you're not an absolute cramping mess before them, but they take their time.

All the way until your muscles are forced to tense, and then relax, and tense again, and relax again. The mixture of blood and cum shared between both of them to the point all they can do is moan into each other's mouth, both aiming at your clit in a mess of warmth. Feeling two tongues in the same spot has always been a lot to take in, but all of it paired with everything else, along with seeing that pretty red contrast with their moaning mouths, on the tips of their noses, smeared against their chins? What's not to love about mother nature at this point?

#hardthots #enhypen smut #jake smut #jay smut #THIS IS............#ask #anon

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beanzfandoms · 1 month

Text

│Prologue│

│Human! Alastor x Reader│

Ⓢⓨⓝⓞⓟⓢⓘⓢ: (Y/n), forced to be confined by societal standards, wishes for someone to understand them. Everywhere they look, it seems as though the people they once knew have abandoned them. It's not until they are introduced to a well-known radio host that they realize their true potential.

Ⓝⓞⓣⓔⓢ: The reader is indicated to be biologically female as they will face certain challenges throughout this story due to the time period. Characters set in this will refer to the reader as she, but for the most part, it will be gender neutral. This is written to be platonic but will remain ambiguous. There may be inaccuracies to the time frame. This series may and will contain things such as sexism, classism, gender dysphoria, bullying, mentions of religion, and gore. Please read at your own risk.

〣Next Part〣

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A comfortable atmosphere bustles throughout the small diner as the sun barely begins to peek above the dazzling diversity of New Orleans. 'Leave A Little for Me' lulls about the establishment as the few patrons settled for their breakfast chat away about their own little worlds. The grill behind the counter sizzles and pops with use, an aroma of breakfast foods gnawing at any hungry stomachs that walk through the waxen double doors.

A woman, dressed in pale blush, walks out from the back with the swing of her hips and trays held skillfully above her pinned back hair. She settles plates in front of customers with a dashing smile, responding with polite and charming words as they thank her for the meal, before her gaze shifts towards a booth near the windows.

Another youthful lady settles there, a focused revelation upon their face as they lean over scattered papers on the table. The tip of a pen is wedged between their teeth, and they bite at it in thought. Swinging their leg over the other, an exasperated sigh escapes as they suddenly look up at the tin roof.

The waitress quickly strides over, coffee pot in hand. The woman lets her polished grin fall into a small smile, a gentle look in her eyes. Without a word of consent, she fills the ceramic mug long forgotten at the edge of the booth.

"Thanks, Ma." The lady, who's eyes remain upward, mutters gruffly.

"You look like you need it," the waitress chuckles, amusement crossing her expression as she watches her daughter guzzle from the steaming cup. "I will never understand how you can just drink it straight, (Y/n). You truly are an enigma."

"It helps me focus," (Y/n) states. "Especially when things don't make sense."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," (Y/n)'s mom assures, but frowns when she realizes her encouragement doesn't affect the distraught mood her child is faced with. She turns her head to the bar, noting that her co-worker was reading a magazine as the traffic coming through has died down, before setting herself across the table. "What is the matter, my sweet?"

"It was hard enough getting into the major I wanted, but now I have to worry about a suitable job too," (Y/n) grumbles.

"What happened with the secretory position at the bank?"

"Lack of experience... It's either that, or I have too big ideas for anyone's liking."

"You'll find something soon enough," the older woman persuades as she takes (Y/n)'s gloved hands into her calloused own. "The perfect job is bound to pop up before summer break comes."

"I hope your optimism comes into fruition," they say with a titter. They glance to the large clock tacked to the wall beside the island, before collecting their things with a stand. "I should head out before I'm late for class. Thank you for the coffee, ma."

"Don't forget that my first shift at Mimzy's is tonight!" Their mother calls, "It's gonna be a bit of a time crunch to get used to, so I would prefer it if you met me there after your extracurricular activities. I want to walk home with you."

"You don't have to be so paranoid," (Y/n) replies as they stand by the door. "After my studies, I'm going out with Joanne for a late lunch. I'll head over once we finish our gallivanting."

"You can never be too sure, dear. The news is heating up with all kinds of stories about that serial killer. I just want you to be safe!"

The bell above the entrance rings, a chiming announcement that a customer walked in. The cook desultorily straightens herself from her torpor, a curt welcome grousing from her lips.

"I'll see you later, Ma!" (Y/n) comments over their shoulder, but not before making brief eye contact with hickory brown. Round glasses, placed on the curvature of the man's sharp nose, reflects the gleam from the sun's light. He gestures his black-clothed hand to the entry he held open, a raffish grin on his face.

"After you, mademoiselle," He cheerfully asserts.

"Thank you," (Y/n) politely curtsies before rushing out into the streets of Louisiana.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━☻━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(Y/n)'s temple pulsates with an ache as they stir the soup in front of them with disinterest. The warmth of the spring now settled into an orange hue on their skin, drawing out the time until nightfall came. Tapping the toe of their heel against the Mandala patterned floor, their eyes gaze up at Joanne.

Joanne was a high-class type of girl, with distinguished parents and a father that ran a well-known Men's Club in town. Daffodil hair curled around her ears and tickled rosy cheeks as she ate away at her salad. Gorgeous blue peek up at (Y/n), and with a giggle, she hides her mouth with the black clothed napkin that was folded nicely by her plate.

All the eligible boys were swoon by her meek personality, always gifting her lavish things with money they earned. (Y/n) can always tell that she adores the attention, even when she claims that none of them strike her fancy. Sometimes, (Y/n) wishes their life can be as simple and carefree as Joanne's; that they can embrace their femineity instead of their intelligence. That is not how they were designed though.

"Have you changed your mind about the dance?" Joanne softly asks, pink tinted lips rising into a smile.

"No," (Y/n) responds after a long pause, "My mind has been on other things."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" She exclaims with puffed cheeks. "Why don't you go with Donald?"

"The guy who pulls my hair in history? No thanks."

"He just does that cause he likes you," Joanne laughs, "You two were meant for each other!"

"I don't see any of your suitors pulling your hair," (Y/n) gripes, "Don't tell me such stupid nonsense, Ann."

A look of hurt flashes across Joanne's face, and (Y/n) considers apologizing before she runs to tell her mother. It wouldn't be the first time (Y/n)'s pragmatism got them into trouble. Joanne's mother was a snooty woman and always tried to whip (Y/n) into their place in society since they were young. Since both Joanne and (Y/n)'s fathers worked on the road for the majority of their childhood, both of their mothers came together to help one another before Joanne's father found his passion for business. Though Joanne's family has long since moved from the quaint Neiborhood (Y/n) and their mother still resides in, Joanne always reaches out to 'catch up' with her friend since diapers.

"I'm worried for you," Joanne remarks in a dull tone as she leans back in her seat, "Your mom and I aren't always going to be there for you. Your mother shouldn't bear the responsibility of looking after you forever, and soon enough, I'm going to get married and have a family! You always talk so pessimistically about love; you never give anyone a chance! If you keep up with that attitude, you are going to end up alone!"

A screech emits from (Y/n)'s chair as they push away from the table. Abhorrence filters through every thought they wanted to say in that moment, a scowl present on their face. "And what if love is not something I'm aiming for? Have you ever thought about that?"

"And you think some silly dream is? You are a lady, (Y/n). Start acting like one," Joanne spits.

Thrusting their hand into their bag, (Y/n) throws down a few dollars on the tawny surface. "Pay my meal for me, would you? I've lost my appetite."

Swiftly pulling their coat over their shoulders, and without so much as another glimpse towards Joanne, (Y/n) stomps their way to the front. Judgmental leering warms the back of their head from the ongoing patrons they pass, with societal conjectures whispered among them. (Y/n) wishes they could declare that they were used to being seen as a freak, but the pang in their heart was hard to deny.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━☻━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The buzzing of cicadas disturbs the thick despondency that hung over (Y/n) as they trudged their feet over the concrete pavement. Though yellow-hued streetlamps and distant sounds of laughter embraced the night with sweet carol, the weight of the day wore heavy on (Y/n)'s shoulders. The keister that they wore on their side swung limply as hot air blew past, and the sweat that collected on their forehead felt consciously sticky.

In a fit of frustration, (Y/n) didn't think to take a trolley over to Mimzy's. They were so engrossed by Joanne's behavior, needing time to collect their thoughts. Granted, (Y/n) did comprehend that their tongue could be snippy without second thought, but did that give their friend the right to dismiss all that they've worked for?

Ever since (Y/n) was young, they perceived that their way of thinking was far different from the others their age. While the adolescent girls that they grew with obsessed over dolls and new dresses, (Y/n) found the extortionary power of the mind. Every day, whether it would be tuning in on the latest news of horrific disasters on the radio or reading recent articles of crimes that happened within their very own city, they would journal each observation and theory that came about their wit.

(Y/n)'s mother was always a benign supporter, providing perception in their once childish dreams. Though their mother never castigates them now for pursuing what some may see as impossible, an underlying fraught tone catches in the optimism she provides.

"Why don't you become an author?" (Y/n)'s mother once persuaded as they sat to eat breakfast together one early morning, "Or a teacher! I'm sure you can put your journalism skills to use in those professions!"

(Y/n) knows their mom means well; She was the only person (Y/n) could openly talk to, and she would listen without conviction towards any words that spewed from their dreamy wonder. However, their mother did not understand the consistent resilience that they fought with every day, that it wasn't some phase that will burn out with age. (Y/n) knows what they want; they just wish sometimes that another being would appreciate that too.

A sigh of relief escapes (Y/n) as the establishment's spendthrift sign comes into view as they round the corner. The word Mimzy flickers with life, but there was no cars or pedestrians that showed if it was so. Though (Y/n) has never experienced what goes on within this club, their mother remembers fondly of the days she spent rendezvousing about with boys and her gal pals. Though, at that time, she wasn't married with a child and the night spot wasn't named Mimzy.

Only a few short years ago, did the name rebrand and (Y/n)'s mom rekindled a lost relationship with a lady she had a fondness for long ago. It wasn't shortly before the friendship blossomed once again did their mother get offered a job; she was ecstatic. (Y/n) couldn't be prouder of their mom, for she too in a way, fought for her right in the world. Not so long ago in the gossip vine of the town was (Y/n)'s mother ridiculed for working as a married woman. Some even went as far as to patronize the diner their mother works the early morning hours at, threatening to boycott if the enterprise supported such scandalous practices. However, nothing came from the situation besides nasty rumors and empty threats, as an anonymous word got out that (Y/n)'s father hasn't been seen for some time. Though there is no documentation that (Y/n)'s parents ever divorced, there was also no valid proof that their father supported the family, hence why the issue was dropped.

It was hard growing up without both parents being present consistently, and for their father's absence being a key factor on the shunning of both their mother and them. He came by every now and again when he was able to take a break from the road, but (Y/n) couldn't really orate that he made a big impact in the few memories they shared. It had been two years since his last visit. (Y/n) recalls him being a very traditional man, who put the Bible and social formalities before anything else. They always stuck to their mother's shadow whenever he was around, never really choosing to interact with him. Their mother, however, would grow a sense of urgency and remain steadfast on her feet to every beck and call that came from that man. (Y/n) always hated seeing the overwhelming dread that hung over their mother when he was around.

Grabbing the handle, (Y/n) was quite surprised to find the door unlocked. Jazz carries about the ostentatious display, but they saw no one hanging about the scenery. Following the orange luminescence that lean against the plush wallpaper, (Y/n) is led to a round counter with a large chalk menu hanging above it. Black cushioned stools line the exterior, contrasting from the red tables set on the other side of the establishment, and a jukebox is arranged in the corner where anyone can interact with it. As (Y/n) looks at their whereabouts in modest fascination, their heels clack against a wooden surface. They are quick to turn around, only to find they had stepped onto the dance floor centered in the room.

(Y/n) never went dancing before. Though everyone sought to learn for entertainment, even their own mother, they opted to stick to their own self. The mere thought of being surrounded by strangers under the strobe lights that circled about the deck gave (Y/n) languid anxiety. Many stories of love and bliss came from places like this; it made (Y/n) think back on Joanne's sternness of finding a social outlet and meeting a suitable man to be courted by. It's always been hard for (Y/n) to make friends, and with that, romance never crossed their mind.

"Sorry suga, but we ain't opened just yet!" A feminine voice evinces from behind. A short, plump woman in a bright pink flapper dress grins at (Y/n), her platinum bob cut bouncing as she walks. (Y/n) felt a sudden vulnerability of being under dressed, still sporting the same wear they've been in since they left the house.

"My mother told me to meet her here," (Y/n) breathes out, "Tonight's her first shift."

The woman's brows furrow as she ogles the person in front of her, before recognition washes over her face. "You must be Lorraine's girl! My, you are the spitting image of her!"

"That's me..." (Y/n) replies with a confining smile, "I apologize if I came in too early, the door was open."

"Not a problem at all, deary! I leave that door open a few minutes early anyway for... special guests." A small blush crosses the woman's face as she looks away to compose herself, "Make yourself comfortable! Your ma and the other gals are getting ready in the back! If you need anything, be sure to call for dear ol' aunty Mimzy!"

(Y/n) gives their thanks before the petite lady ushers herself away to prepare for opening. They decide to take up space in the far corner away from the dance floor, the table beginning to be covered with assignments and books. (Y/n) occupies themselves with their work, too engrossed to notice the oncoming crowd beginning to fill the place. Live performers took up the music as the night carried on, and congenial chatter joins into a pleasant hum. The atmosphere was quixotically pleasant to (Y/n)'s revelation, and they found themselves humming along with the songs they remembered as they wrote away.

"I hope this doesn't come off as pushy, but I couldn't help but to wonder why a lovely specimen such as yourself is all by her lonesome?" A voice articulates in a teasing tone, "It almost seems that you want to be hidden away!"

(Y/n)'s grip tightens on the pencil in their hand, and they look up with a glare. The man who spoke, sported in a red vest and black slacks, registers a simper as they make eye contact. The familiar brown hue twinkles with amusement as (Y/n) straightens in their seat. (Y/n) recognizes this man to be the one who held the door open for them at the diner earlier today.

"Alastor. Charmed to meet you!"

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#alastor x reader #human alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #romantic or platonic

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wen-kexing-apologist · 1 year

Text

Moonlight Chicken is For the Queers

Ok I started my rewatch of episode 8 and figured out what I want to talk about for this series' finale: intentions and resolutions. This post will be about intention, and how I truly feel that Moonlight Chicken is a gift for queer people. Why? Well, there are many reasons, but for the purposes of this post, I will simply present the following title card.

Moonlight Chicken, Chapter 8: The Self-made House and Home

(if you are expecting this post to be anything other than a jumbled mess of my personal experiences with no clear through-lines or relevant transitions between sentences, thoughts, etc. then turn back now)

Whatever we want to say boy loves started as, fetish or otherwise, queer people are still able to see themselves or get comfort and representation. But coming from watching literally 25 boy loves in the last four months, this show feels different from most (not all) of them, to me, because of how strongly this show centers around built community, rather than romance, as it's central theme.

And yeah while any standard friend group in BL could be considered community in the abstract, the idea that they are a community is never quite presented. It's Team taking food from Pharm and all three of the gang teasing each other, it's Kuea and Diao spending most of their time talking about their relationships, it's Porsche forgetting Pete exists because he's so caught up in Kinn. More often than not we are building towards and hoping for declarations of love between two characters. And do not get me wrong, that is all well and good, and always what I'm rooting for in those shows. And we get something akin to that in Moonlight Chicken too, which is when you finally have Li Ming and Jim calling Heart and Wen (respectively) their boyfriends.

But the "I love you" we get in Moonlight Chicken? That isn't between the couples, it's between Li Ming and Jim.

Because the thing that makes Moonlight Chicken different from other BLs is the emphasis it puts on queer elders raising queer youth. It's about queer youth learning from queer elders and queer elders learning from queer youth. It's about how home and birth families don't always fit quite right, and how you build families and homes despite. And it's applicable to many people, children in abusive homes, disabled people, etc. too. Which is why P'Aof adds strained parental relationships and deafness in to this piece. But because this is fundamentally a BL show, I'm viewing this more through a queer lens.

So naturally, this also means I am informing my analysis of this show through my feelings as the only (known/out/visible) queer person on either side of my family. When I was little, a decade or more before I realized I was queer, I asked my mother one night if I was adopted. I'm not, and I know that, but why did I ask? Because I never really felt like I fit. Not the way I was supposed to fit, not the way family was supposed to fit together. My house never felt like a home.

And it's why I love this exchange between Wen and Jim at the end of episode 2

"I want home," "Don't you already have one?" "I don't." "A person like me doesn't fit to be anyone's home,"

And technically we know this isn't true. Wen does have a home, he has a condo, he has a place to sleep. But emotionally is where the problem lies. Wen is living with his ex, the apartment is cold, he has work colleagues and a friend that he and his ex both know and that's it. And as he tells Jim in episode 7, all his friends are straight. And then he meets Jim, and there is a spark, and maybe it's possible for home to grow there.

Literally, physically, I have a home. I have a family. But the more I embrace my queerness, the more I understand and am comfortable with myself, the more isolating and cold that house and family feel. I'm such a different person now than I was, and there are homophobes and transphobes on both sides of my family, and that makes it hard for me to feel like I am loved. Even when logically I know I am. But it's hard, when your mother says she accepts you and has yet to use my pronouns properly despite me being out to her for over a year and having three separate conversations about it. When your uncle spends twenty minutes or more complaining about trans people, when your cousins don't think trans people should exist. That's my family...technically. That's my home...technically. But it hasn't felt like that in years. So I understand what Wen means here, Wen's definition of home is not a place it is a feeling.

And Jim? We know Jim is already everyone's home. He is home for Li Ming, he is the closest thing to a parent that Leng has in his life, he makes sure the community not only has food, but has as much as food as they could possibly eat. He is first and foremost a community caretaker. But he is so wrapped up in his grief about Beam, his self-hatred, his stubbornness, his exhaustion that he is not able to believe that about himself. Home is a place and not a feeling for Jim, because he can't allow it to be.

The key to Wen and Jim's relationship is finding and building that home.

Home, Family, Community. These are incredibly important themes to Moonlight Chicken and those themes are incredibly important aspects of being queer.

I don't know how Thailand is re: homophobia and transphobia, if kids risk the same chance of getting kicked out of their homes for being queer, etc. But that is a very real possibility for many queer people in the States. But I'm thinking of homelessness in queer youth, how 28% of queer youth have reported experiencing homelessness in their lives. I'm thinking of ballroom and ball culture and how participants in the Ballroom scene were parts of Houses with mothers and fathers at the head of them who acted as mentors to their queer children. When I think about queerness and what it means, I think about ballroom. I think about connection, I think about community.

But that community is often forged from necessity borne out of isolation. What do I mean by isolation? I mean the isolation that Li Ming feels in school, around his school friends. I mean the faces Li Ming makes when his friends are talking about girls:

I mean the physical barriers the show places between Li Ming and his school friends.

It is the isolation that comes with queerness, with poverty, with everything about Li Ming. Beyond the fact Wen is a little younger than Jim and thus better able to understand and see Li Ming's desires to be seen as an adult. I think it is this state of listlessness in Li Ming is also something Wen recognizes. I think at this point Li Ming is so desperate to get away, to go to America, to be listened to and respected by Jim.

Jim who is too caught up in constant stress to see the home he has built for himself, Li Ming who is too caught up in wanting to be understood to appreciate that he has a home to run from. Wen who is working as a go between for Li Ming and Jim because he wants them to be his home. Heart who has been trapped at home and found his freedom because Li Ming understands the frustration of misunderstanding, and the importance of community.

I'm thinking about how so much of the final episodes are dedicated to showing community, showing family, showing the audience that home lies in the collective.

We see it in how many people rush to help Mrs. Hong:

We see it in the people who help you carry your grief:

We see it in how deeply and broadly the pain is felt when community pillars are lost:

We see it in the end of and era:

We see it in the olive branches:

And in new beginnings:

Very few people in these shots are connected through blood, but they are a family. And when I look at these shots the only thing I can think about is how I felt the night I threw a party for all my trans friends. All I can think about when I see these shots of everyone sitting and eating together is how many times I would look over to my friends and see them beaming. How many times someone came up to me to excitedly say this is the first time they felt like they could fully be themselves. How everyone kept asking to do an event like this again. How everyone kept asking to be added to a group chat at the end of the night so they could keep in contact.

And I remember how it felt for me to realize that I had built a community for myself in a place that I have really been struggling to feel was home. Because I had spent so much time in school and work, barley able to scrape together enough money to cover expenses, exhausted and stressed and unable to see what I had sitting right in front of me.

And I think about other queer people I have met, who light up when they see someone else who is gay, who talk about how lonely they feel because they only have one other queer friend. How immediately the need to invite them out, to introduce them to people, to make sure they have community strikes.

I think about how I worked at a summer camp out of state, and got to try out my pronouns, and figure out who I was, and then a few months later, I had to return home. Where I wasn't out yet, where I was going to get misgendered, and how quickly I came out to all of my close friends about my gender identity to try to mitigate how much my mental health tanked when I had to be someone my parents thought I still was. How at the same camp, the queer kids flocked to all the queer staff, how desperate they were to bond. How much lighter they got to be when they were away from their parents and allowed to be themselves around people who also understood not only them as people with the identities they held, but also their struggles existing in a household that didn't see who they were.

I think about how, in the States at least, "are you family?" is/was used as code for "are you gay?"

It's why it is so important to me that Moonlight Chicken ends with the line: "I just built a home. I don't want to move anywhere."

Because Wen has finally built his home. Because he has found his family, his queer community, his home. And yeah, we get the romance, yeah we get Li Ming and Heart holding hands, and Jim and Wen making out, but the emphasis of the final episode is moving forward, being brave, allowing yourself to love, and allowing yourself to stop, look around, and realize that you've made a home for yourself that is built of the people you love who love you in return.

Community building is a huge part of life for literally everyone, but it vital to the survival of marginalized communities. And when I think about my own relationship to queerness, one of the most sacred and important aspects of being queer is building the family you need.

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jinxthejubilee · 27 days

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I don't know why the fandom is having such a hard time picturing Azul having a little brother based on Morgana from the second Little Mermaid movie. It could totally work in canon!

Let's break this down for a second:

Azul's parents are divorced. He was raised by his bio mom and his step-dad.

Azul says himself that his step-father is "the father he respects," which could mean that he has absolutely no contact with his bio-dad. He wouldn't know what he was up to or if he had other children.

Azul's bio-dad could've also been a cecaelian (or octo-mermaid) and had another child, or he could've been a normal mermaid who got with another octo-mer after he divorced Azul's mother.

Heck, maybe that was the cause for the divorce in the first place. Maybe he had an affair and destroyed his marriage himself. Or if you want to go a bit deeper, after their marriage fell apart for whatever reason, Azul's bio-dad wanted to recreate the family he lost and got with another cecaelian woman and had his little brother.

This point, in particular, could be a reference to the popular theory that Morgana was Ursula's half-sister. Same mother, different fathers.

The theory goes that Ursula was the result of an affair Triton's father, the former king, had with an octo-mermaid. Such a scandal would bring shame upon the royal family, hence why Ursula lived with her mother away from the prying eyes of the court, but it would also make sense why, in her youth, Ursula still had ties to the castle and lived there from time to time (according to the movie).

A few years later, Ursula's mother had another baby girl with a normal mermaid. He wasn't anyone special like the king, with no royal lineage or special magic of his own, making Morgana "unremarkable" in her mother's eyes. Or maybe their mother truly loved this man, and the relationship didn't work out, so she takes her anger and insecurities out on Morgana.

With all of this in mind, it's possible that Azul's bio-dad could resent Azul's little brother in some way, giving him an inferiority complex a mile wide, just like Morgana. He wouldn't stop talking about Azul and how great he's become, how his brother should strive to be more like him.

It was always: Azul this, or Azul that, or (INSERT NAME) why can't you be more like your brother Azul.

He would grow to despise his Azul, his own brother, who he's never even MET yet. That's sad.

Now you might be asking, how would Azul's bio-dad even know about Azul's accomplishments? Glad you asked!

Either A): Azul's mother is the only one in contact with him and updates him on how Azul's doing from time to time.

Or B): His bio-dad enrolled the Morgana stand-in in Azul's school by chance and heard through the grape vine that Azul became the deal maker non-technical crime boss he is now.

Or both. Honestly, both of these combined would push little male Morgana over the edge. His classmates hear the rumors about an octo-mer who granted devious wishes a few years back and are either scared of or really unimpressed by the little bro's lack of magical prowess.

The bullying and self-hatred haven't skipped a generation, and neither has the body issues. Instead of being insecure about being overweight, Azul's little bro is insecure about being way too skinny.

This went on way longer than I thought, but to wrap up: All this to say, if we got Jamil's sister, who is a reference to Jafar's twin sister from that obscure Aladdin game, I think it's plausible for Azul to have a brother.

Thank you, and goodnight!

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ackerifle · 4 months

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Yandere Levi finding out reader is pregnant by another man

a word with you!

yan. no regrets levi ackerman x fem prostitute. reader

+ CW. — harassment, coercion, delusional behavior, kidnapping, confessions of murder, threats of domestic violence/abuse, implied: slight past age-gap relationship, baby-trapping; darling’s pseudonym is galatea; not proof-read.

it was simply too good to be true, you had known it then, and you know it now. but wishful thinking and desperation will do terrible things to good people, no soul would willingly continue living in the underground should they find themselves with any better alternative. at a constant risk of disease and decay, mother nature’s evident distaste for her children dwelling beneath the surface, careless to the living that remained untouched by the sun. abandoned by its creators in favor of more ‘pressing matters,’ the people left relinquished in a forgotten city of ruins had fallen on hard times, people like yourself.

and thus, you had found yourself in quite the predicament. although nothing in your life had ever come particularly easy, and this once, just this once, you could manage all on your own. there was no shame in working in a brothel, not when the people around you were often worse off than yourself, and pride was a small price to pay for simply surviving. it was only once you had first bared witness to the frequent deaths of the other prostitutes had you ever come to the realization that the madam must have really favored you a lot— to clean you, to clothe you, to feed you, to care for you; to keep you. but the state of affairs in the underground have since changed from the time of your youth, you’ve changed. you wanted out, and you were not immune to making grave sacrifices for what you wanted.

you’ve encountered and met many clients in your time, men and women alike, and it is rare for new faces to draw your attention. but as of late, there has been one. a soldier from the surface, a military police member who seemed far too young to be venturing below the safety and security of the royal capital by himself, and far too naïve to be falling absolutely head over heels for some prostitute who only offers an hour and faux moans in return. it almost tugs at your heartstrings, almost. he isn’t as innocent as he looks, and you are reminded why terrible things happen to good people. he had held citizenship over your head since the moment he met you, through legal marriage, and one simple request: that you give him a child. after all, who was a man of his merit to invest such a scrupulous amount of time into a common whore without the reassurance she won’t leave him right away?

so you do, allowing him to touch and hold you in a way your other clients could only dream of. to whisper sweet nothings in your ear about your future together, because admittedly, you too are thinking the same thing. thinking about your future, but you find that there is nothing romantic about it. and perhaps the worst of it all, he hasn’t come back for you.

laying down on your tarnished bed of tattered sheets and thin blankets, you stare aimlessly at the darkened ceiling. without thought and without interest, it has been weeks, maybe months, and you think you’ve truly fallen ill, “dammit, i knew i shouldn't've let that prestigious prick back in here.” forever grateful and beholden to the brothel keeper, she continues to tend to your needs, even now.

“look at you. so sad, little girl.” the madam coos apathetically, but her actions say otherwise. a gentle hand checks your temperature, brushing aside any loose strands of hair with the swipe of her thumb. her frown only deepens when she just barely pushes your head back, met with complete compliance as your head tilts further into the pillow from even the slightest of movements. somehow, you’re still so tired and still so restless, “i’m sorry.”

she’s upset with you. she’s been upset with you ever since you’d been involved with that shady scumbag, but truthfully the madam is more upset with herself. and she wants to ask why you of all people are apologizing, but she doesn’t, “i’m sorry too.” there is more she yearns to say, her mouth is still open, as if to somehow keep you responsive in this one-sided conversation, but nothing comes out. and it’s too late when there are three loud and concise knocks banging on the door downstairs.

the madam is quick to pry a worried hand from your unresponsive body, storming towards the exit of the oppressive room, but not without taking a curious glance in your direction. her remorse does not last long, as she shuts the door with a shove, but is intentional in not forcing it too hard. and you are left alone. swallowing dryly, your eyes dart around the room, and you wonder just how intense that person must have been hounding at the door for both you and the madam to hear it from a story above. but that was no matter, it was already noisy in the brothel, the walls were thin because peace and quiet was no luxury anyone living there could afford; and who knows how many women you shared the small space with. and surprisingly, it benefitted you greatly to be sick, as the madam refused to work you; and you’d known girls who worked during pregnancy, it never did end well for them.

deafening commotion could be heard ringing throughout the brothel, to the point it had felt as if the walls were shaking and the building was caving in. you chalked it up to hysterical figments of your imagination, that the floorboards beneath your bed weren’t vibrating, and that the sound of a panicked woman and determined man arguing with one another weren’t getting closer, “sir! galatea isn’t well, she’s not seeing anyone right now!”

“i don’t give a shit, lady. i know name is still here, she hasn’t left this fucking whorehouse in a month.” it pains you that you recognize this voice, and it isn’t the one you want to hear.

brazenly, the door is reopened with much more ferocity and wrath than it had initially been closed with, and it startles you. despite anticipating a confrontation as the verbal fight had neared your room, it comes as a surprise when the door nearly breaks free from its hinges, revealing an all too familiar black haired man. he looks awful in the dour lighting, and he adorned a uniform that haunted your very soul. a lesser version of what the military police had dressed in, lacking the coat with their respective symbol, it was the odm gear that struck you odd. eyes averting, you had noticed madam — who was standing behind him, with a languid arm extended towards his figure as if to grab him — was somehow much worse for wear as she had a dramatic hand over her heart as she caught her breath.

you regret not locking the door, but then again, that has never stopped levi from doing what he wants. he calls to you only by your name, and your spine crawls. whipping his head around, the hand levi had placed over the hilt of one of the unsheathed blades draws it from the holder, and he wastes no time in threatening the madam. it only takes the sight of the sharpened edge looming dangerously close to her neck for you to yell at her to get out. she hesitates, and you know why, the madam has failed to protect you countless times from levi, but this will be the time it counts, and she knows it too. but the downright malicious glare levi sends her way has her halted in her steps, and she makes no effort to stop levi as he enters the room and places a deceivingly quiet palm flat on the door, all whilst maintaining eye contact with her, before he slams the door behind him.

you set your hand on the bed, forcing yourself to sit up as levi stomps his way over to you. and the closer he gets, the more uncharacteristically messy you realize his clothes are. the white shirt he so often wears is not clean, it’s rather dirty in all honesty, sullied with what appears to be sidestreet grime and dross filth. his boots are muddy, dragging in sludge and black water that hadn’t already been scraped off at the doorstep and staircase. but perhaps what was the most disturbing were the stains of blood on his gear, ranging from inconspicuous flecks to big streaks that were likely still wet. levi must’ve noticed your perturbed observation, because when he finally finds himself standing before you, he bends down and grabs your jaw in his hand, roughly squeezing your face, and leaning down until your noses are just barely touching.

“i leave you alone for a month, and you let some piece of shit from the mp’s knock you up?” it’s his eyes that are the scariest, more than his strength, and you crumble underneath his scrutinizing gaze. your retaliation is much more timid than you intend it to be, as if you were guilty and confessing your sins. sins of disloyalty to a man you aren’t even with in the first place, “you can’t expect me to want to stay here, i saw a way out, and i was going to take it.”

it doesn’t cross your mind to question how he knows all of this. you’ve simply accepted it as fact that you will never experience true privacy after meeting levi. in retrospect, it’s ludicrous that you’re even explaining yourself to him, but you are and it’s not helping your case, “and how did that work out for you?” levi spits venomously, violently shaking your head side to side in his grasp until your eyes were rattling in your skull. levi only lets go to prop his foot up onto the side of the bed.

instinctively, you lean away from his knee, which is almost parallel to your head, setting your hand on his calf in an attempt to direct his body away from yours. levi places the blade he had refused to release from his grip back into the metal box it belonged in, dropping his leg to the ground and hoisting you up by your shoulders, “groveling at the feet of those pigs, you’ve become real pathetic, haven’t you?” you want to defend yourself, to call him a hypocrite, to call him pathetic for harassing someone like you that was undeserving of his badgering.

“how did you even know he was a soldier?” deflecting the topic from yourself to your genuine concerns, you go limp in his arms as levi twirls you around the room until he’s satisfied with your placement. positioning you in front of the windows, leaning slightly on the stool as he pushed you backwards until you could feel the cold glass frame through your nightgown. levi slovenly flicks the sash lock, holding onto the lift and pushing the window up, “where do you think i got all of this from?” you didn’t need any clarification to know that levi was referring to his equipment.

your chest tightens, constricting your airway as you stop breathing altogether to attain perfect stillness. you only look at him with vacant eyes, and it becomes too much when he doesn’t elaborate any further, “what did you do, levi?” he sticks his head through the window, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the top rail, and peering down at the ‘city,’ below. it isn’t as if he needed to, there wasn’t anyone on the streets. when levi pulls himself back into the room, he slings an arm around your hips to bring you closer, “what do you think i did? the man’s dead, do i have to spell it out for you?”

the prickling sensation underneath your skin erupts in waves across your entire body. you were no stranger to the realities of what went on around you, the hushed rumors of what men and women who had the will to do what they wanted to others simply because they were capable, and not out of survival necessity, “you’re sick, what is wrong with you?”

“call it what you want, but he has nothing for you. you want to leave the underground? hmph, well don’t we all?” levi mocks contemptuously, tightening his hold when he feels you threaten to slip away in the slightest. he moves you around like a rag doll by the sides of your body, until you're in front of him. levi closes the little space that was left between you, until you’re forced to grab onto him for support, seeing that straining your wrists to secure yourself by the windowsill was becoming too painful, “we can go wherever you want, but you won’t be going anywhere without me.”

suddenly, levi veers down. his body collapsing onto yours until you’re nearly halfway out of the window, and he, looming over you, “oh my god, what is wrong with you?!” you repeat, blood rushing to your head as you try to prevent your upper half from being upside down and being taken by gravity completely. levi guides your arms around his neck, loosely as you refuse to acknowledge you’re even embracing him in the first place, but your fear of falling surpasses your personal grudges. and in one swift motion, levi thrusts the rest of your body out of the window, and he follow suits mere seconds afterward. and you scream, as loud as humanly possible.

levi’s body never leaves yours, and you’re uncertain as to whether it’s because you won’t allow it, or because he won’t allow it. either way, the detach hold you had on his neck fastened into a tight chokehold the moment you had felt yourself even remotely lean back any further. the landing is much smoother than you anticipated, levi doesn’t let you touch the ground before he does. and if you hadn’t shut your eyes, or buried your face into the crook of his neck, you may have gotten to witness the vertical maneuvering equipment in action; what used to be a dream for you, to leave with it, but you could kiss those fantasies goodbye now that they found themselves in the hands of levi. and he’s cautious, all too cautious with you.

you’re trembling like a leaf, and he thinks that if he lets go of you, you’ll fall to the ground, “don’t think you haven’t pissed me off, now. there’s a million things i ought to do to you after getting with that sorry excuse of a man.” levi rests a warning hand on your shoulder, loutishly hauling you towards him until you just about trip over your feet. he makes sure you’re aware of the desolate area that surrounds you two; and it becomes increasingly obvious that no one would come to intervene. if not by your shrieking, then never. levi tilts his head with an unimpressed frown, “you’re lucky you’re pregnant with our kid, because i won’t even be half as merciful once they’re born.”

#ackerifle #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere aot x reader #yandere levi ackerman #yandere levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader

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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 2 months

Note

I’d love to request a fic with a female reader and a angsty/comfort storyline with the Bad Batch.

For a broad storyline I was thinking something by along the lines of a female reader joining the Bad Batch (per Hunter’s idea) and Crosshair and/or Echo not being very happy about it. However they eventually they come around to having another girl in the group.❤️

Winning Approval

Clone Force 99 x Platonic!Reader

Summary- You felt as if you were living a purpose-less life, so when Hunter asks you to join his crew, you say yes! Not everyone on the force is as happy though... Takes place during and after Season 1, Ep. 2.

A/N- Thank you so much for requesting! I appreciate it so much, but I think I'm done writing platonic xD. This was sooo hard for me to write. I love the challenge, but i'm not sure how great my platonic writing skills are!

Word Count- 1,454

Growing up, helping people seemed natural. You remember discovering this when your old friend Kaiya fell and scratched her knee. It was second nature to dress her wound and comfort her. You were nine at the time.

Your mother enrolled you in medical classes as much as she could, you learned how to set bones, stitch holes, and treat infections. Amongst many other skills.

The city you lived in was soon taken over by the empire, but you found a way out before it was too late. That's where you found yourself- living with Suu and her husband Cut. The two had taken you in when they found out your home had been destroyed.

It didn't hurt when you found out you and Suu's parents knew each other in their youth.

When you had stumbled onto Hunter- he and his crew had set off a trap you had set in the fields. Your gun raised at him was lowered by Cut, claiming he knew them.

Things blurred together since then, everything moved so fast. Having to relocate away from the empire again was not something you fashioned. You were tired of running, and expressed your concerns.

Hunter initially suggested dropping you off at the planet of your choice, (a repayment for taking care of one of Omegas wounds).

Crash landing on a moon wasn't on anyone's roster, but it happened nonetheless. It did, however, give yourself an opportunity to prove yourself to them.

You helped Tech repair a part of the hyper-drive, earning his favor.

You shared your rations with Wrecker, earning his approval.

You played and entertained with Omega, earning her and Hunters trust.

Last was Echo. You wanted him to like you, as you enjoyed everyone's company. They were so kind to you, and didn't pay any mind to flaws. They knew themselves that they were defective- what was one more defect?

Maybe you were in over your head, would they really accept you as a member of their squad? They just met you a week ago. For all they knew you were an Empire spy... You couldn't deny that you wanted to stay though. You felt like you belonged- finally.

When Echo still avoided you like the plague and the ship was ready to fly again, you felt like you had run out of time. You sulked around the ship for awhile, waiting for Hunter to ask where you wanted to be dropped off.

That was until you noticed- he hadn't asked you. It had been hours and he had said nothing about you leaving.

This made you crack, anxiety like ice through your veins.

"Hunter, I mean this in the least selfish way possible. But, why haven't you asked where I wanted to go yet? What planet?" You thought you messed up when his face fell. He looked dissapointed?

"Well, we were hoping you would want to stay. We were going to formally ask, but Wrecker and Omega are still making the poster." He rubbed the pack of his neck and chuckled a little bit. "Would you like to join us? If not, that's completely understandable. Just name the planet and we will be headed there." He stated, making sure you knew you had options.

"R-really? You guys want me to join you?" You wanted to smack your head at how cliche you sounded. Though, you didn't have time to think on it, as Hunter started talking again.

"We don't have an official medic. While Tech possesses all the knowledge needed, he doesn't have a, uh how do I put it? A steady hand when it comes to medical means." He reasoned.

"You are more than capable as we've seen, and between Wrecker and Omega we need a medic- bad." You smiled at this. You felt a purpose. Someone needed you! You would be able to help your squad and civilians you came across on any journey.

Before you could respond, Omega and Wrecker barreled through the mid-section of the ship. Omega held a small banner in her hand, and Wrecker a large sheet of paper. It was full of colorful pictures, drawn by the two.

Your heart warmed at the effort they put in, all to make you feel welcomed.

"How could I say no? You guys have been so perfect to me, and I want to help you guys as much as I can." You smiled up at Hunter, he patted you on the shoulder. His way of officially letting you on the squad.

After that day, things started to move more smoothly. Yeah, you had some bad run-ins, almost got captured a few times, and had many near-death experiences. But, you were with your family through it all. The only problem was Echo.

Maybe 'problem' wasn't too nice of a word. Echo never did anything wrong. He just, never seemed to like your company. You guessed he didn't have to like you, not everyone would. Because of this, you pushed back your guilty feelings surrounding him. That was until you over-heard a conversation between him and Hunter.

"Something feels off about her." Echo told Hunter. You couldn't see either of them, and didn't want to expose your position by moving.

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"I can't place it. I don't understand how everyone can just accept her, no questions asked." Echo sounded confused.

"She's shown us many times that she can handle herself. Plus, Omega needs another female on the ship.'' Hunter defended you, but still wanted to hear Echos concerns.

"She's not a clone. She doesn't think like us!" Ah, so that's why he's been so put-off by you. It was because you weren't a clone. You assumed he was so used to clones, that of course you were an odd piece in their clone family.

You slowly moved back to your sleeping cot. You sunk down slowly. It wasn't your fault, really. You can't control where or how you were born. Thoughts surrounded you. Was it that obvious? Were you that different from them?

As much as you wanted to pack your bags and not burden anyone else, you decided to talk to Echo first.

After landing on a planet to resupply, you asked to speak to Echo alone.

"Uh, sure." He replied, skeptical. You both exited the ship, though keeping close.

"Echo, I didn't really know how to bring this up. I figured I should just get straight to the point?" You asked, not wanting to waste his time.

He nodded, looking straight to you.

"I overheard you and Hunter talking last rotation..." You nervously picked at a nail. He still stared, not wavering.

"I can't help that i'm not a clone. I'm not sorry either, but I do want to know what I can do. To gain your trust." You dropped your hand, eager for his response.

He licked his lips, thinking. "I'm sorry you heard that..."

"Echo, I don't care. I just- I want to be a part of this family..." You mustered out. Now or never!

This surprised him, "What are you talking about. You already are!"

He seemed, mad? Was he really that disgusted by 'normal' humans?

"I can't help that i'm not a clone!" You regrettably yelled, throwing you arms up.

"That doesn't matter, everyone accepts you anyways!" His words were strained, like he didn't want anyone to know.

"Why don't you?" You whispered.

He sighed and took a step back. "When I first joined force 99, it wasn't as easy."

You couldn't imagine what he was referring to. You knew he was a regular clone before joining Hunter, but what did that have to do with anything?

After seeing your confused look, he continued. "I wasn't born a defective clone, I became one. It took a lot of time to understand how to use this. But you fit in so easily." He gestured to his mechanical arm.

"I had no idea you felt that way... I wasn't trying to mean anything-" He cut you off.

"I know, and really, we do need a medic. I was just being resentful, I'm sorry."

"I'm not trying to take anyone's place. The team wouldn't be the same without you. Besides, Omega adores you, and I think Hunter will do whatever it takes to keep her happy." You laughed, he luckily gave out a chuckle as well.

"Thanks. I think It'll just take some time to get used to the difference." He said, honestly.

"I get that, just let me know if there's anything I can do... Ya know, to speed things up?" You smiled up at him. It was then that you knew everything would be fine. That you really had found your family, and nothing could take you from them.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I am sorry if this isn't what you had in mind! Feel free to send in another request if you would like a more specific plot! Again, sorry that my platonic writing skills aren't that sharp! Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

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sea-owl · 3 months

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"OMG Eve replaced Lilith!"

Me: *raises an eyebrow *

"Look at the pictures they were so happy in them! She wouldn't leave!"

Me: *notices that majority of pictures were from Charlie's youth. Remembers that Charlie herself said she really doesn't have a relationship with her dad despite the fact she looks just as happy in those pictures. Also remembers that portraits and photographs themselves have been exaggerated and were used to tell false truths since practically the beginning.*

"I don't believe Lilith left him on her own! And she disappearedfor seven years!"

Me: *Remembers that Lilith left Adam because he refused to be equal partners with her. Based on what we have been shown and the different relationships Charlie has with her parents, it can be inferred that the raising of Charlie herself was not equal and mainly fell to Lilith. We also know that based on their own history, Lilith went from wife to wife to mother. While she did thrive in hell, she's never really been on her own.*

"We don't see her face in the flashback but we know what she looks like!"

Me: *Remembers that storytelling wise the flashback was in Charlie's POV and Lilith was not meant to be the focus, Charlie and Lucifer was. It's also a common tactic used in that Charlie is possibly having a hard time remembering certain details.*

Me: I'm not saying Lucifer's struggle with his mental health isn't real, because it is, but we also have to acknowledge that by his own and Charlie's admittance that it put a strain on their relationship. It's not that far fetched to imagine that it would also put a strain on his and Lilith's relationship. Especially when Charlie was born and Lilith no longer found herself in an equal partnership. The flashback scene itself would lead one to believe it was bedtime based on what Charlie was wearing. Lucifer was playing with his daughter while Lilith came in as the responsible parent to put Charlie to bed. Lilith demanded equal partnership from her first husband and she left when he refused even when that mean she had nothing. Now she is thriving and you think she'll stay with a partner who isn't stepping up to be equal with her? Now I do admit the seven year disappearance thing is odd but it makes me wonder if she's looking for a way to kill the angels that come after the sinners, because Lilith seems pro war. Or is she looking for someone who will give an advantage to Hell? Or even is she just tired of it all and said fuck this place, Charlie is grown and has protection via the exterminators not being allowed to go after hellborns. Also from the very little we know of Eve how would she pull this off? Even if she went to Hell, which wouldn't surpise me, she would still be quite low on the totem poll. Now i will admit i am of the party that Eve is a more neutral player. I say have her hate both the rulers of hell and heaven equally. Have her not be in either, have her in Purgatory or on Earth somehow, or even alone in Eden as a personal hell. I'm not saying this theory isn't possible, but Lilith leaving on her own is also a very possible solution, too, she's done it before.

#hazbin hotel #lilith hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #eve hazbin hotel

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revnah1406 · 4 months

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⛰️☀️ABBY MASON 🌿🍂

Name: Abigail Mason

Nickname(s): "Abby", "Abs" (only by Woods), Kid, kiddo, girl.

Date of birth: February 29th 2012

Age: 18/19 yo (2030)

Height: 1.65m/5.4 ft

Weight: 56 Kg/ 123.5 lbs

Blood Type: O+

Sexuality: Lesbian

Family:

David Mason (Father) - *Alive*

Alice Johnson (Mother) - *Deceased*

Alex Mason (Grandfather) - *Deceased*

Frank Woods (Adoptive Grandfather) - *Deceased*

Biography:

(Call of duty black ops 2 spoilers!)

Abby is the Daughter of David Mason and Alice Johnson. She was born and raised in an environment full of fun and love. She had a great childhood. But the sad thing is due to her parents job she didn't see them very recently. David in the military and Alice working in the hospital.

But she stayed the majority of her days with the one and only Frank Woods. While her parents worked she was raised by Woods, like he did with David before. She has her best memories with that old man. He taught her a lot of things and told her a lot of stories too.

She loved that old man.

She had an amazing youth until she was 13. One night while visiting Woods in The Vault. They had a strange visit. After all that happened, Menéndez appeared again. Ready to get his revenge for what Woods did years ago. The poor kid didn't know what to do but look. Until suddenly Menéndez aimed a gun at her and shot. She hit the ground holding her chest while she started to bleed out.

Woods couldn't do anything because in the blink of an eye, he got stabbed in the throat with a knife. Abby just could lay there, bleeding out, begging, screaming, witnessing how Menéndez killed the man that practically raised her.

That affected her enormously, and she never was the kid she was once.

Personality:

She was practically raised by Woods, so it's not a surprise that she got a few traits from him. She has a strong personality, not afraid to say what's in her mind, it doesn't matter if she's talking with the fucking president Bosworth herself.

It's hard to gain her trust, she's reluctant and even rude to strangers. But when it comes to friends and family she's pure joy and kindness, she leaves her mean shell aside and she jokes around (usually dark humour), laughs, giggles...

"Abs swears like a sailor but has the imagination of a five year old" - Woods.

She has a really strong bond with her family, it's everything to her, so she would and will do everything for her family.

So it's better not to mess with her but if you earn her trust she will show you that little kid inside her.

Trivia:

Abby is left-handed

Her name was chosen by Woods, he knew that if his Friend Mason would have a daughter would name her Abigail. So in honour of his memory David and Woods named her like that.

She's Allergic to seafood

She doesn't like sweets and is a huge fan of spicy food. Although the next day she will feel as if she has been hit by a truck.

She has one of Woods' tattoos to honour his memory, although she feels a little bit shy when she has to talk about it.

She swears more than she talks. (She spent too much time with old Woods)

Loves talking and reading about space and astronomy. One of her dreams was to become an astronaut.

Wears silly socks with silly patterns.

Although she was raised by a lieutenant commander and an ex-CIA agent, she has a really anarchical mentality. She doesn't believe in rules or the government and she's not afraid to "debate" it.

Delta (∆):

Moodboard:

Playlist:

You can read more about her here!

👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

Mason's Legacy

#abby mason #call of duty oc #call of duty oc: abby mason #mason's legacy #call of duty #call of duty black ops #call of duty black ops 2 #call of duty cold war #frank woods #alex mason #david mason #my oc #my art #call of duty fic #cod blops #cod blops 2 #cod cw

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starwarsaddiction · 2 years

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I had a brother, once

When I was about nine, and he was four, I think, he went away. He was so cute, he had a bunch of shiny copper hair, a nice smile and those big blue eyes. I loved to play with him, he was so little and funny. But one day he started moving things around the house, like small things that ran across the table to his little hands, and once he befriended a bird outside the window, it came so close to him that it accepted the food he gave it. My mother didn't believe me at first when I said that, but then she and dad started watching him closely, and I remember they talked of a thing called the Temple, after a while. Dad looked sad for a bit, but mum was so thrilled. She had an old picture, she always told me the woman in the picture was his grand grand grandmother, from centuries ago, and that she went to the Temple, and one evening they came into our room and talked to us. They told us that my little brother, Ben, had a special gift, like the woman in the picture. That he was touched by the light, and he could do great things, and that new people would come to test him and see if he was touched enough to learn how to use his gift for the Galaxy and the Republic. I was so scared, at first, I didn't want my little brother to go away. I screamed and hugged him, and he was so still in my arms. My parents were emotional too, mum said to me that giving a child to the Temple was a privilege and that he could live better with them than with us. I didn't understand at first, but they told me that the Temple was full of people like him, with his gift, and that their job was so important to the Republic, and he would have the chance to become a good person between them. We were just humble citizens, my dad was an architect, like me, and my mom was an artist and a painter. She told me that Ben could become something that they could never prepare him for, and the people at the Temple could help him with his gift and prepare him to be the best person he could be.

Some days after that, people from the Temple came to see my family. There was a tall black man and a creature with a mask on his face and eyes. They played with Ben and asked him a lot of questions, and then they came to me. They asked me if I loved him, and if I wanted him to be happy. Of course, I wanted that. The black man told me that he understand I was sad and didn't want to lose my brother, and he was right. He told me that Ben was going to live a life in the Temple, that he would learn how to use his gifts, and that he would be happy with them, but I was afraid that he would be alone and sad.

So they brought us all to the Temple, and we had the chance to see where he would live and grow. The school and the creche were so fun, and warm, that I even asked if I could stay with them too. But I was not gifted as him, so I couldn't. We hugged my brother for the last time, but every year, for the anniversary of the day he went to the Temple we received a picture and a few words from his teachers. It went on until he became a Padawan, around fourteen, and it was ten years since he left us.

We never forgot him, and I was still a bit sad, but I grow up being proud that my youngest brother went to become a Jedi. I got married and watched my children closely, in their youth, wondering if there was a hint of the same gift that he had, but apparently, that wasn't the case. It was a relief, surely, I didn't have to say goodbye to one of my children at such a young age, because I remember how conflicted my parents were, when we left him on Coruscant, in the Temple. They cried a lot, and I thought that it was because they didn't want to leave him behind, but then I understand. Sometimes it's hard to choose the best for your children, and you wish you can do everything yourself. But it's not always possible. He had great power in his little hands, and with great power comes great responsibility, and sometimes as a parent, your job is to accept that you're not the best fit to teach something important to your children. We knew nothing of the Force, we couldn't help him with it. We wouldn't be able to give him the proper teachings to understand and use his power in the best way, and it could easily hurt him and the people around him. Instead, he went on and became a great Jedi, and now I can read about him, saving the Republic and the galaxy with his power, against the Separatists that want to destroy our way of life.

So, yes, I spent my youth wondering how he was and if he was happy with the Jedi, but now I know he was. And every time someone at work asks me "are you related to that Kenobi?" I always smile.

Yeah... that's my brother.

#my writings #i'm not a native english speaker #be kind with me #obiwan kenobi #obi wan my beloved #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #obi-wan kenobi #guiding light #the master of soresu #jedi positivity #jedi order #we love the jedi in this house #jedi haters do not interact

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rebornrosess · 11 months

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going to be terrifyingly sincere about greg for a moment here sorry but the dynamics between greg, logan & ewan are so fascinating to me and even if they can’t explicitly explore it anymore due to obvious reasons, this one short sequence from the funeral is soo catered to me specifically. even in death, logan overshadows ewan in greg’s eyes. and yet greg didn’t need to tell ewan that he gave a good speech. he could’ve given him the cold shoulder after he cost him his deal with roman. but he doesn’t. and either greg is in too deep that he doesn’t realize what ewan said about logan closing men’s hearts and feeding the dark, hard, mean, hard-relenting flame in them (that melts their wax wings in the end) was most likely pointedly directed at him (thus proving his point)—or maybe greg did a little bit. he still goes to mencken at the wake but he still tells his grandpa he did a good job. it was a good hard take that he gave.

i think of this a lot but something that truly sets him apart from everyone else is that HE’S at the intersection of the brothers’ decade old feud over family, betrayal, ambition, integrity, and greed—central themes of the show but also, crucially, to his arc over the last few seasons. he has that dual connection to the past that the others don’t. a past that has stayed nebulous for so long until ewan’s eulogy. in previous seasons, we’ve gotten some really interesting scenes with him in which ewan sees the danger of power and ambition for greg because he’s seen it in logan, but it would have been so interesting to explore it more between greg and logan too (like in 2x08 when greg tells logan ewan is cutting him out of the will. i like you greg). i do think that ewan’s point about logan and masculinity and meagerness in his eulogy is particularly relevant though. maybe ewan was saying “men” in the way old history books use “man” as the default, but the performance of masculinity at ATN is one best embodied by tom, which trickles down to greg, but is evidently shown in roman too. and he fed a certain kind of meagerness in men. perhaps he had to. because he had a meagerness about him. (and maybe i do about me too. i don’t know. i try. i try.) i selfishly wish greg and logan could have had more than just one scene together this season (even though logan attempting to emasculate greg by pointing out his lack of a traditionally masculine father figure as a final interaction is very funny). i don’t think my threshold for second-hand embarrassment could have survived an on-camera take of greg trying to explain the whole rummaging situation from ep.1 to logan but logan being oddly chill about it is. interesting???????? what greg wants, greg must have.

but before s4 at least, logan’s awareness of greg’s connection to ewan, his estranged brother, has informed their interactions and it’s always fascinated me because logan doesn’t quite treat greg like his own kid but he’s still a kid that he’s trying to win over by being “uncle fun” rather than “grandpa grumps.” logan last saw his mother at age 4 and greg has been on his own for some time now too. marianne made her first appearance since the PILOT in the before last episode of the fourth season. i’ve found his interactions with ewan reaaally interesting because the brothers didn’t come from wealth and, when compared to the siblings, greg didn’t either. the hirsch’s financial situation is never fully delved into but i’ve always found it a bit peculiar given greg’s inheritance is like. 250 mil he’s sleeping in a youth hostel and a chapel in s1 and tells his mom while on his flip phone that shiv took his last $20. at the beginning of s3 he’s helping his mom get a new credit card because she maxed out the last one. i feel like ewan did the celebrity parents thing where they don’t spoil their kids so they learn real world skills or something, which iirc is something logan regrets not doing. yet ewan also seems to regret his use of his wealth, which he voices in his eulogy when he states maybe he has a meagerness about himself too, but he tries, and is disappointed in men who do not try harder (and the camera pans to the siblings. ouch.) i sometimes wonder if ewan hadn’t withheld his wealth, would his daughter and grandson have become so desperate that they turned to his brother? or would they have turned out like the siblings too if they had enjoyed wealth since birth? are the throes of capitalism inevitable? marianne is the sibs’ first cousin but they never really acknowledge that. if anyone has thoughts on her absence and/or exclusion from the family tree, i’d love to hear them.

anyways. i could 100% be overanalyzing this but i do love how much information succession packs into each of their shots. greg will forever be seeking approval from both sides of a broken brotherhood and will never receive it from either. you beautiful ichabod crane fuck you. what greg wants, greg must have. i don’t want to see you hurt. one big happy family. “greg?” he’s an addendum of miscellaneous matters in pencil with a question mark.

#is this anything #i finally finished this draft that has been sitting in my drafts for weeks #sorry for being sincere about greg but it will happen again #i can make him interesting #he's a mishapen egg. not a full roy but not spared from fate either #greg hirsch #succession #media analysis #maya.txt

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