#and believe and listen to them and CARE when they speak to you

[dootznbootz]

that WHO in no longer u oh my GOD

YESSSS

Like, yeah, Odysseus is like "Yandere" (joking but also not) because kills all who even go near Penelope and Telemachus and he's very protective of them AND jealous.

But I think this "WHO?!" is also a desperate plea as to who is this dangerous man who is near his wife? A warlord? A conquerer? A man who would not even care about Penelope for who she is and mistreats her?

Because even in the Odyssey, Odysseus asks about Penelope to his mother.

Tell me of the wife I married. What are her thoughts and plans? Is she still there with our son, keeping watch on everything? Or has she been married                            to the finest of Achaeans?

(Book 11, Johnston)

There's not even much resentment in his question. There could be but Narrator does not say. The use of "the finest of Achaeans" almost is a "Did she at least marry the best man? Did she at least marry a GOOD man?"

In "No Longer You", when he hears of this dangerous man NEAR his wife, he is SCARED. It could be jealousy but I feel it's more of concern. As it is in the Odyssey.

"I understand if she would remarry, it pains me but I did tell her that when Telemachus finally grows his beard, she could. I will love her always but is she at least happy? Is she safe?"

And she's not safe. She's not happy. He is terrified.

Psst. The reason why My Odysseus takes a long time to grow his beard is because of that line. He's hoping that his son will take after him and take forever to grow a beard like he did (as he doesn't really have one even when he first leaves for Troy) because he would try forever to get home. Penelope even teases him that he still doesn't have one so that's a silly request and that's the point. "I will never stop trying to come back to you. He and I will likely remain beardless forever." (it's a little funky for him when he finally grows one by the end of Troy. He's thinking "...Shit. Telemachus, stay baby-faced for your dad please.")

ANYWAYS.

I mean we all know that these two are obsessed with each other in the Odyssey and in Epic. They are likeminded and are so integral to who they are. They mean everything to one another. I think Odysseus genuinely does want Penelope happy. As even in the Odyssey with him simply asking for another bed, shows how much he loves and respects her. He could've been like "get in it" even though she had rejected him at first but he LISTENS BECAUSE HE LOVES HER. Only breaking down into a sobbing mess when he believes she destroyed their bed.

"Heaven made you as you are, but for sheer obstinacy you put all the rest of your sex in the shade. No other wife could have steeled herself to keep so long out of the arms of a husband she had just got back after nineteen years of misadventure. Well, nurse, make a bed for me to sleep alone in. For my wife's heart is just about as hard as iron."

(Book 23, Rieu)

Please note that this is his attempt to insult her in a way and yet he still talks about her being from Heaven 👀 SIMP

But even though he's deeply hurt by her rejection (poor guy would've probably sobbed himself to sleep) He still asks for another bed. After sleeping on the floor and in the dirt since he's been on Ithaca, refusing beds unless it's his own marriage bed, he takes her 'no' because he values her happiness and comfort over his own. He takes a lesser bed so she can still sleep in their own luxurious one.

I mean we know how fucking awful the suitors are. Hold Them Down is a disturbing song. (as it should be. As they are not good men) He does not even know how bad these men are yet. If his future self could speak with his past self, he'd probably be like "Yeah, don't worry about the guy who kills a bunch of people, they had it coming. ;) " or something.

That "WHO?!" is a mix of jealousy AND fear.

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 12

Pure Indulgence 3

Summary: You and Cooper have stayed a couple of weeks in Goodneighbor, and as much as John wants the two of you to stay, he knows that he could never ask either of you to. It's a shame the mayor has always had a problem with falling hard and fast.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader / John Hancock x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut and drug use. It's more fluffy than anything, I think. John is sad 😔

Masterlist

You wake to the sound of hushed, husky voices. Your head throbs from the alcohol the night before, but it's manageable enough for you to crack your eyes open. The first thing you see is a scared chest, and you peek up to see that you're cuddled against John. The mayor has you tucked close, a cigarette between two fingers on his free hand, and black eyes looking at the other ghoul that sits on the edge of the bed.

"Commonwealth is a dangerous place. We've got shit you won't ever believe," John rasps over you, and you hear the familiar timber of Cooper’s voice respond seconds later.

"Ain't nothin' we can't handle. Besides. It's not like we'll be stayin' long."

You hear the change in John's heartbeat. It speeds up, and the grip he has around your shoulders tightens for a split second before relaxing again. You smell the acidic smoke that Hancock blows out his ruined nose and hear the odd tilt of his voice when he speaks up.

"Yeah, I know, Coop," John exhales heavily with another plum of smoke, "Still plan on leaving today?"

You watch Cooper shrug his shoulders and take in the expance of his scared back. There are bullet and knife woulds everywhere. You've mapped out most of them with your hands and tongue and lips. So has John.

You don't like the thought of leaving the ghoul behind, but exploration calls your name, and you know that it'd be unfair to drag the mayor away from his home. You didn't think it was possible for you to care for another like you did Cooper, but here you were.

"If she wants to. I'm just the muscle. She's the girl with the plans," Cooper rumbles, and the bed dips when he shifts to face John on the bed. He holds a canister of jet and exchanges the chem for the cigarette that the other ghoul holds. He casts his eyes down and smirks when he notices that you're awake.

"Speak of the devil," He quips and reaches out to pat your sheet covered ass, "How long've you been up?"

John shifts below you, and you gift the mayor a small smile. You shrug in answer and turn to place a chaste kiss against Hancock's chest.

"Long enough," you murmur, and John tenses under you. It's obvious that you've been listening in on their conversation. You don't like making the ghoul feel bad, but lingering any longer, and it would be all the worse.

"How'd you sleep, Sunshine?" Hancock asks, and his free hand smooths over your back to gently stroke your hair, pulling it away and out of your face. It's a forced change in subject, but you don't mind.

"Considering I'm the meat in a ghoul sandwich - pretty good," you tease with a snicker. Hancock wheezes a laugh, and Cooper rolls his eyes at you, though you still catch a fond look sent your way.

John watches the smoothskin and the other ghoul. He doesn't want them to leave. He likes having your easy amusement around and Cooper’s dry, western humor. The two of you were like taking one of his favorite grape mentats every time you rolled into Goodneighbor, and it hurt to know that you planned on leaving the Commonwealth.

The two of you belonged in his town, and Hancock could only hope that neither of you would forget about him. It sounded sad and pathetic even to his own ears, but John had always had a problem with loving a little too easily.

He licks his dry lips and forces a smile, "Let's talk serious for a second, yeah?" Usually, John wasn't down for things like this, but you? You made him feel different. He suspected it was the same thing about you that made Cooper stay around.

"You'll be careful out there. The Institute isn't just some fairy tale like you hear people whisper about in the streets. Not to mention those tin cans that still patrol around here-."

The mayor of Goodneighbor shuts up with a disgruntled huff and glares at Cooper, who had grabbed his leg and dragged him down to lay on the bed. The other ghoul glares right back, lips mulled into a mean smirk. You, having been dislodged in the sudden motion, find a comfortable seat on John's lap and grin down at him.

"Told you earlier not to be thinkin' bout that kinda stuff, John, " Cooper groused from where he lounged behind you.

"Yeah, just cause we're leaving doesn't mean we're gonna be gone forever," you say and reach out, placing your palms on his sunken cheeks and smiling down at him, "You're a part of us now, even if we're not here."

John can't help but smile back and turn his face to press a kiss to your wrist. You were right, of course, but the ghoul would still miss the two of you.

"Then how about you give me something to remember you by, Sunshine?" Hancock says, and his hands come up to land on your hips, his own rocking up and against your exposed sex. His cock drags through your folds, and the ghoul groans at the heat you put off. His fingers dig into your sides hard enough that dark marks would bloom by the evening.

Cooper watches from behind you, a satisfied smirk crossing his lips when he sees John's tip catch your opening and you slide home with a hiss. Despite his initial feelings, it's always a pleasure to watch you and the other ghoul fuck. John liked things slow and steady, something that the bounty hunter didn't have the patience for. It wasn't hard to see that the mayor had fallen quickly. Cooper couldn't blame him.

He makes himself comfortable, eyes latched to where John pistons in and out of his smoothskin, your cunt clenching around the other man's length as you dig your nails into the flesh of Hancock's shoulders. The two of you are loud and shameless, and Cooper knows that if he misses anything about the Commonwealth, it would be this.

[oblonger]

Chapter 8 of TPiaG: Body Swap AU

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@sincerely-sofie I think this is my favorite chapter I've written so far!

Twig is unconscious

Darkrai couldn't sleep.

As ironic as that sentence is, it's nonetheless true.

He'd long since gotten used to the needs that Twig's body demands for. And he would be lying if he didn't say he, to some extent, enjoyed being able to fall asleep.

But for the last week, he couldn't fall sleep for the life of him.

He tossed and turned in his bed, trying every position he could think of.

He attempted to sleep curled up, splayed out, on his belly, his side, his back. With his blanket, without his blanket (A grave mistake).

Nothing worked.

And he hated so much that he knew why.

He couldn't stop thinking of Twig.

That loathsome wretch that took his body.

He couldn't understand why he can't stop thinking of her.

He hated her.

He hated how scared and helpless he felt seeing that passage open.

He hated how he wasn't as angry as he wanted to be when she picked him up without his consent.

He can't stop thinking of how she broke the shelves in that closet to fit both of them in there, even though she could have easily just stuffed him in there alone.

He hated so much that he felt safe in there with her.

He hated the way his breath caught on itself when she pulled him closer, after hearing Grovyle step past.

He hated how he felt like he'd been torn in half when Grovyle ripped her out of there.

He hated how frozen in terror he was as he watched Grovyle beat her within an inch of her life.

He hated how he felt utterly useless, watching Celebi, Dusknoir and Kip do everything they could to keep her from dying...

...

Darkrai's eyes widened as a thought came to his mind.

She may not have been attacked if she had just left him.

She might not be unconscious in the hospital, straddling the line between life and death, if she had simply hidden herself in the shadows, and left him to confront Grovyle.

She wasn't hiding herself from Grovyle.

She was protecting him...

...

Darkrai slowly curled his fists, leaving scratch marks in the floor.

No.

That wasn't what she was doing.

She hated him as much as he hated her.

It was in her best interest to keep her own body alive.

Then why didn't she hide you in the closet alone, and try speaking with Grovyle

Because Grovyle would have attacked her regardless.

Then she would have hidden herself in the shadows and tried conversing with him.

Did you not see the murderous rampage Grovyle was on?! He wouldn't have listened to her.

What about the code word?

Darkrai's heart skipped a beat.

She would have had a chance to say it had she not tried to keep you safe.

She... She had a chance to say it during their fight. She'd forgotten she had that word in mind.

Would she have forgotten if he didn't claim that her voice was a trick? Would she have forgotten if she had a chance to talk with Grovyle? Would she have forgotten if she only dodged, and didn't try to fight back?

Grovyle wouldn't have believed her if she did say the word.

Kip didn't believe her until she said the word to him. And he had more of a reason to doubt the legitimacy.

Darkrai pressed his claws into his arms.

Stop.

If she had shown you to him, and explained what had happened, what do you think Grovyle would have done?

Darkrai winced from the pain he was inflicting on himself, attempting to hold back tears.

Stop it!

Grovyle would not have hesitated to try and kill you.

STOP!

He would blame you, as he does now, for stealing her body.

Blood was starting to pool where his claws pierced his skin.

Do you not recall her expression, when she apologized for what she said to you that morning? And the promise she made to find something for you to do during the day?

ENOUGH! I WILL NOT TOLERATE MY OWN MIND BELITTLING ME LIKE THIS!!!

She cares about you.

...

Darkrai quietly cried in his bed. Trying to remain as silent as possible so the others couldn't hear him.

Why?

...

Silence.

**********

Grovyle lay flat on his back in Kip's bed, ironically getting less sleep than he did than for the few weeks he was technically homeless. Forced to stay in that position so his ribs would heal correctly. Tears flow down his face as he thought about Twig.

The fear in her eyes, as a human, a Charmander, and in Darkrai's body haunted him.

The feeling of satisfaction he felt, watching her bleed before he knew who she was, made him consider leaving to enter Labyrinth Cave alone.

Grovyle intentionally took deep breaths. Each one sending out sharp pain from his chest.

He can never see her again. His presence would force her to relive what he'd done to her.

He tried to kill her.

He forced her through intense agony to make her suffer.

He traumatized her.

She should hate him.

She should hate him the way he hates himself, with every fiber of her being...

He hopes she does.

*********

Dusknoir couldn't take any comfort in the literature he used to. Despite Celebi's and the doctors' best efforts, the damage done to his eye is permanent. Everything looks like he'd been submerged underwater. His age already made his eyesight worse, but now he'll have to learn Braille to read again.

But he wasn't worried about that.

He was more worried about Kip.

He was of course worried about Twig. Praying at every moment that she would recover, but his fears still lay in seeing Kip neglect himself to watch Twig at all times.

The fact that the last thing he could, and probably will ever see clearly, was Kip's expression of terror, the same he'd seen several years ago, filled him with a pain that was much greater than what Kip had afflicted him with.

Dusknoir wondered if all of this would have been avoided if he was never given his undeserved mercy.

He saw the way Kip shook when he exited the passage of time.

Twig wouldn't be on the cusp of death, and Kip would be happy if he was simply never brought back.

********

Celebi couldn't understand how Darkrai isn't exhausted all the time with how he's constantly angry.

She's barely able to do anything but sit on the couch and think of just how much of a brain-dead idiot she is.

If she had just looked forward when they figured out that Kip and Twig had moved, then she could have stopped any of this from happening.

But NOOOOO!~ She just HAD to wait and see what would happen! She just HAD to be surprised by how things would turn out!

And now she hurt everyone and Twig might die.

Sure, they managed to get her to the hospital, and yeah, She's at least stable.

But what happens if her body gives out?

She dies.

And it'd be her fault if she does.

Celebi doesn't even want to think about what Kip and Grovyle would do if she passes.

She's completely trapped in a prison of her own design.

She hates that she didn't look forward then, and she hates how scared she is to look forward now.

She hates how angry she feels towards Kip for hurting Dusknoir like that. Even though she knows it was a knee-jerk reaction.

She hates how angry she is at Grovyle, for letting himself get to the point where all logic and reasoning went out the window. Even though she knows he was just tired and furious and paranoid.

But she doesn't hate how angry she is at herself.

There isn't a justification for her actions.

She is just stupid.

*********

Kip didn't care that sleeping next to her gave him nightmares. He couldn't care less that the pendant she wore with the lunar feather was lost during her fight.

The fear he feels in those nightmares pales in comparison to the fear he feels at every waking second.

Every morning he jolts awake, covered in cold sweat from the nightmare he had, and stares at Twig. Watching her to make sure she's still breathing.

He hasn't left the room since he was allowed in after the emergency surgery the Doctors had to preform on her.

He watches the doctors replace the medicine and bandages daily. Staring at her wounds to make sure they haven't gotten infected. Even if that's not his job.

Kip just-

He was so mad at himself.

He wanted to make up for abandoning Twig when she needed him most. But he can't.

And he might not ever be able to.

What a moron he is. He can't figure out why he started running in the first place.

They were his friends. They wouldn't hurt him or Twig.

But Grovyle ended up nearly killing her anyway. All because he wasn't there to defend her. To explain what had happened.

Kip stared at Twig.

First time she's slept since switching bodies, and it was because of him.

Kip stood up and heavily, slowly walked towards the door.

He turned his head to look back at her. Hoping she'd woken up.

She didn't. She lay in the same position. Her breathing, weak and short.

...

Team Skull was right about him

They were more right than Twig ever was.

All he ever did was weigh her down. He was a burden that he forced her to carry.

She had lied to him. He wasn't her friend. Friends don't abandon each other when they need them most.

Friends don't suddenly change their minds and try to go back for them for no reason.

Friends don't break down crying, unable to do anything while trying to put medicine on their wounds.

Friends don't act like him.

Kip left the room and slowly walked out of the hospital towards the travel agency. His head hung low.

He could feel the atmosphere get less heavy with each step, but he himself still felt heavy.

He's going... Somewhere. He doesn't know where. Just, any other town.

She doesn't deserve a scumbag 'friend' like him.

It's better this way...

*******

Celebi had told her everything.

She couldn't help but notice the underlying anger in her words. Everything recounted to her with an uncharacteristic flatness. Simply laying out the facts and nothing more.

She took a slight amusement as she thought about how Twig must have looked at Grovyle, when he saw her clutching that monster like some scared child holding a stuffed toy.

It was exactly what she deserved to have happen after she gave pity to that wretched, selfish thing.

At least justice was finally served.

Maybe now she'll take a step back and realize her actions and words were in no way justified.

Maybe she'll finally see just how awful he acted. And finally take the steps to right what's wrong.

Cresselia stopped her midnight flight when she suddenly realized that someone experiencing great physical and emotional pain. Barely detectable, as it was far away. All the way over on the Fire continent.

Cresselia decided to shelve the thoughts as she began making her way over to where the pain was originating.

She thinks it may be coming from a Snivy but she isn't quite sure yet.

Cresselia enjoyed the feeling of the crisp, early spring night breeze against her feathers.

Perhaps her and Kip will finally see eye-to-eye when she returns.

[tardis-ghost-blog]

"They've all got someone else."

This line from the tenth Doctor hits so hard for me. Because, yes, of course he could go and visit old friends. But it would just be that. A visit. A quick peek inside other people's lifes. Lifes that are set up and fit together, where they are all part of everything else.

But not for him. He's too different. All he can ever do is take a peek. Even if he stays he doesn't belong, because he doesn't share the same events as everybody else, the same maners, the same history, the same socialisation. Everything about him is different. And even if he manages to hide the most obvious differences there are still the subtle ones, the ones people do notice but can't exactly pinpoint.

And thus he will always stay alien. In any sense of the word.

As someone who struggles with autism I can relate too well to this. Over and over again I lose the people around me because they just don't care or vanish on purpose or leave in rage and disapointment over things I don't even understand. I can hide my disablity so well nowadays that people hardly believe me when I tell them about it. But the next second they make fun of me or call me out or get mad because of some subtle thing neither they nor I can really name. But I did it wrong and people don't like it when you're wrong.

There are a few friends in my life and I'm grateful for them. But each time we meet I can never shake the feeling that I don't belong. They fit within the confines of society, even if they are queer or weird or nerdy, but they are part of the big picture. They talk about what humans talk about, they are interested in human things, they speak like humans and perceive and behave them.

And I sit close and listen and try to learn. Because everything about them is so foreign to me. Often it doesn't make sense, but everyone gets it, so I have to get it too, right?

It's not about glaringly obvious details. It's about the subtlety of not being quite... human. Different in particle sized bits. But have enough of those and it doesn't matter how weird and qeer and nerdy people are around you. They still get to be human.

The Doctor does not.

[missglaskin]

Yandere Scott Summers, Remy Lebeau, Logan Howlett Headcanons (Romantic/Separate)

For Scott, there is an awareness in everything he does. He knows his strong feelings for you are not "normal," and at first he tried to deny them. Scott even pushed you away, leaving you wondering if you had done anything wrong.  Little did you know that this was just his way of shielding you from him. 

At a certain moment, Scott realized he had to face the truth—he desired you; he could no longer just ignore you. Initially, there was that air of coldness, as if he were to disappear from a room upon your entering, and his replies were as brief. But, you were blind to the fact that his eyes were always on you—an advantage for his visor/glasses — you had no way of knowing how intensely he stared.

You don't realize how you're getting drawn into small talks with Scott. Sometimes it happens you run into him at breakfast time or when you happen to cross paths in the hallways, he greets and asks about your day. There is an air of awkwardness but you just ignore it; finding it endearing how he's making an effort to get to know you better.

When the initial awkwardness fades, Scott can be quite charming. When a joke of his makes you chuckle, Scott wanted nothing more than to record it and listen to it on repeat. His approaches become more bold, handing you a cup of coffee not missing how your fingers touched, or informing details of a mission. Scott may even make a flirtatious comment and seeing your flustered response, he smiles to himself. 

Jealousy or protectiveness are the two things that can put Scott in a situation where he could expose his tendencies. Despite his training in handling stressful situations and his role as the Xmen's leader, his impulsivity never left him.

You may or may not notice Scott's glare when someone interrupts your conversations. Or how he observes from a distance while you're speaking with someone, clenching his fists, thinking about what could possibly make you laugh that hard or why you feel the need to be so close. It should come as no surprise when you feel uncomfortable or if there is a disagreement that Scott is the first to intervene, standing between you and the said person.

His protectiveness shows when the two of you are on a mission. At first, he believed you could take care of yourself, but has seen how you distract him, taking him away from the task at hand as he rushes to your rescue. You have begun to notice how Scott is giving you fewer missions, making up all sorts of excuses. If you keep pressing him, he'll raise his voice confessing he can't afford to lose you. 

Scott will eventually confess, aware he can't hide his feelings any longer. You must have noticed his intense jealousy, his fear of losing you, and the sometimes confessions of how much you mean to him. Regardless of all those slip-ups, you convince yourself Scott is the good guy; he just has too much on his plate, or so as everyone tells you.

Remy has always known he had feelings for you from the very beginning, but he never imagined those feelings would grow to be as strong as they are now. There was more confusion than there was denial. Even so, with Remy, you had no way of knowing the difference as he gives you his usual charming smile and quips.

Remy happily adapts the role of your 'friend' at first. Finding any excuse to spend time with you, but he never comes across as desperate. Getting up in the morning and heading to the kitchen, Remy already has breakfast and coffee ready just the way you like it. Or when the team plays sports together and he walks over to your side, showing off by purposefully taking off his shirt.

Remy is more jealous than you think. He tries to keep his cool, but you don't notice the quick glare he gives to those who take away your attention - he quickly turns his head the other way to ensure you saw nothing. He'll remark on how close you seem, teasingly asking with a forced smile if you've replaced him.

Still, Remy is more lenient than most; he doesn't consider trapping you in one place. The last thing he wants is for you to look at him with such fear or hatred. He lets you reside in the xmen, and make as many friends and allies, jealousy still stings but is it really that bad to see you happy as long as nothing 'happens'.

With Remy, expect his flirtatious nature to never go away. He always has an incentive to touch you in some way. Whether it's tucking something in place, or placing his hand on your shoulder to catch your attention or on your back to guide you. Every time, he gets bolder, daring you to reject him.

Remy is not all about keeping his feelings hidden; you may never learn the truth of his 'nature', but he lets it be known that he desires you. Remy stays close to you during missions, and if you ask him why, he'll simply respond that he's only watching out for you. Catch him staring and tease him on it, and he'll tease you back, replying he was staring at your gorgeous self. You could even ask of his feelings and he'll come clean.

As said, Remy will eventually make a move, make his feelings known, even if he anticipates being rejected. However, Remy knows that all those moments spent winning you over have done something. Making you warm up to him, allowing him to comfort you during your lowest moments, making you share your deepest secrets. It will all work in his favor.

A life with Remy seems normal to most. Remy the ever most devoted and affectionate, attuned to your every want and need, others look at the two of you with envy. It's just the thoughts in his head, the actions done behind your back, the doubt he whispers in your ear, the strings he pulls would be enough to frighten anyone. But with that charming smile of his, the eyes watching you with fondness, arms wrapped around you as he presses soft kisses on your skin, how could you ever know.

Note- a little nsfw in Logan part, but it's implied

For a man who has lived as long as Logan did, he had countless lovers and night affairs. So his feelings for you were not a surprise. But his intense attachment; the need to be near you at all times left him wondering just how much he really felt for you. 

Logan always watched you from the corner of his eye; years of experience have taught him to go undetected by most. And if he wasn't with you, he's become familiar with your scent, easily focusing on the trace of it. He has made a comment or two teasingly asking if you brought a new fragrance, but you brush it off as Logan being his typical self. 

Mutant or not, Logan is protective of you, as said he watches out for you like a hawk. Even if you're powerful, he still insists on shielding you nonetheless. Besides what are the chances of you overpowering him in the first place. He simply thinks if you were to ever discover his true nature and decide to escape; he'll simply hunt you down and bring you back. 

Despite what most may believe; Logan does not want to cage you. In his eyes, everything is good as long as he stays in the same place. He will give you the impression that you are free to do whatever you wish. There are however moments when Logan's possessiveness and jealousy overcome, he has no qualms in threatening or even unleashing his claws to ensure the person gets the message.

Logan knows out of all people he doesn't seem like the easiest person to approach, he tries to be as "nice" as he can be to get you to warm up to him. There was an instance when you were thirsty/in need of a midnight snack, and you found him in the kitchens. He'll try to begin a conversation, even offer you to sit down. As you warm up to him, you don't notice how he's staring intently at your thighs; visible cause of your pajama shorts. 

Expect Logan to always be there in any mission you go on; Charles merely raises a brow when he demands it, but complies for the time being. He will just shrug if you remark on how the two of you always seem to be paired up. God forbid you sustain any injuries on the missions. Logan will see red, whether it's a sentinel or a person; they are facing his fury.

After he comes back to his senses, Logan will pick you up even when you insist you're fine. Bringing you to the medical bay himself. Standing outside as he informs Hank not to let you know he has been there all day. Moments like these make him question whether you are cut out for this kind of life and that perhaps it's possible to steal you away from others. 

Logan makes a concerted effort to resist at times, but his ugly side is revealed not only by jealousy but in fighting the urge to touch you. Sometimes he gives in to temptation and you feel his fingers caress your check. If you don't resist, he'll bury his face in your neck, letting his lips touch the skin. You will find his hands reaching to take off your clothes, desperate to have you there and then.

[narutomaki]

watched a video where the author said (not exactly) "and (x) number of people will die today if I felt as much for them as I did over losing a family member I wouldn't be able to function"

and was briefly and momentarily (thank god) seized with the gut wrenching pain of thinking about everyone around the world who died ever lol.

any way.

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[deception-united]

Let's talk about character voices.

Giving a character a unique voice in your writing involves several elements, including word choice, sentence structure, dialogue quirks, and mannerisms. By incorporating these elements into your writing, you can create characters with distinct voices that resonate with readers and bring your story to life.

Here are some tips to help you create distinctive voices for your characters:

Distinct Vocabulary: Choose words that reflect the character's background, personality, and education level. Consider their profession, interests, and experiences when selecting vocabulary. For example, a well-educated professor would likely use more sophisticated language.

Dialogue Quirks: Give each character specific speech patterns or quirks that set them apart. This could include repeated phrases, stuttering, using or avoiding contractions, or speaking in a particular dialect or accent. Be careful not to overdo it, though, as too much can become distracting.

Sentence Structure: Pay attention to the rhythm and structure of their sentences. Some characters might speak in short, abrupt sentences, while others might use long, flowing ones. This can convey their confidence, hesitation, or urgency.

Internal Monologue: Show the character's unique thought process through their internal monologue. This can help readers understand their motivations, fears, and desires, further distinguishing them from other characters. (This may not necessarily apply to your story if you're writing in a third person omniscient perspective, or if you intend to exclusively follow the internal monologue of the main character.)

Physical Gestures and Actions: Incorporate the character's physical gestures and actions into their dialogue to add depth to their voice. For example, a nervous character might fidget, slouch, or avoid eye contact while speaking, while a confident character might stand tall and make direct eye contact.

Background and History: Consider the character's background and history when crafting their voice. Their upbringing, cultural influences, and past experiences can all shape the way they speak and interact with others.

Consistency: It's important to maintain consistency in the character's voice throughout the story. Pay attention to their speech patterns, vocabulary, and mannerisms to ensure they remain true to their established personality.

Listen to Real Conversations: Pay attention to how people speak in real life, including their tone, vocabulary, and speech patterns. Drawing inspiration from real conversations can help you create authentic and believable dialogue for your characters.

Read Aloud: Reading your dialogue aloud can help you identify areas where the character's voice may not sound authentic. If it doesn't sound like something they would say, revise.

Avoid Stereotypes: While it's okay to draw inspiration from archetypes, be careful not to rely too heavily on stereotypes. Instead, strive to create complex, multidimensional characters with unique voices.

Hope this helps!

[mariespen]

Never Alone ₊✩ˎˊ˗

rafe x reader angst/comfort ⊹˚.⋆ Summary: Rafe goes to sleep alone after reader doesn't listen to him, but something's missing. Warnings: arguing/yelling, reader being in the wrong, insults and some stronger language

⊹˚.⋆︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵⊹˚.⋆

“I can’t believe this.. I can’t believe you.” Rafe said, pointing an accusatory finger and shaking his head in disappointment.

You stood there, any bit of attitude that you walked in with had left your body the moment you saw the look in his eyes.

“Rafe, I just lost track of time!” You protested, unintentionally sounding whiny.

“You don’t fucking listen!” His voice raised and you stood smaller as he continued his rant, “Everything I say is in and out with you.” His eyes narrowed at your face.

There was only one thing that pushed Rafe off the edge; not listening to what he tells you. Months ago he had told you not to hang out with the pogues. Since then, you’d been sneaking around with them to not piss off your short-tempered boyfriend. 

It’s proving to be true that you also should’ve listened to him when he told you to be ready for a gala by 6pm sharp tonight. The Cameron family was being honored at the country club for being generous contributors after a particularly large donation made by Rafe’s father.  Of course, you found yourself adventuring with the pogues, stained with dirt and very far from home at 6pm. 

According to him, Rafe had been covering for you all night, saying that you had the flu and wouldn’t be able to make it. Your arrival was heavily anticipated because your grandfather was a big name in the country club. In turn, Rafe needed you there to make conversation and for a good excuse to leave early. He was beyond livid when he stormed into the house at 9pm and realized that you still weren’t home. When you finally tried to sneak into the bedroom thirty minutes later, praying Rafe was still away and racking your brain for believable excuses, he was waiting with an angry red face.

It didn’t help your case at all when Rafe saw JJ Maybank and Kiara Carrera driving away from his house.

“Rafe m’sorry-'' you tried to apologize again, but he cut you off.

“I don’t care!” He stared at you for a moment, taking in your expression before starting again, “Jesus, s’like you’re a child.” he mumbled, ready to end the night angry.

Until you rolled your eyes right as he turned around to face you again.

“Rolling your eyes at me, hm?” He said, the anger coming back into his tone, “y’know what? If you want to hang out with those assholes so bad, go on. S’where you belong.” He said, his tone biting into you as he turned again.

Tears welled in your eyes. You knew Rafe had brought you this kook lifestyle when you were struggling after your mother left the island. You thanked him for two weeks after you moved in with him, then the two of you didn’t speak about it. It’s been a year since then and this was the first time he had brought it up. You didn't think he'd hold it above you.

A sob escaped the confines of your throat when he slammed the door behind him. You let your body crumble, crying into your hands. He had barely let you get a word out and you hated him for it. You knew you were in the wrong, but his words kicked you in the gut.

You picked your own sobbing body up, quieting down and making your way to change from your dirty clothes. You could hear Rafe’s pacing steps and occasional annoyed sighs from downstairs. After wiping the dirt off of your body and getting changed, you laid in the huge bed the two of you shared, trying to distract yourself. You already knew that Rafe planned to sleep in a guest room downstairs and you told yourself it was fine. 

An hour passed and turned into two, the clock ticking as you eventually watched three hours pass. You were restless, just like how you always were without Rafe. You both couldn’t sleep without the other’s company. You were going to lay awake all night until a soft knock on the door sounded around the room and an exhausted Rafe tried to quietly walk in. You sat up, looking at his hooded eyes.

“Rafe, I’m so sorry..” You took in a breath as you prepared to spit all of your reasons out at once.

“No, m’sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He breathed out, sitting on the bed next to you.

“No, Rafe. I was irresponsible, baby please.. please forgive me.” You whispered your last words, tears forming again, “I’ll listen. I promise I’ll listen.”

“Shh baby..” He cooed, laying down and holding you to him, “we can talk in the morning. Js need you..” He muttered.

You meekly smiled into him, happy to know that his soft spot for you hadn’t worn thin.

“I love you.” You whispered into his chest, but the only response you got back were his small snores.

⊹˚.⋆︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵⊹˚.⋆

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Next caller.

《 Pairings: College!Eddie Munson x shyfem!reader

《 Summary: Eddie hosts a late night radio show for his college campus, where he discusses various different topics. He's mostly known for his DnD and sex talk segments. You've been a long-time listener who works up the courage to finally call in for some help.

《 Warnings: Smut, 90s!Eddie, he's around 24 here. Phone sex, dirty talk, voyeurism, masturbation (female), sex toys. Eddie refers to the reader as sweetheart, good girl, and Miss caller. I didn't want to use y/n, so he's given you some pet names instead.

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: Please reblog, comment, and like to show support. Not proofread. Please ignore mistakes.

Mini series masterlist

18+ no minors

Year 1990

Eddie was in his final semester of college with a very popular radio show. He became pretty much well-known on campus overnight. His radio show is known as "The Munson Experience," and it slowly became an overnight hit.

Fans of DnD tuned in for his hour of lore telling and tips on how to build up your fantasy world. Metal heads tuned in for his controversial opinions on bands. Others listened specifically for his special segments in regard to the topic of sex. Boyfriends called for advice on dating and different ways to get their girls off. Girlfriends called him to give thank you's and ask what they could do to repay the favor. He would have callers tell him their most outrageous stories.

Eddies show became popular very fast after he introduced his sex segment. He even became some what of celebrity at your college. He never used a different name or tried to use any type of anonymity. He didn't care if people knew him for his show or even liked him for it.

He was unapologetically himself at all times. You seen him around campus walking from one lecture to the next. Eddie would always wear an old band tee with the sleeves cut off, turning into a muscle tank. He liked showing off his tattoos. One arm fully covered in dark ink all the way down to the top of his hand. The other arm had a few tattoos scattered here and there. His hair was almost past his shoulders, and he had a small nose ring in his left nostril.

You'd always watch from afar as people would approach him to make small talk. The guys rushed over to invite him to their house partylies and girls giving out their personal phone numbers. It was no secret that Eddie knew how to please women. You heard the stories, and judging by his advice on his show, you believed them. He would even share his own personal hook up stories sometimes during the segment.

You and Eddie only ever had one class last semester together, but he never even made a single glance your way. You never approached him either, opting to just admire from distance and make your way to class. Every evening, you did, however, turn on the radio to listen to his show. Truthfully, you only listened to hear his voice. You had no idea what he was rambling on about most of the time, but you didn't care. His barritone voice was like warm honey to your ears. You found comfort in listening to him every night before bed. It was strange how the moment his show started, your stress of the day just melted away.

One day, you were going to call him for help about something you had never told anymore before. You already felt like you could trust him with this sort of thing. You were determined to speak to him even if you had to confess never having had an orgasm before. You don't know why you're putting so much trust into him, but you have.

You were desperate for his help and attention if you're going to be honest. You would lay in bed daydreaming about being in those other girls' shoes when he described what he did to them. How he would feel between your legs. Having his weight on top of you as you came undone beneath him.

Maybe you'll call in to his show tomorrow? What harm could it do? No one would even know it was you on the other line. You didn't have many friends on campus, so it's not like anyone would make the distinction so quickly. This would all be completely anonymous.

You just needed to speak with him. You never could work up the courage to talk to him in real life. You've always been too shy and easily intimidated. Eddie was a nice guy from what you could tell. There was nothing to be intimidated by at all. You would always get butterflies in your stomach when you saw him around. He made your stomach do flips when he flashed a smile, revealing the dimples in his cheeks. You could never work up the courage to ever approach him, so you just settle for your fantasies instead.

A few weeks went by, and you still haven't called. Not that you didn't try. You would call and hang up when you heard what you assumed was an assistant answer the phone. The moment you heard, "Thank you for calling in to the munson." You slammed the phone on the receiver. Not even letting the poor guy finish his sentence. This situation was driving you crazy you were convinced he could and would help with your problem. You assured yourself he was the only one who could because you didn't want anyone else to.

You mope around your shared home with your roommate, Monica. She could tell something was bothering you but never pressed on the issue. You two weren't the closest, but there was a mutual respect and love for one another. She'd try to get you to go out to parties with her but knew not to pressure you. The moment she heard a no, she left it at that, shrugging her shoulders and leaving you be.

"I can tell something is bugging you." she asked for the millionth time that week.

You sigh. "Im fine, I swear -- just little stressed." You put on a fake smile heading back to your room, leaving her to continue getting ready her date. Hoping she won't ask you again, you locked yourself away for the night. There was a light knock at your door, and you heard your roommates muffled voice from the other side. "I'll be back late. Get some sleep, okay?"

You ignore her as she leaves for the evening. Flopping yourself back against your pillows, you turned to look at your phone. Then, glance at your clock, it read 10:45 pm. It's almost time for his last segment of the night. Should you call? Would tonight be the night? You rolled over on your side, staring between the clock and your phone.

You sat up quickly, snatching the phone and dialing the numbers. Your heart already pumping with adrenaline when you hear the dial tone. A lump in your throat builds from nerves and excitement. Tonight was the night, and you were not going to chicken out this time. You hear the distinct voice on the other end of the call. "Thank you for calling into the munson experience. What are you calling in for."

You struggle to find your voice for a moment. The man on the other end is waiting for you to respond, and he almost hangs up, thinking it's another crank call. "I'm calling to speak to Eddie." You're voice barely even a whisper that you needed to repeat yourself three times. Eventually, they put you on hold while they got ready for his final segment. You exhale a deep breath you didn't even know you were holding in.

The sound of the music they put you on hold to cut off and your stomach drops. This was it you were finally going to do it. Not only were you going to speak to him, but you were also about to confess something that always made you feel embarrassed. You know it's nothing to be ashamed about truly. Judging by the countless women who called in with a similar problem looking for advice.

The music playing on the radio fades, and you hear him greet you."Hi, thank you for calling in. How can I be of assistance?"

You struggled to find your voice yet again.

"Hello? C'mon, don't be shy. This is a judgment free zone here." He leaned forward in his chair, getting closer to the microphone.

"Umm, hi, I was calling for something I think only you can help me with." You're clutching the phone in a tight grip against your ear. Your hands are shaking, and you hope no one can recognize you.

He leans back in his rolling chair. "And who am I speaking with."

"I....I'd rather not give you my name." You stammered. Your anxiety is building up, and you are so close to hanging up.

"That's okay. Well, keep this anonymous." He replied.

His brows raise for a moment as he listened to you talk. You sounded a little too familiar to him, and he has a sneaking suspension he might know who you are. He won't out you just in case he might be wrong and also respecting your wishes to remain anonymous.

You take a deep breath. "Well, you see, I've never...I don't know how to say this."

"You never what?" Have sex or something? " He asked, but his voice showed no emotions.

"No...I mean I'm not a virgin or anything like that. I just....I've had boyfriends, and anytime we did stuff, I never-- finished." You confessed to him.

His eyes widened for a moment, and he felt a pain of sadness in his heart. He could tell you were scared to reveal something so personal like that. Especially to him, a total stranger on a live radio show with hundreds of listeners. "You never had an orgasm before. Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Pinching the bridge of your nose." Yes, that's what I'm telling you."

"Huh, okay, have you tried getting yourself off, at least?" He questioned, spinning around in his chair. His assistant, the other side of the room, listened Intently to the conversation.

"Well you see that's my problem anytime I tried to make myself cum I just kinda give up. I get so close and right when I'm there... I stop." You blurt out as you feel a weight being lifted from your shoulders.

He ponders for a moment before responding. "And how can I help you with this exactly? "

"Well, I was hoping you could guide me through it." Your face scrunching up as the words left your mouth. You knew this was a dumb idea from the start. He wasn't going to help you, and any moment now, you're waiting to hear him laugh at how ridiculous this is. There's a long, almost uncomfortable silence.

Eddie, on the other side of the line in his booth, is in utter disbelief. Sure, he definitely wants to guide you through that experience. What guy wouldn't? He just truly can not believe this was happening live on HIS show. His assistant kept mouthing no to him, knowing this could end badly. Eddie doesn't care he's doing it. He picks up his old bandana that's been discarded on the table and wipes sweat from his forehead. He nods back at the assistant, signaling hes going along with it whether people like it or not.

Picking up his yoyo, he props his feet up on the table in front of him. "You want me to help you cum?" Is that correct."

"Yes, that's what I want. I need you to help me any way you can." You're sounding more desperate than intended.

"Okay, well, miss caller. I think im the perfect guy for the job." He smiles tossing the yoyo back and forth to the palm of his hand.

You smile as the anxiety you felt early slowly fades away.

"What are we using tonight, sweetheart? Fingers or toys?" He asked tossing his yoyo aside.

"Umm, I have a toy I can use." You closed your eyes tight, answering his question.

"Do you want me to talk dirty to you while we do this, sweetheart? " He got his voice lower in the mic, causing your breath to hitch.

'Uhh, yes... I'd like that a lot, actually." You bite your lower lip, anticipating what he's planning.

A grin plastered on his face while his mouth gets unbelievably closer to the mic. His voice felt so close to your ear. Your skin prickles with goosebumps. "Are you laying back, sweetheart?"

"....uhh,yes, I'm laying in bed." Your voice shakey on the other end.

"Good girl, get nice and comfortable for me."

You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together when you hear him calling you a "good girl." You turn off your bedside light and let the warm glow from your candles set the mood.

"What are you wearing?" He asked, licking his lips.

"A shirt and panties." You replied, looking down at yourself.

"Yeah? wanna take those panties off for me." He continued on making his voice low and deep. Similar to his DM voice, he would put on during his DnD segments. A shiver runs down your spine, and you can feel yourself getting wetter. There is a small wet patch already forming on the thin lace material of your panties.

You moved and carefully dragged the delicate lace down your legs, tossing them across your room. "They're off."

"That's a good girl." He praised.

You lay there patiently waiting for him to continue.

"Can you be my good girl and grab that little toy you told me about?" He asked you, feeling himself growing hard as well. He still can't believe he's doing this but doesn't want to stop. "Do you have it?"

Reaching over to your bedside table, you open the drawer, grabbing the small vibrator.

"I got it." You whisper into the phone.

He readjusts in his seat, "Turn it on for me."

You do as he says and turn the small vibrator onto the lowest setting. That ball of nerves in the pit of your stomach creeps back in. You want to do this, but the thought of hundreds of people listening to you right makes you second guess the decision.

"On second thought, maybe this was a bad idea." You admit trying to fight back tears as a lump in your throat forms.

"No, no hey its okay. What's wrong?" He asked, sounding concerned.

"I--i just remembered there are people listening." You stumble over your words as you try not to cry. Feeling a little ridiculous that you're even going through with this.

He frowns to himself. " Listen, it's just me, and you okay? If you don't want to do this, I understand you can always hang up."

"NO!--I want to do this." You blurt out. Once again, there is a long pause as he's thinking of the right things to say. Eddie doesn't want to make you feel pressured. He wants this to be an enjoyable moment. "Shall we continue?"

"Yes, please." You spoke sofly.

"That's my good girl." He cooed.

You whimper lowly into the phone, but it doesn't go unnoticeable. He already knows how to get you riled up, and he hasn't even gotten started yet. "You like that, don't you?"

"You like it when I call you a good girl?" He teased.

You gulped into the phone." Yeah."

His assistant in the next room is chewing on his nails out of pure terror. He's never seen this happen before on a live radio show, and he just knows what a shit storm it could cause. Eddie doesn't seem to mind at all his focus and attention were strictly on you.

"I want you grab that toy and put it to your clit. Can you do that for me?" He gets his voice low again. Your nipples harden under the thin material of your shirt. You bring the vibrator to your sensitive bud and gasp when you feel the vibrations.

"Okay, sweetheart, now think of me between those thighs. Think of my lips wrapped around your clit sucking so so softly. Imagine my face buried between your legs.." He's breathing heavier into the mic. His cock getting painfully hard in his jeans "Are you thinking about it?"

"Mmm, y--yes I'm...I'm imagining you there." You gasp and moan in the phone.

"I know you must be soaked right now. I wish I was there with you, spreading you open with my tongue. I bet you taste so fucking good" He kept going his voice getting more seductive in your ear.

"Is this your first time thinking of me like this?"

A sly grin creeps up on his face as he probably already knows the answer.

"I bet you have. I'm sure you've seen me around our campus. You've probably wondered what it would be like having my thick cock deep inside you. I would make you cum so fucking hard." He's getting really into it now, and his heart races with excitement.

You sink further into your bed as the vibrator continues working on your clit. Your hips bucking up as you writhe on your blanks, taking in every word he spoke. The phone keeps falling from your ear the more relaxed you become. Your mind in a fog while you listen to him say the dirtiest things. No one has ever spoken to you like this before, not even your ex-boyfriends. "Hey, you there?"

You gasp, "Yes, I'm here."

"Great. I need you to try and keep the phone to your ear as best you can for this part. Now with your other hand, use your fingers to fuck yourself but keep that vibrator where it is, got it?" He sounded much more serious this time.

You kept the vibrator right where it was at while you gently brought two fingers to your entrance. You slide them between your wet folds, getting them covered in your juices. You bite your lower lip hard as you teased around your dripping pussy. You hear him groan in the other end of the phone and wonder if he's enjoying this just as much as you are. You gently dip your two fingers inside you, getting them as deep as they possibly could go. "Ooh! Fuck." You moaned in his ear.

"Yeah, that's it pretend your fingers are my cock sweetheart." His let out a shakey breath.

"I bet your so fucking tight. Just thinking about your tight pussy taking my cock is making me so hard." He's getting himself riled up.

He rubbs the back of his neck, trying to stay focused. "I'd have to take my time with you first. Working you open until you're ready to take all of me."

"Is it big?" You ask him meekly, panting into the phone while your fingers stretch you open.

"Fuck baby--id have you feeling so full." He groaned in the mic, struggling to keep himself composed. Clenching his jaw tight as he opens and closes his fists.

Eddies tries his best to resist rubbing himself over his jeans as he listened to you. He has to remember this isn't about him right now it's all about you. His sole purpose of the night is making you cum and he's determined you will.

Your fingers continue pumping in and out at a vigorous pace. The vibrator placed carefully on your sore bud while you try your best not to drop the phone again. "I can hear your dripping pussy from here."

His words turn you on even more, making you grow wetter for him. Your body is covered in beads of sweat as your face grows hot. Your pussy making a loud schlick noise with every pump of your fingers.

"Feel good?" He asked you with amusement etched in his tone.

"Yes, it feels so good." You let out weak pathetic response. "Oh my god!" You squealed into the phone. Desperately trying to keep it balanced between your head and shoulder. You're a moaning, whimpering mess, and you don't care how loud you're being. You've never felt like this before it's terrifying and thrilling all at the same time.

He laughs, rubbing his chin letting out a quiet grunt before speaking again, "You sound so sexy when you make those little noises."

His listeners are having a hard time distinguishing if he's getting himself off in the process or if he's just playing it up for the moment. They're used to his crazy antics, but this was something entirely new. They were all shocked and impressed they were getting to witness this.

Your fingers pumping harder as you curve them upwards to rub against that sweet spot on your walls. Your thighs shake as you arch your back off the bed. You imagined they were his cock instead pounding in and out of your pussy like this. You feel a tightness in your core building up, and you know you're getting close.

"You're getting close, aren't you?" He whispered seductively.

"S'close." You whined.

"That's it be a good girl and cum." Cum all over my cock." He groaned.

The vibrator on your clit helping to bring you closer to your release. You spread your legs them even further apart. You're moaning louder into the phone. You can't even hear Eddie's voice anymore. Fucking yourself with your fingers is becoming difficult the closer you are to your release. Your walls clenching up tightly around them, and your pulse quickening.

You plunge them in and out of your pussy faster. That coil in your tummy is getting tighter. The feeling is all too familiar, and you start to get scared. What if you can't get past this part? You're doubting yourself again. You let out a deep breath and relax your mind.

Your legs shut involuntarily, and the vibrator falls from between your thighs. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your first ever orgasm rips through your body with so much intensity. Your vision goes black, and you stop breathing for a second. The phone lays abandoned next to your head, having dropped it long ago. You can hear Eddie's muffled voice calling out for you.

Tears begin pouring from the corners of your eyes. You couldn't help getting emotional after all of that. Not only was this your first time ever being able to have an orgasm, but the entirety of the situation was starting to set in. You felt amazing, and Eddie did such a great job helping you along the way. There were just some insecurities starting to creep in that you wanted to keep away. He's the only man that's ever made you feel like this, and you hope maybe one day you'd find the courage to meet him in person.

Everything went dead silent for a few minutes except for a few sniffles you hope no one else could hear. Your body glistening with sweat and your thighs sticky with your juices. You're still coming down from your high as your tears slowly fade away.

"You there, sweetheart? You heard him ask from a short distance.

With shakey hands, you pick up the phone to your ear. "Mmhmm...I'm still here." Your voice coming out small.

"You did so good for me." He praised you one last time. "It's okay. I'm right here He reassured.

"How was it." He asked, hoping you had a good time.

"It was overwhelming but amazing." You smile weakly into the phone. You can't see him, but he's smiling back.

"Yea knew I'd be perfect for the job. Haven't had one complaint yet." His cockiness coming back almost immediately. Just as he was about to reach for a pack of cigarettes, he noticed he's way over his scheduled time. His eyes widened in a panic as he locked eyes with the clock above him.

His assistant busts through the door, signaling that the show is now officially over for the night. Eddie startles for a moment before jumping out of his chair and yanks the mic up to his mouth to close out the rest of the segment.

He slams his hands down on the table enthusiastically. "GOOD!..GREAT!-- and that's it for tonight's show everybody thank you all for listening. Thank you to our lovely caller, and if you guys wanna see my band play, come visit us at The Hideout every Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday nights. Especially you miss caller you can come see me anytime you like."

You listened to him give thanks to everyone when the song called "about a girl" from some band named Nirvana fades away his outro. You flopped back down on your bed. Your body is way too weak to even roll over your legs feeling like jello.

Laying there resisting the urge to fall asleep, wanting to savor this special moment as long as you could. You thought about what he said before hanging up. You were definitely wanted to see him soon. You had to after this night. You needed to finally meet him and maybe repay the favor.

[iicarused]

##come back to me

ex!vox x reader / alastor x reader (in reality he stole vox’s bitch)

part i

synopsis: you’re getting tired of the radio demon

beware: heavy yandere aspects, heavy obsession, implications of manipulation, reader just not having a break

whenever he looked at you, gazed upon your form, they were always so gentle. the embodiment of love and infatuation were behind them, as he wouldn’t be able to hide it even if he tried.

alastor won’t lie, he first started talking with you out of spite from his rival. you were in a vulnerable state at the time, and my, did you spill most of vox’s secrets behind closed doors! alastor came to you just to talk heavy shit about vox in hindsight.

although, it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t catching a genuine interest in your own stories and interests. it took time but he did fall for the aspect that you are one of a kind: little did he know, you came from the era of his circle. it was like it was meant to be.

“my dear, if you do not want to deal with a rodent like him, give me the word and he will be gone.” “don’t you lift your pretty finger, i will take care of him.” “you’re so cute when you try and take control — we both know he will not listen to your word — it’ll just make him more starved.” this is where you began to hear vox behind his words

they’re were laced and very similar. the contrast was that alastor seemed more confident in his words, almost like he expected you to listen to his statements when there wasn’t a choice. at first, you didn’t want to believe it. the radio demon was far different from the man you called an ex

just like last time, you felt suffocated in your own space. you felt small, but this time you caught the signs before it could go any further. alastor didn’t appreciate that, especially since you took the lead more often.

you had to take a break, just a simple break, even for an hour. you wanted to get as far as you possibly could from that demon for even a fragment of time. husk caught a glimpse of you leaving on a dark night, but he only nodded at you before continuing on with his task.

getting away from one demon was one thing, hiding from two was another. you were fully aware that alastor would know of your absence soon enough, as that cannibal never seemed to sleep. although, you could only stay out of the streets for so long in hopes that vox hadn’t noticed.

you found yourself straying into a bar, for the bouncer happened to be an old friend to let you in even when the place was at max. in the far corner of the building where a busted light hung over your head, never to be replaced or fixed since months ago. your gaze fixated on the shitty drink some guy handed you in the crowd, and it was evidently spiked from how it fizzed.

“and i thought that wretched hotel was your haven.” your gaze picked up to find vox standing over you. he picked at his sleeve. “seat taken?”

too exhausted to care, you beckoned for him to take the seat. “not like today could get any worse.” you pushed your drink to the side, raising a hand before he could speak. “don’t begin on your excuses, not tonight.”

“sweet hells, what happened to you?” oh, how you missed the gentleness of his voice. you missed the way how he gazed at you at this very moment — it was specific and genuine — you never fell out of love with him. just… distanced yourself from it. “i swear to fuck if it’s that demon, i will—“

“vox, it’s fine.” your hand came over his. “it’s whatever, not like you could just get in that hotel without getting tossed across the pentagram.”

those heart pupils that adorned his eyes finally shown, and that’s when you remembered why you had to get away from him. “sweetheart, i don’t understand why you won’t come back to me — come back home where i know you’re safe and well.”

it’s almost like a sixth sense to know that the answer you’re about to give him will result in a temper tantrum. so you decided against it. “i have to go.”

“y/n, please, this is the only time we get to talk, don’t go! i promise to make it better, i—“

he lost you in the crowd.

returning back to the hotel at the dawn of a new day was almost a mistake. a hand came to pinch the bridge of your nose the moment alastor came to your side.

to your surprise, he didn’t ask a thousand questions. instead, he went on with hoping your night out went well and to alert him next time. though, there was a hint of something else behind his tone you couldn’t figure out.

just like any other day, you both gardened the plants that are scattered along the building. making breakfast that involves fresh meat and a fine cup of tea.

is it too late to add that you’re getting used to this? it’s suffocating, yes, but alastor seems to make it more bearable.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

started post- sb you know what that means!! [insert repetitive & flawed 5 hour rant about the depiction of parents in ffxiv here]

[squishycheekanon]

Just a little price thot🥰🌸

You meet Price in a supermarket. Bumping right into him, more like slamming into him. The pint of chocolate ice cream and box of extra soft tisses that were safety tucked in your arms going all over the floor. Moving rather swiftly for a beefy man of his size, he quickly darts to the ground to grab the dropped items.

He’s so careful about the way he gives them back to you, holding them out to you with a small smile. The comfort items look so much smaller in his hands than they did in yours, he doesn’t even have them all the way out to you. They’re practically against his stomach, unconsciously encouraging you to come to him for them.

Then you look into his eyes and you think you feel your knees going weak, he definitely feels his buckling. The way you blink up at him with your pretty eyes all teary with smudged mascara and your soft lips formed into a sad little pout.

The words who did this he instinctively wants to say die on his tongue when he realises you aren’t his to protect, you don’t even know each other. Strangers, and he already wants to fight your battles without even know what they are.

“M’sorry.” You sniffle.

“Not a problem little darlin.” It’s a deep rumble from within his chest when he speaks. Thin lips curving up slightly, his bushy moustache moving with them, those thick mutton chops and that full beard catching your attention too. His voice is gruff and accented. You reckon you could listen to it every second of the day and never want for silence.

John was there from then on. He was just there, had inserted himself into your life, almost like a stray cat you feed once and suddenly it comes back everyday. This gorgeous older man had simply become a part of your day to day life.

You’re heading to work? He’s giving you a lift in his black chevy truck. You’re on your lunch break? He’s luring you outside for a cute little picnic in the park. You’re finishing work? He’s taking you back to your place and staying. He’s cooking you dinner, massaging your tired body. Lingering touches and longing stares. He wasn’t even trying to hide how much he fancied you.

Especially when it came to you dating other guys. He’d hate when you’d come home after a date, he’s in your apartment obviously waiting for you to return, and you’re all sad it didn’t work out. Questioning yourself and your worth or beauty. It would have Price’s ruggedly handsome face contorting in anger.

He would tell you no man would ever be good enough for you. He would also say no one was deserving of you. John would express that although he very much believed that, he would love it if you gave him the chance to try.

You would be so confused what he meant. Only understanding when he would hover over you, caging you in with his tall, burly figure and repeating the words “be mine” over and over again like a mantra.

He caught a look in your eyes at his words, similar to the one he saw when he first met you. It was clouded with confusion and want but it was there. Price knew. It was so obvious he wondered how no one else had seen it. But he knew, one look into your pretty eyes and he knew you needed taking care of. And the retired vet was more than happy to fill that role in your life.

[mysillycomics]

Hi everyone! This is Claire. I am writing to let you all know that we did it. We saved Bailey and Tiger Fluff, and we all live together in an apartment in Illinois, my home state. We really, really did it!!!

You can read our thanks, thoughts, and more under the read more :0)

(note: Oliver also goes by Bailey! She has two names.)

There are many important people on this journey that we would like to specifically thank.

First, all of our friends (especially Peregrine, Sophie, and Jackson) who were there on the day Bailey was evicted, who listened to me and helped me figure out what to do when I felt more lost than I’ve ever been. Without them we wouldn’t have been able to act so quickly and efficiently. Because of them, we were able to formulate a plan.

Speaking of Jackson, he and his partner Cherri need to be thanked once again. Jackson drove all the way from his home, Bailey’s motel, and back to get both her and Tiger to a place to stay while we figured out what to do next. They provided a warm, quiet, and safe place for both of them in a time when something like that was so far away. For the first time in a long time, I knew that Bailey was truly somewhere safe. For that, we will be forever grateful.

While we do not have their names, we would like to thank the staff of the airport and airline who helped make this journey objectively possible. They also made Tiger into a little celebrity on the flight, and everyone, including the pilot, went to greet her and congratulate her for being so brave. She really is the bravest little kitty we know.

Next are my very close friends Elle and Callan, who invited Bailey and Tiger to stay at their house not far from mine while we secured a place of our own. They, like Jackson and Cherri, gave both of them the space to simply be. I was able to visit a couple of times, and being with my favorite people made an extremely difficult time so much better. It made me think “this feeling is what we are fighting for”.

Finally, we’d like to thank you.

To all of you who read and shared our story, you helped us to feel seen and heard and not alone. Reading words of support in the comments, quote retweets, and tumblr tags truly made me feel like we could do this with everyone cheering us on.

To everyone who donated, your generosity this financially possible. As of writing, we received $19,381 from the GoFundMe. We are now able to use the rest of funds that have been tucked away in savings for rent, food, and bills. I cannot overstate how grateful we both are. What you did for us will never leave our hearts.

…

While Bailey and Fluffy were at Elle and Callan’s, we found an apartment. It was small, but perfect. We toured. We applied. And we got it.

And on December 9th, 2023, we moved in and started living together! Our goal, our dream, our driving force for so long was achieved. After three years of long distance, we finally made it.

Our home is small, and has some quirks as all homes do, but it’s ours. The love of my life, the best little cat in the word, and I are all together. We are safe, warm, happy, and loved. The future we fought so hard for us now the present. Forgive me for being long-winded. I just have so much to say about all of this! Sometimes I still can’t believe that we actually did it. But we did, we really did!!!

I’m going to keep the GoFundMe up for a little bit, but once things settle more I will close donations.

Thank you!!!!!!!!! 🧸💕

____

Hey everyone Bailey here, I cannot overstate just how grateful I am to every single one of you and how thankful I am that this journey has been able to come into fruition. It was very scary being in that motel not having a plan or knowing what I was gonna do next while everything was crumbling around me. If it wasn't for Claire and our incredibly kind and caring friends I don't know what I'd do. They helped me press on and get through this with Fluff and we finally did.

Finally we're in a place that brings nothing but peace and comfort, my anxiety has dropped and I'm doing things I've never thought possible and building up strengths I never knew I had, I feel whole in a way that I've never felt before and I'm just, happy.

I am so grateful to have Claire, for years she's been so supportive and comforting and has brought this dream we've had into reality and every day I am so thankful to have her, she is the love of my life and my best friend. The life that her, myself and Fluff now share will forever be together and we can finally begin living. 💚💜

Thank you everyone, thank you to our friends who let Fluff and I into their lives to be able to be safe while we get our bearings, thank you to everyone who said such kind and wonderfully compassionate words, cheering us on as we go, every day I was looking at the community post I made on YT and it was just filled with people being so supportive, and thank you everyone who donated and got us into where we are. We could not have done it without all of you. 🐟 ❤️ 🐟 ❤️

[theambitiouswoman]

Questions To Ask Yourself If You Want To Become The Best Version of Yourself

What do I really care about? What things are really important to me?

What am I good at, and where do I need help? What am I strong in, and what could I get better at?

What do I want to achieve soon and later? What things do I want to do soon, and what are my bigger, long-term goals?

Am I trying new things and not just staying comfy? Am I doing things that might be a bit scary but good for me?

How do I deal with problems and when things go wrong? What do I do when stuff doesn't work out?

Am I nice to myself when things don't go well? Do I treat myself kindly, especially when things are tough?

How do I use my time, and what's most important? How do I plan my day, and what things matter the most?

Am I learning new stuff regularly? Do I keep finding out new things?

Do I have a good balance between work and fun? Do I make sure to have enough time for work and for things I enjoy?

Do I have good friendships and avoid bad ones? Am I friends with people who make me feel good?

Do I take care of my body? Am I eating well, exercising, and sleeping enough?

Do I think about my feelings and thoughts? Do I pay attention to how I'm feeling and what I'm thinking?

How do I deal with stress and make myself calm? What do I do when I'm stressed out?

Do I help others and make the world better? Do I do things to make people's lives nicer?

Do I have good habits and get rid of bad ones? Are there things I do every day that are good for me? Are there things I should stop doing?

Do I learn from what people say about me? When people give me advice, do I listen and try to get better?

Do I say no when I need to? Do I tell people when I need space or when something isn't okay for me?

What makes me really happy? What do I like to do that makes me feel great?

Do I use money wisely? Am I good at saving and spending money in smart ways?

Do I believe I can improve and get better? When things are tough, do I think I can get through them and learn something?Am I being kind to others and making them feel good? Do I treat people nicely and make them happy?

Do I learn from things I do wrong? When I make a mistake, do I figure out how to do better next time?

Do I try new things, even if they scare me a little? Do I give things a shot, even if they seem a bit scary?

Am I spending time with people who care about me? Do I hang out with folks who like me for who I am?

Do I eat healthy foods and move my body? Am I eating good stuff and getting some exercise?

Am I sharing and helping others when I can? Do I give stuff to others and lend a hand when I'm able to?

Am I paying attention when people talk to me? Do I really listen when others are speaking to me?

Do I take breaks and do things I enjoy? Do I give myself time to rest and do things I like?

Do I say sorry and make up if I hurt someone? When I make someone feel bad, do I apologize and try to make things better?

Do I imagine good things for myself in the future? Do I think about cool stuff I want to do?

Do I stop and relax when I'm feeling stressed? When I'm worried, do I take a moment to calm down?

Do I ask for help when I need it? Do I tell someone when I can't do something on my own?

Do I try my best, even when things are tricky? Even if it's hard, do I give it my all?

Do I pick up after myself and keep things tidy? Am I good at cleaning up and keeping things in order?

Do I use my time for things that matter most? Do I do important stuff before other things?

Do I think about good things that happened today? Do I remember all the nice things that occurred?

Am I okay with making mistakes and learning from them? Do I know it's okay to mess up sometimes and learn from it?

Do I show appreciation for the people around me? Do I let others know I'm thankful for them?

Do I take deep breaths and relax when I'm upset? When I'm mad, do I breathe and try to calm down?

Do I believe I can do better and keep growing? Do I think I can get better at things and keep getting smarter?

Am I happy with who I am right now? Do I like myself just as I am?

Do I feel okay when things don't go as planned? When stuff doesn't work out, do I stay calm?

Do I think about good things about myself? Do I focus on the nice parts of me?

Do I let go of things that make me sad? When something makes me upset, can I move on from it?

Do I notice when I'm feeling worried or scared? Am I aware of when I'm feeling nervous or frightened?

Do I believe I can do things even if they're tough? Can I do hard things if I try?

Do I try to make my mind peaceful? Do I relax my thoughts when they're racing?

Do I find things that make me feel relaxed? What can I do to feel calm and at ease?

Am I patient when things take time? Can I wait without getting upset?

Do I talk kindly to myself in my head? Do I say nice things to myself in my mind?

Am I curious about things and want to learn? Do I like to find out new stuff?

Do I think about good times and happy memories? Do I remember fun things that happened before?

Do I try to understand how others feel? Can I tell what others are feeling?

Do I imagine nice things happening in the future? Can I think about good stuff that might come?

Do I take time to rest and be by myself? Do I give myself breaks and quiet time?

Do I let go of things I can't change? Can I forget about things I can't do anything about?

Do I believe I can do things even if I don't know how yet? Do I think I can learn new things?

Do I tell myself I'm doing a good job? Do I give myself a pat on the back?

Do I stay calm even if things are really busy? Can I be relaxed even when things are crazy?

Do I know that I can make mistakes and it's okay? Do I understand that everyone messes up sometimes?

[pinkie-pop]

"I Must Confess, I Am Not What I Seem."

Featuring: Gender-Neutral reader, Furina, Isekaied!Reader, SAGAU, Imposter AU, Golden Blood AU

Word Count: 2.4k

Synopsis: There is a thin line that separates lies from truth, falsehoods from facts. You are a tightrope walker, it would seem.

Includes: Spoilers for 4.2, injury, religious themes

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“I am a vast ocean confined into the shape of a small and shallow puddle. I am more than you could ever know, yet less than what I am truly meant to be. Does this not answer your question?” You say, golden ichor staining your white robes.

“I…I’m afraid it does not, Your Most Honorable Righteousness,” Clorinde looks down, uncharacteristically nervous. The weight of your title sits heavily upon her tongue—a Fontainion nickname someone coined eons ago.

“Then, allow me to state this in a way you can understand,” you say, now addressing not only her but the crowd around you—everyone gathered in the dueling grounds to watch your fight, now watching with bated breath upon this new development. “I bleed because I am human. Gold because I am a God. I am paradox itself—a godly soul contained in a human vessel. Are you starting to understand now?” Whispers begin to fill the street as everyone takes in what you just said. ‘The Creator has descended to Teyvat in a human body!’ They say. ‘Is such a thing even possible?’ They ask. ‘Of course,’ comes the response. ‘It’s happening right in front of us!’ ‘What’s going to happen to Fontaine?’ says a pragmatic one. ‘Our Champion Duelist nearly killed Them! We called Them an imposter!’ You listen in on the conversations, pleased with the way the rumors spin themselves. Now that the spark has been made, the fire will come next. They’ll weave together their own tales and explanations from your words; the rumors will exaggerate and grow until you no longer need to say a word. They will answer their own questions. Your work here is done.

Truth be told, you’re bluffing about all of this. When you first came to Fontaine, you had no idea what all the talk of being a divine imposter was about. You went along with it, believing yourself to be dreaming, not caring where the tides took you. You didn’t choose to duel for your honor because you knew your blood was golden (Of course not. How could you have known?), you only wanted this dream to be over. 

The pain gave it away. This was all too real. You weren’t dreaming. You had been in real danger. The blade that pierced your chest could have gone straight into your heart, had you not leaped back in reflex. The thought makes you sick, but you do not show it. No, you have a role to play. You are no god, but if it means you won’t be hunted down or hanged for blasphemy, you are more than willing to pretend.

You cautiously raise a hand to your wound. It stings. You look down at your hand, coated in yellow. Dizziness overtakes you, and you fall to the ground.

But you do not hit the ground. Someone catches you.

And all fades to black.

•~•~•~•~•~•

When you come to, you spot familiar faces standing by your bedside. Clorinde, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Sigewinne, and Furina, too. The four pillars of Fontaine’s political system are all gathered by your bedside. The room you're in is luxurious, colored in a white and (you suspect, real) gold palette. The size and luxury of the room is imposing, reminiscent of a cathedral. You suppose this ‘Creator’ must be a big deal. You try to move, but searing pain shoots up from your wound. Right, you had already forgotten.

“Your Holiness, please be careful!” Says Sigewinne. “You don’t want to pop your stitches, do you? I'll help you sit up.”

“Many eyes watch my movements and recovery. Can I take this to mean you all have something to say?” You think you're getting the hang of talking like someone divine. You can only hope the ones around you buy it.

Neuvillette speaks first. “I am sorry to disturb you during what should be a peaceful rest, but we have some questions for you.” 

“Speak for yourself,” says Wriothesley. “I'm only here to watch over Siegewinne.”

“Oh? Is that so? I had just assumed you were just as curious about Them as the rest of us. My mistake,” says Clorinde, voice dripping with sarcasm. Wriothesley scoffs but doesn't say anything.

“You spoke of questions,” you say, redirecting the conversation. “Yet all I hear is idle chatter.” Wriothesley and Clorinde both look away. Neuvillette clears his throat, but Furina speaks first. 

“Is there…a reason you have decided to descend?” She asks, a hint of anxiety in her voice and her face painted with worry. You know what she's thinking without her even having to say anything. She's worried about the prophecy. You may as well ease her concerns.

“Must I have a reason to visit my own creations? I simply wished to see how things have changed.” Furina visibly relaxes, then, seeming to catch herself, straightens immediately. “Now that you have asked something of myself, I, too, have a query with which to exchange. Where are we?”

“Le Berceau Du Créateur—Fontaine’s largest temple and the place most appropriate for someone of your status,” says Neuvillette. You nod pensively, pretending you've heard of it.

“This is our grandest room, made specifically in the case that you were ever to visit Fontaine. I do hope it meets your preferences and standards.”

“Luxury means little to me, but this room has been made with care and dedication. That is enough.” Neuvillette relaxes ever so slightly.

Rather suddenly, Clorinde kneels in front of you. “Please, your Eminence, I cannot take it any longer. Punish me,” she says. You look at her with an expression you hope mimics apathy. Truthfully, a part of you does wish to punish her, to get some sort of sick satisfaction out of her misery, but you refrain from showing such intentions. You will not punish her. You will be a gracious and forgiving god. You will earn their respect and gratitude.

“I will do no such thing. If there is nothing else, I'd like to be alone now. I'm sure you understand,” you say, making eye contact with Clorinde. Everyone leaves, though Clorinde lingers the longest, a silent apology on her lips as she walks out the door.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You heal remarkably fast. It takes no more than a week for your injury to heal completely. Not even a scar remains. By now, word of your arrival has already spread across Tevyat, and countless letters and requests for visitation follow. You allow only the most important of guests into your temple, that is, only the “acolytes” (that is, playable characters). Truthfully, you dread each appointment. Pretending to be wise beyond your years, to ooze divinity, and to fool both mortals and Gods alike is…a lot of work, to say the least. But you have to keep up appearances. You don't want to get hurt again.

Today you have a meeting with The Seven. You can only hope that things go smoothly. 

Not much happened during the meeting, but you did ask Furina to stay a while longer. The two of you proceed to the drawing room, where tea and snacks have already been served. 

“You wanted to speak to me, Your Righteousness?” Furina asks, her cake and tea untouched, likely waiting for you to eat first. You pick up your teacup with a practiced elegance and take a sip. Furina is quick to follow your lead. Her nervous scramble to mirror your movements brings a small smile to your face. 

“Furina,” you say, putting the teacup down. She straightens in her seat, hanging off your every word.

“Yes, Your Holiness,” she says, sitting on the edge of her seat.

“Soon, you will have a day where everything seems to go wrong. It will feel like everything you’ve built up will have fallen, broken, down at your feet. Take heart, for this is not the ending you fear. Your suffering has not been for naught. When the time comes for you to sit crying on your throne, please remember these words. The prophecy will not come to pass.”

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Hey, did you hear? Everyone’s been saying that The Creator has a favorite Acolyte!”

“They do? But I thought They were impartial.”

“It seems even the Gods play favorites…” 

“It’s Focalors!”

“Who’s the lucky person?”

“Seriously? I suppose They have been staying in Fontaine a lot, but wasn’t it Fontaine that falsely charged Them in the first place?”

“I know, right? I mean, I like Lady Furina as much as the next guy but, she isn’t the most…” 

“Shh! Hey, don’t finish that thought! You don’t want to get charged with blasphemy, do you? You can’t us insult Their favorite like that!”

“So? Do you think she’ll be made a consort?”

“Hey! What did I just say? We’re not talking about this anymore. I’m not going to get beheaded for gossip.”

“They have been meeting with her more often than anyone else… I wouldn’t be surprised if there was something between them…”

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Your Holiness, may I ask why you have me visit you so often?” Furina fiddles with her hands, staring down at her lap. You look at her curiously before answering.

“I feel at ease when I am with you,” comes your reply. “We have more in common than you think.”

“We have something in common?” Asks Furina, bewildered. “What is it?” You smile at her.

“Patience, Furina. All in due time.”

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Hey, did you hear? Have you heard the news? Lady Furina is a human!”

“I hear she was placed under a curse.”

“A human?! But she’s been alive for five hundred years!”

“But why would she pretend to be a god?”

“Beats me.”

“Of course not. Why would They play favorites with her if They knew she was human?”

“What about The Creator? Do you think They knew?”

“But how could They not have known? They are the God above Gods, after all.”

“I have no idea.”

“Do you think They knew?”

•~•~•~•~•~•

“So this is what you meant,” Furina says, nibbling on a cake you had imported from Liyue. “When you said everything would work out, I mean.”

“Yes,” you reply, sipping from your teacup.

“Yes,” you say again. “It must have been so hard for you. I can only imagine the loneliness and suffering you’ve had to endure these past hundreds of years.” Furina looks to be on the verge of tears. You’ve wanted to say this to her for a long time. You allow her to lean into you as she releases five centuries worth of tears. When she finally stops, the front of your shirt is thoroughly soaked. You can't find it in yourself to mind. 

“You knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

“I must apologize for showing you something so unsightly,” she says, seemingly embarrassed. 

You tell her you don't mind, though it seems to do little to ease her worries. 

“Your Reverence, may I ask…why me?” You raise an eyebrow, prompting her to continue. “I mean, I’m nobody special. Not anymore, anyway. I’m not an Archon, I’ve quit the stage, I’m not even immortal…Why do you choose to waste your time with someone like me?”

“What? N-no, I–”

“Are you questioning my judgement?”

“I was joking, you know.”

“O-oh, I see—I mean, yes, of course you were! I was merely playing along, eheh…” 

“Furina,” you say, placing your teacup in its saucer as Furina hastens to do the same. “Do you remember what I said to you the last time we met?”

“Just as I said back then, we have more in common than you may realize.”

“Of course, you said that you felt at ease when you were with me, but I still don’t understand why…”

“We have something in common? But what could it—No, you don’t mean…?”

“I-I can’t. It can’t possibly be true, I must have lost my mind for a moment.”

“Say it.”

“Forgive me, please. I don’t know what came over me, I-I—”

“Say it.”

“Say it.” Furina pauses, seeming to mull over her options. Her movements are skittish, her voice full of anxiety as she paces back and forth, muttering words of apology and justifications.

“You’re not…our God?” Her voice is little more than a whisper. You nod at her, and she collapses onto the couch. “B-but your blood! What about your blood?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that, either. It used to be red, but it changed once I came to this world. I don’t know how or why.” Furina remains silent, seeming to mull over your words even as the world around her collapses. 

“What about the vessels? The Traveler? You controlled them, didn't you? You controlled me!”

“That was my doing, but not my power."

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.” You shrug, taking your fork to your slice of cake.

“Fake deep,” you say. “Most of what comes out of my mouth is total BS, but people nod along and act like it’s something profound because they believe I am a God.” 

“What about your speech? All the cryptic wording and allegories?”

“Wisdom isn’t something you can just fake. The people aren’t stupid, they know when they’re being fed what isn’t food.”

“And yet, here we are.” 

“And yet, they didn’t.”

“You can’t not be our God, surely the Archons would have noticed if–” Furina stands up, pacing back and fourth like a caged animal.

“But, but—!”

“Of course, you’re human! But you’re still our God! Did what you said about oceans and puddles really mean nothing at all?! Everyone said you’re an incarnation of The Creator. How can that be lies? You even said that you had lost all memories of Godhood; how can you know that it’s not true?” She raises some good points, but you know it’s nothing more than the ramblings of the desperate.You really hadn’t expected her to take it so hard. Perhaps you overestimated her. Furina throws herself back onto the couch and then sighs. She moves to sit upright and smooth out the creases in her outfit. “I suppose you would know more about this situation than I would, and I must apologize for my…outburst. You must understand, this is quite a shock to me.” You nod at her. 

“I’m sorry, Furina. But I really am human, just like you.”

“But still,” she says. “How can you be so sure?”

“Furina,” you say hesitantly, looking at her as if you were about to say something unpleasant. “The Creator…doesn't exist.”