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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months

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Conspiratorialism and the epistemological crisis

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me next weekend (Mar 30/31) in ANAHEIM at WONDERCON, then in Boston with Randall "XKCD" Munroe! (Apr 11), then Providence (Apr 12), and beyond!

Last year, Ed Pierson was supposed to fly from Seattle to New Jersey on Alaska Airlines. He boarded his flight, but then he had an urgent discussion with the flight attendant, explaining that as a former senior Boeing engineer, he'd specifically requested that flight because the aircraft wasn't a 737 Max:

https://www.cnn.com/travel/boeing-737-max-passenger-boycott/index.html

But for operational reasons, Alaska had switched out the equipment on the flight and there he was on a 737 Max, about to travel cross-continent, and he didn't feel safe doing so. He demanded to be let off the flight. His bags were offloaded and he walked back up the jetbridge after telling the spooked flight attendant, "I can’t go into detail right now, but I wasn’t planning on flying the Max, and I want to get off the plane."

Boeing, of course, is a flying disaster that was years in the making. Its planes have been falling out of the sky since 2019. Floods of whistleblowers have come forward to say its aircraft are unsafe. Pierson's not the only Boeing employee to state – both on and off the record – that he wouldn't fly on a specific model of Boeing aircraft, or, in some cases any recent Boeing aircraft:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/22/anything-that-cant-go-on-forever/#will-eventually-stop

And yet, for years, Boeing's regulators have allowed the company to keep turning out planes that keep turning out lemons. This is a pretty frightening situation, to say the least. I'm not an aerospace engineer, I'm not an aircraft safety inspector, but every time I book a flight, I have to make a decision about whether to trust Boeing's assurances that I can safely board one of its planes without dying.

In an ideal world, I wouldn't even have to think about this. I'd be able to trust that publicly accountable regulators were on the job, making sure that airplanes were airworthy. "Caveat emptor" is no way to run a civilian aviation system.

But even though I don't have the specialized expertise needed to assess the airworthiness of Boeing planes, I do have the much more general expertise needed to assess the trustworthiness of Boeing's regulator. The FAA has spent years deferring to Boeing, allowing it to self-certify that its aircraft were safe. Even when these assurances led to the death of hundreds of people, the FAA continued to allow Boeing to mark its own homework:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q8oCilY4szc

What's more, the FAA boss who presided over those hundreds of deaths was an ex-Boeing lobbyist, whom Trump subsequently appointed to run Boeing's oversight. He's not the only ex-insider who ended up a regulator, and there's plenty of ex-regulators now on Boeing's payroll:

https://therevolvingdoorproject.org/boeing-debacle-shows-need-to-investigate-trump-era-corruption/

You don't have to be an aviation expert to understand that companies have conflicts of interest when it comes to certifying their own products. "Market forces" aren't going to keep Boeing from shipping defective products, because the company's top brass are more worried about cashing out with this quarter's massive stock buybacks than they are about their successors' ability to manage the PR storm or Congressional hearings after their greed kills hundreds and hundreds of people.

You also don't have to be an aviation expert to understand that these conflicts persist even when a Boeing insider leaves the company to work for its regulators, or vice-versa. A regulator who anticipates a giant signing bonus from Boeing after their term in office, or a an ex-Boeing exec who holds millions in Boeing stock has an irreconcilable conflict of interest that will make it very hard – perhaps impossible – for them to hold the company to account when it trades safety for profit.

It's not just Boeing customers who feel justifiably anxious about trusting a system with such obvious conflicts of interest: Boeing's own executives, lobbyists and lawyers also refuse to participate in similarly flawed systems of oversight and conflict resolution. If Boeing was sued by its shareholders and the judge was also a pissed off Boeing shareholder, they would demand a recusal. If Boeing was looking for outside counsel to represent it in a liability suit brought by the family of one of its murder victims, they wouldn't hire the firm that was suing them – not even if that firm promised to be fair. If a Boeing executive's spouse sued for divorce, that exec wouldn't use the same lawyer as their soon-to-be-ex.

Sure, it takes specialized knowledge and training to be a lawyer, a judge, or an aircraft safety inspector. But anyone can look at the system those experts work in and spot its glaring defects. In other words, while acquiring expertise is hard, it's much easier to spot weaknesses in the process by which that expertise affects the world around us.

And therein lies the problem: aviation isn't the only technically complex, potentially lethal, and utterly, obviously untrustworthy system we all have to navigate. How about the building safety codes that governed the structure you're in right now? Plenty of people have blithely assumed that structural engineers carefully designed those standards, and that these standards were diligently upheld, only to discover in tragic, ghastly ways that this was wrong:

https://www.bbc.com/news/64568826

There are dozens – hundreds! – of life-or-death, highly technical questions you have to resolve every day just to survive. Should you trust the antilock braking firmware in your car? How about the food hygiene rules in the factories that produced the food in your shopping cart? Or the kitchen that made the pizza that was just delivered? Is your kid's school teaching them well, or will they grow up to be ignoramuses and thus economic roadkill?

Hell, even if I never get into another Boeing aircraft, I live in the approach path for Burbank airport, where Southwest lands 50+ Boeing flights every day. How can I be sure that the next Boeing 737 Max that falls out of the sky won't land on my roof?

This is the epistemological crisis we're living through today. Epistemology is the process by which we know things. The whole point of a transparent, democratically accountable process for expert technical deliberation is to resolve the epistemological challenge of making good choices about all of these life-or-death questions. Even the smartest person among us can't learn to evaluate all those questions, but we can all look at the process by which these questions are answered and draw conclusions about its soundness.

Is the process public? Are the people in charge of it forthright? Do they have conflicts of interest, and, if so, do they sit out any decision that gives even the appearance of impropriety? If new evidence comes to light – like, say, a horrific disaster – is there a way to re-open the process and change the rules?

The actual technical details might be a black box for us, opaque and indecipherable. But the box itself can be easily observed: is it made of sturdy material? Does it have sharp corners and clean lines? Or is it flimsy, irregular and torn? We don't have to know anything about the box's contents to conclude that we don't trust the box.

For example: we may not be experts in chemical engineering or water safety, but we can tell when a regulator is on the ball on these issues. Back in 2019, the West Virginia Department of Environmental Protection sought comment on its water safety regs. Dow Chemical – the largest corporation in the state's largest industry – filed comments arguing that WV should have lower standards for chemical contamination in its drinking water.

Now, I'm perfectly prepared to believe that there are safe levels of chemical runoff in the water supply. There's a lot of water in the water supply, after all, and "the dose makes the poison." What's more, I use the products whose manufacture results in that chemical waste. I want them to be made safely, but I do want them to be made – for one thing, the next time I have surgery, I want the anesthesiologist to start an IV with fresh, sterile plastic tubing.

And I'm not a chemist, let alone a water chemist. Neither am I a toxicologist. There are aspects of this debate I am totally unqualified to assess. Nevertheless, I think the WV process was a bad one, and here's why:

https://www.wvma.com/press/wvma-news/4244-wvma-statement-on-human-health-criteria-development

That's Dow's comment to the regulator (as proffered by its mouthpiece, the WV Manufacturers' Association, which it dominates). In that comment, Dow argues that West Virginians safely can absorb more poison than other Americans, because the people of West Virginia are fatter than other Americans, and so they have more tissue and thus a better ratio of poison to person than the typical American. But they don't stop there! They also say that West Virginians don't drink as much water as their out-of-state cousins, preferring to drink beer instead, so even if their water is more toxic, they'll be drinking less of it:

https://washingtonmonthly.com/2019/03/14/the-real-elitists-looking-down-on-trump-voters/

Even without any expertise in toxicology or water chemistry, I can tell that these are bullshit answers. The fact that the WV regulator accepted these comments tells me that they're not a good regulator. I was in WV last year to give a talk, and I didn't drink the tap water.

It's totally reasonable for non-experts to reject the conclusions of experts when the process by which those experts resolve their disagreements is obviously corrupt and irredeemably flawed. But some refusals carry higher costs – both for the refuseniks and the people around them – than my switching to bottled water when I was in Charleston.

Take vaccine denial (or "hesitancy"). Many people greeted the advent of an extremely rapid, high-tech covid vaccine with dread and mistrust. They argued that the pharma industry was dominated by corrupt, greedy corporations that routinely put their profits ahead of the public's safety, and that regulators, in Big Pharma's pocket, let them get away with mass murder.

The thing is, all that is true. Look, I've had five covid vaccinations, but not because I trust the pharma industry. I've had direct experience of how pharma sacrifices safety on greed's altar, and narrowly avoided harm myself. I have had chronic pain problems my whole life, and they've gotten worse every year. When my daughter was on the way, I decided this was going to get in the way of my ability to parent – I wanted to be able to carry her for long stretches! – and so I started aggressively pursuing the pain treatments I'd given up on many years before.

My journey led me to many specialists – physios, dieticians, rehab specialists, neurologists, surgeons – and I tried many, many therapies. Luckily, my wife had private insurance – we were in the UK then – and I could go to just about any doctor that seemed promising. That's how I found myself in the offices of a Harley Street quack, a prominent pain specialist, who had great news for me: it turned out that opioids were way safer than had previously been thought, and I could just take opioids every day and night for the rest of my life without any serious risk of addiction. It would be fine.

This sounded wrong to me. I'd lost several friends to overdoses, and watched others spiral into miserable lives as they struggled with addiction. So I "did my own research." Despite not having a background in chemistry, biology, neurology or pharmacology, I struggled through papers and read commentary and came to the conclusion that opioids weren't safe at all. Rather, corrupt billionaire pharma owners like the Sackler family had colluded with their regulators to risk the lives of millions by pushing falsified research that was finding publication in some of the most respected, peer-reviewed journals in the world.

I became an opioid denier, in other words.

I decided, based on my own research, that the experts were wrong, and that they were wrong for corrupt reasons, and that I couldn't trust their advice.

When anti-vaxxers decried the covid vaccines, they said things that were – in form at least – indistinguishable from the things I'd been saying 15 years earlier, when I decided to ignore my doctor's advice and throw away my medication on the grounds that it would probably harm me.

For me, faith in vaccines didn't come from a broad, newfound trust in the pharmaceutical system: rather, I judged that there was so much scrutiny on these new medications that it would overwhelm even pharma's ability to corruptly continue to sell a medication that they secretly knew to be harmful, as they'd done so many times before:

https://www.npr.org/2007/11/10/5470430/timeline-the-rise-and-fall-of-vioxx

But many of my peers had a different take on anti-vaxxers: for these friends and colleagues, anti-vaxxers were being foolish. Surprisingly, these people I'd long felt myself in broad agreement with began to defend the pharmaceutical system and its regulators. Once they saw that anti-vaxx was a wedge issue championed by right-wing culture war shitheads, they became not just pro-vaccine, but pro-pharma.

There's a name for this phenomenon: "schismogenesis." That's when you decide how you feel about an issue based on who supports it. Think of self-described "progressives" who became cheerleaders for the America's cruel, ruthless and lawless "intelligence community" when it seemed that US spooks were bent on Trump's ouster:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/18/schizmogenesis/

The fact that the FBI didn't like Trump didn't make them allies of progressive causes. This was and is the same entity that (among other things) tried to blackmail Martin Luther King, Jr into killing himself:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FBI%E2%80%93King_suicide_letter

But schismogenesis isn't merely a reactionary way of flip-flopping on issues based on reflexive enmity. It's actually a reasonable epistemological tactic: in a world where there are more issues you need to be clear on than you can possibly inform yourself about, you need some shortcuts. One shortcut – a shortcut that's failing – is to say, "Well, I'll provisionally believe whatever the expert system tells me is true." Another shortcut is, "I will provisionally disbelieve in whatever the people I know to act in bad faith are saying is true." That is, "schismogenesis."

Schismogenesis isn't a great tactic. It would be far better if we had a set of institutions we could all largely trust – if the black boxes where expert debate took place were sturdy, rectilinear and sharp-cornered.

But they're not. They're just not. Our regulatory process sucks. Corporate concentration makes it trivial for cartels to capture their regulators and steer them to conclusions that benefit corporate shareholders even if that means visiting enormous harm – even mass death – on the public:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/05/regulatory-capture/

No one hates Big Tech more than I do, but many of my co-belligerents in the war on Big Tech believe that the rise of conspiratorialism can be laid at tech platforms' feet. They say that Big Tech boasts of how good they are at algorithmically manipulating our beliefs, and attribute Qanons, flat earthers, and other outlandish conspiratorial cults to the misuse off those algorithms.

"We built a Big Data mind-control ray" is one of those extraordinary claims that requires extraordinary evidence. But the evidence for Big Tech's persuasion machines is very poor: mostly, it consists of tech platforms' own boasts to potential investors and customers for their advertising products. "We can change peoples' minds" has long been the boast of advertising companies, and it's clear that they can change the minds of customers for advertising.

Think of department store mogul John Wanamaker, who famously said "Half the money I spend on advertising is wasted; the trouble is I don't know which half." Today – thanks to commercial surveillance – we know that the true proportion of wasted advertising spending is more like 99.9%. Advertising agencies may be really good at convincing John Wanamaker and his successors, through prolonged, personal, intense selling – but that doesn't mean they're able to sell so efficiently to the rest of us with mass banner ads or spambots:

http://pluralistic.net/HowToDestroySurveillanceCapitalism

In other words, the fact that Facebook claims it is really good at persuasion doesn't mean that it's true. Just like the AI companies who claim their chatbots can do your job: they are much better at convincing your boss (who is insatiably horny for firing workers) than they are at actually producing an algorithm that can replace you. What's more, their profitability relies far more on convincing a rich, credulous business executive that their product works than it does on actually delivering a working product.

Now, I do think that Facebook and other tech giants play an important role in the rise of conspiratorial beliefs. However, that role isn't using algorithms to persuade people to mistrust our institutions. Rather Big Tech – like other corporate cartels – has so corrupted our regulatory system that they make trusting our institutions irrational.

Think of federal privacy law. The last time the US got a new federal consumer privacy law was in 1988, when Congress passed the Video Privacy Protection Act, a law that prohibits video store clerks from leaking your VHS rental history:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2008/07/why-vppa-protects-youtube-and-viacom-employees

It's been a minute. There are very obvious privacy concerns haunting Americans, related to those tech giants, and yet the closest Congress can come to doing something about it is to attempt the forced sale of the sole Chinese tech giant with a US footprint to a US company, to ensure that its rampant privacy violations are conducted by our fellow Americans, and to force Chinese spies to buy their surveillance data on millions of Americans in the lawless, reckless swamp of US data-brokerages:

https://www.npr.org/2024/03/14/1238435508/tiktok-ban-bill-congress-china

For millions of Americans – especially younger Americans – the failure to pass (or even introduce!) a federal privacy law proves that our institutions can't be trusted. They're right:

https://www.tiktok.com/@pearlmania500/video/7345961470548512043

Occam's Razor cautions us to seek the simplest explanation for the phenomena we see in the world around us. There's a much simpler explanation for why people believe conspiracy theories they encounter online than the idea that the one time Facebook is telling the truth is when they're boasting about how well their products work – especially given the undeniable fact that everyone else who ever claimed to have perfected mind-control was a fantasist or a liar, from Rasputin to MK-ULTRA to pick-up artists.

Maybe people believe in conspiracy theories because they have hundreds of life-or-death decisions to make every day, and the institutions that are supposed to make that possible keep proving that they can't be trusted. Nevertheless, those decisions have to be made, and so something needs to fill the epistemological void left by the manifest unsoundness of the black box where the decisions get made.

For many people – millions – the thing that fills the black box is conspiracy fantasies. It's true that tech makes finding these conspiracy fantasies easier than ever, and it's true that tech makes forming communities of conspiratorial belief easier, too. But the vulnerability to conspiratorialism that algorithms identify and target people based on isn't a function of Big Data. It's a function of corruption – of life in a world in which real conspiracies (to steal your wages, or let rich people escape the consequences of their crimes, or sacrifice your safety to protect large firms' profits) are everywhere.

Progressives – which is to say, the coalition of liberals and leftists, in which liberals are the senior partners and spokespeople who control the Overton Window – used to identify and decry these conspiracies. But as right wing "populists" declared their opposition to these conspiracies – when Trump damned free trade and the mainstream media as tools of the ruling class – progressives leaned into schismogenesis and declared their vocal support for these old enemies of progress.

This is the crux of Naomi Klein's brilliant 2023 book Doppelganger: that as the progressive coalition started supporting these unworthy and broken institutions, the right spun up "mirror world" versions of their critique, distorted versions that focus on scapegoating vulnerable groups rather than fighting unworthy institutions:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

This is a long tradition in politics: hundreds of years ago, some leftists branded antisemitism "the socialism of fools." Rather than condemning the system's embrace of the finance sector and its wealthy beneficiaries, anti-semites blame a disfavored group of people – people who are just as likely as anyone to suffer under the system:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antisemitism_is_the_socialism_of_fools

It's an ugly, shallow, cartoon version of socialism's measured and comprehensive analysis of how the class system actually works and why it's so harmful to everyone except a tiny elite. Literally cartoonish: the shadow-world version of socialism co-opts and simplifies the iconography of class struggle. And schismogenesis – "if the right likes this, I don't" – sends "progressive" scolds after anyone who dares to criticize finance as the crux of our world's problems as popularizing "antisemetic dog-whistles."

This is the problem with "horseshoe theory" – the idea that the far right and the far left bend all the way around to meet each other:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/26/horsehoe-crab/#substantive-disagreement

When the right criticizes pharma companies, they tell us to "do our own research" (e.g. ignore the systemic problems of people being forced to work under dangerous conditions during a pandemic while individually assessing conflicting claims about vaccine safety, ideally landing on buying "supplements" from a grifter). When the left criticizes pharma, it's to argue for universal access to medicine and vigorous public oversight of pharma companies. These aren't the same thing:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/25/the-other-shoe-drops/#quid-pro-quo

Long before opportunistic right wing politicians realized they could get mileage out of pointing at the terrifying epistemological crisis of trying to make good choices in an age of institutions that can't be trusted, the left was sounding the alarm. Conspiratorialism – the fracturing of our shared reality – is a serious problem, weakening our ability to respond effectively to endless disasters of the polycrisis.

But by blaming the problem of conspiratorialism on the credulity of believers (rather than the deserved disrepute of the institutions they have lost faith in) we adopt the logic of the right: "conspiratorialism is a problem of individuals believing wrong things," rather than "a system that makes wrong explanations credible – and a schismogenic insistence that these institutions are sound and trustworthy."

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/25/black-boxes/#when-you-know-you-know

Image: Nuclear Regulatory Commission (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/nrcgov/15993154185/

meanwell-packaging.co.uk https://www.flickr.com/photos/195311218@N08/52159853896

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

#pluralistic #conspiratorialism #epistemology #epistemological crisis #mind control rays #opioid denial #vaccine denial #regulatory capture #boeing #corruption #inequality #monopoly #apple #dma #eu

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santrrl · 1 month

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hello! i love your writing!!! saw your requests are open. logan with a reader with physical mutations? something like mystique or morph but they can’t turn it off. how do you think logan would comfort reader? thank you!!

Thank you sm 😭🩷!! And of course <33 I kinda based it on a mix of Randall from monsters Inc and mystique where if the reader has high emotions or scared than they shift if that's alright !!<3 as always bullet points and then another short ? Fic :)

L.H X MORPHING! READER

-the first time he sees you he ignores you, as you're just new, why would he see you different?

-until the outside of you turns slightly purple from embarrassment, as you were gawking at him.

-he turns around expecting mystique or something, but deep down he knows she isn't like this.

-as the days go past and you know eachother, sometimes he leaves out things to scare you to see if your mutation is truly reactive or not.

-fucker knows its mean but he probably pays kurt to jump out at you on the first day knowing you've not seen him before.

-things like fake mice, or your favourite foods in the fridge (don't ask how he knows he just knows.) Just to see you turn a color, or physically droop in dread, like a Bassett hound.

-it kinda amuses him, you being like a cartoon character sometimes, so he's not too hard on you. Hell now you're practically jumping out of your room fighting incase logan had planned to scare you.

-he's not the only one doing pranks though, if you're walking around blue from nervousness best know he's gonna ask you. "What's wrong bub? Whose scaring ya?" Teasingly, but if he had your mutation he would've went red hearing that Scott had left a note saying 'watch out' as a joke.

-HUNTEDDD Scott down and 'talked to him'. Against a wall. And against Scott's will.

-safe to say you weren't turning invisible anytime soon from him.

-if you ever got upset at it he'd definitely run to you.

-"Bub look at me, it's not that bad. If I can see I can help."

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

-he secretly loves being able to see if you're okay or not because it gives him an excuse to be a hero to you

-if you're genuinly considering the vaccine that eventually gets out, he goes nuts. You're on the couch he's pacing like an angry father. "Like...why would you even? Theres- i- what. We're you. Thinking." He's so mad he doesn't even know what to say.

-hell pick you up and just kiss you at that point and say "no." Really angrily before leaving

It'd been a few months since you'd joined the school, familiar with everyone, but mainly Logan and colossus, as they were the ones you trusted most. Once the news started getting wind of you mutation and that you'd joined the xmen, you didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

"Newest xmen recruit.." "xmen seems to have dissapeared.." "should we be worried?" "I saw them go up and it was like...so cool mr news man! Like it disappeared" said many news stations, and you weren't exactly accustomed to being one of the trending tumblr tags.

"Bub, pete." Came Logans voice as he entered the kitchen. "Hello, logan." "Lo' " you smiled, yellow slightly entering your arms and chest. "You see the news?" He scoffed, leaning on the counter. "Yes.." you groaned laughing

As you all chit chatted, it was only a matter of time before Charles had called you to his office, some monthly test thing or something.

Colossus whom had almost never left his steel form anymore simply stayed put, knowing he was excluded, and you and logan went trodding to his office. "Scott giving you more hassle?" He grumbled quietly. "Nope.." you sighed. "Nothing I consider harassment." You smiled at him.

The day went on, test and test, and eventually it was time to go to bed, for you at least. Waving bye, you walked through the corridors, careful not to alert any children, before reaching your room. Laying there you felt off. Was it the test? Was it charles? Lo?

You couldn't get your mind off of it, and by now you were practically lilac, so you went up to find logan. As you trodded however you heard voices down the stairs behind your room.

"What the.." you'd start, and as you walk down, you saw something that made you turn invisible at the second. Logan had Scott in a mean chokehold, and you knew he was too mad to go near. So thus? You kept invisible. Stripped off all your clothes and walked down. The clothes would've made it obvious that you were there.

"Wanna repeat what the fuck you've been telling my girl huh?" You heard the struggle. His girl? The way he said it implied he was mocking Scott but...

"Cmon!" He groaned, before Scott slipped out and nearly fell straight onto you as he walked. "Listen ill leave her alright!? I just...wanted to take my mind off you know." He frowned as he turned and stormed off.

Forgetting completely you weren't supposed to be there, you spoke up. "So what was that about?" And logan nearly jumped at you in response. "Jesus, christ why are you here?" He groaned still pissed. "I got nosy." You shrugged.

"Wait."

"What lo?"

"Are you naked?"

".....maybe"

"Fucksake."

I WROTE ON PHONE SO SORRY<÷<3<3

#logan x reader #loganhowlett #luv him #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #xmen #x-men #xmen x reader

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phrandallanton · 5 months

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ranfren headcannons

I've done everything but posted headcannons and a fanfiction. This won't do. Here's some headcannons of mine! All of them aren't serious so don't take them that way d(>_･ ). Feel free to ask me about any other headcannons I'll definitely give more!

Randal

• if he has any pimples on his face he definitely picks at them untill they pop

• either is really good at math or sucks at math and hates it. (No in-between)(leaning towrds sucking at math more)

• has tear stains on his homework sometimes

• he bathes everyday dispite what people think. (Luther forces him too)

• his hair gets really oily. He has tried to cook with the oil his hair produced once. Nobody ate dinner that night.

• if he's frustrated and you go to poke him he'll scream on top of his lungs, but like the scream that goes from normal yelling to banshee screeching. "stop touCHING MEEEEĚĘƏƏ!!!!"

• gets in a lot of internet arguments about things that don't matter at all ("I think you'll find it's 'whom'.")

• he'd get so mad if he ask you to hold his glasses, and you proceed to carelessly get your fingerprints all over them.

• draws with those "how to draw anime" guid books.

• if he ever took a driving test, he would have already failed the moment he opens the car door.

• loves kraft mac and cheese, double points if it's in shapes of popular marketable characters.

• now thinking of it, if he was a pasta dish he would be kraft mac and cheese.

• bites his toe nails off (gross) Luther tried to get him to stop but he probably does the same thing when no one is around.

• sneezes weirdly. Like..."ah...ah...AH CHOOwoowoowoowoo..." and shakes his head. Or if he's covering it in his elbow it'll sound like a trumpet horn.

Luther

• he can dance but it's weird.

• if you tell him a joke he'll turn it into a life lesson.

• he wins every staring contest. However if your eyes start watering he'll get worried and start begging you to blink.

• treats women (and everyone) with so much respect, but he won't hesitate to punch a women if he really has to.

• *shakes his indext finger* "no no no"

• Randal probably tried to set him up on a blind date, he didn't like that. It was very awkward to say the least.

• genuinely gets happy when there are bagels at the function.

• when asked for advice, it'll sound like he's going to say something really meaningful and life changing, but then does a complete 180. "Oh, you think your ugly? Well people will have their opinions about you and ...well... you aren't the best thing to look at. But there's worst out there ♡."

• I can see him gobbling up some cheese and broccoli.

• has a walk in closet filled with clothes and accessories he doesn't wear.

• he 100% definitely has the goofiest giggle in the planet.

• eats ice cream with his front teeth.

Nyon

• I will stand by this till the day I die, he's really funny. He has a really good sense of humor. But I could also seem him not understanding jokes too. But at the same TIIIMMEE I feel like he'd be naturally funny.

• he knows lots of slang and pop culture due to watching TV a lot and probably quotes stuff in his head. (Maybe out loud if he was talking to you)

• has a lot of opinions, will never say them out loud, even when asked.

• he's the smartest out of everyone, including Luther.

• easily amused. please give him one of those little fishy nightlights. He'd enjoy looking at it so much.

• he's good at card games and Nyen doesn't like that. (Nyen has stabbed him over games of uno)

• has a really funny looking smile. (There's that one drawing in the Christmas comic where he's smiling weird after he saw Luther's reaction to the fire place tape he made for him)

Nyen

• listens to death metal but then listens to a jpop song right after. ("Can't let gang know I fw this")

• good at math, sucks at reading.

• loves hearing about drama and will be nosy.(come on man he loves Judge Judy and romance novels)

• sounds like Tom from Tom and Jerry when he yells.

• he calls himself "The Tom Cat" and (canonically) "Top of the pets in the house hold" which is practically the same as "I'm the alpha" so he's probably has said that.

• sucks at card games. Will legit end up with half of the pack of cards in his hands in the middle of an uno game.

• actually the weakest of them all. (I won't go into all that right now. But I can definitely beat him up in a fight, just sayin.)

•him and Nyon probably have times where they stay up and chit chat for a bit before they sleep, Example (from my old notes I had):

Nyon high on weed:...why do we call oranges..oranges...but we don't call apples...reds..??..

Nyen:....sh*t...you got a point... does that mean we would call lemons: short yellows and bananas: long yellows so it doesn't get confusing?...

*they then discuss this for an hour or so*

• Snores really really LOUD. Sounds like a car.

• oddly very ticklish I bet.

~~~~~~

That's all I have now. It's 2 in the morning and I'm falling asleep. I might write other characters headcannons later.

"I'm going to sleep" -bop it

#ranfren #catmen #luther ranfren #luther von ivory #comic #web series #nyon ranfren #Nyon #nyen catman #nyen ranfren #Nyen #randals friends #randal ivory #ranfren randal #headcanon #Ranfren headcannons #i need to sleep now #yawn

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annwrites · 5 months

Text

ain't about to take any risks

— pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: the group debates what is to be done with randall. shane is the only one interested in your opinion. dale is sure you'll agree with him.

— tags: thinking back on past moments with shane, conversing

— tw: mentions of sex, mentions of rape, debating murder

— word count: 1,687

— a/n: in this version of events, shane & andrea have never had sex. & while i think her feelings toward him only really manifested after that afternoon in the front seat of his car, i've implied in this that she has a thing for him anyway.

Shane looks at you then. “Y/N-baby, been awful quiet. Like to hear your thoughts on it.”

Dale speaks before you can. Not that you want to. You don’t entirely like being made the sudden center-of-attention to begin with anyway.

“Well, obviously she agrees with me. She’d never advocate for cold-blooded murder like this.” He looks at you. “Right?”

You shift from one foot to the other. You look at Daryl then. “You’ve spent more time with him in the barn than most of us. What, exactly, has he said to you?”

Daryl glances from you, to Dale, to Shane, then to the floor. “Told me this one story, ‘bout the guys he was with. How this one night they came across this camp—a dad and his two daughters. ‘Real cute-like’ was how he described ‘em. Said the other guys took turns, made the dad watch. That they didn’t even bother to kill ‘em after. ‘Course he told me that ‘he isn’t like that’. It was just somethin’ in the way he talked about it. Like…I don’t know. Like he got off on it, or somethin’. Made me wanna put an arrow through his skull.”

Your stomach turns. You’re quiet for a moment, glancing to Shane, then you look at Dale. “I understand his standing by as witness. I’m sure if he’d so much as tried to stop them, they would’ve killed him. It was self-preservation. He’d be dead and…they still would’ve done it anyway. But to talk about it in the manner Daryl described…” You shake your head, crossing your arms. “To describe those girls like that…it’s clear what kind of man he is. If he’d shown any amount of remorse, I’d feel differently. So I agree with Shane.”

Shane gives you a small smile, standing up a bit straighter.

Dale looks absolutely flabbergasted. “I can’t believe I’m getting out-voted over something so…so-”

Shane cuts him off, shifting his weight from one hip to the other. When he speaks, he keeps his eyes on you all the while. “If I ever saw that bastard near her,” he nods his head in your direction. “I’d drop ‘em several times over. I ain’t about to take any risks over the woman I…”

He pauses for just a moment. The two of you had said it a handful of times so far. And only after the first time you’d had sex. That warm, perfect day far away from the farmhouse. Far from the rest of the camp.

He’d taken your virginity, just like he’d offered to, and in that moment, with him sheathed inside of you, whispering sweet nothings against your ear as he made love to you so painstakingly slowly…something shifted. And the both of you could no longer deny that something more—some invisible bond—was binding the two of you. Had been all along since he saved you from staying back at the quarry.

But the two of you had agreed to keep your new, blossoming relationship just between you. To keep moments of true, physical intimacy either in his tent, or in that field you returned to time and again to feel your bare skin upon one another.

You didn’t need to risk someone sticking their nose in your business and trying to come between you—trying to ruin what you’d just found; just formed, and were slowly building.

You’d both lost enough. You weren’t about to lose one another, too. Especially after Shane had put forward so much effort in saving you over and over again. In taking care of, and protecting, and providing for you without asking for anything in return, but for you to finally try and live. For him, if nothing else.

You both knew people in the camp suspected.

Shane was gradually, as time went on, trying less and less to hide it. He’d give you a quick kiss on the cheek or top of your head here or there, whisper something in your ear—both of you pulling away from the other laughing—or giving each other lustful looks, heat pooling between your thighs as he told you the things he’d been thinking about doing to you all day. Or, you’d serve him lunch, him even once pulling you into his lap when it was late and half your people were gathered around the campfire chatting or eating.

Lori had cornered you one day in the kitchen about it. You’d just finished helping Maggie tend to the garden—pulling weeds and harvesting the fruits and vegetables that were ready to be eaten—and were washing off, and cutting up, and preserving when she’d come inside, seeking you out.

She’d asked Maggie if she would please give the two of you a moment alone, which she had of course obliged.

And then she’d asked if something were going on between you and Shane, and what it was, exactly, at that.

You’d remained quiet for a moment, setting some tomatoes in a bowl to begin drying off before you’d simply shrugged and said how you didn’t see it being anyone’s business but yours and his.

She gently grabbed your arm, turning you around toward her, the look on her face one of pure concern. “Honey, I don’t think you understand the kind of man he is. What he’s done, and-”

You’d promptly crossed your arms over your chest. “We’ve talked at length about the things he’s done. And even if none of them had anything to do with me, I still granted him my forgiveness when he asked me for it, because it was that important to him that he have it.”

She’d been left speechless for a moment. Long enough that you’d turned back around to begin scrubbing the potatoes of the dirt and soil they were covered in.

“Y/N, you’re young. And Shane is…he knows what he’s doing. He’s been with plenty of women before. Whereas you’ve-”

“Like you?”

She had shut her mouth instantly. “If you think this is jealousy, it isn’t. I’m just trying to look out for you; trying to prevent him from taking advantage of your youth, or your vulnerability. You don’t have anyone left to do that for you anymore.”

“Except him. He’s the only one who bothered to save me time and again when all I wanted—more than anything—was to give up and die. He refused to let that happen. I wouldn’t be standing here listening to someone else lecture me on how they know better than I do without him.” You’d turned back around then, bowl of tomatoes held between your arms. “I need to get these to Patricia, excuse me.”

Just as you were nearly out of the kitchen, you threw over your shoulder “Feel free to help if you have nothing better to do.”

You and Lori hadn’t spoken since that day. You had thought, after, that perhaps you’d been too harsh. You knew where her concern primarily stemmed from: the night in the library at the CDC. When Shane told you about it…you’d remained silent for a long while after, unsure of what to do. What to say. You felt afraid of him, even for a moment. The fact he could even think to do such a thing…to anyone—it didn’t matter that she had jilted him or not. It was inexcusable.

When you had looked at him, he’d been staring at you, his eyes red, and he’d told you he understood if you wanted him to stay away from you from now on. That maybe it was true: you deserved better.

You’d told him you didn’t want that, but that that action…it wasn’t for you to forgive. He’d nodded, understanding what you meant. He’d promised he would never hurt you like that, no matter what the future held.

You believed him.

Even Andrea had seemed a bit…jealous when she saw Shane so close to you nearly all the time now. Whenever he was in camp—he refused to let you go on runs unless it was with him, which typically translated to finding an abandoned house so you had a proper bed to have sex in—he was almost always pressed up against your side, his hands on your hips, your lower back, cupping your cheek, gripping your chin… A few times his hand had been high on your thigh, sometimes nearly touching you there—his way of silently asking to be alone with you for awhile.

She’d given you the cold shoulder for a couple days after she had once asked Shane if he wanted to go on a run and he had told her he didn’t intend to go out that day, but had then loaded you into his Hyundai later that afternoon, slipping a few small square wrappers into his pocket, adjusting himself over his pants, before climbing into the driver’s side and taking off from the farm like a bat out of hell.

Shane sighs for a moment, glancing down to his boots, then back up to you, silently asking for permission to finally give them all the truth you’re sure half of them are already well-aware of you.

You give him a small smile.

He continues. “I ain’t about to take any risks over the woman I love. I’ve almost lost her three times already. I ain’t about to let there be a fourth. I’ll put a bullet in his chest before that ever even comes close to happenin’. You can all bet your damn lives on that.”

You hear someone scoff, and you’re sure it’s Andrea, but you don’t care. Let them think what they wish. You were growing tired of people like Lori and Hershel treating Shane—someone who had kept the group alive and for so long—like the devil.

She had taken him for granted. Tossed him aside like he’d never mattered in the first place when Rick came back to her. You understood her reuniting with her previously-thought-dead husband, but to act like Shane had never been of any importance to start with? After all he’d done for her and Carl? After tearing himself apart, thinking his best friend was dead for all that time?

You wouldn’t be making that same mistake.

#fic: twd (shane walsh x reader)#shane walsh x y/n #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh imagine #twd x y/n #twd x you #twd x reader

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ash5monster01 · 2 months

Note

i saw you wrote for randall pink floyd and i RAN to your inbox

could you please write a best friends to lovers confession with our dear boy randall? and i’m not sure if you do smut or anything like that but if it could be just slightly smutty that would be wonderful!!

Always You

Pairing: Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, language, drug/alcohol use, jealousy, emotional struggle, foreplay, implied smut, fluff, no use of y/n

Summary: You’re in love with your best friend and on accident he finds out.

word count: 2.9k

Masterlist

You wait in the dark, eyes cast out the window, watching for your best friend who would appear any second. You both had done this every Friday night for the entire year, it was a system by now. Just in time you see headlights flash out, the sound of a rumbling engine cutting off, as his El Camino rolls to a stop in front of your house. You wait a beat to ensure your parents didn’t hear before you scurry out the front door and across the dark lawn to your best friend.

“That’s never gets old” he says as you jump inside. He’s shaking his head in amusement and you just roll your eyes at him as he starts up the engine and drives away before anyone can spot you.

“It’s getting pretty old for me, I’m lucky I haven’t been caught yet” you tell him as you pull some lip gloss from your bag and drop it to the ground. Pink’s eyes glance over at you as you pull the mirror down and apply the product. He tries to ignore the way his throat dries as he watches your plump lips pucker at your reflection.

“You won’t get caught, our system works pretty well” he tells you, hands flexing over the steering wheel as he drives to the Emporium since Pickford just had to get caught and cancel his party.

“C’mon Rand, I’m so over sneaking out. I wish we didn’t get too big for sleepovers” you pout, arms crossing over your chest, and lifting your breasts in the process. The series of actions and words has Pink shifting in his seat, trying to hide the way his pants have tightened. If only you realized what you had just suggested.

“Sorry sweetheart, but if you still aren’t gonna admit to your parents that you party then you’re stuck with our plan” he tells you and you finally eye him up and down, the nice purple shirt on his form and the tight cream bell bottoms.

“Who you all dolled up for? Simone?” you ask as you wiggle your eyebrows, your teasing and suggestive tone making him roll his eyes at you. You ignore the jealousy that burns in your stomach, the desire to be the one he actually dresses up for. Little did you know, it was you.

“No not Simone, we’re just talking” he says and it sounds unsure, like that might even be the wrong choice of words for the little blonde girl he had somehow obtained. In fact he had quite forgotten about her until now, not even remembering he said they’d meet up at some point tonight.

“Either way you look handsome Pinky, I’d swoon” you tease him, digging in your bag for the joint you had stashed away earlier. Your words are true but he doesn’t know that.

“Please don’t call me Pinky. I prefer Rand or Randall even over that” he begs, you being the only one to still call him by his given name. Comes with the territory of being best friends though. You knew him long before he was ever Pink.

“Oh little Pinky is grumpy” you tease in a sing song baby voice, poking his shoulder and scooting closer along the front seat. He chuckles, knowing you’re only messing.

“You gonna light that joint or what?” he finally asks and you giggle, hands retrieving your lighter before flicking the ignite. Pink watches as you wrap your glossed lips around the end and light it in the dark of the car. The flame illuminates your face bright enough to remind him how gorgeous you truly are.

“Whoo, that’s a strong one” you say, voice thick with the smoke and Pink smiles as you pass it to him and he puts his lips where yours just were. He’s certain this is the closest he’ll ever get to kissing you.

You pass the joint back and forth the whole ride to the Emporium, each pass getting you closer and closer to him on the seat. By the time there’s only a roach to share between you, your thigh is pressed tightly against his own. His whole body buzzes with the sensation of you against him and the weed. He’s actually disappointed to see the Emporium come into view while he pulls into a parking spot.

“You want a beer?” you ask, head turning to face him and the closeness doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. Pink takes a moment to study the deep color of your eyes before nodding.

“Sure, let me give you some cash” he says, digging in his pocket and you finally spot the remnants of your sparkly lip gloss stuck to the corner of his lip from your shared joint. As he frees some bills you giggle and use your thumb to brush it away, causing him to freeze.

“I guess I should’ve waited to apply my lipgloss after we shared a joint, wouldn’t want our friends thinking we were hiding something” you say, chest tightening and wishing he would admit his feelings for you. Tell you he didn’t care what his friends thought and kiss you for real. You wished you never dared to cross the best friend line.

“Maybe I just decided to start wearing makeup” Pink finally says when he realizes it’s taken him too long to answer. Why could he be confident around every girl but you?

“I’ll go grab some drinks, don’t start a game of pool without me” you tell him and in a flash you’ve slid out the car, waving and smiling at your friends who cheer and greet you. Pink waits till you’re inside the liquor store before taking a few moments to collect himself.

“Hey man” Wooderson is the first to greet him as he steps out the car. Pink smiles, greeting him with a handshake before leaning up against the wall beside him.

“Man that girl of yours has gotten real cute” he grins, eyes still cast in the direction of the liquor store where you had just disappeared into.

“Not my girl” Pink mutters despite everything in him going against it and the older guy snorts, foot wedging up to press against the wall behind him.

“Still cute” he says and Pink chuckles, hoping it’ll mask the jealousy he carries over other men being into you. He knew Wooderson would leave you alone, he wouldn’t dare mess with a girl he knew Pink cared for so much. It still didn’t change the fact it made his chest burn.

As if on cue you exit the liquor store, smile wide on your face, as you carry two cases of his favorite beer. Pink’s stomach flutters at the sight, watching as you cross the parking lot and dump both cases in the truck bed of his car. You’re so gorgeous, and you knew him better than anyone, a girl hand crafted for him. If only he wasn’t so afraid of losing you.

“Thirsty?” you ask, hands freeing two of the beers and holding them up for him to see.

“You got one for me doll?” Wooderson calls out and you laugh, shaking your head at your overly flirty friend.

“Depends on how much Pink likes you?” you call back and Wooderson pouts at Pink almost instantly. Your bestfriend just sighs and gives you a nod which makes you grab a third beer before approaching them both.

“Thanks” Pink says, arm coming to wrap around your shoulders and pull you against him. You don’t fight it, leaning into his embrace as you open your beer and take a swig.

“Can’t believe we’re officially seniors” you say as another load of classmates pull into the parking lot and hop out. Pink smiles, knowing all day he felt like a King about everything but one. You.

“Enjoy it” is all Wooderson says and you both nod, accepting these words and knowing there was only one shot to embrace this moment as it was. That’s why in your head, you’re certain you’ll tell Pink how you feel before the end of summer, hell maybe even tonight.

As always the chaos of the night ensues and without fail you manage to still find a way to party. You’re unsure how much alcohol you’ve consumed, you just know it was a lot. At least enough to give you the small buzz you were currently sporting. It was the very reason Pink had laid down a blanket in the bed of his truck and had laid you in it with the promise of returning. He holds up his end of the bargain when the suspension of the Camino dips down with him lifting his body weight into it.

“Sorry, had to say goodbye to Simone” and maybe it’s the alcohol, you want to blame the alcohol, when your face scrunches up with something he can only read as disgust.

“If you wanted to take her home you should’ve just left me with Cynthia, I can handle myself” you say, voice clipped and eyes cast on the bright stars of the Texas sky above you.

“I’m not leaving you, besides I didn’t want to take her home” Pink assures you, heart racing at the idea of you being jealous. If it wasn’t for the alcohol in your system he’d swear it was.

“Yeah okay” you snort, shaking your head and trying to ignore the cool night air on your skin. The sounds of engines starting and rumbling away surrounding you both.

“What’s your deal? I thought you liked Simone?” Pink finally asked, rolling to his side to face you and you smile despite not being amused.

“I do like Simone I just don’t like her for you” you say, a bit exasperated and a little tired of keeping all these feelings at bay when they’re begging to burst out of you.

“Why? Why not? She’s a good girl, just like the rest” he argues back and the fire ignites inside you, annoyance and anger bubbling over.

“Because Rand, because no one is good enough for you. No one would ever deserve to love you, not even me-” your mouth snaps shut, words moving faster than your mind and it reels as you try to comprehend what you just said to him. What you may of just admitted.

“What?” Pink says, blinking as the words you just said sinks in. You instantly start shaking your head, panic spreading over your entire body, realizing your plan came true without being planned.

“I didn’t mean, I- I’m sorry-” you blubber, words suddenly not coming to you or forming, much different than how they had just spit out of you. Yet it doesn’t matter because Pink’s hand is falling on your cheek, holding your head to face him. His expression is unreadable and the panic makes you want to flee.

“You deserve me, just as much as I deserve you” he says slowly, wanting you to understand what he’s saying. Your eyes are wide and when you can’t get your mouth to open and say anything, he’s leaning forwarding and pressing it against his own.

You gasp lightly but he keeps you close until you realize this is really happening. Slowly you kiss him back, realizing in this very moment you’re actually kissing your best friend. The excitement hits you all at once and you grasp at his shoulders tightly, kissing him feverishly. When Pink notices your eagerness he glides his tongue along the seam of your lips and you let him in without hesitation. The second his tongue curls against your own you find yourself climbing into his lap, searching for a better and more controlled angle to make out with him.

“Careful baby” he warns against your lips as you grind down on him. Yet the confidence from the alcohol and the desire for him is controlling your actions.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you muse as his lips travel along your jaw and down your neck. He smiles against your skin, grunting when you grind down on him again.

When his lips find that sensitive spot on your neck you trail your hand down his chest, fingers grazing his bare skin in his shirt that had been further and further unbuttoned throughout the entirety of the night. When you reach his abdomen his stomach jumps and finally he pulls away from you.

“Wait, is it true? You really have feelings for me?” he asks, wanting to make sure he hadn’t misinterpreted or worse taken advantage of you in your tipsy state. You smile as you admire the sparkly lip gloss that now covers his own lips shamelessly.

“Yes Pinky, for a long time. I just never had the courage to say anything” you tell him, hands stabilizing yourself on his chest. He grins wide, hands tightening on your hips and the action makes you grind against him again.

“Me too” he admits, a soft blush covering his cheeks and you don’t fight the urge to lean down and kiss each of them. Yet the new angle has you able to feel his length perfectly in those tight pants of his. You use the opportunity to kiss his lips as you grind against him again. His hands tighten somehow even more on your hips and you love the idea of being able to see where his hands had been tomorrow.

“I didn’t know you liked me this much Pinky” you say using the embarrassing nickname he hadn’t felt the need to correct with you above him like this.

“You have no idea” he mutters a little breathless and a little nervous. This is all he ever wanted and now he didn’t possibly want to screw it up.

“How have I never noticed?” you muttered, not looking particularly for an answer, before kissing him deeply again. You shiver when his hands push up your shirt, large palms gliding against your bare back. When he reaches the clasp of your bra you grind against him, indicating he had full permission to take it off. He doesn’t waste a second, the material loosening and slipping down your shoulders.

Realizing you don’t want to get caught without your shirt you slip the straps off your arms and pull it out of under your clothes. Pink watches as you toss it up by his head and he gulps, his hands moving from your back and under the fabric that laid over your chest. Your lips meet his own again when he finally grasps your breasts and you realize fairly quickly you need to get him out of his pants as soon as possible.

Pink lets out a small squeak, your mouth muffling the noise, as your hands reach down and start fumbling with the button of his pants. He grips tighter at your breasts and it makes you whimper against him. You’re both so lost in each other you can’t believe it’s taken you this long to ever admit your feelings for him. As soon as you slide his zipper down you feel his length twitch against your palm and you grin against his lips. Slowly you slide your fingers against him, dipping into the pants you hoped to get off of him.

“Hey we’re going to the 50 yard line to smoke, you guys in?!” Don’s voice bellows out, hands slapping against the bed of the truck. You jump off of Pink quickly, hand sliding out of his pants, as Don rounds the back of the vehicle. A sly grin cracks along his face as he notices the heavy breaths Pink lets out and the open fly of his pants. When he spots you with glazed eyes and swollen lips it only confirms his suspicions.

“Yeah we’ll come” Pink answers, eyes glancing at you and back at his buddy. Don chuckles, a finger pointing between you both.

“Best friends my ass” is all he says before he starts walking back the way he came, probably in search of Shavonne.

“We’ll meet you there” Pink calls out and Don waves a hand, amusement covered his features as he stalks away from you both.

“You think he knows?” you ask in a joking tone and Pink laughs as he falls back against the bed of the truck, eyes cast to the sky.

“Yeah, he knows” Pink confirms before turning his head and looking you in the eye. All he can think about is how beautiful you are, eyes full of adoration knowing he finally has you the way he has always wanted you.

“Guess we better go to the 50 yard line” you say softly, hand coming to brush some of the long hair out of his face and Pink smiles as he turns his head and kisses your palm.

“I guess so, sleepover at mine after?” he asks, a smile he struggles to hold back tugging on his face. You laugh as you remember the conversation from earlier and slowly nod.

“Yeah, I like that plan” you agree and he grins widely before capturing your lips in a kiss then hopping out the back of the truck. He holds a hand out for you to join him and you don’t hesitate in taking it as you both slide into the car.

In this moment, your life was everything you wanted it to be.

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jaded-jezz · 2 months

Text

Your American.

My first Formula One Driver story!

Obviously had to do Logan as he is my favourite. And I want to pretend that he is going to be here next year! (James better watch out).

Please do not repost, reblogs are appreciated.

Logan Sargeant X F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (mdni 18+), kinda sub Logan I guess, annoying coworker at start, timeskip, 2.3k words. First time writing smut so don’t tell me if it’s bad!

Leah please don’t read this

Logan’s been away from you for this amount of time before but he’s not normally this clingy when he comes back. His hand has been either linked with yours or on your hip the entire night. He only let go when you had to make a speech thanking your company for another successful year.

You are finally making your way out of the ceremony hall after many awards, speeches and long goodbyes. The music from the dance floor had slowly started to drown out due to the distance you had walked and the whispers from Logan in your ear.

“Hey Y/N, I missed you all night!” Jack, your colleague shouts. You and Logan sigh in sync. Jack is that guy at work who nobody likes yet he seems to think he’s the company favourite. Since the day you started your job, he’s never left you alone. Even after you and Logan went public he would still sit next to you and talk about himself every lunch break.

You think about speeding up but it’s very obvious the couple can hear him as the entrance hall is completely empty.

“Hi Jack.” You grimace and turn to him as Logan grips your waist harder. “We were just leaving, it’s getting quite late.”

“Without saying goodbye to me?” He pouts. I feel Logan shake as he tries to suppress a laugh due to the fact that there is a grown man pouting like a two year old in front of us. “Irish goodbyes are the quickest.” I respond as politely as possible, turning into Logan’s grasp hoping to leave.

“Well I actually needed to talk to you about your final hand in for the year… and by that I mean you need to do more” he laughs, as if it’s going to make everything ok.

“More? Mrs Randall said my work was fully complete and the best of the company. I’m not doing more unless she tells me!” I snap back just wanting to leave and relax with Logan due to the fact that it’s his winter break too.

“Yes, exactly the boss says yours is the best. So I need you to do mine! I’ll email it all over- oh actually I’ll just come over tomor-“

“No mate it’s our time off now.” Logan steps in realising how tired you are of Jack and his antics. “Cmon Y/N/N let’s go home.”

“You don’t have to listen to the American, be the independent woman that I know you are” Jack pokes, as if he’s trying to anger your boyfriend.

Yet that last remark is the final straw for you, you’d had enough.

You reach up to your American, grab him by the face and pull him into you. Your lips don’t have to fight for dominance as Logan knows you want to make Jack as uncomfortable as possible. If his eyes weren’t closed, they’d be rolling to the back of his head due to the pleasure that your possessiveness gave him.

Logan knew how annoying Jack was for you, and how often that you’d turned him down or made it obvious you were not interested so he’s never thought he’d be grateful for Jack’s perseverance (if you could even call it that). And, weirdly, in this moment he’s never loved kissing you more.

Quiet, desperate whimpers arise from the couple and Jack finally takes the hint and moves away, occasionally looking back hoping that you’d follow him still.

“Babe your anger is turning me on so much right now, can we go?” Logan pulls away, whispering quickly before being drawn back into your taste. You break apart giggling and gently push his face away from yours before he reconnects his hand around your waist and walks with you to the car park.

During the car ride back, you calm down listening to the soft radio and hearing murmurs of Logan talk about your actual work friends.

“Y/N are you there sweetheart?” Logan’s inquiry brings you back. His hand on your thigh brings a redness to your face, you’ve missed his touch. How can someone be so hot by just driving with one hand?

“Yes sorry, I was just trying to get over Jack being a dick.” You roll your eyes at the memory. “I mean seriously who does he think he is? I’m gonna write an email and-“

You are cut off by Logan gently turning your face towards his. The car had been parked in front of your home for a while but you hadn’t noticed due to your ranting. “Baby, I know how much you love to write emails but let’s forget about him until January yeah? Tonight I just wanna be with you and hear only positive things please.” His eyes soften as you relax into his palm.

After a quick peck, the blonde rushes out of the car to open your door before holding your hand all the way into the house. Once inside he carefully drops to his knees to remove your shoes and puts your bag on the side before standing up again.

The silence is thick with tension as you stare at each other, only a mere metre away, waiting to see who breaks first.

You both give up as you violently embrace each other in a sloppy make out session. Walking backwards, you drag Logan by the tie into your bedroom and push him onto the bed.

Logan wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you in between his thighs. He looks up at you through his eyelashes “Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” You try to wiggle out of his grasp in a blushing mess but he pulls tighter. “Everyday I am grateful to wake up knowing I am yours.”

He slowly rises, kissing up your arms, across your collarbones and to your neck finding that one spot that makes you whine for him. His hands make quick work of undoing your dress and he lets it drop to your ankles. Logan’s eyes rake up and down your body in a surprisingly wholesome way. You have never felt more loved than now. Even being basically naked here makes you feel warm.

“Logan…Please” you try to say in a demanding tone but Logan doesn’t notice as this is all it takes for the blonde’s lips to be back on yours, it feels like he’s trying to slowly consume you and you are already so far gone you might let him.

You claw at his shirt trying to pull it up and unbutton it, until he eventually helps. Running your fingertips up and down his abs, Logan lets out a breathy whine as your nails catch every so often. He grabs your hands to stop you and gently lets them drop as he removes his tie, giving you a look.

Without a second thought, you’ve tied his wrists above him on the headboard and you are straddling him, mouths reconnecting with no intentions of breathing at all.

“Use me,” Logan whispers.

It startles you. He’s never acted like this before. Sure you’ve been on top before but he was still kind of in charge. “Fuck out your anger sweetheart.” He looks into your eyes with full trust, confidence and honesty.

A wave of confidence floods your system as you start to grind down lightly on his crotch. A light gasp comes from the man as he already forgets about the tie and tries to grab your hips. You ignore his struggle and nip at his neck like he did to you only a few moments ago. Marking him more and more as you move down his chest.

You carry on your trail nipping and marking, kissing and licking until you reach his belt. You haven’t stopped grinding against his lap until now, you reach for his face. This time, the kiss you share is filled with love and passion. As you pull away Logan tries to follow, not wanting to leave your orbit but you push him down. “I love you Logan.” You say.

You hastily reach for his belt before looking up to see an impatient look grow in his green eyes, not wanting to tease either of you for any longer you finally undo his trousers.

You were surprised that either of you lasted this long tonight due to how much Logan had teased you before leaving the house.

*Four Hours Earlier*

“Logan are you dressed?” You ask before walking out of your room trying to find the blonde man.

“Damn!” You hear the American whistle behind you as you spin to see him lounged out on the sofa. “Yeah I’m dressed, but I wish you weren’t” he winked at you as he got up and made his way towards you.

“Is it ok? I have time to change!” You start to panic as you overthink your outfit. “No Y/N” Logan lunges towards you with a worried look “I meant you look hot,” He cups your face with one hand and grabs your palm with the other. “You look more than hot but I’m not really smart enough to think of any more words. You’ve actually left me speechless!”

You laugh together, holding hands, looking into each others eyes. You want to stay here forever but you both know that this end of year ceremony is important for both your team and yourself as you have been selected to win an award and make a speech.

Logan sees the realisation set in but knows exactly what to do to take your mind off of it. With one hand around your waist and the other still holding yours, he starts to sway you and hum. Very badly.

You screw up your face as you try to work out the song he is attempting but it makes him laugh and the humming is lost to his chuckles. “Your speech is both on your phone and printed in your bag. I also have a spare in my pocket. Please breathe Y/N, I can’t have you passing out before we get there!” He places a kiss to your temple as he pulls the printed copy from his pocket, placing it back and patting it for safekeeping.

*Now*

You sit bare and start to move back and forth on his hard cock while Logan writhes and moans above you, wordlessly begging for you to put him out of his misery. Your nails trace his abdomen and thighs again in a soothing manner before you sit above him to run his tip from your clit downwards. You sink onto him slowly, quick breaths and moans leave the pair as you grab at his hips and the bed sheets. Anything to keep you steady.

“You feel so good, Logan” you look into his eyes, you can see the lust pouring out of the green irises. “Don’t stop Y/N, I’ll do anything- just don’t stop.”

You can feel him getting close. You cant take it anymore, and you can tell that if you wait any longer- Logan will snap the headboard. So you hastily reach up and remove the tie from his wrists. You go to stroke the red marks in an apologetic way but Logan is too fast. He grabs your face and pulls you in for a passionate kiss before running his hands across your body pulling shivers from you previously missing his absence.

He holds your waist as you place your hands on his face and shoulders, bracing yourself. He bucks up into you creating a consistent rhythm bringing you closer and closer to the high you’ve been chasing.

“Y/N, baby, I’m so close. Please.” He whines into your neck before biting down at you again to attempt to conceal the uncontrollable noises.

“Let me hear you, honey, you’re being so good for me” You gently pull the hairs at the nape of his neck.

A wet line of unshed tears lines his eyes as he is pulled back. Tears of both pleasure and frustration as he just wants to release into you.

“Come.” You whisper into the air, so quietly you don’t know if your boyfriend has heard. But his actions speak louder than words as his hold on you tightens and his strokes become harder.

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾༓･˚⁺‧͙

After a few moments of comforting silence, Logan moves you to lay on your back and he moves to hover over you. “Let me clean up the mess we made.” He says as he holds strong eye contact with you.

He lowers himself back down to your dripping pussy and gets to work. His tongue is pulling obscene noises from you as he slurps and strokes against your core, his nose occasionally bumping at your clit. Your hands reach for his hair and he knows you’re close once again.

His hand reaches up and two fingers are pushed into you, pumping as he continues to eat you out. Your breathing has quickend, your body is getting hotter and your ears are starting to ring as you get closer and closer to orgasming.

He desperately wants to taste you and his moans vibrate through you making you wetter at his begging.

With one final tug of his blonde strands, your back arches and you come with so much pleasure your vision only shows white.

Your eyes flutter shut from exhaustion and Logan slowly moves away and into the bathroom to retrieve a damp cloth to actually clean you. He pulls you in close under the covers of your bed and strokes your hair, whispering sweet nothings into your ears as you fall into deep sleep together.

My first F1 and smut wow

Requests are open as always and I will be making a list of who I write for being both drivers individually and different fandoms.

Please do not repost, reblogs are appreciated.

#logan sargeant #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 2024 #f1 smut #logie bear #logan sargent x reader #logan sargent fluff #smut #x reader #jaded jellyfish sting

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drifting-pieces-blog-blog · 11 months

Text

It's not Jake.

I'm going to tackle this bit now. It will forever bother me. I think it will forever be a point of argument in the fandom until the word of god (Diab) comes down and explains it all. Even then, there will always be room for argument.

So let's argue.

Marc with Dr. Harrow. I missed it the first time I watched it. (It was on a small screen with poor sound. I should have turned on the subtitles.)

He doesn't know what's going on. He doesn't know where he is but he feels terrible and he's in a situation he's been in before.

Marc knows how to play the game. He might be bad at social situations, but Marc is stubborn and despite his self destructive tendencies, he's a survivor.

From knowing how to please his mother to keep her happy to knowing how to keep the school happy to keeping his father happy.

He also knows how to keep the doctors happy.

You can see the wheels turning as he figures out what Dr. Harrow is looking for and what the right thing to say is. You see him looking around and taking everything in the room in.

Something he learned in the military and then as a mercenary. What is around him? Know the land. Know the space. Know the tools. Know the exits. Know the enemy.

It's so subtle how his eyes move and stare. Every movement of his body is absolutely still and stiff except his eyes. Don't move. Don't draw attention. Don't give yourself away.

He talks about the talking hippo. Corrects him stubbornly. Like a child correcting a parent that gets their drawing or story wrong.

He talks briefly about Steven. He really doesn't want to discuss Steven with Dr. Harrow. Even now, he's trying to protect Steven.

Honestly, Marc is probably unsettled by how Quiet Steven is being. He can't hear him. He can't feel him. He was reaching for him before in his reflection.

Has this happened before? Are the drugs messing him up? Is this even real? You can see it in his eyes as he is trying to work out what has happened. What if it's real? What if Dr. Harrow is right and all of it was in his head?

But he knows things are off. You see him look at the cane and the sandles. He KNOWS something is wrong, but he can't place it.

And then Dr. Harrow asks about the boy.

Now Marc knows this is wrong. He would never have talked about Randall. This is the last thing he'd ever willingly bring up.

You see him instantly shut down and he's made his decision.

I've seen a LOT of arguments that this is Jake. But I don't think so. We, the audience, have not been properly introduced to Jake and his face has been purposfully hidden from us each time he does flicker in. This is not Jake. Jake is still hidden. And Jake would NOT have tolerated Dr. Harrow.

Even if Dr. Harrow was a new alter (persecutor?) created after being killed, Jake would have put him in his place. As protector and possible Gate Keeper, NONE of what's going on would have been tolerated at all. Jake is organized and patient. Jake takes charge when needed and gets the job done.

This is Marc. This is the Marc Spector that you don't see.

As I mentioned in a previous post, Marc cannot mask in the Duat. Every piece of Marc you see is pure and uncensored.

You see Marc play the game but the second Roro comes up, Marc is done.

This is the Marc that is dangerous (Mercinary, special forces, Marines, skilled beyond reason in combat) and also the Marc that is desperate. He's cornered and he will chew his own leg off to get out.

He doesn't know what's out there, but he knows that Steven is being kept away and he needs him.

So why does Marc grab the sharp pointy pyramid? Why does it look like he's trying to first stab them then stab himself?

Well, up to this point, Marc has figured out that he's been shot. He's found Steven outside of his body in a very unlikely situation, and nothing feels real.

He's also jumping scenes. From being with Dr. Harrow to being with Steven.

A part of him is scared it's real. A part of him is scared it isn't.

If it isn't real, how can he get out of it? Perhaps if he takes more damage he'll go somewhere else. Perhaps he'll go back to Steven. Perhaps he thinks it's a dream and he'll wake up next to Layla.

Look at his face. Beaten up. Broken nose. Heavy bags under his eyes. One pupil even looks larger than the other. Severe bodily trauma. (From getting shot? From getting into fights? From some form of brain damage?)

Now, speaking of Jake... I wonder how much of Teenage Marc was really Teenage Jake trying to keep them safe. I can't imagine their teen years being good at all. There's a good chance that their teenage years were utter misery and things probably escalated to terrible depths.

(Anyone else notice that three times we see Baby Marc, it's his birthday? I'm willing to bet every birthday his mother came for him viciously.)

I'm willing to bet that any previous clash he had with a mental hospital deeply involved Jake. One of them started fights and one of them played the game. Marc would get into fights, but Marc also knows how to play the game thanks to his mother. Jake would have wanted them out of there. He may have fought or he may have tried to take control to keep them safe.

So in this situation, Marc has been separated away from Steven, his emotional support and protection. He has been separated away from his physical protection and stabilizer.

And Jake DOES stabilize Marc. When Marc flies off the handle in a rage. When he has flashbacks. When he gets drunk and trashes a hotel room... Who steps in to settle things down? (JAKE'S FUCKING GLOVES WERE IN THAT HOTEL ROOM ON THE NIGHT STAND AS IF THEY HAD BEEN WORN AND TOSSED ASIDE. JAKE WAS THERE.)

So without all of Marc's safe guards, Marc is sitting there in a terrifying situation and his biggest trauma is brought up by a man that he knows he can't trust.

Look at how the episode starts. The cave. The running water. The screaming boy for help. His mother blaming him. It's all right there. Right on the edge of his mind like a bad flashback.

The last thing he wants is to be back in that cave again. Is to see his brother drowning again.

He's going to fight. If he wasn't so disabled by the drugs and injuries he would have burned the whole building to the ground if he could have.

I do have to wonder, though... Marc keeps going back to Dr. Harrow when things get too stressful there. Like a sort of time out. A time for him to try to process and make sense of things. He breaks down when Steven demands to go back to the room. Total melt down. The time out forces him to deal with it. To see it.

Even Steven goes there when he becomes overwhelmed and needs a time out to see what's really going on.

Dr. Harrow was very interested in speaking to Steven. He even mentions that it had been a long time since he had seen Steven. That Steven was the one that brought them there.

It's doubtful that Jake ever made it there. Dr. Harrow (and the real Harrow) had no idea about Jake. And Marc doesn't know about Jake, as this is Marc's processing time.

But what if Jake had made it there? What if Jake had it all figured out? What if Jake had gotten locked up on purpose?

Steven and Jake, literally compartmentalized by Marc.

Perhaps a Meta for another day.

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight Meta #Marc Spector #YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE REWATCH IS DOING TO ME #Stop using this scene as an excuse to make Jake look like the unhinged violent one #It's Marc

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dreamxyumejonomougen · 7 months

Text

(I made an X reader based on a dream I actually had.) Since you are using a translator, there is a possibility that inappropriate expressions are used. )

You were standing in the hallway. You'll notice that the building you recognize is the elementary school you used to attend.

You will slowly explore the inside of the school, unlike the real elementary school, the elementary school in the dream will have different arrangements of objects and the color of the lockers. It was so quiet that it seemed like a ruin. There is no one to step in your footsteps but you.

You came to the classroom you were using. The paint on the door is slightly peeling and has deteriorated.

You open the door with a little disgust, the door is rusty or does not open smoothly.

You have finally opened the door. When you look at the classroom, there is already someone in the classroom where you should be alone.

You're one of those fans who enjoys Lanfren in the real world, and seeing that person already in the classroom reminded you of who that person is.is is...Satoru

Yes, it was Satoru who was there. But you realize it's strange, because Satoru is a person who only appears in Randall's dreams. You're not Randall, so it was inexplicable for Satoru to appear in your dreams.

When you plucked up the courage to talk to Satoru, Satoru looked at you with dark eyes. You were involuntarily speechless.

Satoru smiled and said, "Don't stay in that place, come here." Since there is no one else here but you, you obediently obey his words.

Satoru sits in a seat at the end of the classroom, right next to the window. Outside the window was a strange scenery that seemed to be a mixture of day, evening and night, purple clouds floating.

Satoru pulled the chair next to him and said, "Sit here." You see the cutter in his hand, and you are terrified, but you sit in the chair in fear because you don't know what will happen to you if you don't obey.

"You're hungry, don't you think？”

You answer, "No, I'm not hungry.

Satoru didn't change his expression and said, "Oh, really?" I said. You get impatient, thinking that you made a mistake in your response, but when Satoru sees you, he laughs and says, "Don't be so nervous, this is how I got to see you again.

Frightened, she asked, "Why did you come to see me?" I asked. I ask. Satoru looked a little surprised, but soon smiled as usual, "I didn't come to your dream, you made me, do you think the real me will leave Dal's dream?" He touched your hand. His hands were very cold.

Satoru grabbed your hand with a cold hand. I said, "If you stay with me like this in my dreams all the time, I can be real, and you will be with me forever, right.

His eyes were like deep darkness. You can see your reflection in his wide-open eyes.

You say, "I can't do that, I'm living in the real world, I have a lot to do, so I can't live in a dream with you all the time." I said. Your voice was trembling as you were terrified of Satoru in front of you.

Hearing this, Satoru lost his smile and said, "Okay, it's okay, I thought you would stay with me." While saying this, I took out the blade of the box cutter.

"Will you stay with me?" Satoru asks you again, you tremble and say NO

Satoru looked down and said. "Then I'm going to make sure you can't go back to reality, there are a few ways to do it." I said. You get scared and run away from the scene. But because of the proximity to him, he quickly caught up with me, and a warm liquid overflowed from his neck. Perhaps you were stabbed in the neck by him.

You're kind of sleepy, just before you close your eyelids, Satoru says, "This method doesn't seem to work, next time... I'm going to get her pregnant. Then next time, you won't be able to go back to the real world." I said.

Good morning, you've woken up.

End

#ranfren #ranfren x reader #ranfren x your #ranfren satoru #yandere

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sassenach77yle · 7 days

Text

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 2 EPISODE 03 || USEFUL OCCUPATIONS AND DECEPTIONS ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

“He can’t marry a fifteen-year-old girl to … to … that! And without even asking her!” “Oh, I expect he can,” Jamie said, with infuriating calmness. “In any case, Sassenach, it isna your affair.” He took me firmly by both arms and gave me a little shake. “D’ye hear me? I know it’s strange to ye, but that’s how matters are. After all”—the long mouth curled up at one corner—“you, were made to wed against your will. Reconciled yourself to it yet, have ye?” “Sometimes I wonder!” I yanked, trying to pull my arms free, but he merely gathered me in, laughing, and kissed me. After a moment, I gave up fighting. I relaxed into his embrace, admitting surrender, if only temporarily. I would meet with Mary Hawkins, I thought, and we’d see just what she thought about this proposed marriage. If she didn’t want to see her name on a marriage contract, linked with the Vicomte Marigny, then … Suddenly I stiffened, pushing away from Jamie’s embrace. “What is it?” he looked alarmed. “Are ye ill, lass? You’ve gone all white!” And little wonder if I had. For I had suddenly remembered where I had seen the name of Mary Hawkins. Jamie was wrong. This was my affair. For I had seen the name, written in a copperplate hand at the top of a genealogy chart, the ink old and faded by time to a sepia brown.

Mary Hawkins was not meant to be the wife of the decrepit Vicomte Marigny. She was to marry Jonathan Randall, in the year of our Lord 1745. “Well, she can’t, can she?” Jamie said. “Jack Randall is dead.” He finished pouring the glass of brandy, and held it out to me. His hand was steady on the crystal stem, but the line of his mouth was set and his voice clipped the word “dead,” giving it a vicious finality. “Put your feet up, Sassenach,” he said. “You’re still pale.” At his motion, I obediently pulled up my feet and stretched out on the sofa. Jamie sat down near my head, and absently rested a hand on my shoulder. His fingers felt warm and strong, gently massaging the small hollow of the joint. “Marcus MacRannoch told me he’d seen Randall trampled to death by cattle in the dungeons of Wentworth Prison,” he said again, as though seeking to reassure himself by repetition. “A ‘rag doll, rolled in blood.’ That’s what Sir Marcus said. He was verra sure about it.” “Yes.” I sipped my brandy, feeling the warmth come back into my cheeks. “He told me that, too. No, you’re right, Captain Randall is dead. It just gave me a turn, suddenly remembering about Mary Hawkins. Because of Frank.” I glanced down at my left hand, resting on my stomach. There was a small fire burning on the hearth, and the light of it caught the smooth gold band of my first wedding ring. Jamie’s ring, of Scottish silver, circled the fourth finger of my other hand. “Ah.” Jamie’s touch on my shoulder stilled. His head was bent, but he glanced up to meet my gaze. We had not spoken of Frank since I had rescued Jamie from Wentworth, nor had Jonathan Randall’s death been mentioned between us. At the time it had seemed of little importance, except insofar as it meant that no more danger menaced us from that direction. And since then, I had been reluctant to bring back any memory of Wentworth to Jamie. “You know he is dead, do ye not, mo duinne?” Jamie spoke softly, his fingers resting on my wrist, and I knew he spoke of Frank, not Jonathan. “Maybe not,” I said, my eyes still fixed on the ring. I raised my hand, so the metal gleamed in the fading afternoon light. “If he’s dead, Jamie—if he won’t exist, because Jonathan is dead—then why do I still have the ring he gave me?” He stared at the ring, and I saw a small muscle twitch near his mouth. His face was pale, too, I saw. I didn’t know whether it would do him harm to think of Jonathan Randall now, but there seemed little choice. “You’re sure that Randall had no children before he died?” he asked. “That would be an answer.”

“It would,” I said, “but no, I’m sure not. Frank”—my voice trembled a bit on the name, and Jamie’s grip on my wrist tightened—“Frank made quite a bit of the tragic circumstances of Jonathan Randall’s death. He said that he—Jack Randall—had died at Culloden Field, in the last battle of the Rising, and his son—that would be Frank’s five-times great-grandfather—was born a few months after his father’s death. His widow married again, a few years later. Even if there were an illegitimate child, it wouldn’t be in Frank’s line of descent.” Jamie’s forehead was creased, and a thin vertical line ran between his brows. “Could it be a mistake, then—that the child was not Randall’s at all? Frank may come only of Mary Hawkins’s line—for we know she still lives.” I shook my head helplessly. “I don’t see how. If you’d known Frank—but no, I suppose I’ve never told you. When I first met Jonathan Randall, I thought for the first moment that he was Frank—they weren’t the same, of course, but the resemblance was … startling. No, Jack Randall was Frank’s ancestor, all right.” “I see.” Jamie’s fingers had grown damp; he took them away and wiped them absently on his kilt. “Then … perhaps the ring means nothing, mo duinne,” he suggested gently. “Perhaps not.” I touched the metal, warm as my own flesh, then dropped my hand helplessly. “Oh, Jamie, I don’t know! I don’t know anything!” He rubbed his knuckles tiredly on the crease between his eyes. “Neither do I, Sassenach.” He dropped his hand and tried to smile at me. “There’s the one thing,” he said. “You said that Frank told you Jonathan Randall would die at Culloden?” “Yes. In fact, I told Jack Randall that myself, to scare him—at Wentworth, when he put me out in the snow, before … before going back to you.” His eyes and mouth clamped shut in sudden spasm, and I swung my feet down, alarmed. “Jamie! Are you all right?” I tried to put a hand on his head, but he pulled away from my touch, rising and going to the window. “No. Yes. It’s all right, Sassenach. I’ve been writing letters all the morning, and my head’s fit to burst. Dinna worry yourself.” He waved me away, pressing his forehead against the cold pane of the window, eyes tight closed. He went on speaking, as though to distract himself from the pain. “Then, if you—and Frank—knew that Jack Randall would die at Culloden, but we know that he shall not … then it can be done, Claire.” “What can be done?” I hovered anxiously, wanting to help, but not knowing what to do. Clearly he didn’t want to be touched.

“What you know will happen can be changed.” He raised his head from the window and smiled tiredly at me. His face was still white, but the traces of that momentary spasm were gone. “Jack Randall died before he ought, and Mary Hawkins will wed another man. Even if that means that your Frank wilna be born—or perhaps will be born some other way,” he added, to be comforting, “then it also means that we have a chance of succeeding in what we’ve set ourselves to do. Perhaps Jack Randall didna die at Culloden Field, because the battle there will never happen.”

8 UNLAID GHOSTS AND CROCODILES ~Dragonfly in amber

#outlander #outlanderedit #the frasers #outlander starz #outlander series #jamie fraser #outlander fanart #jamie&claire #samheughan #jamie and claire #outlander books #outlander book #outlander 2x03 #outlander season 2 #caitrionabalfe #dr claire randall #claire beauchamp #claire fraser

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monalogs · 8 days

Note

Hey!!! HI!!! YOUR FANFICS ARE SO GOOD AACK

Can we (the starved) please have a Nyen dating hcs?? The reader can also be Luther's pet hshshshshs I'm literally going insane godd I'm so sorry Nyen's just so... So fucking fine..

Dating headcannons ! | Nyen

➷ Paring - Nyen x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - degradation, sadism, biting/marking, blood kink, predator/prey kink, mentions of killing, hes bad at emotions okay

a/n - trying to figure out how i want to format hcs so ignore that this looks different than the luther dating hcs. please. anyhoots whos dating hcs should i start doing next >.>

Hates you a little (probably)

Not in the “wants make you suffer and kill you” type of way he usually hates, but rather the “why do you make me feel this way?” type

How you make his cheeks redden and his palms sweaty, sharp nails digging into his own skin in overwhelming nervousness. It makes him feel weird, no matter how hard he tries to hide it

To care for someone other than his master, especially just a weak, pathetic pet like you… Nyen thinks in turn it makes him weak and pathetic

Nyen knows loyalty from Luther. Knows satisfaction and pleasure from killing. But genuine love? It made him want to tear his heart out just to stop it from beating so fast when he sees you

The romance manga Randal gifted him hadn’t prepared him at all. He's reread them and reread them in an attempt to understand how he should feel but he still needed time to wrap his head around the reality of being in a relationship

Did feel like he needed permission from his master to be with you. Thankfully, Luther was happy (how cute!) as long as it didn't affect his pet duties. Nyen doesn't know what he would've done if Luther said no.

Doesn't like terms like boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, you're just his.

Calls you baby or sweetheart. Some pet names you’d hear a trashy construction worker catcall a woman down the street with. His gruff voice doesn't help

Doesn't really care what you call him as long as it isn't sickly sweet… does have the smallest thing for being called sir… but only in private!

He most likely wouldn't act much like a good boyfriend in front of people. Sorry, his own pride is just too high to look all lovey-dovey in front of others

Basically the embodiment of “he's just bullying you because he likes you!” you’d get from an adult when a boy would torment you in school. Except he actually does like you. Weirdo

Nyen’s more comfortable when it’s just you, which means he doesn't feel the need to be brooding and scary in private

Loves to lay on your lap and have his head pet while he reads or watches television like the catman he is. Eventually falls asleep after some time so don't dare move.

Nyen’s schedule tends to be the same, he's not all about change. His day consists of doing what Luther tells him, working out, and watching out for pests or danger

Still about the same since you guys have been together, but he tries include you in his day as much as possible

It can be nice, like him wanting you to watch him workout. Making sure to show off his abs and biceps… acts like he doesn't do it on purpose for you to oogle at

Nonchalantly boasts about how he can pick you up with ease, no matter what you weigh

Has in fact proved it multiple times by carrying you around place to place

Wouldn't mind you exercising with him– but be careful. He's a harsh trainer, can and will push you until you're a sweaty, exhausted mess. Kinda turns him on…

Other times, he’ll drag you into more dangerous or scary situations just so he can protect you

You're his perfect damsel in distress, someone to run into his arms and hold closely

Actually wouldn’t let you be in real danger. But if he knows he can handle it, (which he can) he’s not opposed to your praise about how he’s saved you

On the opposite end, Nyen also enjoys playing hunting and chasing games with you. There are times when he has taken you to a nearby forest, releasing your hand where the evergreens are the thickest, and in his low voice, he says, “Run.”

He loves to focus on the scurry of leaves crunching beneath your feet, the sight of your figure trying to keep up ahead of him, and the sound of your rapid breathing as he gets closer and closer

Nyen pounces and catches you every single time, dark pupils dilated with pure adrenaline as he constrains you. Hours will pass before you’re home again

There's not many date-like activities Nyen is interested in doing. Nyen doesn’t care to plan them, you live together anyways!

But if you insist, a picnic is the go-to. Simple, outside of the house, and he gets to have as much beer and undercooked chicken as you can stuff into a basket

Can also take you out on late night drives. Speeding down long, tree lined roads as CD music blasts with a hand resting on your thigh. (Nice!)

Does go out of his way to hit any animal(man?) unfortunate enough to be on the road. If he manages, he’ll pull over and make you look at the mangled body with him (Not so nice.)

Lots of territorial behavior. Nyen loves to share his extra clothes or his cigs (if you smoke) so you’re smelling like him. It just connects you two together, without having to say a word

Speaking of territorial… marks a lot. Biting, scratching, hickies. Even bruises if he's extra rough

He doesn't let you hide them. Would probably explode if he caught you trying to cover them with makeup or clothes and end up punishing you by marking even more

Libido is very high. Didn't actually get much action before being with you, mostly jerking off after a successful kill

But with you? Practically at any chance, he will

Doesn't care if you haven't showered, shaved, or prepped in any way. Will always find you incredibly attractive and irresistible

Even if you have periods, he’ll still pin you against the wall and rub his cock against you. The blood turns him on baby!

Has a fantasy of you being covered in the blood of one of his victims while he fucks you. Maybe less of fantasy and more of a goal. One day…

Treats it like a game, pulling and teasing you beforehand. Nails dug into your hips, a low voice in your ear whispering about how you’ve been teasing him “like the slut you are”

Drags you away from whatever you're doing. Not sneaky or polite when he pins you against the closest surface available, the only gentleness being the steady growl of his voice. Nothing possibly can't be as important as the need to stuff his aching cock inside what's his

Has fucked you in every room besides his Master’s and Randal’s. Would just be too weird…

Wants to see you in every angle, lighting, position possible. Every feature of you is etched into his brain. Knows you down to the freckle

A sadist (duh), but cares about you feeling good too. Won't hurt you too bad, though his definition of what is too bad might be different from yours. He wants you alive and mostly conscious

Made an effort to learn proper aftercare and to be less selfish, as he never felt the need to before

Still uses too much teeth when giving head and offers you a lukewarm bottle of water after sex… but it's the thought that counts!

Has a bunk with Nyon and still makes you sleep with him. Problem tends to be that it's wayyyy too tiny for both of you. You’ve complained to him to ask Luther for a bigger and separate bed but he gruffly responded for you to shut up and let him spoon in peace

Kicks Nyon out of the room a lot so it could just be the two of you. It's almost childish, bitching and hissing if Nyon doesn't give up his space. Poor guy, he just wants to lay in bed and smoke :/

Bit of a night owl, doesn't actually need to sleep much yet he still likes to. but does so very late. You’ll only know he's in bed when he snores against your neck

Always awake first, he's got more important things to do than lay around in bed with you (as he claims)

Will come back a bit later and wake you up with a cup of the most bitter black coffee in a cheesy matching mug. Just as an apology for the scratch and bite marks leading between your thighs he gave you last night. Drink it all, it's rude if you don't :(

#ranfren #dark blog #dark content #randals friends #nyen catman #nyen x reader #nyen ranfren #ranfren x reader

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petitelepus · 5 months

Text

The Demon Gift: Choosing Hantengu, Part 4

Demon!Slave!Hantengu X Fem!Reader

Summary: You manage to find yourself and your Demons a new home and go shopping for stuff.

Warnings: None

A/N: Demon Slave AU, Domesticated Demons, Reader Insert, Fem!Reader, Hantengu, Master/Slave, Karaku, Sekido, Urogi, Aizetsu

Tags: @hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

After a good night's rest and a healthy breakfast, you called a van for you, Hantengu, and his 4 clones with tinted windows so the sun wouldn't burn them. Sadly, due to the law, you had to put collars you had bought the day before around Sekido's, Karaku's, Aizetsu's, and Urogi's necks.

"These collars are humiliating!" Sekido growled from the back seat and you silently cursed in your mind. Bratty Demons usually got beaten to submission, but you didn't want any of that to happen to any of your Demons.

"You have a mouthy Demon there, little miss!" The driver said and you were almost tempted to tell him to mind his own business, but instead, you just laughed a little, "Ha ha, yeah…"

"Want me to help you with it?" The driver asked and you almost choked on air, "Excuse me?"

"I can beat some sense into it if you like and I only charge you 50 bucks for it!"

Were you hearing right? This man wanted to beat your Demon so he would quiet down and he expected you to pay for it!? How cruel could someone be? Then again, you remembered that your wicked family was in no way different.

Sekido and the other clones must have heard the driver's offer because they were all quiet in fear of being beaten by the burly driver. You scowled as you looked at the driver, "Thank you, but no thank you."

"Okay, I will do it for free!" The man tried and you shook your head, "No."

"Fine, I pay you!"

"I'm seriously not interested." You were starting to lose your patience with this idiotic driver. He was about to say something but before he could, you snapped, "One more word and I will give you a review so awful you will never drive in this city again!"

That made the man shut up and you were pretty pleased with yourself for the rest of the drive. Finally, you made it to the house you were supposed to see and you thanked the Gods that it was a cloudy day so the sun wouldn't burn the Demons.

"That would be-!" The driver started, but you didn't let him finish.

"Don't bother waiting." You said as you slapped some money on his palm and got out of the car, the Demons following behind you and you were all awed by what you saw.

The house was absolutely gorgeous looking and there was an enormous backyard that looked more like a fucking meadow.

"Ooh, look at all this space!" Urogi laughed as he looked around, excitement clear on his face, "So much space for me to spread my wings!"

"It does look amazing." You nodded as you guys walked towards the front door. You raised your fist, ready to knock, but before you could do so, the door was opened and a small woman with huge glasses greeted you.

"Oh, you must be the buyers I was waiting for!" She smiled and you blinked, "Uh, sorry, we were told to come here by 11am?"

"Oh, that Randal must have given me the wrong time, AGAIN." The lady chuckled, "I'm Hortensia and- Oh? Who are these handsome young men?"

"Oh, uh," You looked at the Demons over your shoulder and then smiled at the lady, "They are my Demons. This place does allow Demons, right?"

"Honey, this place and all the land are yours if we can agree on a deal." Hortensia smiled, "Now come on in before the sun comes out! We don't want you young men to ruin your handsome faces!"

You were a little stunned but this lady's acceptance towards Demons, but you were welcoming the change to usual harassment. You and the clones entered the house and you were taken aback by how amazing the whole place looked. Huge and spacious and the furniture was just as gorgeous.

"Does the furniture come with the house?" You asked and Hortensia smiled, "They do! Of course, you are going to have to bring your own electronics such as a TV or two, but the house comes with furniture. The owners want to get rid of this place as soon as possible."

"Why?" You asked, honestly confused why someone would want to do so to a house this gorgeous, and the woman smiled, "Nasty divorce."

"Aah," You nodded, suddenly understanding. As you guys explored the house, you found out that the kitchen was big and connected to a spacious dining room. You could see yourself and the Demons eating there together.

The open living room was huge and so were the windows, letting in as much light as possible… Which wasn't so good for Hantengu or his clones.

"These windows, uh…" You started carefully.

"The windows are huge, yes, but it's nothing that proper curtains won't fix." Hortensia smiled, "The whole place was renovated by the sellers to fit their modern taste."

"I see." You nodded as you glanced at the Demons who were following behind you, "What do you guys think?"

"It needs curtains…" Sekido nodded and you had never seen him so calm yet, "But it's sufficient."

"It's wicked!" Karaku laughed and Urogi joined him, "And awesome!"

"I could see us living here." Aizetsu thought quietly and you smiled and looked at the real estate agent.

"Honestly, this place looks amazing." You said and the woman smiled as she showed you guys around the house, "There are 5 bedrooms and a home office but if you want you can change it into a guest room with the convertible sofa in there. There are 4 bathrooms, 2 here downstairs and the other 2 on the second floor."

"Wow," You smiled but just as you were thinking that the place couldn't get any better, Hortensia smiled, "I also have no doubt in my mind that you are going to love the basement."

"Why is that?" You asked and she smiled as she motioned you to follow her, "Come come and you will see!"

You and the clones followed the old woman down to the basement and what you saw made you and the Demons gasp out loud. There was an absolutely amazing-looking indoor pool, but it wasn't actually a pool but a bath instead?

"What is this…?"

"You like it, right? The owners used to travel around the world and they fell in love with Japan's hot springs. Of course, they wanted almost exact replica so they built this indoor bath."

"It's amazing…!" You were in awe but then you noticed a glass door on the side and you got curious, "Where does that door lead?"

"Go ahead and take a look!" Hortensia smiled and you walked to the door and opened it to look inside.

"A wooden room?" You wondered out loud.

"That's a real authentic Finnish sauna! Like I said, the sellers loved to travel." The older real estate agent said cheerfully and you were honestly speechless. Just how amazing can a house get? Your old home, back with your horrible family was amazing, but you only felt safe and nice in your own room. This house felt so much like that safe room of yours.

"What do you think? Is this your new home?" The woman asked and you smiled as you looked at her, "When can we move in?"

Hortensia explained that as soon as the sellers got paid, the house and the land that comes with would belong to you. Not wanting to waste any time, you told her to contact the sellers and tell them that you were ready to pay and move in as fast as possible.

While your agent was calling the sellers, you were waiting for a new taxi van with a different driver to pick you and the Demons up and take you back to your hotel. You looked at your Demons and smiled, "So? How are you feeling about this place?"

The clones shared a quick glance with each other before nodding.

"It's far away from nasty humans…!" Sekido said and Aizetsu nodded, "Here we can be free."

"And I can fly as much as I like as long as the sun is out!" Urogi smiled and Karaku grinned, "Do we get our own rooms? That's wicked!"

"What about you Hantengu?" You asked as you pulled your shirt's collar down and looked down to see the small Demon who was trapped or resting between your breasts. It honestly depended on how you looked at it.

"I- I liked it…! N- no bullies here…! Just Mistress…!" The tiny Demon whimpered and you awed as you gently petted the bump on his head, "Aww, that makes me happy."

"I wish I could turn small," You heard Karaku comment behind you and Urogi laughed, "Yeah, that would make me happy also!"

"When the two of you need special care like Hantengu I'll make sure to give you some." You said and the two gleeful clones cackled as they high-fived each other. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at them, but you were still smiling.

Behavior like this would have earned you some glares back at your family, but now you and your Demons could be as free and silly as you liked to be.

Thanks to Hortensia, you were able to meet the sellers as quickly as was just possible. The couple looked like very normal people who used to be in love but were no longer. They were more than happy to sell the house and land to you and you were more than happy to move in as quickly as possible.

So couple of days later, it was time to say farewell to your hotel room that had served as your temporary home and you moved to the new house with the 5 Demons of yours.

"Freedom!" Urogi and Karaku both laughed as soon as they made it inside.

"Quiet down you two!" Sekido snapped, "You're being too loud!"

"Who cares?" Karaku laughed, "This is our place now!"

"Karaku is right Sekido," You said as you closed the front door behind you, "This is our place now so you guys can do whatever you want."

"Still…!"

"We are more than thankful for this humble home." Aizetsu said as he looked at you and you smiled, "I'm happy that you guys are happy."

You looked inside your shirt, and gently pulled Hantengu out to show him the huge living room area, "How do you like your new home Hantengu?"

"I- it's huge…!" He whimpered and you smiled a little as you walked to the huge dark couches and set the small Demon on the table between the soft furniture and your only possession, your computer.

You sighed, tired due to all the stuff that happened lately, but you still had so much to do. For example, your stomach was empty and so was your new fridge. You would have to buy food for yourself, meat for Demons, and at least curtains for the living room's huge windows to block out the sun…

But as you thought about what you needed, more and more things popped into your mind. Clothes, electronics, bed sheets, towels, and the list went on. You would no doubt also need a car so you could move all the stuff you would need to buy. That, and you wanted to be able to move easily with Hantengu and his clones and not rely on some unknown driver.

Good thing that you had a driver's license, so all you needed was to get a car. There was still plenty of money left from what your stepfather gave you so money shouldn't be a problem. You just needed a car big enough for 6 and space for groceries and other stuff.

"Guys, I need to go shopping in the city." You said and this caught the Demons' attention.

"You're leaving us alone?" Aizetsu asked and you remembered that no one really left their Demons alone in fear that they could escape or such. But these five weren't your slaves, but more like roommates.

So you told them that, "You are free to do as you please. I was thinking of buying us a television, but if you want, you can come shopping with me? While we are out there we could get you guys some stuff you would like in your own rooms?"

"I'm in!" Karaku jumped up from the couch faster than you had ever seen anyone move.

"Me too!" Urogi said, but you shook your head, "Urogi, you better stay here and watch the house. No offense, but you may attract a little too much attention right now."

"I'll stay with him." Sekido said, "It's better that someone sensible is here than just one knucklehead."

"If it's just alright, I would like to accompany you to the city?" Aizetsu asked, "I can help you carry stuff?"

"Okay, sounds good. But!" There was a huge but, "You need to put the collars on for the time we are out."

Karaku whined and you frowned, "I don't like it either but if you guys don't wear them then you could be taken away from me."

"P- please, don't leave me alone…!" Hantengu whimpered and awed as you gently petted the small Demon, "Sekido and Urogi will be here with you. I promise I will bring you something extra nice so wait for me here, okay?"

Hantengu looked like he wanted to cry, but instead, he nodded a little and you smiled as you ordered a taxi for you and the clones of sorrow and pleasure. While you waited, you fastened the collars around their necks, looking sorry and apologizing to them, "I'm sorry about these…"

"I know… But you're doing it because you care…" Aizetsu nodded as he frowned, "So I understand."

You smiled a little, "Thank you for understanding."

Finally, your ride arrived and you and the clones got on and headed towards the city. The first thing you did was to go and buy a new and spacious car for you and the Demons, but apparently, you couldn't just walk in there and buy the car you wanted.

No, they had to be ordered and delivered first. You were a little frustrated, but you couldn't do anything about it. You ended up ordering the biggest minivan there was and paid extra to have the windows tinted so the sun wouldn't burn your Demons. The nice salesman promised to have your car ready after a week and while you waited he rented you a huge delivery van you could use meanwhile.

With that done and over, you, Aizetsu, and Karaku headed to the shopping mall. As soon as you stepped inside, the Demons were in complete awe of everything, the lights, the number of people, and the stores.

"So many people…" Aizetsu muttered quietly and Karaku grinned, "So many!"

"Okay, you guys are about the same size as Sekido and Urogi, right?" You asked and the Demons nodded and you smiled, "Great, let's get you guys some clothes then."

The three of you headed to the clothing stores and time really passed when you were shopping. You were never a huge clothing shopping fan, but with your wardrobe shredded to pieces, you needed some new clothes as well.

Spring was on and Summer was just around the corner so you needed something light to wear. You could buy heavier and warmer clothes when Fall comes. You were rather happy with the bags of clothes you had gotten and even happier that you had two strong Demons who helped you to carry some of the bags.

"Okay, then we need-!"

"Ooh, Mistress, Mistress!" You heard Karaku call you and you stopped and turned to see what had caught the Demon's attention.

"What is it Karaku?" You asked and the Demon pointed at the store he had stopped in front of. You took a look and saw that it was a videogame store and a pretty big one also. There were even some kids trying out the games set for customers to try.

"What are those kids doing?" Karaku asked and you blinked, stunned that he didn't know what video games were, but then again, he was part of Hantengu and you doubted that the timid Demon had ever seen a game like that before.

"They are playing video games." You replied and Karaku repeated after you, "Video games?"

"We can get some if you would like?" You asked and that was when you remembered your destroyed Nintendo Switch that your awful stepsiblings had broken. You still had what was left of your console so you should be able to regain all your saved files.

Actually, you started to like the idea of having video games in your house. While it was daytime and you would be forced to stay inside to hide from the sun, you could play games together.

"You know what? Let's buy a couple of consoles and games." You smiled and Karaku was absolutely beaming in joy, "Alright!"

The three of you stepped into the stores and started to look around for interesting games and consoles. Knowing pretty much what to get, you grabbed a couple of Just Dance, Pokémon, Mario, and Sports games, and three newest Nintendo Switches. The salesman looked a little stunned by the Demons who followed your every step, but no man or woman ever says no to money.

Happy with your shopping, you and the Demons took the clothing bags and gaming things to your rental van, before heading back to the mall to continue shopping. You bought some pillows, blankets, curtains and sheets, cleaning supplies and once you had those bought, you went to buy something to fill your huge fridge with.

When you made it to the meat section in the store, you turned to ask Aizetsu and Karaku if they preferred their meat cooked or raw, but when you turned you saw them staring at the raw meat on the butcher's display. They must have been hungry and rightfully so, your last meal was at the hotel before you left.

"What are you guys looking at?" You asked as you walked next to them and they both looked at you.

"Lamb!"

"Beef." They replied in perfect unison and you couldn't help but smile a little as you turned to look at the butcher on the other side of the display, "Can we get some lamb and beef to go?"

"Of course, young miss!" The man nodded as he grabbed the meats on display and chopped them into fine pieces that he quickly wrapped in paper.

"Your Demons have a fine taste!" The butcher laughed as he handed you the meat over the display and you chuckled a little, "Thank you."

You noticed that Karaku and Aizetsu were staring at the meat packet and you smiled a little, "You can eat in the car once we leave."

The Demons nodded, both excited over the idea of food. You and they finished shopping quickly and once you had everything a human or Demon might need, you got into the van, removed the collars from Demons' necks, and drove out of the parking hall and towards your new home outside the city. While you were driving, Aizetsu and Karaku enjoyed some of the beef and lamb at the back.

"Leave something for Hantengu, Sekido, and Urogi!" You called and Karaku laughed, "They have their own meat!"

"But sharing is caring…" Aizetsu tried to say and you quickly added, "There is enough meat for all 5 of you! Now, tell me what did you like most at the mall?"

The three of you went through the things you had seen or bought and before you knew it, you were back at your new home and just in time as the sun settled. You parked the car and honked, accidentally startling poor Demon of sorrow, to which you quickly apologized.

Hearing the honk, Urogi, Sekido, and Hantengu on Sekido's shoulder came to inspect the noise and saw you guys with many, so many bags full of things you had bought.

"What is all this?" The Demon of anger asked as he took in all the bags at the back of the van and you smiled a little, "Clothes, food, stuff we might need."

"Ooh, did you bring anything for me?" Urogi asked excitedly.

"There is some prime meat for all of you. I'm going to put them in the fridge so they won't spoil while we get all the things in their places." You said as you grabbed heavy shopping bags and carried the bags filled with meat for Demons and food for you to the kitchen.

While you were gone, the Demons looked at each other.

"What did you find out?" Sekido asked and Aizetsu frowned, "She was very sweet and thoughtful… I think she is genuine."

"She bought us games and gave us delicious meat!" Karaku grinned and Urogi smiled excitedly, "Games?"

"Quiet!" Sekido snapped, "Are you two certain we can trust her?"

"Absolutely!" Karaku nodded and Aizetsu sighed, "I believe so also, so do we must test her so?"

"We can't be too careful…" Sekido glanced at Hantengu on his shoulder who whimpered as four sets of eyes bore into him, "I- I want to trust her, I really do…!"

"What are you guys talking about?"

The 5 Demons turned to see you standing by the house's entrance and you smiled, "Can you grab bags and bring them inside while I prepare some meat for you?"

"It would be our pleasure!" Karaku cackled and you smiled as you turned and headed back inside to prepare the Demons' meals.

"I think we can trust her, right?" Urogi thought out loud.

"Time will tell." Sekido nodded before looking at the bags in the van, "For starters, let's get everything inside. We are starving."

#demon slayer #hantengu #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #sekido #urogi #Aizetsu #Karaku #reader #reader insert #fem!Reader #slave!Au #Slavery #Demon slave #writing #my writing #story #my story #ENJOY!

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loupy-mongoose · 10 months

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This part is long, so I'm banishing it to the Read More zone. XD

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

~~~~~~

Crap...

Akoya roused at the sound of the word. Slowly the events of the previous day replayed in her mind.

It was real...

The blue Mew stretched beside Randy with a sigh. Telepathically she chided him. Careful, Love. Lav was in here when I went to sleep.

She saw his hands lower from his face as he turned his head, looking around. He groaned and sat up. She rolled onto her stomach, noticing the pile of blankets and pillows in the corner. It seemed too flat to be containing the little Mewtwo. Her psychic senses confirmed it.

They were alone.

Randy sat on the edge of the bed for a while. Akoya could sense waves shimmering from him as his mind woke up.

Finally he leaned on an arm, rubbing his face with a drawn out sigh.

His voice was exhausted.

I don't know what I'm going to do, Akoya.

Akoya floated up and leaned her arms on his shoulder.

He knew Mo. I owe it to him to tell him that M... That Mo is... ...gone... Right?

Do you want me to tell him?

He sighed again. ...No... No, I... I think I should... I'll... I'll get there...

Akoya nuzzled his cheek. She wished she could take this from him. So, so badly.

I never expected we'd meet someone who knew Mo... Let alone a human...

I know...

They sat quietly, neither feeling like talking really. Finally, Randy sighed once more and found his cane at the foot of the bed. He grabbed it and stood up.

Well... Guess I better find him and... see if I can start... something...

Akoya, now gripping his shoulder as to not fall, gave him a comforting lick. I'm with you, Love.

He paused for a moment, before lifting his hand and stroking her face gently. She responded with a purr, which brought a smile to her friend's face.

Together they left the room.

~~~~~~

It wasn't long before Randy could hear chatter between Lav and this stranger they'd met yesterday. He sighed again, sure it was far from the last time.

He felt as if his sleep had done him no good. As if he'd fallen out of a nightmare, only to wake back into it.

He followed the voices into the kitchen. There he found Fuji and Lavender preparing something to bake. Cookies, by the look of it. They were obviously having fun together, and he couldn't help smiling a bit at his daughter's joy.

Soon the little Mewtwo turned to him. Randy noticed he could feel her energy waver a bit, but she still had a gleam in her eyes.

Fuji, too, looked at him. Ah, good morning, Akoya, Randall!

Randy partially lifted a hand in a tired greeting. Morning...

The blue Mew hovered off of his shoulder. Good morning!

Fuji's eyes met Randy's, and he felt his blood chill again, remembering what he had to explain. Blinking, he looked away. R-Randy's fine, by the way...

The older man must have noticed his discomfort. He cleared his throat. Well then, Randy, Akoya. Can I make you something to eat? Lav here tells me you don't like cookies, but those aren't the only option! I could whip us up some omelets. I have some Chansey eggs that I can use!

Lav gasped. Chansey egg omelets?? Oooo, I wanna try that!

Randy looked at her, glad to see her that happy finally. You sure? You don't normally like omelets.

I like Chansey eggs~

Randy felt an unexpected wave of emotion sweep through him. The happy squeak in her voice, along with her little smile and the sparks of pure joy in her eyes... He had to fight back tears.

Was it fair to long for those days...?

Alright! You all get comfy. I'll get those ready in a jiffy!

Are you sure you don't mind us being in our Mew fo-- She glanced at Lav. Uh... and Mewtwo... forms, Mr. Fuji?

Fuji smiled at her. Not at all, my dear! Take whatever form you're most comfortable in! I'll clean the table later, if you need to walk on it for whatever reason.

The Lindens and Fuji sat at his table. Randy poked at the omelet in front of him, eyeing the nearby saltshaker.

MmmmmmMMMMM!! This is so GOOD!!

The little Mewtwo shoveled her food into her mouth. Randy chuckled a little at her. Despite the good memories associated, he wasn't much a fan of the flavor of Chansey eggs. Still, nothing a little salt couldn't fix.

Akoya gave him a look as he sprinkled copious amounts of the seasoning on his food. Have a little egg with your salt, Love...

He handed the shaker to her, ignoring her snide remark. You might want some. They're a little sweet.

Akoya thought for a moment, before taking it.

After a short while of them eating, Fuji cleared his throat again. He interlaced his fingers together and placed his hands on the table, a serious expression on his face.

I'm sure you're aware I have questions... And I'm guessing you do too.

Randy locked eyes with the man, suddenly feeling lost for words. Once more, he sighed. A nod of the head was the only response he could muster.

Akoya stepped toward their host on the tabletop. You'll have to forgive our hesitancy, Mr. Fuji. Our answers aren't fun ones. Especially for him. She nodded toward her husband.

Randy smiled to the blue Mew, his heart warmed by her support. He took a deep breath, let it out, and met Fuji's eyes steadily.

Mo...

Mo is gone...

Fuji was still for a moment, before nodding with a sigh of his own. ...Okay... I'm sorry to hear it... If I may ask... If you know... How... How did it happen?

Randy felt a chill go down his back. This was it.

Well... He... He gave up his memories...

Fuji's eyebrows rose before lowering questioningly. His memories?

Randy stood from his chair, feeling the strange heat of Transform envelope his body. In a flash, he was a Mew, floating over the table.

This... This is Mo's body... He took Randy's memories... my memories... To let me live. At least... I think that's what happened... I don't very well remember that moment...

They both went quiet, Mr. Fuji's eyes swimming with this new information.

What was it he saved you from?

...He and I went to destroy some computers... And they exploded... He shuddered, and Akoya floated over to touch his shoulder reassuringly. I... I remember being pinned down... and fire... ... And talking with Mo... I don't remember what was said... But the next thing I remember was waking up in a whole other region.

I spent the next four years believing that, somehow, I had... that Randy had escaped the fire... But he hadn't...

...Not his body, at least...

Fuji sat staring at his clasped hands, his eyes unreadable, before speaking. He voice was soft and full of sympathy. Four years... And obviously you figured out what happened... That must have been a shock.

The three feline Pokemon exchanged glances, reliving the torturous discovery in their minds.

Yeah... Randy nodded, feeling his energy reaching its limit. Yeah... A shock that refuses to dissipate...

The group went silent. Randy let himself come to a rest on the table, the comforting touch of his wife beside him never leaving his side. He struggled to keep his mind blank, afraid that any train of thought could lead him down the wrong path.

Finally, Mr. Fuji let out a sigh and straightened in his seat. His eyes met Randy's exhausted ones. It's clearly taken a toll on you, and I can't say I blame you for that. To be the mind of one being in the body of another... I can't imagine how that must feel... He smiled sadly. If I may... you seem to have done well with his gift.

Randy paused a moment before turning to Akoya, meeting her warm sapphire eyes, and catching Lav's amethyst ones as well.

Done well with his gift...?

He couldn't deny that was at least partially true.

The twins flashed briefly through his mind, warming his heart. He could tell by the smile in her eyes that Akoya was thinking the same.

Yeah...

There was a lot to love in his life...

If only he could feel like he deserved it...

So, it's... Fuji leaned his head on his interlaced fingers. It's safe to say then, that by all means... Mo has passed away.

Randy's mind flooded with a torrent of thoughts from the last five years. Thoughts of the wars waged against his doubt. Times he beat himself up for his stupid actions back then that led to this mess he was in. The battles lost where he ended his day feeling as if he didn't deserve to be alive.

Even now, he wondered... How much was he truly Randall...?

Frozen by the force of the thoughts, he didn't answer.

And as she had so many times, Akoya answered for him.

Yes...

The word was an unexpected stab to his heart.

Mo has passed.

Randy's tried to find his memories, but... He never could.

And he feels like Randy, energy speaking.

Mo isn't there anymore.

Randy looked down, suddenly unable to meet the gentle man's eyes. His head was hurting, and the sweet smell of the baking cookies didn't help.

He hovered off of the table and returned to his human form, startled to feel his legs jolt in protest when he steadied on the floor. He leaned on his cane, his head whirling and pounding.

M-May I go for a walk? I need some fresh air... I need to try to... to sort my thoughts...

Fuji nodded. Of course! I understand... It sound's like a very rough situation to figure out. I don't blame you at all for needing time. If you can wait a moment, I can get you some tea for your walk.

For a second, Randy considered skipping it. But some tea sounded lovely right now... Okay... I'm going to step out to wait, though... These cookies are getting to me.

Akoya floated toward him, coming close to his face. Do you want me to come with you?

Randy shook his head. No... I want to be alone... He gave her a small but genuine smile. I'll be alright. You keep Lav company, okay? He took her tiny hand in his fingers and gave it a gentle kiss.

In return she butted her head against his, purring. Okay. She licked his forehead. I love you, Randy.

I love you too, Akoya.

~~~~~~

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