#I need face to face interaction but it's not worth the fucking risk

[hostdoozy]

why kraang1 is a good villian.

The Kraang are shown to have an authoritarian ideology that "the strong will devour the weak". Kraang1 specifically prides in his species' raw power and technology, even taking many moments to boast about the "mighty technodrome". He takes pride in what he is- but also, who he is. (read more below)

There's no doubt about it. Kraang1 has an inflated ego, so devoid of love or empathy that concepts like "honour, redemption & sacrifice" are (no pun intended) alien to him. To risk everything, your own well-being for the sake of another, for someone who is weaker than you- is something beyond his own understanding. When you smack talk him or his species- he'll take personal offence to it. The guy quite lirtally said it himself. He views himself as a gift.

To add emphasis on how fucking massive ego is and how strong his ideals are. His first instinct when is WHOLE ASS BUILDING is thrown at him. isn't to embrace himself for impact. no. He instead readies himself to FUCKING PUNCH THROUGH IT.

Kraang1's unbridled self-confidence within himself and his leadership, plays an unspoken role within the narrative. i feel as though it needs to be highlighted because I want the community to understand why Kraang1 works so well as an antagonist to Leonardo. Kraang1 and his little sibs are my favs so I'm just heavily biased here

To briefly touch upon the fandom's favourite turtle, Leonardo. it's well-established that Leonardo has low self-esteem issues and often masks his insecurities through a dashing confident facade. when faced with the responsibilities of leadership. he sabotages himself.

I won't be going too in-depth into this since many posts discuss this aspect of Leo infinitely better than I ever could. So, I suggest reading this post by Risestarkiss and this analysis video by Skullrot if you want a deeper look into Leo's insecurities as a whole. (go follow them btw)

This is something worth mentioning because Kraang1 mirrors everything Leo isn't at the start of the movie. A strong competent leader. He's confident in himself but also in his own siblings. it's heavily implied that he has a great understanding of 2 & 3.

An example of this is instance is during the integration Scene where Kraang2 is curiously examining Raph before threatening him. Kraang1 emerges from the shadows saying "forgiven my sister. She's got a bit of a temper and being imprisoned for 1000 years hasn't done her any favours" He speaks with an air of familiarity. He understands his sister and where Her weakness lies. He knows her strengths and what makes her a ferocious foe. Another Example of Kraang1's understanding of his siblings, is his interactions with Kraang3. While nothing explicitly said between the two. Kraang1's here actions speak louder. Before the climax, Kraang1 is seen accompanying Kraang3. He knows the importance of Kraang3's role and thus, protects him along the way. Kraang1 understands that Kraang3 is the weaker one out of the trio but knows that despite this, Kraang3 is valuable. Why Kraang1 make's effective as a villain is that he's also an effective leader too. His confidence isn't just a facade, When he tells you he's a gift- he MEANS it and can back it up.To put this in perspective. In Casey's timeline. He won. Kraang1 isn't all bark and no bite. This son of a bitch means business. But throughout the movie, Leo is coming into the role of a leader. When called out by Casey, he reflects and steps up. He begins to Listen. It isn't about him after all. Kraang1- is the EXACT opposite of this. Everything leads back to himself. for Kraang1, it IS about him. It's about his strength, his species and his future empire. Everything surrounds him in some way. While his confidence is one of his strengths- it's also his weakness. By setting himself apart from the other Kraang, it became his downfall.

If Kraang1 in this timeline took a page out of Leo's book, he might have won again. They're a sense of irony in this. Kraang1 is an experienced warlord who knows how to lead effectively. He knows his siblings and utilizes their strong suits for conquest.

Leo in some regard, is simllar. He too understands his siblings, he knows how to lead when push comes to shove. Yet Leo possesses something that Kraang1 is lacking in. The ability to reflect. Leo is able to see where he faltered and pick up the pieces.

Where kraang1 cannot. When his mistakes are pointed out. he takes offense... and that's why, he failed.

He made it about himself.

#brew talks #rambles #leonardo #kraang #krang #rottmnt #rottmnt krang #rise tmnt #rise of the tmnt #character analysis #this is just a long way of me saying #i just like how cocky kraang is #kraang1 #krang1 #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise leo #teenage mutant ninja turtles

[writingmeraki]

cho guesung as a dad hcs !

pairing : cho guesung x gn!reader (gender isn't specified)

genre : fluff !!

warnings : mentions of pregnancy, periods and labour. maybe some cusses.

author's note : sorry anon who waited almost years for this 💀 but hope you like it ! i don't know if I'm satisfied with this but hey it's my first attempt at something like this so i hope i did alright hehe <3 (not fully proofread)

word count : 1.2k

‌Okay so obviously we all know Guesung would be an amazing father especially from his little interactions with his nephews AND the fact that he also wants to definitely have kids in the future as he said in that one interview :(

‌I just feel like he'd be the type to not accept the fact that his partner is actually pregnant because he'd be too fucking excited lol

‌"...babe i think I'm pregnant."

‌"..what."

‌Seeing the somewhat blank look on his face you feared maybe he wasn't ready to have a child just yet even though he was excited but the self-doubt was very much still there, especially from the lack of his reply.

‌"Look I missed my period recently and just to make sure I'm not just jumping to conclusions I did do 6 pregnancy tests and they all came positive, I don't know-"

‌As you were getting more emotional he would literally run up to you and hug you so tight, slightly lifting you off the ground as he span you around and thanked you over and over again as he gushed about how this was the best news you'd ever given him.

‌You would giggle as he let you go and held your face, gently placing butterfly kisses as he murmured words of gratitude and love to you

He already loved you so much but he was sure he'd never ever spend another lifetime with anyone other than you now and you were also grateful to have someone like him as your partner because every sort of self-doubt was dismissed the moment you saw his genuine happiness and love once he promised you to be the best father to your child and how he'd take care of the both of you

‌And this man was truly one to fulfil his promises as throughout your pregnancy he'd make sure you were properly looked after and took good care of yourself as well as your baby whom Guesung seemed even more excited to meet than you at this point

‌And when you went into labour he had wished he was able to take away your pain and this man absolutely shed tears at the sight of you in pain, he couldn't bare it at all even though he'd seen potentially worse, it was too much but he knew it was all worth it when he saw your newborn baby.

‌When he held your baby in his arms, he thinks everything was worth it and was ready to give up the entire universe and everything then and there for your child.

‌You were barely allowed to move in the first few days after your labour, Guesung had read up, especially on all of the things a husband could do in order to help his partner out. There was no way he was going to risk you hurting yourself after all that you’d gone through, much preferring to take things easy at the start.

‌Guesung had already prepared all the things needed for a newborn. The Nursery? He and the boys literally planned that for months and you couldn't help but tear up once you saw how beautifully they had done it. Clothes and other necessities? Let's just say Guesung was a very ecstatic father and had literally bought any type of baby clothes that existed.

‌To say the least, he was the most prepared father to exist at least he believed himself to be.

‌but when your baby spoke its first words, the waterworks made their way faster than ever and even more so when the words were along the lines of 'dada'

‌Man you'd give anything in the world to witness that look of pure joy on his face again but lucky for you, that same joy always stayed whenever your child was around.

‌You both were very delighted when your baby finally learnt how to walk and you actually had to tell Guesung it was still too early to teach your child football and you couldn't help the small giggle that left your mouth once you saw his pout and tiny mock glare directed towards you.

‌I think I accidentally have two kids huh You chuckled as you realised how some of the antics of your child were basically like your husband's

‌It was like just a mini version of him, with the little moles around the face as well the full cheeks which bunched up whenever a full smile was formed.

‌When you both slept with the baby, Guesung slips his arm over your body to catch his baby's little one too, avoiding your baby to fall from your bed at night. His long fingers rest softly on the tiny little back and his lips are against your nape.

‌He also bathes the child. You thought it was his paternal instinct to want to take care of the little angel, but the truth is that he has even a better time than the baby, making foam beards and playing with water toys.

‌Once your child was old enough, Guesung got the kid a football as well as a tiny jersey outfit that resembled his and in the same way of fate, your child also seemed to be fond of the sport as well.

‌Both Guesung and his teammates loved to play with your little champ, who was very much talented in the sports, and Guesung would love to let your kid play and score against him to which he'd get the opportunity to ruffle his little one's head and chuckle at the excitement shown by his baby.

‌Whenever you'd go out to eat, he'd make sure his angel ate well even feeding food from his own plate at which you'd sometimes have to shake your head and remind him that your baby had his own share of food but in the end, Guesung's habit never changed to the point where you'd put your own portion of food onto his so he could eat properly as well too.

‌He makes time from his busy schedule to assist with anything his baby does: scholar plays, dance exhibitions, football games (of course )... it doesn't matter, but you both want to be there, cheering for your baby !!!

‌Reads tales to your little one, even when a fly seems more interesting gets and keeps smiling towards Guesung's hands whenever he turns the page.

‌They both complot against you to go play arcade games and eating loads and loads of cotton candy after practices or after school.

‌He would try his best to help in academics if he can but he knows you're much better at that and just gently listens to you explain to your kid and smiles at your concentrated face.

‌He will spoil your kid to the absolute T and I mean that but he also knows he should teach your child lessons about not being a spoilt brat so he'll always play little games or give rewards once a small task is done or when your baby is in not that good of a mood.

‌Due to him being so tall, he loves to carry the kid on his shoulders and the kid absolutely loves to be that tall just like the dad and to be hugged like that.

‌He just wants his baby to grow up to be a smart, independent and strong individual. But on the other hand, he wishes that his little one would always remain little so he could forever take care of his baby.

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2022

links : main navigation !

#cho guesung #cho gue sung #cho guesung imagines #cho gue sung fanfic #cho gue sung x reader #cho guesung ff #cho guesung fluff #cho guesung headcanons #headcanons #headcannons #dad headcanons #south korea nt #[ pri works ]

[arteastica]

Early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (22)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (23) | (24)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.9k

Your lips were usually the first part of your body his greeted, but when his teeth took the tender skin of your neck between them instead, you knew that the look in his eyes wasn’t the only thing that had changed that night.

He sank his teeth into the soft flesh, a little below your jaw, and it didn’t hurt. The first night you were together he promised that would never happen, and being the upstanding, dependable Commander of the Survey Corps, you knew he was a man of his word. That’s why, even when your body was trembling against his, chest so tight it was hard for your lungs to expand, you trusted him. You trusted the warm breath on your neck that announced the path he was following, a path that led him to a specially sensitive patch of skin below your throat, where his lips started to suck on a little harder than they ever had. But then again, it didn’t hurt.

Not knowing if your lips were allowed to say as much, you ran your fingers through his hair, letting them tell him instead, in their gentle, silent way that you missed him.

A lot.

However, unsure if that was something he wanted to hear, and fearing he wouldn’t return the words, you settled for intertwining your fingers with his golden locks, head thrown back and eyes closed as you let his lips have his way with you. Lips that, by now, had traveled all the way down to your collarbones, slightly visible despite your closed shirt. And, when he nipped the delicate skin, a soft whimper escaped your lips.

A small, innocent sound that proved to be enough to make him want to bury his face between your breasts, which he promptly did after undoing the top buttons of your shirt in one single motion of his hand.

“Erwin.” You called out timidly, his name becoming a combination of pleasure and pain on your lips. Pain that wasn’t exactly physical.

On one hand, you were happy he was touching you again. You were glad to be someone he still wanted to kiss, to hold, to fuck maybe; even after you had told him you loved him. His lips on you, feasting on the tender, plump flesh of your breasts were enough confirmation that you still existed in his mind; that he still craved your body, just as much as your pussy, hungrily rubbing against the hard muscle of his thigh, told him you craved his.

Another part of you, however, was lost in uncertainty; constantly asking herself if it was all worth it. If this pleasure was worth the risk. The risk of ending up feeling used.

Because, the more he sank his teeth into you, the more you realized how impersonal it all felt, much like his voice had just moments ago. There was something you couldn’t explain, something about his kisses choosing your neck and breasts over your lips. There was something unsettling about not being able to see his eyes. It scared you. Not being able to find, in their gentle gaze, the reassurance you needed in such vulnerable, intimate state; with your heart threatening to break your ribcage, your shallow breaths suffocating you more than helping you, and your pussy throbbing even harder with every lap of his tongue against your skin. But then again, that’s how your body reacted whenever he was around.

That’s how it reacted whenever you had the warm palm of his hand under your shirt, a subtle way of announcing that the fabric had become an obstacle that needed to be disposed of soon; which he promptly did, tugging at the front so suddenly and so forcefully it left you wondering if you’d find yourself sewing the bottoms back later in your room. But honestly you didn’t care, not when his hand skillfully unclasped your bra, revealing how impatient your nipples were to become the next target of his attention.

But, when time passed passed and his tongue never showed, you looked down to find him undoing your pants, not even bothering to look up to give any sort of explanation as he pulled down your boots, before throwing everything together to the pile of fabric only your panties were yet to join.

Only, they never did.

They remained in their place, quietly waiting around your hips for their turn, the cotton desperately clinging to the wet skin between your legs. A place that was leaking with want, throbbing with desire, clenching in anticipation.

Silently crying for him.

So much so that, for a moment, you considered removing them yourself. But that was before he stood up and his midnight eyes met yours, making you understand that taking your panties off wasn’t an order your commander had given.

“Comman- ah-” You moaned when his arm found its way around your waist; his body, still fully, and rather unfairly clothed, pressed hard against your bare skin as he lifted you up like a doll. A doll he wanted sitting on his desk, her legs slightly parted, just enough so he could stand in between.

His eyes bore into yours, telling you his plans in a language you were yet to learn, and maybe it was the gelid blue of his stare, or the fact that your panties were the only item of clothing you had been allowed to keep, but you started to shiver. Unsheltered, forsaken, and uncertain. Like a toy that was brought out of the attic one last time, just so its owner could decide if they would keep it or give it away.

“I’m scared.” The words left your lips in a whisper. A whisper so feeble you were unsure he had even heard.

Yes, you were scared. Scared that he didn’t believe you. Scared that he thought you were seeing Leon behind his back, kissing him in secret corners, letting him touch you in the late hours while you called his name, a name that wasn’t your Commander’s. And most importantly, you were scared of what a misunderstanding of that magnitude could mean for the two of you. For your future together, assuming there was even as much as a future to be scared about.

“I can stop if this is not what you want.” He said, and this time his voice sounded a little like it had back then, that unforgettable night when the winter was just starting and you had his naked body hovering over yours, glistening with sweat as he promised he would never hurt you.

It all seemed so far away now.

You knew, however, that his promise remained the same, despite his eyes and the way they looked at you changing so abruptly. And like so, you shook your head promptly, not knowing what was going to happen but wanting to see it happen regardless.

But despite your consent, he didn’t move a finger, choosing to stare at you instead. With those hazy blue eyes, disorienting and mystifying in an enticing, calming way; like morning mist hovering over the mountain lake on a chilly autumn day. And you got the feeling that maybe, just maybe, if you waited long enough it would clear up. Along with all the misunderstandings separating the two of you.

Because, maybe, all you needed was to stare into each other’s eyes, let them talk to each other before your lips could complicate everything with words. Because the more you stared into the blue, the more you saw, the more you understood, and the more visible the truth became.

What was hiding under the surface, below all that fog? What wasn’t he telling you? And, why he didn’t want to tell you?

You held all those questions in the trembling hand you lifted to his cheek, finding in his stillness the courage to run a gentle thumb against his skin, which was warm and comfortable, and slowly leaning against your palm. And for a moment, you thought he would close his eyes and let you hold him like you used to, not too long ago. But if there was something about the 13th Commander of the Survey Corps, something you should be familiar with after working 8 months under him, was his unpredictability. The patterns that his thoughts followed were a mystery, and that is assuming they followed a pattern at all.

Because unpredictability was in everything he did. From the way his hunter green cloak would dance in the wind as he rode his white horse across fields of green, to the way he would lead his men and their lives into uncharted territories with a single flare of his gun, or the way he turned you around in one swift motion of his arm. Big, commanding hand flat against your back, holding you down, a whimper escaping your lips the exact moment your breasts landed on the cold, hard wood of his desk, left cheek squeezed against the papers he had just been working on; which you confirmed were indeed the reports on the new horses. And, as useless as that information seemed now, it was the only thing your eyes were allowed to see from the position you now found yourself in.

You squirmed under his hand, your naked toes barely touching the floor, the delicate clinking of trembling porcelain the only thing you could hear as you tried to adjust your position in an attempt to see him. But the only thing you managed to see from the corner of your eye was the sturdy, menacing frame silently standing behind you, observing you. And you didn’t need to see his face to know where his attention was, because his eyes were burning your skin, visually devouring the flesh between your legs, where your famished hole throbbed, greedily consuming the fabric as it stuck to your wet slit.

And a minute could have passed, or a year perhaps, before you finally heard the rattle of his belt, announcing the plans he had for you. An excited shiver ran down your spine just mere seconds before you felt his warm hand between your legs, furtively pushing your panties to the side with a flick of his finger, not even bothering to pull them down before running the thick, delicious tip of his cock up and down your slit. And something about his unhurried, leisurely movements reminded you of a wolf circling its prey before going in for the kill.

It was relaxing, in a dangerous way. Comforting in the problematic sense. So comforting that pleased hums started leaving your lips every time you exhaled. His generous, hard cock and the soft, moist tip running along your slick folds, reassuring you that he was finally there at your door, as if he had just come home after the longest of missions.

You let your eyes fall shut and your mind get flooded with all the pleasant imagery. Summer, him coming home to you after a long day at work, warm dinner served on the table much like your body was now on his desk, the pantry cabinet now standing sturdy and foursquare after you asked him to fix it; glass holding the lemonade you just prepared for him, and the peach rhubarb pie waiting respectfully in the oven as your clothes dried quietly in the backyard. A lovely repetition you wished to be stuck in for the rest of your days together.

A short lived fantasy that made your lips curve into a smile, a smile that turned into an open mouth the moment he pushed his fat cock inside, all of a sudden and without warning. All the way to the hilt. And then, just as unexpectedly, he pulled out, allowing you to taste nothing but the overwhelming emptiness for a brief second before slamming back in, harder this time, making you release a pained and very audible moan that you were certain someone, at least one person, somewhere in the castle must have heard.

“Comman- ahh-” You gasped when he pulled out again before slipping back inside, his pace growing more aggressive with every thrust. “Erwin- mmmh~”

It was so different today. He seemed so eager to claim you as his, not holding back at all when it came to the rhythm of his hips, and neither were you when it came to your moans. You heard yourself making sounds that had never come out of your mouth before.

“Erwin!” You heard yourself chant his name in notes you didn’t know you were able to reach. “A-ah!”

You were practically screaming and he didn’t seem to care if someone heard you. In fact, it was as if the louder you screamed, the deeper his dick would go as a compliment. Almost as if he was announcing, with every thrust of his hips, that you belonged to him.

As if he wanted the whole castle to know what he was doing to you, the things he was making you feel.

As if he wanted everyone, including you, to know that nobody else could fuck you like this.

As if he was belligerently asking, with every violent thrust of his hips, if a metaphorical someone could make you scream like this.

And who were you to refuse answering your commander’s questions?

“I promise I’m only yours hnngh~” You moaned as his heavy balls hit your dripping folds. “But, if you feel I’m not, then make me a-ahh~!” Your fist held the report he had been working on, now nothing but a crumpled up paper; your brow locked in a tight frown as you did your best to speak through the overwhelming pleasure. “Please, Erwin, fuck me until you feel I’m yours enough.”

And you knew he was about to do just that the moment he removed the flat palm he had been pressing against your back, and placed it on your hips instead, gripping the flesh with such force it made you think he was never going to let go. And you were completely fine with that.

His thrusts grew even more animalistic as time went on, and maybe it was the spice of the cedar desk against your nose or the vanilla of the white oak burning on the other end of the room, but it all made you think of an ax chopping wood in the middle of a forest clear, splitting it in half like a broken heart, yet oddly satisfying like gliding a hot knife through fresh butter, very early in the morning. In the kitchen of some cabin. Hidden in some faraway woods.

As he pounded into you, all you saw was the kettle and the teacup, forgotten on the opposite end of the desk, and all you heard was the rattling of the porcelain, as its contents threatened to jump out of the cup, taking excited leaps every time he thrusted into you.

“Yes, yes, just like that.” You couldn’t help but smile, feeling like a flower, starved of sunlight, after the sky finally cleared up. “Erwin, I’m yours mmmhh~” Every inch of your body belonged to him, and you wanted him to know. To know that he had complete control over every single muscle of your body, down to the smallest one. Hence why they all tensed up when his grip tightened and more desperate, filthy sounds started to leave your lips in appreciation of how deep he was. “Only yours. Do you understand?”

You asked, but didn’t really expect an answer to come out of his lips. He was so silent today, and that was fine. Because you were being vocal for the two of you. You were screaming so he didn’t have to speak, moaning so he could focus all his attention in fucking you, in sliding that fulfilling, indulgent cock of his in and out of you, over and over again.

In your office, and maybe outside too, nothing else could be heard that evening, nothing but your sweet little cries and the lewd, wet sound of his dick as it entered your tight hole, repeatedly and relentlessly. So relentlessly you soon felt it building up inside, like a cork popping out of a bottle, the foam menacingly filling the glass to the brim; like milk dangerously approaching its boiling point, threatening to spill everywhere and cause a mess.

A beautiful one.

“Yes! Please, I-I’m almost there, Erwin. Please make me c-come.” You clenched tighter against his cock, your body squirming so much his hand had to return to its former position flat against your back. “I want to come for you.” Bending you over. “All over you.” Holding you down so you wouldn’t escape. “Because of you.”

Perfection. No, even that word fell short. Artistic. No, you couldn’t arrange it prettily into words. Aromatic. Yes, you could smell it. The freshly brewed ginger, the zesty lemon, and the intoxicating sweetness of the honey. An infusion you would never be able to drink again without thinking about him. Fucking you like this. On his desk. His hand folding you over. The sky all those ambiguous colors. His heavy, velvety balls slapping against your drenched pussy, his swollen cock buried all the way down to the hilt. You. Completely vulnerable, entirely owned by him. And even though his swollen cock relentlessly pounding into you reminded you of a knife stabbing an open wound, ironically, you felt safe. Safe enough to let your eyes close and your smile widen, as you prepared to come for him.

-

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @mchlist @apts2000 @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @lucifers-nipple-piercing

#arteastica writes #erwin smith x reader #shingeki no kyojin erwin #erwin snk #erwin smut #erwin x reader #aot erwin #snk erwin #commander erwin #attack on titan erwin #erwin smith #erwin x y/n #erwin x you #erwin smith x y/n #erwin smith x you #erwin smith fanfiction #erwin angst #aot smut #aot x female reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #erwin fanfic #aot angst

[anjelicawrites]

The winner takes it all

Chapter III (I, II)

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x reader

Synopsis: inspired by the Æthelflæd and Erik's storyline in The Last Kingdom. Might be spoilerish if you haven't seen it (go watch it!!!), even though I've just stolen the inspiration and went on with the story my way.

Warnings: mention of marital violence, mention of rape.

A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns are used (they are called “lady” and “daughter of the North”). The only descriptor is that they have long hair.

A/N 1: this is an AU. Look at me taking the canon story of Westeros and yell “Parkhour!” as I jump out of the window clutching it in my hands.

18+ only, tank you!

It takes Prince Aemond two days to fulfill the first part of his promise. He arrives with a bunch of his men and a sturdy woman carrying a big piece of soap and fresh clothing for you. His men flank you and him as you walk outside the city walls, the woman walks in front of your group, head up, staring at the horde of white haired people as if challenging them.

You don't really care about the people trying to ogle you, you are too busy breathing in the fresh air and feeling the anemic sun of the North on your skin.

“Was this really necessary?” You ask, pointing at the warriors around you

“You are precious to us, I can’t risk anything happening to you.” He answers stiffly and you wonder if he’s not that used to talk to people

“You can’t risk having your bounty taken away, you mean.” It still hurts when your worth as a person is reduced to that, a pawn in someone else game.

“It would be a great loss for our new reign to lose someone like you. Bounty or not”.

He is even more stiff now that you are forcing him to talk to you.

Having a conversation with you was not part of his plan; he was supposed to keep guard as you washed yourself; he had envisioned just greeting you and now you are staring at him with sadness in your eyes and he knows he has fucked up. Gods he is so not good at interacting with people.

“I’ve heard tales of your beauty and courage. Not many would have tried to defend themselves against me the way you did. The North needs you and New Valyria will need your presence even more”.

You stop walking to stare into his lilac eye, he has to bend his head a bit to look at your face. His men form a protective circle around you two.

“What will happen to me if my husband does not pay the ransom?”

“He will pay”

“What if he doesn’t?” You don’t want to show him, but you are scared of the possibility.

You hope your voice is strong and doesn’t betray how insecure you feel, he just stares at you again as if he is scrutinizing you, trying to stare into your very soul.

“You are our prisoner, but you are under my protection. No harm shall befall you”.

He is, if that’s even possible, even more stiff when he answers you. His arms are behind his back, his whole body in a protective stance, legs firmly planted on the ground; his eye is soft though, his stare warm like the flames of fire during a long, brittle winter.

“Thank you.” You say and you have to stop staring at him but you can’t, he has mesmerized you

"Your bath awaits you or has the cold changed your mind?"

You don't openly laugh, but a short smile appears on your lips

"This is not cold, Prince Aemond. You have no idea of what true cold feels like"

"It's good then, than we are approaching spring"

"Yes we do, but winter always comes." You say proudly

"It will be a different kind of winter Issa riñnykeā." A smirk curling his lips.

You desperately want to ask him what those foreign words mean, your pride stopping you; your situation is already precarious the way it is, why add another layer of weakness?

With extreme difficulty you stop staring at his lonely eye and start walking again. When you all leave the heavily guarded gates, you are reminded that you have no chance at running away, not with the way the area is, offering you no hideout and with your people's army so far away. Even the small stream is of no use to you: here the ice has already melted, you have no idea of what you might find down the course. Not that you have a boat to sail, by the way.

You are a prisoner in your own home.

Prince Aemond and his men turn around when you all reach the small river to form a human wall and leave you with your dignity intact; the Valyrian woman helps you with your clothes and with your hair. The two of you are so engrossed in your work, that neither of you notice Prince Aemond sneakily turning around, his curiosity winning over his manners as he steals glances at your naked form in the cold water. His whole body stiffens when he sees the lashing scars on your back: they are healed over completely, but don't look awfully old. Also, why would a lady of your standing be the recipient of lashing? His analytical mind starts putting all he knows about you together and the result doesn't sit right with him: already he's had to chop his subordinate's hand for his disrespect, now he has to kill your husband. His death in battle has always been a possibility, now he has to hunt him down and kill him. What a Gods damned bother the man is and Aemond doesn’t even know him.

He whips his head around quickly when he notices you have started turning. It is embarrassing enough to have these murderous feelings towards a man he doesn't know, but Aemond has never taken kindly to men beating their spouses, to have you discover his lack of manners would be horrendous beyond repair; he is no Aegon, he’s always been better than that. Talking about Aegon, he hadn’t been happy with Aemond's punishment, even after being explained repeatedly that letting that one violation slide, would have meant weakness on their part: either you are untouchable or you are not. When you go home, you might survive the war or die, there’s too many variables to count, here he can offer you his and his brother’s protection, even though you are a prisoner.

When you have dried yourself, the woman offers you a red and black dress, simple and in a Valyrian fashion; you’d rather not wear Targaryen’s colors, but you are not checking the horse’s mouth when your clothes are muddy and ruined beyond repair. The woman, then, makes you sit on a big rock and starts combing your hair and styling it into Valyrian braids

“I don’t know if you understand me. Do you know what happened to my handmaid?”

The woman never stops her ministrations and answers in broken Common Tongue

“Dead or taken. - You shudder at what she implies. - I am sorry.” She adds, her rough hand on your shoulder as a modicum of support.

You let her work the braids in silence as you try to control your tears. You had hoped she had managed to escape; in retrospect you were the target, the other people in the camp only unfortunate enough to be where you were. You can only hope that the men pursuing you ignored her as you ran into the thick woods.

You are in no talking mood as you walk towards your prison. Prince Aemond seems to sense this and he doesn't force you to speak, he even tries to keep his distance physically, even when his men have to close ranks around you two as you re- enter the city.

Hearing all these people talk High Valyrian makes you want to scream in rage, but you are stronger than that, your shoulders stiff and square, your strides even more confident: you want to show these people that the North might be small, compared to New Valyria, but that you all don’t go down without a good fight.

Once you are again in your cell Prince Aemond waits until it’s only the two of you

“I haven’t forgotten. - He says and looks even more constipated than ever. - The other half of my promise”.

You can’t help but stare into his eye, the hypnotic quality of the lilac forcing you to keep looking, incapable of stopping

“Thank you Prince Aemond”.

You curtsy and he doesn’t go away, he stays rooted into the spot, his eye unnerving on your face, taking you in. You look even lovelier dressed as a Valyrian: he wants to engrave this memory in his brain until he knows his good manners have deserted him once again.

He has to force himself to leave you alone into your cell, he doesn’t want to go and strategise with Aegon, he wants to stay with you, admiring your beauty, so foreign to him. With a great effort he kisses your hand again, having to stop himself from keeping it in his for longer than necessary and goes away, closing the oak door softly, the skin that has touched yours burning like dragon flames. He is not questioning his behavior.

Everythig taglist: @hightowhxre

Aemond taglist: @phantoms-main-blog

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen #the winner takes it all

[voids-voyager]

I think, at the end of the day, what I want above all else from the end of the Todoroki family story arc and Dabi's story, beyond Enji not just getting off scotfree after ruining his family's lives but I feel that's a given but beyond that-

I want Dabi to be given time.

One reocurring thing running among the Todoroki's is that most of them has been given time away from the fucked up family situation, away from Enji, to grow as their own people.

Fuyumi complicates this obviously. You could argue her becoming a teacher and building an adult life could count, but Fuyumi also wants other things compared to her siblings, and that's okay! But if you look at the other three, I think it's easier to see what I mean.

Shouto is the most obvious example. It's thanks to not having his thoughts occupied by his father and letting them rule his actions and mindset, even if just to piss his dad off, that Shouto is able to grow. UA and his classmates give him that, he's given a space and time to develop as a person and find out who he is and who he wants to be. Bouncing off his classmates and interacting with people his own age as equals helped him.

It's a big part of Shouto's character that he thinks about his decisions thoroughly and what he wants to do. And he's able to do this because he is given the time and space to do so. It's not explicitly stated, but I think moving to the dorms helped him a lot with this. Shouto is no longer at risk of interacting with his father everyday, letting Shouto distance himself and decide how he feels about his father, being his son, and his ow quirk, without his abuser there to influence him.

I think this page best shows what a bad influence Endeavour can be on Shouto's mind. Shouto was calm before this, just trying to get to his match and not engaging, but his worsening mental state is called to attention the longer Endeavour talks. Keep in mind this match and moving to the dorms happens long before Enji decides to be a better parent when he realises becoming No.1 wasn't satisfying.

Shouto had not even given Enji his contact information before this and Enji had to get it from Fuyumi(a breach of boundary most definitely, but we don't know Shouto's reaction to this). Shouto doesn't even reply to his fathers incessant messaging until he himself needs something from him, and it's from Endeavour the hero, not Enji the father.

Shouto's development is gradual, but noticeable, and never really stops happening. Even now in the manga he's not finished his arc. But that's what made it very satisfying to watch him grow and find what kind of hero he wants to be.

I think it's worth noting that no one tells Shouto he should go visit his mother. Neither does anyone tell him he should try and talk to his siblings. How Shouto got started on properly talking to them is unknown, but it's clear it's on his terms, and because he wants to. Visiting Rei and reconnecting with her is something Shouto decided himself, and he goes to see her when he can and writes to her. How these visits go are never shown, but it's clear both of them want to connect again, and that both Rei and Shouto are in good places to actually do so in a healthy way.

Rei being in a good place is very important for this, and she is because she has been getting help and been away from the source of her distress and breakdown. When we see Rei out of a flashback, she's calm. She even seems happy, smiling with her children. Happy Shouto is keeping in touch with her through letters despite being so busy.

Rei was in dire need of getting away, that is obvious when you read the flashbacks. Her worsening mental health and situation ended up hurting not only her, but her children, especially Touya and Shouto. And she's been getting help and getting better since. At this point, she hasn't seen Enji since she was admitted to the hospital. Thanks to all that, Rei has been able to better process her trauma, what went on in their family, and her part in it, and she can face it. Rei, unlike Enji, is open about scarring Shouto, how she couldn't reach Touya and ultimately failed him as a mother.

We don't know a lot about Natsuo, but in his character profile, it's stated that thanks to Fuyumi, he was able to make the decision to go to college. It's said he spends a lot of time away from home and Fuyumi teases him about not keeping in contact enough. For Natsuo, who was one of the 'worthless' children of the house along with Fuyumi, going to college, making friends and getting a girlfriend, probably did wonders for him.

Natsuo is very upfront about his dislike for Enji, and his refusal to ever forgive him for what he's done. He's taken up the role of holding Enji responsible for his actions after Touya was no longer able to. I think it's pretty clear what Natsuo would like to do is go no-contact with Enji, but he doesn't want to hurt Fuyumi's feelings, so he goes to the family dinners where he has to sit in Enji's presence anyway. Though we still see him stand up and leave sometimes because he can't stand to be in the same room as his father. Natsuo getting up and leaving is, I think, the mature thing to do. He's looking out for himself.

So, where the heck am I going with this? Basically, I want Dabi, Touya, to be given the time and space to decide himself what kind of relationship he wants to have with his family, every single one, in the same way the others have.

Touya up to the point of his death had his life defined by decisions made for him or things happening out of his control. His life after his death were dedicated to one day kill his father, with the heavy implication he has no plan to get out of that confrontation alive.

You could say Dabi has no identity outside of the Todoroki family, outside of killing Endeavour and getting revenge for himself because no one else ever would. He was born, raised and groomed to be Enji's successor and the next number one, only to have that ripped away from him and expected to just, deal with that and move on, when he had no tools or methods to do that. Touya had no identity outside of being Enji's successor because that wasn't how he was raised. In his mind, he had no worth outside of that.

He was scapegoated by his family for most of his time living with them, and he might not even remember what being with them without being treated as the source of all the problems in the family is like. He went back home and thought they continued on as if he never died. And while that might not be fully true, just telling him that isn't going to magically absolve and fix the damage that left him with.

Throwing him right back into the family, with or without Enji involved, when the rest of the Todoroki's doesn't even know how to treat him now either, could end up really badly.

Especially when they still appear to lean into Touya being the problem. Dabi is the problem for acting out and "involving unrelated people in family matters" as Shouto so eloquently put it(not word for word don't shoot me), when Dabi wanted society to hold Enji accountable for his actions. They still say Dabi needs to be stopped, not saved.

At this point of the arc, Dabi is expecting to die, and he'll have to deal with the fact he's still alive after all this. I don't think he's gonna have the mental strenght to reconnect with the family he hasn't seen for years, not to mention we don't know if Dabi believes they even want him around or ever truly loved him. What does he think of them? We don't know, and chances are big he doesn't know either.

And that's why, I think a timeskip is one of the absolute best ways MHA can end, with time to see, years later, how all the characters are doing. And for the Todoroki's, it could mean Dabi has gotten time by himself to heal, to find out who he is outside of being a Todoroki, outside of being Enji's son, the failed experiment, his own avenger, and deciding on his terms how they should finally meet and talk and what kind of relationship he wants to have with them, if any at all.

It would also give the rest of them the time to once again process Touya's death, Dabi's existence, the fact their brother and child is alive once more and what that means to them individually. It's clear Touya's death was a big open wound for the family even years later, and if it wasn't still bleeding it definitely was after Dabi revealed himself, and that shits messy to deal with.

Then, we can have them meet at a dinner table. Maybe even have it be a picnic or something. When Dabi, Touya, is in a better place, because he was given the time and space to get better and finally decide for himself what he wants to do. It's the very least he's owed.

#bnha #dabi #todoroki shouto #todoroki rei #todoroki natsuo #todoroki fuyumi #endeavour #god this got long i'm so sorry #i have a lot of thoughts and wishes but i think this is the most of it #like i've got lots of wishes for how i want the todofam plot to wrap up #but alot of my issues with others thoughts and fears can easily be appeased if we see it actually takes time before it's all resolved

[bioexorcizm]

something i and a lot of people need to remember is at the end of the day not everyone is gonna like you. for the biggest reason or the minutest of reasons. people will block you. people will dislike you. people may say just...untrue things about you or incite other negativity towards you either directly or through other people just because they can. and there's not a lot you can do about it. it will hurt, but also it's the internet, and it happens, and it's the price to pay for all the friends we make, content we have access to, and people we've interacted with maybe when we weren't the same person we are today. it will be hard to get over, it will suck to deal with, but at the end of the day the block button is free and sometimes closing the laptop or app is better for your mental health, the toll on your character and wellbeing is not worth a couple of notes on tumblr dot com.

selfship is selfish inherently. yes there are good people in the community still but also we are not at the same place we are a few years ago. it's changed here, and i think we are still in the mentality that everyone is good-natured until proven otherwise, which just isn't true. sometimes you will have to face conflict here, it happens, shit happens, and your options are to work it out with whoever it is that has the issue with you or you can block them at the risk of grudges being held anyways. and that's a choice you as a user have to make. set your boundaries, cater your online space to you, and stick to it.

but either way, everyone needs to sit back and seriously get over shit, get over themselves, and move the fuck on sometimes, for real. because the amount of vitriol and hatred people constantly throw at one another here for months on end over shit that happened so long ago or never even happened at all that they heard about through a friend of a friend or the like at this point is just too damn tiring to be worth it im serious

#like im not saying no more callout posts i think bad behavior should be corrected #and i think people should know about bad shit that happens. #but holy fuck sometimes the stuff people are arguing over and blocking over and blocking peoples friends maybe because theyre in the notes #of someones post once a month ago #its like. move the fuck on. grow up man #.txt #long post

[herschelkrustofsky]

so i just finished season 2 of DS9 for the first time and i have so many thoughts about quark and his relationships with the crew; specifically ben, kira, jadzia, and odo. throughout the season, we see quark either trying to connect to these four — albeit in his own grating way — or proving his worth to them after a major fuck-up. (this is the case for jadzia specifically; he inadvertently put her on danger in invasive procedures [2x03] risked his own life trying to save her. we see them hanging out in playing god [2x17], so we know they’re cool and that jadzia forgave him. this should go without mentioning jadzia sticking up for the ferengi more than once throughout the season, specifically to kira, and insisting there’s more to them than their money grubbing ways.)

with ben, quark attempts to connection with him over a drink in second sight [2x09], only for ben to turn him down — presumably because he has too much on his mind and quark is quark, but the way the camera lingers on our favourite bartender, we can see how the rejection ate at him. the rejection sensitivity is dialled up even further in shadowplay [2x16] when quark attempts to get playful with kira, only to be told she utterly despises him for collaborating with the cardassians during the occupation — forcing him to realize that their snark isn’t a game and that she legitimately doesn’t like him, to the point where he says (verbatim) that he wishes he hadn’t brought it up. this comes up again in the jem’hadar [2x26] when he mentions to odo that kira specifically doesn’t like him, showing how much he internalized that conversation and ruminates over it even with the passage of time — and that’s still not all!

in the collaborator [2x24], there’s a specific exchange between odo, kira, and quark that’s very relevant to the theme of quark feeling rejected and isolated by the crew. transcribing it doesn’t quite do it justice, so i’ll just link the scene itself:

TL;DR: these two show up and quark immediately gets defensive and nervous. given his interactions with odo on a regular basis + kira’s recent (and completely understandable) anger, he figures them confronting him together probably spells out trouble for him. and unfortunately, in typical odo fashion, he doesn’t exactly make him feel any better:

quark: you want something from me, don’t you?

kira: how’d you guess?

odo: it’s simple. we’ve been here more than a minute, and we haven’t insulted him, threatened him, or arrested him.

quark: exactly. so what is it?

quark values odo’s opinion a lot. and while i’m sure odo was just playing around and being sarcastic, this is the last thing quark needed to hear in that moment and solidifies in his mind that he’s only of any value to the others when he’s useful, which ultimately culminates in this confrontation with ben after they’ve been captured by the jem’hadar:

i’ve seen this clip before, but it was only last night, after having seen season 2 to completion, that i finally had the full context for it — specifically, for quark’s emotions, and why he went on his little tirade. he isn’t angry at ben specifically; he’s angry at the entire DS9 crew for (in his mind) treating him like an annoyance that’s only worth speaking to when he gives them something in return. i believe he brings up his species as a whole rather than Just Himself for two reasons: 1, it gives him a roundabout way to express his outrage without getting too vulnerable, and 2, he is attempting to rationalize why he’s faced with the indifference and the animosity that he is. chalking it down to speciesism helps him rationalize why this is happening, but the alternative is also pretty devastating: that they just don’t like him as an individual.

but here’s the kicker: they DO like quark! ben lets him come along on the camping trip despite his wishes to spend time with jake and only jake. he engages in conversation with him, feeds him, and is pretty damn amiable towards him despite quark’s incessant complaining. he defends quark to eris when she expresses annoyance over him. meanwhile, odo specifically joins the rescue mission to make sure quark gets home safe (in his own words!!!) and even tells kira she’d miss quark if anything were to happen to him — they ALL would — and she agrees!

the tragedy is that all of these things are discussed when quark is out of earshot (no pun intended) or just not paying enough attention. but despite his growing disillusionment with them, quark is willing to resort to violence (something he’d really rather avoid) to protect his friends; first demonstrated in invasive procedures and then coming full circle when he lethally shoots a jem’hadar trying to hurt ben, who returns the favour by making sure quark isn’t left behind despite eris’ insistence. and this time, quark IS around to hear that someone cares about him; not just anyone, but the station’s commander, which certainly gives him the validation he’s been craving all season long.

while i can’t find the clip, i think quark’s little monologue to the gloomy morn at the beginning of the episode describes it best; he isn’t just their bartender, he’s their confidant and their friend — or desperately wants to be. unfortunately, his learned / cultural behaviours, impulsivity, and selfish tendencies (as demonstrated when he abandons morn to scurry after his boytoy, aka odo) drive a wedge between him and the people he’s come to want the approval of so badly… and despite his glaring flaws and their often flippant treatment of him, they manage to like him anyway. big ears just needs to listen better, it seems — or maybe his friends need to make their affections a little more obvious.

i just. man. it’s such a subtle arc, one you probably don’t notice unless you’ve been watching a bunch of episodes consecutively like i have (not to mention my, ahem, keen eye on a certain ferengi…), but it’s so satisfying. they didn’t have to do all that for him and they did. this show and its attention to character detail is incredible and i can’t wait to see what else it has in store for me. 🖤

#quark #ds9 #kira nerys #benjamin sisko #odo #sid.txt #sid’s stuff 🤡 🌈 #sid’s meta 🤡 🌈 #real audhd rambling hours folks! #long post /

[hirik0]

Like a virgin

Old perv Price/ inexperienced Graves, crack fic

Graves is 4 glasses in a bit more drunk then usally gets when it slips out of him. He sits at a tabel in the darkest corner of the bar with Price. "I never had more then a hand job", he says blushing out of embarressment. Price is looking at him in disbelieve. Graves is handsome there is no way he is that unexpired, but he stays silent let Graves tell him as much as he is willing to share, even if he probabtly wouldn't if he wasn't clearly drunk. "Always trained so hard at first, then we where in a war zone and it was not worth the risk to do more then hand jobs between comrades. Then with Shadow Company the work load just got more", Graves having the feeling he has to explain himself before he takes a big sip from his whisky, trying to wash his shame away with the drink. Price just nods along and holy shit it's like Graves opened a door in his brain or something like that. Price never understood what people found so attractive at someone with less sexual experience, why they are willing to teach them, he thought he never had the patient for that, but he would try for fucking Phillip Graves. Being the first to claim Graves ass, shit he wants that, wants to fold the comander in half, should he offer? Maybe not now when Graves is clearly to drunk when he told him something that personal. The problem is Price is already a lot for a expiriencend partner, having fantasys a lot can't keep up with or didnt enjoy when they are willing to try. No way he can convince Graves. Maybe if he starts small, just with .. no stop he will not fuck Shepherds fucking dog. "And you John, you ever problems to find someone?", Graves ask him looking at him with big doe eyes. "Not in the way you do", Price answers not even have listened to what Graves told him while has was stucked in his head. Probably better for Graves because Price is pretty sure he would never tell anyone that sober. He should better forget about it.

Graves drunk confession was nearly a week ago and Price thinks he's going insane. He knows Gaz calls him a pervert, Ghost uses even less flattert words if they talk about Price sex life, he knows that he's in some sick things, that people can't handel his more extreme fantasys. The problem is all his fantasys are orbiting around Phillip fucking Graves now. Every no matter how insignificant interaction they have his brain over analyses and trys to relate them to how Graves behaves in the bed. Every night he dreams about what a perfect littel student Graves would be, how he would follow orders perfectly, how eager he would be to please. He also knows this fantasys can be ruined with just one fuck, in wich Graves is destroying the fantasy version he made up. He wants the fantasys to end and at the same time to never end. He gets pulled back out if his head when Graves is entering his office. "John I have some files to get over", he says big smile on his face. They talk about work for a while and Price cant take it any longer. "The other night in the bar", he starts making Graves freeze and swallow nervously. "What about it?", Graves ask unsure pulling back from the desk bringing more distance between them. "I could teach you, some thinks if you want to", Price ofers, showing Graves all the cards he need to see right now. Graves jar drops open, his eyes go wide in shock and he has to sit down on the chair that luckily is right behind him. His face turns red and it just dont stop Price fears some blood vesel is about to explode. "I.. what the FUCK", he is finally abel to say after he moves his mouth a few times with out making a sound. "I mean is soundes like you would like do eh expand your horizon", Price explains himself further braceing himself to get punshed by Graves. Graves still beet red is walking out his office trying to dont walk to fast. And all Price can think about is if Graves face gets that red when he gets fucked in the sheets. Well that was a catastrophe and Graves seems to be very much not intrestet. He will have to life with that.

Graves can't stop thinking about what Price offert him now 3 weeks ago. He was mortified by it? Totally. Did he wish the ground would open and swallow him whole? Absolutely. Did he swear to never drink more then two glasses of alcohol ever again? Yes. And still could not stop thinking about it. Price offert him a judge free space to learn what he wants to learn. He wrote and burned a bunch of lists with the positive and negative consequences. And in the end he will take Price offer, like how much is there to learn? Its probably a not even more then 5 lessons total. It will not harm them in any way and not change their relationship its a very transactional relationship. Price gets free sex and he gets knowledge, perfect treat no strings attached. So he desites that after the briefing he will ask if the offer still stands, its harmless. A bit more them the brothers in arms hand jobs he used to have, but its the same principle right? The briefing is long and he thinks of chicken out of it. God this is embarrassing he's 33 and has to ask someone to teach him how to gave sex, he should have figured that out as a teenager like everyone else, but he he grew up in rural Texas. His family picture perfect fundamental Christians and if he hadent had his best friend and his parents he would have no sex education at all. Being so nice to explain atleast how sex in a heterosexual marriage is suposed to be. Not that it helped 15 year old gay teenager Graves at the time and it was embarrassing but he figured out the rest on his own. He takes a deep breath before he steps closer to Price. "Does the offer still stands?", Graves ask nervously tapping his fingers against his legs. Price raises his eyebrows in suprise before a smile is apearing on his face. "Of course, your free this evening?", Price ask not believing what he's hearing but rolling with it. Graves blushes at this, with how early this is about to start, his ears are on fire his cheeks a bright pink. "Just talking, don't worry", Price says with a wink before leaving the room. Graves wishes they would skip the talking part and just to hands on teaching.

Graves enters Price office nervously a round 7 pm. Price looks up from his paper work to smile at him till he gets back to work. Graves squirms on the chair nervously waiting for Price to finish his report, somehow Price being so casual about this is not really helping his nerves, quite the opposite. "Relax", Price says calmly while he signs the document. "Relax, it's not like we.. this is a normal meeting", Graves hisses. Years of religious shame make it hard for him to even say what this is about. He's blushing already and they haven't even started. Price finally looks up from his desk and he's making Graves squirm again under his gaze. "So, what have you done?", Price ask casually and Graves envys him for hiw casual he can talk about sex. "What I told you in the bar", Graves answers. "Phillip I need a bit more then that." "Hand work nothing more", Graves says trying to be vague. "Not even expirimented with toys?", Price ask suprised thinking that Graves inexperience is limit to doing it with other people. "God Price, they told us in church you go to hell if we do anything that's not sex with in marriage between a man and a woman. I thought god personally will set me in fire on Sunday when I wanked of you really think I used toys?", Graves hisses mortifyed, his blush slowly spreading down to his chest, god this is humiliating. Price makes a unhelpful oh sound. "No problem, just makes this agreement go longer", Price reasures him, trying to show Graves that this is nothing to be ashamed about. "How long you think we need?", Graves ask, needing a shedule to work with. "As long as you want it to go", Price answers frowning confused. "Oh.. I eh thought we would set a set number of meetings", Graves says sheepish, rubbing the back of his head looking at the floor. "We can do that if you want, let's start with 10", Price ofers knowing he has to follow Graves lead here. Graves eyes widen at this 10? Thats already doppel what he thinks they need, but Price can probably put a better time frame on this then him. "10 is good", Graves says a bit unsure still not abel to look at Price. "We can do less", Price ofers at the hesitation in Graves voice. "No 10 is good", Graves reassures a bit to loud and to fast for Price liking but he can always ask after every lesson if Graves wants to continue. "Your free on Saturday?", Price ask already having blocked the day for time off just having to put in the paper work. "The whole day?", Graves ask getting nervous again. "Eager to learn?", Price jokes, but its not landing Graves against nervously squirming in the chair. "John", Graves warns his face being beet red, but he finally looks up heated eyes burning in to Price. Oh Price has the feeling ones Graves gets out of his shell they will have a lot of fun. "Just tell me a time.", Graves says sounding uterly mortifyed his gaze going behind Price. "3 pm? At my appartement?", Price asks and Graves nods looking still a bit unsure. Well they can start with what Graves knows and slowly work up from there. Price writes down his adresse and gives it to Graves wordlesly. Graves walks out of the office, felling shame but also a wiered exitment.

Graves stands in front of Price appartment door, he is 30 minutes early and he struggels to make a dessition. He takes deep breath before knocking at the door. Price opens nearly instantly big smile on his face amd it helps with Graves nerves. He steps in nervously smiling back. He didnt know if he should bring anything so he didnt, but he had a longer shower and groomed himself. Price leats him in the livingroom. They sit on the couch together and Graves starts to wiggel uncomfortable. "Want something to drink to get a bit more relaxed?", Price ask getting nervous himself now because of Graves nervous energy. "I.. no", Graves ansers trying to stuckd as much to was he knows as possibel. Just to comrades sitting next to each other, with the hands in the pants of eachother. He did this before he can do it now, just a bit of a diffrent setting, he can work with it. "So how you usaly do this?", Price asks watching Graves intently. "I.. well he eh... god", Graves stammers taking a deep breath. "Just open fly and hands in the pants of the other, no looking, sitting next to each other, pretanding how ever you want to give you a hand job, cumming in you boxers", Graves explains and Price just nods already thinking about how to change it to something less steril. "How about we change the position a bit up", Price says after he choose between several posibel senarios. Graves sucks in his lower lip, slowly starting to nod. "What do you have in mind?" "You can sit with your back against my chest, so its still anoymous but with a better angle for my hand", Price explains thinking thats probably the most comfortable for Graves. "Yeah, I like this", Graves confirms before standing up to open his pants. God they are really doing this, his heart is racing he already is blushing. "Lube or spit?", Price ask while spreading his legs wider to make space for Graves in between them. "Lube." He is not even sure where Price gets the full bottel of lube from. Did he hide it under a cushion or something? "Its water based, clear and non sticky", Price explains while removing the seal. "Okey", Graves says not really knowing what the diffrence between the products is, for him lube is lube. Price smears a small amount on to Graves thigh and Graves looks confused. "To make sure your not allergic, burning dick sucks and kills the mode", Price explains.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare ii #john price #captian price #phillip graves #crack fic #idk guys we will end up where we end up

[agentplutonium]

I got silly goofy again with more NeXus characters. Anyway: Cher & Sherlock character study that got away from me and ended up being just over 2500 words

(the fic can also be found on ao3)

The clock ticked on the wall. There was the occasional shout of laughter from outside the apartment. Cher sat at the table, shoulders rigid, fingers tapping the wood beneath them impatiently. The wood was smooth under their arm, the back of the chair digging into their shoulder blades. They wanted to keep moving. They wanted out of here. They wanted to keep everyone safe.

Cher was dropped off at Alonzo’s and his partner’s place to be babysat, despite what Uriah told them. He said it was for their safety but they felt Uriah didn’t trust them, or that he thought they couldn’t take care of themselves. It was humiliating. Not to mention this was probably putting the lovers out of their way just to be there with them. They did not want to do that to them. Cher was not worth the amount of effort the two vampires were putting into them.

Suddenly, a mug was placed before them, snapping Cher out of their thoughts. Owl, what Cher has taken to calling Alonzo’s partner, took the seat across from them, a matching mug in their hands. They were silent, not looking at Cher. Their fingers stopped tapping. They couldn’t help but analyze the situation, Owl’s body language, the way they kept their eyes on the mug in their hands, the mug that was left suspended between the two of them. But Owl just fucking sat there.

The silence lasted for a few more moments

“It’s just hot chocolate, I’m not trying to kill you,” Owl said, those piercing eyes finally glancing at them. “Thought you might like something to do than just sitting here.”

“Where’s that boyfriend of yours,” Cher asked.

Owl opened their mouth, presumably to quip back, but stopped themselves. “Sleeping. He’s running himself ragged over this case.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

Cher knew that the case Alonzo was running after was connected to them and the magical world. It was dangerous to have him this close. Cher knew that. Uriah knew it. And they were sure Owl knew it too.

“I do what I can,” Owl said with a shrug. They took a sip out of their mug before continuing. “I keep him safe. That’s all I need. But, I came in here to check on you. Not Alonzo.”

“I don’t need to be checked on-”

“I’d beg to differ,” Owl cut them off, leaning forward and resting their elbows on the table. “You’re in a bad situation, in a stranger's house, being watched like you are some flight risk. You sat at this kitchen table the whole time because you couldn’t bring yourself to sit in the living room,” they started counting on their fingers as they continued, to prove their point, “You haven’t asked for food, or water, or even for the damn bathroom. And you’re doing this to yourself because you feel like if you get too comfortable it would put us in danger. That it would undermine the struggle and pain you put yourself and your pack through just to keep them safe. You’re ready to fight, to run, if the moment calls for it.”

The air was still between them. Cher was stunned silent, and Owl was still looking at them. How those eyes of theirs were natural would be beyond them. There was the smallest smirk on Owl’s face. A self-assured, cocky smile, as if they knew they were right before they even spoke.

“Am I close?” Owl asked, voice dipping quieter.

Cher didn’t say anything, but they did drag the steaming mug toward them.

“That’s what I thought,” Owl said, smiling.

“You’re not getting anything out of me,” Cher warned.

“Never said I wanted to,” Owl said. “However, I took the risk of assuming you wouldn’t mind some company.”

“I like being alone.”

Owl scoffed into their drink, “Sure, Cheri.”

“What is that for,” Cher demanded.

“Nothing, nothing,” Owl said, holding their hands up, “pardon me if I think that a wolf likes being alone is a little absurd.”

“It’s not uncommon.”

“I guess not. But seeing you interact with Zachary, coupled with the fact that I know you have a pack, tells me otherwise. You are a protector, Cheri, whether you like it or not.”

Cher huffed, rolling their eyes. “Say what you want. This was needed.”

“Of course it was. Someone came after you, and you didn’t want the pack getting hurt. You haven’t stopped since Washington, and I’m assuming you’re not all too pleased about how long you’ve spent here.”

“What do you know,” Cher said, annoyed.

“More than you give me credit for,” Owl shrugged, but still there was an edge to their tone and Cher could tell that Owl didn’t like their experience undermined. “When will you start accepting that we can hold our own around here?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Owl said, sipping at their drink.

“What do you mean by that?” Cher asked, painfully clutching the mug, warmth seeping deeper into their bones.

“I mean,” Owl drawled, as if explaining it to a child, fingers messing with the rim of their cup in a bored manner, “Uriah would never have harboured you if he thought you were a genuine threat, no matter how much he says he doesn’t trust you. Whether that be you or whatever storm you’re dragging along with you.”

Cher didn’t answer, curling in on themselves. They still didn’t like being here, especially now that Owl was reading them like an open book. Was this just something that vampires could do? Or were Uriah and Owl special?

Owl sighed, relaxing back in their chair. “Listen, I’m not here to interrogate you,” they said. “I just want to talk.”

“We are talking,” Cher snipped.

“Normal talking,” Owl clarified. “Small talk.”

“Why do you want to talk with me?” Cher asked.

“Honestly? Cause you’re interesting,” Owl said genuinely. “You’re a puzzle that I can’t quite figure out. I want to know what makes you tick, Cheri.”

Cher’s mind flashed through the worst outcomes of this situation. Owl could use this against them, or get something about their pack out of them, putting them in danger. Cher wouldn’t be able to stop them from here if they were to put something together. But, a smaller part of Cher’s brain chastised them for it. What was Owl going to do? They were with Uriah, and he was proving himself to be trustworthy. If something was to go wrong, it wouldn’t be because of them.

Cher took a deep breath, “What do you want to know?”

Owl sat there for a moment, staring at the drink in their hands. “You miss home?”

Cher almost changed the subject. However, their silence drew Owl’s eyes again, and they couldn’t stay quiet with the curiosity that burned behind them. Maybe they understood why Alonzo fell in love with them.

“Greatly,” Cher whispered, “every damn day I’m gone.”

“What do you miss most?”

“My pack.”

Owl chuckled, “Naturally. I don’t know why I asked that. You got a big one?”

Cher shrugged. “One could say that, sure. I never really keep track. We’re already a few generations deep.”

“Damn, that must be hard to manage,” Owl commented.

“It is what it is,” Cher sighed, “most of them aren’t old enough to participate in the logistical side of things.”

“And I thought Zach was a handful,” Owl commented, taking a moment to take a sip of their drink.

“Do you consider him a child?” Cher asked.

“In some ways,” Owl said. “He isn’t terribly young in human years, but he is new to vampirism. I can have adult conversations with him and then have to scold him for something stupid five seconds later.”

Cher chuckled, “Fuck, don’t I know what that’s like.”

“You got ones like that?”

“More than I can count,” Cher groaned. “Love them all to death, but I question how any of them are still alive.”

“I get that.”

“You have anyone other than Zach and Uriah?” Cher asked.

“Lump Alonzo into that group and that’s all I got, in some ways,” Owl shrugged, “the rest of the people I know I wouldn’t consider family the way I do them.”

“You’ve built a nice life with them, huh,” Cher commented, not unkindly.

“I sure have.”

Cher could relate, but they didn’t say that out loud. Owl didn’t need to know their connection to their pack ran that deep. It was bad enough they knew as much as they did.

“Do you want to see some pictures?”

“Pictures?” Cher repeated, confused.

“Of me and Uriah from earlier in our lives,” Owl clarified, “I can let you look through the old photo albums while I update the current one.”

They would let Cher do that? Look at something that, they’d assume, was important to Owl? To them all? One part of Cher felt like they were overstepping something. But, how could they when they were invited to do so? Was it an invitation, or a test? Could they-

“I see smoke coming out of your ears, Cheri,” Owl teased with a chuckle. “I’m asking you if you would like to. This isn’t something you need to overthink. Just a simple yes or no will do.”

“I would like to,” Cher responded, surprising themself.

Owl smiled genuinely. “That’s what I thought. Come with me,” they stood from the table, grabbing their mug before making their way out of the kitchen. Cher hesitated for a moment before following suit.

Owl had placed a few coasters on a side table beside the couch before moving across the room to a fairly full bookshelf. “Feel free to sit anywhere,” they said over their shoulder, fingers running along the spines of the albums.

Cher looked around for a second, taking in their surroundings. There was a couch and a few armchairs that encircled a small coffee table, end tables between the pieces of furniture. Cher hesitantly perched at the edge of the couch, on the side closest to the preset coasters. If anyone looked at them they were sure they’d see the tension that was currently residing in their whole body. However, they didn’t get to think about that much, as Owl was already turning around with two albums and a small decorative box in their hands.

“This one is one of my oldest,” Owl said, holding out the more tattered album. “It’s from a couple of decades ago. It’s not the oldest, but we sure were different people back then. Younger. More naive.”

“More naive?” Cher asked, placing their mug down to take the book from Owl.

“Mhm,” Owl hummed. “You never really stop growing, even as vampires. You learn and experience things you never would have if you were human. Gives you an ongoing update on how you view life around you.”

“How old are you guys?” Cher asked.

“Aw, come on now, Cheri, it’s rude to ask people their age,” Owl teased.

Owl turned back to what they were doing, leaving Cher to slowly flip through the book open on their lap. They saw countless pictures of Owl and Uriah in different locations, smiling their widest and looking happy. The descriptions beneath each gave context as to what was going on. There were a few where one was not as happy as the other, in the wake of a prank that was less than pleasant. Seeing the two of them like this made Cher’s heart squeeze. They missed their family.

They got to a picture of Uriah, his back to the camera, at the edge of a lake. The description didn’t give much away, just revealing when the picture was taken, and Cher turned the book around to show Owl.

“What was going on here?” Cher asked, tapping the picture.

Owl glanced up from their work, smiling when they recognized what they were looking at. “There’s a whole story behind that picture,” they said. “You wanna hear?”

Cher nodded, placing the book back on their lap to pay attention.

That’s how they spent the rest of their night. Listening to Owl tell these stories, fuelled by the pictures that Cher would point out. The silence was comfortable between them in between stories as Owl worked and Cher browsed the pictures. The two of them continue to share drinks, and laughs, and Cher would even offer the occasional story about their pack.

This was comfortable, Cher realized, not sure if they were more spooked or surprised by the fact. Owl genuinely did seem to want to get to know them, despite knowing the time that they would share would be temporary. Cher wondered if Owl felt the same way, or if it was different for them.

Later in the night, when the album updating was done, Cher found themselves relaxed on the couch, enjoying the conversation that they were having with Owl. It had been hours since Uriah dropped them off, but they were okay with that. They liked being with Owl. They were nice and seemed to sense when they were getting skittish about a topic, changing the subject soon after. Cher felt like if they met under different circumstances they would have been fast friends.

There was a noise behind them and Cher tensed immediately, spinning around. Uriah stood behind them, as if he was there the whole time. Cher let out a breath, scowling at the man. “Do you not knock?” they scolded.

“This house is just as much mine as it is theirs,” Uriah said.

“You knew who you left with me, Ry,” Owl commented, the slightest edge to their voice. Cher didn’t expect the vampire to stick up for them. “It is good manners to knock.”

Uriah didn’t answer them, turning back to Cher. “Let’s go,” they said, “we need to get back.”

Cher almost talked back, but stopped themselves, biting their tongue harshly. They got up without a word, brushing past her on their way to the door.

“I will see you later,” Uriah said to Owl.

“Uriah,” Owl stopped him. Their voice dipped quieter as they continued, but Cher could still hear them. “They’re a good person, Uriah. I promise you.”

“I know that,” Uriah said.

“I’m just saying. I know how skittish you’ve been around them. Treating them like a loaded gun.”

“Would you disagree?”

“Yes.”

Cher paused, caught off guard by the sincerity behind the vampire’s voice. Did they mean that?

Uriah was also quiet for a few moments, and Cher believed there was some kind of silent conversation going on between them. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” Owl promised. “Just… just get to know them. You’ll see. You know they won't hurt us already, but they aren’t as dangerous as you make them out to be.”

“I’ll see what happens.”

There was a soft sigh from Owl, and then they said, “Thank you. Have a safe trip, Uriah.”

“I will.”

Uriah was beside them a few moments later, and he seemed to be a bit more relaxed. Uriah opened the door, stepping aside and motioning for them to go through. “After you, mon cheri.”

Cher ducked their head as they passed by, face heating up at Uriah’s eyes boring into them.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Uriah asked when they were alone.

“Something like that,” Cher replied, not looking at him.

#NeXus #nexus fanfiction #plutonium_fanfiction #ask anyone in the server this took me SO LONG to write #it’s actually a crime how long it took #but also it got done for Lav’s birthday and honestly? counting that as a win and if anyone asks it was in purpose /j #i think i know how to write my own listeners now which is good and was in fact the goal of this exercise #but there’s something about it that imma refrain from commenting on until i sleep on it for a few days

[allsadnshit]

it's truly difficult to remember you owe yourself love and understanding when you are going through lots of big and painful things in life! i used to think "as long as i am the only one getting hurt then it's fine" cause i considered myself nothing and everyone else something. i have gone really back and forth with my perspective and coping skills of big break ups, friends or romantic, and i feel like i am just not learning the middle ground between "wow if this person and i are breaking up then they must be so toxic and abusive so who cares fuck them anyways" and "i am not allowed to be angry i need to be peaceful and kind i should try harder to see their perspective or else i am deserving of these bad things" which are two perspectives that have done nothing for my healing or process.

i think maybe the biggest thing im learning about myself is that communication can't be replaced by anything else. you need to hear it straight from people just as much as they need to understand you too! there's definitely a limit on how helpful communication is without the necessary other things like action and reflection etc but i used to think "this isn't even worth saying or hearing" whenever i was faced with something hard and that's just not true.

i had a therapy session recently where i tried to play off an interaction with an old boss as "id rather just not talk with him than say what he did bothered me" and my therapist immediately called me out on the avoidance and lack of follow through on my own boundaries and feelings. i wasn't getting off easy by not being willing to have conflict or confrontation, i was actually forcing myself to swallow my own hurt and pain and in many ways betrayed myself by not speaking up. she had me write an apology letter to myself and i cried without a few sentences.

I am working to change these things. I used to think feeling hurt and admitting that meant you were weaker and lost. I just had a really hard conversation with one of my oldest friends and it ended with us breaking up! i didn't see it coming, and didn't think it was even on the table and it unfolded in front of me almost instantly when i decided to speak up on something that bothered me and it turned out he already felt deeply resentful towards me and called a lot of my behavior into question that i didn't know he had thought poorly of me about for years and years! it's going to be a long road of lots of mixed emotions now. i feel shameful and scared i have lost so many of my old friends in the last two years which have been the biggest growth and happiest i've ever been and it's so confusing to go through even though i am constantly reassured that's part of the ride!

i used to tell myself if everyone had something bad to say about you, then it must be true and you must be bad and deserve it.... and i think that was just an easy way out for me to feel guilt and sorry for myself cause that's easier than fighting it's easier than the work it would take to stand up for myself and believe my own experiences and emotions. i thought i was so mature and gentle for saying "you're right i guess i am just a bad person" and never once was that the solution.

i am going to take my time absorbing this experience! i am going to be confused, angry, sad, and probably a decent bit of mourning too! i will no longer deny myself that process and pretend i am better off without the people i loved! i will not pretend to wish them well and hold no bad feelings. it's time to do the hard thing and be mad be sad and be in this difficult process!

thanks for reading, i really love this blog. I feel it's so important to share be seen and understood by other people but i am also so hesitant to admit what i am scared of because i don't want to make myself vulnerable to being hurt even more but it's also a pathway to healing and letting go and that's worth the risks

[direautistichobbit]

The AMAB Blues: On Being Eternally “Questioning”

This essay, or whatever this rambling set of nonsense is, comes with a disclaimer.  That this needs to be expressed in the first place is part of the problem I suppose, but I am getting ahead of myself.

I’m about to talk about an big, messy issue that I have been facing as an AMAB person who is gender questioning.  Currently, I identify as Gender-Fluid; previously, I’ve experimented with Nonbinary and Autigendered.  To be perfectly honest, Autigender is probably the most accurate of those I’ve played with so far but I have to explain enough stuff about who I am that explaining an entire term is more trouble than it is worth, generally speaking.  I’m pansexual, but usually more attracted to femme presenting and directed persons, and I’m struggling to sort out how related to my own personal traumas that is.  None of them were sexual, to be clear.  Thing is that I am an exceedingly sensitive person, and a lot of masculinity is…not inclined towards sensitivity in the majority of Western culture.  You become a target for other masculine people to take out their aggression on to prove to each other how manly they are.  So I’m…always anxious around men.  At least a little.  For someone who is Demisexual, this has made the pursuit of relationships with masculine looking persons challenging.  I’m polyamorus, with all of my partners at long distance (one of them is moving away as I’m writing this, don’t worry, we are fine), I have been looking for people closer by.  It has not gone well.

With that subtext out of the way?   I’m also a white, masculine presenting person that (superficially) resembles something that is cisgendered (not even slightly, I’ve come to realize) and heterosexual (not that either) enough that my “passing” privilege is extreme.  I am neurodivergent (ADHD diagnosed, ASD self-diagnosed and largely agreed upon by past therapists/doctors)  but can mask well enough that I get the “peculiar”and “eccentric” kind of labels before I get the problematic ones.  I am not going to pretend that I don’t have a lot of passive advantages here, nor am I blind to the amount of privilege I possess in the vast majority of social situations.  None of what I am about to say detract from those who don’t have these benefits.  I’m not complaining that the gays are being mean to me; they aren’t.  The majority of them have been nothing but wonderful to me.  I’m talking about the issues I’m facing; I don’t discount the issues that others are facing.  Hopefully that comes across here: I’m not blaming the broader LGBTQ+ community for how I feel, the issues I face, or the circumstances that hurt me.  I am not trying to crowd out other voices; I’m just trying to express my own.

Cool?  Cool.

There are a lot of queer spaces where masculinity is, while perhaps not the enemy, regarded with suspicion.  I don’t blame anyone for that; as I already stated, it’s something I share.  White dudes can get away with literal murder, and I know it.  I’ve read about it.  I’ve become familiar with it.  I own it.  I recognize, and attempt to always dignify, the danger that I represent, in potentia, to a lot of people in the LGBTQ+ community.  I recognize that while my intentions are as fair and honest as I can possibly strive to express, there is no way to prove those intentions without someone having to risk an interaction with me. No one is obligated to provide me that chance to prove myself; no one should be either.  There is no way to say I’m “one of the good ones” and have it be taken at face value; even saying that you are a “nice guy” is a huge red flag just due to the sheer number of bad faith fuck-wits who have purposely and maliciously abused that.  I get it.  I understand it.  I don’t make excuses for it.  I don’t misunderstand it.  I don’t begrudge people for it. That doesn’t stop it from being extremely isolating and dehumanizing at times.  Especially when you aren’t sure if “masculine” or “male” is something you even want to be…because the truth is that I’m not certain that I do. Would I say I am Transfemme?  No…but it’s a question I also go to some lengths to psychologically avoid. 

I don’t try to feminize my voice, even experimentally; hasn’t stopped me saving every TikTok on voice feminization that I have come across.  I’m definitely more curious then I’d like to admit regarding the topic.  I own a few pairs of high heels, but have avoided going any further down that fashion/clothing rabbit hole.  The majority of my friends and partners do not subscribe to gender binaries.  I have a lot of crushes on Transwomen, but not because they are some representation of some fetish; I like them because they are wonderful people that I want to be closer with.  They’re cute and sweet and I just kind of want to get lost in them.  Also, yeah, I follow a lot of Transwomen and Transfemmes on social media.  Yes, I have a beard!  How did you know? I don’t know that the end result of this question is being a transwoman.  I also can’t say that it isn’t.  I just don’t ask the question, deliberately, because I can’t follow through with it.  I’m not in a position to do so and right now I suspect that “Unsure but questioning” is easier to take then “certain but unable”. My ex-wife and I are civil, bordering on friendly…but she is pretty much just slightly better then milquetoast liberal.  Better than average but really bad at questioning her biases or blind spots.  Do I think she would use being Trans against me in terms of custody of our child?  No, I don’t think so…but I also don’t know so.  My daughter is 9.  Am I willing to risk my ex-wife’s inability to emotionally regulate?  This is someone who has wished me dead in front of other (She thought I missed the pick up of our daughter,5~6 at that point, by oversleeping.  It wasn’t even my day to pick her up and she was the one who got the schedule wrong) so her emotional maturity isn’t something I can take for granted.  I have no idea what will or will not set her off. Due to a host of reasons, most of them related to COVID and the movement of Amertican society, I am looking at the possibility of needing to get on disability.  While I am a bit of an ambivert, I have gotten to the point where I don’t trust anyone I don’t know.  Shit is crazy out there.  I am legitimately terrified of anyone having power over me.  It’s complicated, but the short version is that my social anxiety has become legion.  If I move to make any alteration to transition, if that were what I decided I needed, it could affect a disability case to my detriment due to the biases of judges.  It could even affect my ability to get representation.  The madness that is some conservatives' idea of how “easy” the disability process is for their definition of “undesirables” is utterly stupefying, because the reality is much different.  

I live with my parents for a number of reasons.  My mother and father are…progressive, for the most part.  They mean well.  That said, they’re also pretty benignly ignorant about a lot of mental health and social stuff.  Not in a way where I have to avoid topics of conversation or humor them on Thanksgiving to keep the peace, mind you, but in a way where it makes explaining myself extremely tedious and painful.  Like I don’t think they would purposely dead name me or something like that, but my mother is also a very “grounded” person…and hearing her drone on and lecture me about elevated risks in society when I’ve studied them more then she has is a kind of personal hell I struggle to properly articulate.  My mother is my greatest ally and, also, one of the worst burdens on my mental health.  I’d be dead without her but I’m also frequently injured by her.  I survive, a lot of the time, by just laying low.  Restructuring my whole identity isn’t something I can “lay low” with.  

Also, there is a question of if I found out I wanted to be a woman or even just more feminine?  Well, would I look like a feminine person I even wanted to be?  With facial hair, I can pass for a solid version of ruggedly handsome.  I don’t suspect that, even with a more feminine face, there are many versions of femininity that I could pull off nearly as well.  The question of whether it hurts more to be a modestly attractive version of something you don’t want to be or an ugly version of something you do want to be comes up frequently.

So I don’t ask the questions that would give me the answers.  At least, for myself, in my heart of hearts.  Executive function issues can be a blessing in disguise, I suppose, because even in spite of everything I just said?  The question of my gender and how I view it feels pleasantly unresolved to me.  I can see the line of data and evidence, but not come to a conclusion because I haven’t done the work to find out.  I haven’t tried to feminize my voice or my appearance in a meaningful way.  It’s also still functionally unknown, even if highly suspected. Which brings us back to the central issue.

It’s one thing to feel rejected or regarded with suspicion when you are masculine in your presentation, you feel masculine, and you have to navigate the mess left by other masculine people.  It’s another thing to feel rejected or regarded with suspicion when you are masculine in your presentation, but don’t even know if you want to be but don’t feel you have the opportunity to be otherwise.  I feel like I carry the weight of choices I wouldn’t make on behalf of someone I’m not sure I even want to be.  I feel held accountable to things I wouldn’t do and never wanted to be a part of.  Not because I don’t want the consequence of being a male…but because I’m not sure that male is something I want to be.

But I look like I’m male…so they do.

I look through dating profiles of people who interest me.  I never hear back.  Lots of them have phrases about “mostly looking for femmes, but open to anyone!”, so the writing's on the wall when I get nothing but radio silence.  Marking down Non-Binary or Gender-fluid doesn’t functionally matter when your face isn’t the kind of face they are looking to get to know.  When people who I’m interested in talk about not being attracted to “mascs”....I know it’s nothing personal.  It’s not any kind of an attack or dismissal of me as a person.  It’s two people discussing the nature of what they are attracted to, and I don’t begrudge anyone for saying.  In another instance, someone who was local and who I was beginning to flirt with but a halt on everything because...my masculinity got to her.  She wanted time to unpack that.  She deserves it.  I would never want her to feel any kind of way about asking for what she needed.

Irregardless of whom I do or do not “blame” for these situations, even if I blame no one at all, it is still a fucking kick to the guts because I feel stuck being something unwanted.  It makes you question the attraction of the partners you do have; how long until they look at you like everyone else does?  When everyone else they are around or connected to is in some way femme or leaning that way, when do you get cut?  When do you stop being undesired....and it’s easy to question that when you cannot imagine even wanting to be yourself much less next to yourself.  Especially when you feel like that happened before. I was pursuing a woman once.  She was a transwoman.  I thought there was a connection, and she seemed to echo the sentiment.  Some point down the line, she exploded at me.  The reasons are still uncertain; some of it was miscommunication, some of it was some problematic word choices that I will absolutely own*, and some of it I still have no clue.   Whatever her reasons, she called me out as just another fetishist. A chaser.  Accused of creeping on trans-women and following them on social media for some fetishizing reason.  Liking memes and posts on facebook that weren’t mean for “creepy cis men”.  I had been wanting to tell her for a while that I was gender questioning.but never did; I didn’t want her to think I was doing so dishonestly to curry her favor or something.  So I was grappling with feelings that she, without realizing, invalidated. It set me back a lot.. We didn’t have a relationship; there was just some flirting and feeling each other out.  It was still traumatic, because I left the situation feeling as if she needed a reason to purge me out of her life.  She asked me never to contact her again; I’ve honored that, and have no plans to change that face.  I’d be lying, however, if I said that I didn’t want to cuss her out.  It felt she was looking for an excuse to villainize me, and she took the first one she got. She damaged me and my progress with my own identity more then any transphobic half-wit ever could, all for what feels like having some moral high ground.  It took me longer to get to the questions about being Enby or GF because of her.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive her for that.  I’ve been phobic about being seen as a “fraud” ever since.  That was approximately 3 years ago. Perhaps more.  It still hurts.  Still feels like what I am going to be seen as the enemy for what I look like, not for what I am. .

Yet, I don’t actually know what I; I avoid asking the question about because opening Pandora’s Box is going to make it twice as bad, if the answer is what it looks like it is, because it won’t change what I am able to do about it.  I feel as if my options are to feel like a pariah and just struggle through it blindly or feel like a pariah after doing personal exploration to discover something that I can’t act on anyway.  I don’t suspect I am alone here.  That’s the thing; I am, comparatively, lucky.  I think I am in a uniquely privileged position to express myself this clearly and this cleanly.  I can speak to this in a way many AMABs don’t get to.  Masculinity is one hell of a double edged sword in Western society; you can do practically anything you want as long as do it without any emotions that isn’t anger, confidence, or grim determination.  If you are married, you can love your wife (and kids) in a noble and detached way.  You can only cry when kids are born, you partner leaves your, you parents die, or you get kicked in the testicles.  Even then it’s treated as suspect.  Everything else is socially and culturally forbidden.  I have enough emotional eloquence that I can express a pain that I suspect many others grappling with yet can barely identify, much less explain.  How do you deal with any of this when you lack the emotional vocabulary to feel half of it?  I can only speculate.

I guess this all leads to one point; your friends who are AMAB, in queer spaces, and are in a continual cycle of gender questioning?  They are probably going through some shit.  Probably a lot of shit.  All the time.  We are stuck in the fringe territory of overlapping identities and we don’t really have any way to go in one direction or the other.   Be gentle with those of us who fall under this banner if you can be. It’s lonely when you can even be yourself with yourself...and you can’t.  You don’t even exactly know who you are, and you end up scared that finding out could destroy you.  So you exist, perpetually, as a reasonable facsimile of who you think you want to be if you are luck...and who you need to be if you are not.

=-= =-= =-= =-= =-=

*For the curious, I used the phrase “pull up your big girl panties” in reference to someone I was dealing with at my job; a client at a day program for adults with developmental disabilities.  The individual in question became a very abusive person during her menstrual cycle, often attacking other clients and becoming extremely aggressive at the slightest annoyance or inconvenience.  Pushing, screaming, trying to bash people with her wheelchair and waiting until people weren’t looking at her to do it. While that behavior was very toxic and frustrating, I didn’t choose a good way to speak about this client, and I will absolutely own that there were better ways to express myself and vent my frustrations.  When the woman I was trying to build a relationship cussed me out on using that phrase, she accused me about talking about my ex-wife in this instance...which I wasn’t.  I have no idea why she thought that.

#amab #gender #questioning #trans #genderfluid #nonbinary #autigender #existential despair #existential dread #trans questioning #gender questioning

[ryuichifoxe]

He sceptically raises one of his eyebrows at Emery's first sentence, but doesn't interrupt, just lets him work through his emotions and paintently waits for the verdict. He appreciates Em not pushing about his motives or what he gets out of coming here.

It would be fucking embarrassing to admit that you are so fucking lonely you are willing to risk everything for just company's sake. How do you break this to someone without losing face anyway? That you are so far removed from society, you can no longer connect with people truly. That you crave the closeness but feel like a false, broken thing immediately once you start interacting with others. That you live under, so you wouldn't have to compare.

The screwdriver is rudely snatched from his grasp, shocking him out of his thoughts but he still allows him to rattle on and just listens with a smile slowly appearing on his face as the insults start coming. "Look, I'm not going to apologize, I needed those parts and used them for good. But for what it's worth I am sorry for the inconvenience I caused and I promise to make it up to you."

He gently positions his hand and arm so Em can have better access to the parts that are difficult to reach, paying close attention more because there is nothing else to do other than talking, which Emery clearly is not in a mood for and less so that he can monitor what he is actually doing. He occasionally glances up and watches him play with something in his mouth

Once he starts talking Stray looks up, head casually tilting slightly to one side. When he hears the word he doesn’t blink, swallow, look away or make any facial reaction to it, but his flesh hand twitches just once. He doesn’t think too much into it, it’s just a phrase nothing else but the knee jerk reaction is still there when he is called a thing right to his face. " I mean more like all of the above really, I am trouble all around, a poor excuse for a vigilante if you will. " he actually smirks at how true it is. "What about you? Telepaths are pretty rare as far as I know and I've never met one who is just a civilian. Are you in some shady business that I don't know of?" he smiles jokingly. " Is this a front for something else?"

Of course it's all of the above. Fuck me. And fuck you too. Make it up to me, my ass.

It's not as if he's never worked with clients in and outside of the law. Not that they paraded that fact around for all to see. Well, some did and he persuaded them to seek out other technicians for second opinions or legal reasons. The latter not entirely a lie. Being liable for what should be routine government maintenance isn't ranked high on up his list of fun activities.

None were telepaths though.

He also doesn't like that Stray neither confirms nor denies his suspicions, but that's intentional. The twitch could be chalked up to nerves too but Em files it away in his mind anyway. Not like he's revealing all the cards in his hand either. At least there's plausible deniability in both their favors right now.

“Are you admitting you couldn't dig up any dirt to blackmail me with?” A knowing grin.

The answer is no. Besides the odd review online or forum post, Emery Becerra doesn't exist in any official capacity. And something tells him this man is the same, if he ever felt like digging.

“Honestly, this wouldn't be a terrible front if I were up to no good. I'd probably hire someone else to look more official. But, no, nothing shady. Just hiding in plain sight instead of underground, that's all. Trying not to draw too much attention so I don't up and disappear in the night.” It's meant to be a joke, but the laugh is strained to even his own ears. Em clears his throat and taps the screwdriver to Stray's wrist. “You should be have mobility back by the way.”

#emery becerra #mod repair au #✘ anon #ryu writes #ryu plays fallen hero #long post #nooOOOO #you don't get to drop the loneliness bomb like that how fucking dare you #keep those smiles to yourself #the audacity #didn't think I'd have time before running errands to reply #but I did

[arathergrimreaper]

J*hnny D*pp is untouchable garbage, ik, but there's one older movie of his I think about a lot called Benny & Joon, where he does this Buster Keaton sort of routine and after Joon sees it, she asks, 'Did you go to school for that?' and his character responds, 'No. I was kicked out of school for that.'

This scene and the underlying, probably unintentional, meaning of it sticks with me. For context, I'm not that talented at anything no matter how many hours I dedicate to it, but I've received compliments and more than a couple wistful 'I wish I could find time to do that's from people who've seen me crochet or draw or pole dance or what-have-you. There seems to be this misunderstanding that these things are doable for me because I have a plethora of time and resources or energy others just...don't.

This could not be further from the truth.

I make time to do these things. How? By sacrificing quality and time dedicated to the things society tells me should be the ultimate priority. Example? My crochet work drastically improved after years of false starts and finally finding the right teacher (Youtube) by...taking it to certain lectures with me in college. I would sit there and work on it even if it was large and took up my whole lap rather than taking notes. I still participated in class discussion. I still took my tests and did my essays (when ADHD and perfectionism didn't prevent me from turning in boring crap nobody gave a damn about). Classmates would look at me like I was insane, but not a single professor bothered me about it because my grades and class participation were solid.

Same thing with work. My current job is...well, I need money like many of you and 'beggars can't be choosers' yadda yadda. The point is, I have a lot of downtime in between duties and assignments, most of which only have to be done on a monthly basis. So I write. Fuck, I've written nearly three books worth of words since starting here nearly two years ago. One of which I did in a month (i was going for sterilization surgery consultation and wrote up 100 reasons and elaborations why i needed this surgery, just in case). And I draw. If anyone sees me at it (my back faces the door and there's high foot traffic by our office -_-), they don't say boo to me because I get my work done (and some of theirs too, lbr) and growing up with strict parents made swapping tabs and hiding chat rooms child's play. Thank Hephaestus for Firefox and adblockers.

I'm also not close with the majority of my blood family in the emotional or geographical sense. No real obligations there. Friends? The majority of them are...well, here. I regularly talk to and interact with 2 whole people in 2 different states. Even the effort of trying to meet more isn't a priority to me even though I make shallow attempts a couple of times a year. I'm not close to any coworkers either because I never feel I can trust them due to problems with gossipy coworkers in the past and, ofc, the current climate of people playing shoot-em-up when work pushes them past their breaking point.

Make no mistake, I am taking a risk doing these things. I risk write-ups and firing and dying alone and all kinds of shit...because I'd rather be doing art. Something I am never going to be able to live off of so I have to steal time from other things to be able to do it. When I go home, I barely have the energy to cook, clean, run errands, and do some meatsuit maintenance before I have to come back the next day. There have been so many times I've fallen asleep before I could get even partway through what I planned for the night, right at my computer or next to my sketch book.

I have to snatch back the time taken from me, there is no other recourse. Lunch breaks are not enough when we even get them (in OH, employers are not legally obligated to provide those. found that shit out at a factory i used to work at where i also wrote fanfic in a notebook between machine unloading). There are zero guarantees of a better afterlife or reward for continued suffering in this life and maybe it's the neurodivergency talking, but I refuse to waste more of it than I already have pretending the things I am forced to do are inherently better or more fulfilling than the shit I want to do.

TL;DR All this is really just to say: get sneakier. STEAL time back where you can. Else you're just going to keep wishing for more time you're never going to get.

#anya says shit

[painted-piggy-ships-archive]

Hotel California

Wade Wilson x Keaton Clownlord

Word Count: 1153

Tag List: @canongf @ghostlyvenus-selfships @sweettoothselfships @captainscyarika

Summary: X-Force has to stay in a hotel in California for a mission, just some interactions between Wade and my self insert tbh.

Warnings: Killing/torture mentions, suggestive material but nothing incredibly spicy (comments & a make-out scene), bed bugs mention (Not sure if that would count as an unsanitary mention?? There are no actual bed bugs in the fic but Wade checks just in case.)

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or leaving a nice comment!

Wade inhaled exaggeratedly as the X-Force entered their California hotel, stretching out his arms to take it all in.

“I love the smell of ocean and lotion in the morning,” he grinned under his sunglasses and a baseball cap that simply had the word “Fork” on it in comic sans.

“That makes two of us, hey-oh,” Keaton chimed in, bumping his shoulder against his husband’s.

“Try not to draw too much attention to yourselves, we are here for a reason,” Cable reminded the couple gruffly, “this isn’t some honeymoon suck-and-fuck just for you two.”

“Don’t you think that’ll be a little hard with pizza-face over here?” Keaton responded.

“Hey!”

“I was referring to myself, relax,”

“Awh, babe, your acne’s not that bad…”

Wade touched Keaton’s cheek in a disgustingly tender manner while he continued, “and besides, you take these things far too seriously, surely it’s doing incredulous things for your health. We’re here to free some enslaved mutants and blow some brains, it’s a storyline we’ve played out before, honestly I’m getting tired of it. When do I get to torture some cops for once?!”

Cable rolled his eyes (eye?) but decided it was better not to respond, and was saved from even needing to by Piotr handing everyone their room keys.

“Our bags should already be in our rooms,” he informed the team.

“Good work, shiny.” Wade lightly pat Piotr’s arm before the members went their separate ways. While all the rooms were on the same floor, they opted to spread out to seem less suspicious, though Keaton’s comment wasn’t exactly incorrect; how were they to ever blend in when they had the self-proclaimed sentient tumor and a Big Metal Guy in their entourage?

“How’re you feeling? Jetlag kicking your ass yet?” Wade asked in the elevator, lowering his sunglasses to get a proper look at his husband.

“I’m sure it will. I think it’s having a cockfight with my adrenaline right now, though,” Keaton laughed, “you know how I love to travel.”

Wade nodded, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and kissing his husband’s cheek, though it was more like mostly him smooshing his own cheek and nose against Keaton’s soft and rosy skin.

“That’s what makes this job so good for you.”

“Yeah, probably the only thing. It certainly isn’t good for my heart.”

“You knew that was a risk when you started dating me.”

Keaton sighed, turning to take Wade’s face in his hands. “It’s worth it, for all this.”

Wade smiled shyly, a blush creeping over his craggy skin as he raised his hands to meet his.

When they reached their room, the first thing the couple noticed was the fact it had two beds instead of one.

“Those fuckers are trying to cockblock me!” Wade exclaimed dramatically, making Keaton snort.

“We can just push the beds together but wait,” Keaton grabbed his husband by the belt loops of his khaki cargo shorts to keep him from immediately leaping onto one of the beds like a sugar-high child. “I know this place is high class but we should check for bed bugs.”

“Right, right…”

“Good. You can do that while I check out the view,” Keaton grinned and playfully swatted at his husband’s rear before heading for the balcony.

“No fair, why do I have to do the heavy lifting?!”

“Because you have the muscles!”

“You’re a shapeshifter- oh forget it,” Wade trailed off into a chuckle, setting to checking the sheets and mattresses for signs of unwanted critters while Keaton parted the glass doors to the room’s balcony.

He sighed contentedly as he leaned on the railing, looking out at the sea not far beyond before closing his eyes as a slight breeze caressed his face.

“We are officially bug-free,” Wade announced as he approached, his hat and sunglasses discarded inside.

“Good.”

“Well… what do you think?”

Keaton looked from the horizon to his husband, smirking. “It’s no Oslo, but I can make it work for, well, work.”

“Of course it’s not Oslo, fuck, do you think there’s anywhere in the states that’s as scenic as Oslo??? As the whole of Norway???”

“I like Colorado’s views.”

Wade briefly chewed on his lip, savoring a memory as he responded in a husky tone, “I liked Colorado’s views, too.~”

The two devolved into knowing giggles before Wade took Keaton’s hands to make him face him.

“Kiss kiss,” Wade hummed, puckering his lips.

“Kiss kiss,” Keaton responded before standing on tip-toe to connect his chapped lips with his husband’s. It of course got out of hand quickly, their mouths open and breaths hot and labored, Keaton’s back uncomfortably pressed against the metal railing of the balcony but his mind too focused on Wade to care. Keaton’s fingers found Wade’s wedding ring, tracing it in a memorized manner as Wade moved his mouth down to his neck, drawing soft sounds out of him as lips and teeth collided with pale flesh.

“You left your door open,” Weasel’s familiar voice broke the spell just as Wade bit down hard enough to make his husband groan, eyes closed and head lolling back.

“Weasel, you motherfucker-!” Wade snapped, turning on his heel, “can’t you see we’re trying to have an intimate moment?!”

“We just landed barely an hour and a half ago. Chill out. And nobody wants to see a rotten tomato fucking a marshmallow on a balcony, er, no offense, Keats.”

“Full offense,” Keaton responded, deadpan and not really meaning anything, “just because we’re married doesn’t mean the sexual escapades stop, my dear rodent. Your virgin eyes and ears should just be happy we haven’t tried to join the mile-high club yet.”

The man sighed, trying not to make eye contact with either of his, begrudgingly, friends. “Yeah, whatever…”

“Begone, pervert!” Wade concluded before shooing his friend away from the door and closing it. As soon as the couple made eye contact they burst into more giggling.

“He really should be used to this by now,” Keaton sighed, cheeks flushed.

“I think the only person who has and will ever get used to it is you, pumpkin, Hell, I can’t believe we’ve kept it together this long… I mean, I’ve woken up every day since the wedding, stared at that ring and thought, ‘shit… I’m married to someone who really gets me. I didn’t even think that was possible. A rare score for Wade Wilson.’ Then I usually visualize some confetti, y’know, for added effect. Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“Because I love it when you smile like a doof when you ramble.”

“I’m not smiling! You’re smiling!” Wade attempted to make himself frown but found it nearly impossible, especially when his stomach began to growl. “Sounds like the black hole tank is empty again.”

“Let’s go see what there is to eat around here,” Keaton grabbed his husband’s hat and placed it on his head before kissing his nose, “stud.~”

#piggy writes #self shipping #self shipping community #self insert #self insert x canon #marvel self ship #💣Bulletproof Boys💣

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

I guess maybe cause we have a lot of the same issues & he was around recently before I started fronting, but I think about Loki a lot sometimes, n how drastically he changed during the time he was co-host.

How desperate for connection n approval he is, when like me he's also just. On a different wavelength than most people around us. Never could figure out the problem but he used to be so much more likely than the rest of us to try n take interest in other people's interests, to go out of his way to do things for em, but somehow just mostly got it wrong n was met with criticism instead. Or ignored, but that's also what happened when he (at least as far as we could tell) got it right. I'd get it if it caused more work for the people instead of being helpful, but it was always useless at worst?

Like idk maybe him pointing out the things came off as him...expecting praise for some very basic or low effort things he did or something? But it was never about that, he just wanted to be seen. He was just as if not more content seeing people even a little bit happy about it than he was being thanked. He just wanted the connection.

He burnt out n stopped trying pretty fast. He doesn't do things for others anymore. He might, if he's directly asked to n given enough info that he trusts he won't fuck it up somehow, but it goes to the absolute bottom of his priorities. He doesn't try to strike up conversation, definitely not about things he's not into but the other person at least was at some point. Just...doesn't try to connect. His life's on a parallel line to anyone else's n sometimes there might be a brief, coincidental overlap but it doesn't mean much anymore.

I more or less started out from that point. Maybe that's partially where this constant fucking feeling of isolation came from. I don't like being asked to do anything. I'm hyperaware of being ignored n what kinda topics that happens with. I face everything n everyone with the assumption they don't care about anythin I have to say unless it's in (the right kinda) response to what they're saying, though even then I need to learn to cut it off at one or two sentences. It's supposed to be a reply, not a conversation. That when people speak to me they want to talk to me, not with me. Acknowledge it to show you're listening n invested but don't take up time. Which...funnily enough is exactly what Val's always told me. I kinda hate how my ADHD tendency to ramble still gets out of hand all the damn time n I only catch it when it's too late, n how my natural way of processing things is by talkin about em.

I mean. I'm assuming there's gotta be somethin that I'm reading wrong in the situations. Somethin that makes what I say or do weird n I guess off-putting. It's not a new problem, it's (part of) why we never had that many friends n when we did they usually got sick of us after a couple of years. But no one will tell us what it is n after over 20 years of tryin to crack it we're just fucking tired. I know it's some kinda personality disorder + neurotype + trauma combo but it just doesn't feel worth it try anymore when it takes so fucking much energy to try n get it right just for the Russian roulette of havin either a genuine interaction or a new step in my downward spiral. I just got no way to know which one it's gonna be til it happens n a lot of the time I end up wishing I didn't take the risk. I'm too fucking fragile for it.

#with the exception of the partner system. in loki's case especially B in my case especially herald #like i know the feeling of disconnect n being somehow Inherently Different than everyone else is a trauma symptom #especially common with like. childhood emotional neglect #so it's probably not entirely reality based at this point #but for whatever reason it's like....sometime around the time cloud or loki started fronting it started gettin worse n worse #i know it's a schema or some shit but it's. constantly getting reaffirmed instead of us working through it #& i know it's somethin we should talk about in therapy more in depth but whenever we try we choke up so bad we can't make a sound #especially cause anytime we try to talk about it to anyone else than the bf we're pretty much told our perception must be wrong somehow #n it's not like i'm tryin to put blame on anyone or say it's some kinda intentional conspiracy against us? #the only common denominator is us so why would we try to pin it on someone else? #& if our perception is really that off then i mean that'd be the answer. there's something so severely wrong with our brain that we both #repeatedly don't see or hear it when we're being responded to and hallucinate people talkin when they actually don't #which i'm pretty sure would mean we need to be on antipsychotics like asap #this btw is an open invitation to let us know if we are legit reacting to interactions no one else can see or hear #cause the most i'm aware of is the way i sometimes ask people if they said somethin cause i thought i heard someone talk #n that's very much not it. but idk. it's kinda hellish to be an extrovert in a brain that's broken in this specific way. #spdrvent

[fallen-liar]

Dehumanization. That's what led the optimistic detective Saihara Shuuichi to repeatedly attempt suicide and end up institutionalized. For the first many times you saw him, he was utterly silent, merely sending a glare at you.

The first thing you heard out of him was a screamed "fuck you" to a nurse after she attempted to calm him down during a panic attack. It became increasingly common, his outbursts. Sometimes, he seemed as if a child who knew not a thing about how to interact with others.

It had taken the previously talented boy three years to get physical therapy, and during those three years the trauma he experienced caused him to no longer see himself as human. After all, he relied oh-so heavily on 24/7 care. He could not take care of himself.

But today, Saihara seems unusually docile. He hadn't let out an ear-piercing scream yet, and his face even seemed to be adorned with a smile of childlike glee. Letting his legs twitch in an uncontrolled manner, he coloured in a crude picture he'd drawn. It doesn't take him too long to finish it up, placing a purple crayon down on the table.

Yet, as he goes to push himself up into a standing position, a subtle look of utter horror replacing that utter happiness from before. It's concerning...But do you risk an encounter with the infamously hard-to-predict boy no one knew anything about? (Well, unless you're a nurse, then you know his medical history.)

-@cryharas // hi mod amethyst! sorry i only just got your tag now, and i'm what, 33 days too late? D: here's a starter for you.

Kokichi had been taken to the recreation room under the belief that there was no one else there. After his massacre, most people didn't trust him to be outside of solitary confinement. The two women with him, easily recognized as Mikan Tsumiki and Seiko Kimura, immediately went wide-eyed as they saw the other person in the room. And not only that, possibly the only person their patient was never meant to see.

Their eyes darted to Kokichi to see what he was doing, if he was going to need to be restrained. And true to their belief, Kokichi started twitching. Eyes widening. An unreadable expression adorned his usually-smiley and happy face, even when committed to a mental institution for reasons of criminal insanity.

Shuichi hadn't seen or heard much about Kokichi. Many in the hospital talked about the guy who'd murdered an entire class worth of people at a high school during a school dance. But nobody knew specifics, really. And unless you saw him in person, the name would never ring a bell for anything other than Danganronpa, or the fact that he was a member of a wealthy, respected, high-class family.

And yet, staring at Shuichi now, there could be no mistaking the murderous intent in his eyes. His face began contorting into an expression of pure rage, unfettered, raw malice. He wanted to kill. And it was obvious with how he began struggling against Mikan and Seiko, who both tried to hold him back. Tears pricked at his eyes as his attempts to lunge for the other patient were forcibly foiled and Seiko took out a large needle, trying to get it into Kokichi's neck, but Kokichi's struggling and thrashing was very wild and very forceful. Seiko won't be able to sedate him at this rate.

#reblog #💜 kokichi 🎲 #🔎 Shushu 🔍