#i don't know how feasible this would be but it feels like you could do some research to look up reports of missing children matching her

[pumpkinpastiesandcoffee]

Princess - Lip Gallagher

Lip Gallagher x F! Reader 18+

Summary: Tony's little sister has a crush on Lip and Lip has fallen for her even if she seems like a princess. Words: 2400 Warnings: NSFW, Dry sex / Dry humping, alcohol, marijuana

~MDNI~

Y/n was Tony Markovich's little sister and she had the world's biggest crush on Phillip Gallagher. Lip hadn't always liked the girl, he found her too shy, always hiding in the background but the last few months, bumping into her as she leaves her brothers place to then hanging out together, he found himself falling for her. Walking sunshine would be his best description of her, followed closely by princess which she complains about although she secretly loves the nickname.  

Lip was apprehensive to start anything with Tony's little sister, the man might like Fiona and by extension Lip and his family, but he was still a cop and he'd seen how scary he could be towards her boyfriend Kyle a few years back so it was no surprise she'd been single since. Y/n however was afraid Lip just wasn't into her and had been too afraid to say anything, her anxiety keeping her feelings just below the surface. It was hard though, watching him with Karen then even harder when they stopped seeing each other because now she could feasibly tell him how she feels but still the words would stick in her throat.

Tonight, she sat huddled under a picnic blanket, staring at the small crackling fire as people around the makeshift circle laughed and chatted. She glanced up when a beer bottle entered her line of sight and smiled up at Lip who was offering her the drink. "Thanks Lip, looks like it was a fight for the cooler tonight" she mused, eyeing the small group of guys that were stood around said cooler yelling at each other. "Ah, worth the fight I recon" Lip had laughed as he sat down beside her and as she tugged the blanket tighter around herself. Getting a glare from her in response, "It's not my fault I dressed for summer in summer, only for the temperature to drop like it's fall".

Lip pulled out a joint, lighting it up and taking a long drag of it, watching the smoke he blows back out dissipate into the air. Turning slightly, he offered it to y/n before remembering she doesn't smoke, "sorry, I always forget, you're a princess" he scoffed, lips curled into a playful smirk. He often made fun of her for it but never with the intention of forcing her into it and up until now she had never shown an interest either, never seemed bothered by the teasing. However, to his surprise he felt her fingers brush over his hand as she moved to take it from him causing Lip to raise a brow in surprise.

"Y'know I'm joking right? It's fine you don't smoke" Lip was quick to reassure her as he turned to face her properly. "Yeah, I know. You'd never make me do anything I didn't want to Lip. I want to try it, just been afraid of getting caught by Tony and he's working tonight, so" she shrugged, blue eyes flicking up to meet his. "Plus, I know I'm safe with you for my first-time smoking weed so, if the offer stands?" Lip nodded, that familiar warm feeling settling in his chest which he was quick to wave off as the weed even though he knew better. He handed the joint to her, explaining how to smoke it then watching as she followed his instructions.

Y/n only held it in her lungs for a few seconds before the dry burn of her lungs had her coughing. Lip reached over, rubbing her back as he laughed at her, a shit eating grin on his face. “Cat got your lung?” Lip laughed again, only to get whacked in the chest by her hand causing him to cough. Y/n shot him daggers but her lips were quirked up, her features alight with amusement the way he loved and it made him smile and that warm feeling tighten.

It only took a few minutes for it to kick in, but when it did, y/n found herself entranced by the fire, the way it moved and the flames broke off and flicked up into the sky had her captivated. Lip however was captivated instead by her, the way her eyes watched the flames and reflected them and the little gasp when it made a particularly loud crackle. At one point y/n leant into Lip’s side, his arm moving to wrap around her while she spoke, “Does it always feel this peaceful?” Lip shook his head, squeezing her lightly, “Not always, depends on the person and how often they smoke.” Y/n made a small sound in reply before smiling up at him. “I think this is the first time in my life I actually feel calm, like I can talk without everything catching in my throat, I like it” her voice trailed off as her eyes returned to the fire.

She perked up as a new song came on, “Oh! Oh Lip, I love this song” she beamed, standing up and extending her hand to him, “dance with me?” Had it been anyone else he would’ve said no but he couldn’t, not to her and with that he placed his beer down and took her hand. Y/n wasn’t a good dancer, but her awkwardness was rather endearing to Lip as they danced to a few songs, laughing freely as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Lip smiled, wrapping his own arms around her waist and hugged her back before lifting her up and spinning her around. She giggled, holding on tighter until he set her back down. Y/n expected the anxiety to bubble up as she looked up at him but instead found only the uninhibited desire to kiss him. One hand still holding his shoulder, the other moved to his cheek as she leaned in to kiss him, catching Lip off guard entirely. It took a second for him to kiss back but once he did, he never wanted to stop. It was a simple kiss, but they could both feel more, so when she pulled back, he pouted causing her to laugh.

“Walk me home?” she asked, a small smile on her lips. Lip nodded, “yeah, ‘course.” He took her hand and they headed for Tony’s house, although as they reached the foot path, the cool breeze had y/n shivering, curling into his arm. As much as he liked her being that close, he felt bad and quickly pulled away to shed his coat and wrap her in it, smiling when only her finger tips peeked through the sleeves. Taking her hand again, he was relieved when she leant back into him. As they reached the porch, she unlocked the door and stepped inside, smiling back at him, “coming?” Lip was quick to take her outstretched hand and follow her in. They walked upstairs and she pushed open one of the doors, he looked around her bedroom before looking back at her. She was kicking off her shoes and hopping onto her bed so he followed suit, coming to sit beside her, back against the wall and feet hanging off the other side of her bed while she sat facing him, legs tucked to the side.

Her fingers brushed his hand, pulling his eyes to her, “can I kiss you again?” Lip smiled, leaning forward and she was quick to meet him halfway. This time the kiss wasn’t unexpected and Lip made sure to make it a good one. His hands sat either side of her face, fingers curling into her hair as his tongue traced her bottom lip and without hesitation she opened her mouth for him, giving him complete control as she leant into him. Her hands grasped at his shoulders and Lip moved a hand to her waist, pulling her closer until she was sat, straddling his lap. The kissing only got more heated from there, Lip ran his hand on her waist under her top, loving the way she leaned into his touch. His hand moved to her back, tracing up and down her spine before returning to her waist.

Lip broke the kiss causing y/n to whine before he pressed his lips to her neck, hands moving to shove his jacket off her shoulders. She easily shrugged it off, letting the heavy fabric hit the floor as she focused on the way his teeth nipped her neck making her gasp. “Lip” her voice came out so softly it was barely audible but their proximity meant he heard her and he smiled against her throat, “Princess?” Her cheeks reddened at the teasing tone, her fingers carding through his hair, tugging at the short pieces at the back making him groan as he looked up to her. Both of his hands sat on her hips now and he gripped them tightly, pulling her forward, grinding her against the rough denim that wasn’t doing much to conceal how hard he was in that moment. She surprised herself with the moan that escaped her throat, cheeks now a deep shade of red as she looked down at him.

“Lip, I…” her voice trailed off and Lip stopped, eyes lifting to meet hers, brows knitting together, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to” She shook her head, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before glancing down, “I want to, I really do but, you should know I’m, well I’m a virgin.” Lip felt bad, the way she whispered the word ‘virgin’ sounded like she was ashamed and his hand caught the side of her face, encouraging her to look at him, “It’s okay.” Now it was his turn for his voice to trail off as he sighed, “You’re still high though, we can’t… you’re first time should be sober.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should’ve told you before I invited you up here, now we’re both, I’m sorry Lip!” y/n rambled, immediately afraid she’d ruined his night and was about to hop off when Lip grabbed her hip, shaking his head, “It’s okay, we can just, make-out if you want? Or not if you don’t want to.” She shifted her weight back to the centre of his lap to kiss him however the friction had them both groaning. She was quick to apologise again and Lip was just as quick to reassure her it was okay, pressing his lips to hers in hopes of returning to the make-out session.

Lip kept his hands to her back and waist, his lips on hers or the hickey he had started earlier. Y/n however was still well aware of just how turned on they both were and decided to roll her hips against him. Maybe it was the weed or maybe it was the desperation for some form of friction, either way, feeling Lip dig his fingers into her waist made her smile. It wasn’t until she did it a second time with a bit more force that Lip realised it was no longer an accident, he glanced up at her with a brow raised and she bit her lip, “Is this okay?” Lip was sure he should say no and stop her, he should be decent and tell her to go to bed, but his decency seemed to stop at sex. Grinding on one another though? That was fair game. So instead, he found himself pushing his hips hard up into her, watching with a smirk as she gasped.

Things devolved into desperation after that, both tipsy and high, they wanted to feel good and their hot kisses full of tongue and teeth were only adding fuel to the fires burning in them. Lip was now gripping y/n’s hips tightly, using them as leverage to drag her over his now painfully hard cock, grunting as he pressed his lips to the crook of her neck. Y/n was no better, the previous slow rolling of her hips was now faster and getting uneven like her breathing, the small whimpers and moans only pushing Lip closer to his own climax. “Fuck, princess, you sound so sweet” Lip groaned against her ear, kissing her temple then her lips. She had avoided speaking, knowing sentences weren’t going to be achievable right now but she stuttered nonetheless, “so close, Lip, so” her voice cut off with a particularly harsh thrust from Lip. “Lip, Lip please, Lip,” she whimpered, nails biting into his shoulders as she chanted his name. She came moments later, body tensing as she cried out his name while Lip kept her moving as until he came too, groaning against her chest.

Y/n began to come down from her high, head resting against his shoulder as she got her breathing back to normal. Lip held her tightly still, arms now wrapped around her waist and his head leant back against the window. They stayed like that for a while, both enjoying the euphoria and comfort within one another before finally y/n leant back, cheeks red as she looked at Lip. He was quick to kiss her before leaning back to meet her eyes, “you okay?” She nodded, “yeah, I’m okay. You?” Lip nodded, kissing her cheek softly. “It’s probably really silly but god I am so tired now” she whispered causing Lip to laugh. “No, it’s not, it’s pretty normal. I should get home anyway; let you get to bed” He smiled softly at her.

Nodding, y/n slipped herself off his lap, “Yeah, plus if Tony comes home to us in bed together, I think he’d kill you.” Lip laughed nervously, hopping off the bed and grabbing his jacket, holding it in front of his crotch in hopes he could hide the dark patch they’d both made. He leant across the bed, kissing her gently but with a depth that had her head spinning. “I’ll see you tomorrow princess” Lip smirked at her before heading out. Y/n sat on her bed wondering if she just imagined it all or if it was some crazy weed induced hallucination, however as her eyes flicked across the floor, she noticed Lip’s scarf on the floor and she went a grabbed it. With the scarf in hand, she curled up under her covers, bringing the scarf up to her nose and breathing in, smiling at the smell of cigarettes, weed and beer she knew it was real and found herself falling asleep to thought of seeing Lip again tomorrow.

#shameless #shameless fanfiction #shameless x reader #lip gallagher x y/n #lip x reader #lip gallagher fluff #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher #mutual pleasure #mutual pining

[chloecherrysip]

I don't know where I'm from. My earliest memory is arriving. I was so lucky they found me! They took me in, raised me like one of their own, and when I was ready, they made me their princess.

#mario movie #mario movie spoilers #super mario bros #princess peach #super mario bros movie #super mario bros movie spoilers #cherrysip edits #mario movie was like ' let me just drop some wild new lore in here and then not come back to it in any way' lolol #DOES PEACH HAVE PARENTS BACK IN THE REGULAR WORLD THAT MOURN HER TO THIS VERY DAY???? #i don't know how feasible this would be but it feels like you could do some research to look up reports of missing children matching her #description over the last couple of decades and see if anything intriguing comes up :O #but i do love how this makes the relationship between peach and the toads so much more emotional and meaningful #they're not just her subjects. they saved her and gave her a loving home!!! they are her family and she would do anything for them!!! #they cared for her and now she cares for them even if it requires self-sacrifice #(another intriguing detail: the castle already exists here. did the toads have another monarch before this???) #(have they just been making unsuspecting humans wandering through the pipe royalty for hundreds of years????? HMM)

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Beginning to really wonder how much of my financial concern is manufactured and handed to me as opposed to something I'm genuinely concerned by

#bc like. i'm getting by just fine. i don't have anything to be reasonably worried about #but also when i was a kid my father would break down my mother's paycheck and basically explain how broke we were #and that May Have Affected Me Somewhat #as well as just. the way you consistently see the advice to just save! don't get takeout! necessities! and i'm not intent on living like #a monk nor am i intent on being on that grindset for financial gain #it's like i don't intrinsically care but i have so many messages given to me about how i need to care a lot and it puts me in a weird spot #i am simultaneously standing still and moving at mach speeds #i mean right now i just need a safety net while in between jobs; after that i need to save up to move out of state bc the uh #political situation and upcoming presidential election don't seem very sustainable for someone like me anymore #they weren't to begin with but i don't wanna stick around to see how bad it's gonna get #but it's like. okay and then what? save for what? going back to school i guess? idk #i feel like i keep asking myself what i'm trying to accomplish and keep trying to force myself to have answers #here and now when i have to be okay with taking things one step at a time instead of having everything here and now #it's simultaneously fine and terrible and i am holding two conflicting yet equal truths #i feel i may have a clearer head once i leave my current job. i'm trying to look but nothing feels appealing given how #burnt out i already feel. i dread going back into my workplace and i fear it's showing to the patients and i don't want that #i want a month off to rediscover who i am as a person outside of getting yelled at in retail and then pick something back up #could be feasible. genuinely could be. i need to sort out the health insurance aspect but. that's lowkey the plan? #to construct a financial safety net and then slam on the breaks for a while; see if i can strike up a deal with the staff about me #coming in for specific tasks bc we already know i'm quick and efficient with the inventory so i do have a little leverage #you know what. this is getting some of it off my chest and i'm starting to feel confident again lmao #i won't be doing weekends starting either next week or the week after so that's a start! i just think i want everything done right now #bc i'm afraid i won't have the chance again but i will. i definitely will #i just need to let myself get to that point; it's just the immense drain from the register work and the Everything that comes with retail #also having to accept that it's okay to leave this; there's not something wrong with me like. ''not being able to handle it'' or w/e #no mindfulness or detachment could've saved me; it was shit and i'm hitting the bricks and that's all there is to it #i've been thinking a lot about it all lately bc it's what's most prominent in my life rn of course #idk. pondering. introspecting. as i am wont to do #anyways if you've read all this you're a real mvp and i am kissing you on the hand #shai speaks

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 52 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As the perfect weekend comes to a close, you start to feel anxious about the way everyone else will perceive the engagement ring on your finger. If you could just stay in your peaceful bubble with the boys, you'd be all set. But Bradley might be about to face something much worse than an unwanted opinion. 

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, pregnancy topics, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

From the moment you woke up on Sunday, Bradley had you melting. "Morning, Mrs. Bradshaw," he mumbled against your bare shoulder, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. His huge, warm body was pressed against your back, and his lips were soft as a breeze touching your skin.

You bit your lip when his big hand snaked slowly around to your belly, and you whispered, "Morning, Daddy."

His lips found the shell of your ear as he chuckled, and goosebumps rippled along your skin. "If you do want to change your name to Bradshaw, then we can order you a new credit card and new checks as soon as we get married. If not, will you at least consider my last name for the baby?"

You wriggled around in his grasp until he released you so you could roll onto your other side and face him. "I want to change it," you said firmly, kissing the end of his mustache and running your fingers through his hair. "I want to match with you and Noah." You could tell he sighed in relief as you added, "And of course the baby will match with all of us."

When you rolled him onto his back, his hands were on your butt, keeping you snug against him. His smile was cocky as he said, "I feel like rewarding you for making all my dreams come true."

Then he nipped at the tops of your breasts as they were pressed against his chest. "Oh yeah?" you whispered. "How are you planning to do that?"

His dark eyes looked a little dangerous as he said, "By doing anything you ask me to."

You squeezed him inadvertently with your thighs, and he smirked. He knew he had you. He was always going to have you. But you knew what you wanted from him, and you were about to say it when you heard another voice in your bedroom doorway.

"Mommy? Daddy? I'm hungry."

Bradley groaned as you rolled off of him and pulled the covers higher. "I should have known since it's eight o'clock," he whispered, kissing your cheek and then reaching for your hand to kiss your ring. "I'll go start breakfast."

Your eyes went wide. "Don't punish the child, Bradley."

He snorted and slipped out from the covers as Skittles trotted out of her bed to join both of the boys. Your eyes raked over Bradley's body and his snug briefs as he reached for a pair of sweatpants while Noah yawned. "Let's go, Bub," he whispered, picking his son up and turning back to you. "Take your time, but also don't be too long. I think he wants edible food."

Then they were gone and you took a few minutes to sprawl out in bed and examine your engagement ring. You just got it, and already you were wondering how soon you could feasibly get a wedding band to join it on your finger. "Oh," you moaned softly, realizing Bradley might want to wear a wedding band, too. "That would be hot."

You rolled out of bed, nearly falling to the floor as you quickly pulled on some clothing, and then you were rushing to the kitchen where Noah was eating some apple slices sprinkled with cinnamon. Bradley was leaning on the counter with baseball scores open on his phone while he brewed some coffee, and you wrapped your arms around him from behind. 

"That was quick," he muttered when you made your presence known.

"Are you going to wear a ring?"

He turned to face you with a slightly confused look on his face. "Like a wedding ring?"

"Yes," you replied quickly, because somehow knowing this information was extremely urgent to you. "Are you going to wear one?"

You must have sounded more aggressive than you meant to, because he told you, "I mean, I was planning on it, yes. Is that okay?"

Then your head tipped back and you moaned softly. "Oh my god, Bradley. That's sinfully hot. All of your old man stuff and your body and your voice. And you're going to wear a wedding ring, too?"

"Well, yeah. I thought we could get matching engravings inside our rings with the wedding date and a little crown." You had to press your lips together to keep from screaming, and he had the audacity to ask you, "Are you okay, Baby?"

"No! Obviously not! I hope you realize other women will see that ring on your finger and be jealous of me." You gestured to yourself, feeling like you had perhaps finally lost it over this man. 

Bradley smirked. "They already are though. Look at you. So pretty."

You threw your hands up in the air and let them fall to your sides. "I can't really deal with you right now. Go sit with Noah." He chuckled so you added, "I'm serious. Get your coffee and go." You started to rummage around in the refrigerator so you could make pancakes with fresh whipped cream, still hardly able to believe you were both pregnant and engaged. 

When you started setting eggs and cream on the counter, Bradley reached past you for the French vanilla coffee creamer and made your coffee exactly how you liked it. He left you the mug that said Noah's Dad as he muttered, "I'll have to get you one that says Noah's Mom."

"Maybe just wait a few months and get me one with both names on it."

"I can do that."

-----------------------

Bradley thought you looked tired as the afternoon wore on. It had been an exciting few days, but playing with Noah usually seemed to give you more energy, not take it away. After the three of you colored on the driveway and went grocery shopping and stopped at the park, he suggested you and Noah both take a little afternoon nap.

"Just a short one though," you agreed. "I wanted to talk more about weddings and babies." You yawned again and followed Noah into his bedroom. Once again, Bradley was left with Skittles looking up at him expectantly. 

"Okay, fine. I'll get your leash." Soon there would be an additional pair of eyes looking at him and making him melt. It was bad enough there were already three that he was completely weak for.

He made it halfway around the block with Skittles' little bag of poop in one hand when two women in skin tight athletic apparel ran past him. They said hi in unison while he nodded at them, and then they must have paused right behind him.

He heard one of them mutter, "Big guys with little dogs do things to me."

"Ask him out," said the other woman. "I don't see a ring."

Bradley groaned softly as he tugged on Skittles' leash while she sniffed a cactus growing next to the sidewalk. You and he had literally had a conversation about rings this morning, and now it was too late for him to make a quick getaway without picking up his dog and sprinting down the block. Perhaps he was the one who really needed to be wearing a ring this whole time, not you.

"Hey," the first woman said, and he turned around a little sheepishly. "Your dog is literally so adorable. What's her name?"

He didn't know what he was expecting as he said, "Skittles," but it wasn't for both women to look at him like they were on the verge of getting undressed on the sidewalk. 

"Oh my god, I'm obsessed with her! Hi, Skittles." Bradley swallowed hard and took a deep breath, opening his mouth to just end this thing, but she beat him to it as she knelt down to pet the dog. She looked up at him and said, "We're almost done with our run, and I'd absolutely love to take you out for some coffee if you're free."

All he could picture were the coffee cups he always brought home to you with Princess scribbled on the side. When he started to shake his head, she stood from the sidewalk. "I'm engaged," he replied. "But thanks for the offer."

Both women were pouting when he turned away, and one of them said, "Should have known," before they were on their way again. Bradley was immediately filled with that same feeling he had after he forced himself to go to the app dates. He just wanted to be back home where you were. Where everything felt easier. Where he could just be himself without trying so hard. 

"Come on," he told Skittles, and she looked up at him with her tongue peeking out and started to trot down the sidewalk next to him.

When they got home, the sun was getting lower in the sky, and the house was silent. His bedroom was empty, so he doubled back to Noah's room. Sure enough, you were snuggled up with him, sound asleep, just like Friday night. He could have happily watched this scene for the rest of the night. He kind of wanted to squeeze himself into the twin bed, too. Instead he started working on chores and folding laundry. 

It wasn't too much longer before you woke up and appeared in the kitchen with Noah who was whining about being hungry again. You still looked tired, but you also had a determined expression on your face. You shot Bradley a coy smile over your shoulder as you made grilled cheese sandwiches. 

"What's that look for?" he asked as you sat down with the food.

"Well, first of all, thanks for letting me nap," you said, kissing his cheek. "I don't know why I'm so tired today. Maybe it's from all the excitement of the weekend, or maybe it's a pregnancy symptom?"

Bradley's face lit up. "Both options are good. We can go to bed early tonight."

"Yeah... about that. You know how you wanted to reward me? And give me whatever I asked for?"

---------------------------

A few hours later, you were honestly still pretty tired, but Bradley was on his knees in front of you on the bedroom floor, looking up at you with his addicting eyes. You were wearing just your paper crown and your underwear, and he was already naked and ready. But you wanted him to beg for you, and he knew exactly what to do.

His hands and lips were soft on your sides and your belly, and his cock was hard. "Please, Baby," he whispered as he ran the tip of his nose up along your ribs. "You're perfect."

You pushed your fingers through his hair, tugging on the roots until he moaned. As his hands slid around to your lower back, you said, "Tell me what you want, and I'll decide if you can have it."

Now his lips were frantic against your body, his kisses growing in need as his breathing got more rapid. "I want you," he gasped. "I want to fuck my Princess. I want to love you. Please."

You yanked on his hair so he was looking up at you. "I only fuck knights. And only the one I'm engaged to."

Bradley groaned and kissed your belly as he tugged down your underwear. "Baby, I'm so hard. Please."

You smirked, clearly just as turned on as he was, but keeping it together. "You better be good for me."

He scrambled to his feet and onto the bed, and you straddled his hips. He was poking you with his length, but you took his hands in yours and placed them on your breasts. You closed your eyes and listened to that gorgeous voice whisper please a dozen times as his rough hands worked their magic. His cock was eager, tapping against your thigh with each wave of his arousal. Finally you leaned down and kissed his lips softly.

"Okay, Daddy."

His stamina was commendable, as always. You rode him through two orgasms as he hit the sweet spot inside of you while he played with your clit. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were wide as he watched you come for him. And then he had to beg again. 

"Please. Let me finish." But you shook your head and watched him pant. You weren't done yet. You needed another minute. "Please? Please? Baby, I'm begging."

His hands were tight on your thighs as you rolled your hips. "I'm not done yet. You have to wait."

The veins in his neck looked delicious, so you leaned down and licked them. The change in position had him moaning your name, so you whispered next to his ear, "You can come, Daddy." 

You almost screamed when his hips jerked up, his cock pushed so deep inside you. He was babbling unintelligibly about a wedding and the baby as he bucked beneath you, filling you up until his movements finally slowed. His face was slick with sweat as you pushed his hair back from his forehead, and you were delighted as he kept begging.

"Stay with me forever, Princess? Please?"

You fell asleep with your body wrapped around him.

Monday morning hit you like a ton of bricks. You were exhausted and overwhelmed from the weekend, and you realized when you were in the shower that you'd probably have to see Casey when you dropped Noah off. The boys were eating bowls of cereal when you finally made it into the kitchen. Bradley had your coffee ready, and you briefly considered whether or not you should be drinking so much caffeine. Your movements stilled as you remembered all of the champagne you drank recently. 

"You okay?" Bradley asked from his spot at the table. He'd been saying good morning, but you hadn't responded at all.

"Yeah. Just thinking about calling my doctor later."

He was smiling when you looked at him. "Great idea."

You needed to make a lot of changes, and you were starting to feel overwhelmed again. "Will you come to daycare dropoff with us this morning?" you blurted out.

You watched him check the time on the oven clock before he met your eyes again. It sounded so stupid; you and he worked out the schedule you had so that both of you weren't backtracking all over the city. He would be cutting it close to get to work on time, but he said, "Sure. I'll follow you there and then head to base."

"Okay, thank you," you replied, kissing the top of his head. "We'll leave soon."

"Not until you eat something." He pushed the box of cereal in your direction and finished getting Noah ready while you ate. The food made you feel a little better, but your engagement ring felt like it weighed a ton on your finger. You were going to get bombarded with questions and comments all day long, and you wished you could just stay home with Bradley and extend the perfect weekend forever. 

But soon enough, you had Noah in your backseat, and you were heading for daycare in your scrubs. You had him out of his carseat by the time the Bronco coasted into the spot next to yours, and Noah was reaching for Bradley with his free hand. At least he seemed delighted that both of you were here with him.

Bradley held the door open and kissed your cheek when you walked past. "I've gotta run in a minute," he reminded you, but that wasn't going to be a problem. You didn't want to be here for more than a minute yourself, because you could already feel Casey's gaze on your body as the three of you entered the building. 

"Hi!" she called out, clearly looking at only Bradley as she smiled brightly. "Did you have a nice weekend?"

"The best," he replied with a smirk in your direction as he wrapped his arm around your waist. 

Then you noticed the colorful prisms bouncing off the wall next to Casey as you stood in the sunlight shining in through the door. Your ring was massive and glittery and impossible to hide, not that you really wanted to. But you could tell second that her gaze landed on your hand, and a grimace settled on her face.

Bradley didn't seem to notice the showdown of sorts as he kissed your cheek before kneeling in front of Noah to tell him to have a good day. Casey looked at you with her sour expression, and you tried your best to keep yourself neutral, unsure whether you wanted to laugh or scream.

"Wow," she finally said. "That's a neat ring."

You nodded, and now you couldn't stop the grin that formed on your lips. It wasn't neat. It was perfect. It was stunning. You were about to say something when Bradley scooped Noah up in a hug and casually said, "Yeah, we're getting married."

Casey nodded, a jerky motion as she pressed her lips together, and then Noah turned and looked at her as he said, "And I'm going to be a big brother!"

"Noah!" you gasped as Bradley's eyes went wide. All of the baby talk during the weekend must have made an impression. You and Bradley had been talking openly about what was going on, and Noah must have picked up on things. He probably absorbed all of the information, including when you told Bradley that he'd be an amazing big brother. 

"Yeah, you are, Bub," Bradley said with a laugh before he looked at you. "Well, that cat's out of the bag, I guess," he whispered.

"We were not at all discreet when we discussed things in front of him," you replied softly, happy that he was smiling about it.

"That's... neat," Casey repeated, looking like she just ate a lemon. "Wow." She handed Bradley the clipboard while she glared at you, and you avoided her by giving Noah a kiss.

"I'll pick you up later," you promised him, and then he was walking back into the classroom with Casey who had her nose in the air. 

Bradley was checking the time again. "I need to go, Princess. You good?"

"Yes," you replied, watching Noah's little backpack disappear from view. "I'll see you at home tonight."

He grabbed you up and kissed you, giving a bit of a show to the family who just walked in to drop their child off. "I love you," he rasped before running out the door.

You also disappeared before Casey could return, and of course, it was a typically busy Monday at work. But Dr. Kelly gasped when she saw your ring, and the other nurses squealed when you told them Bradley proposed. Pretty soon you'd have to let them know you were pregnant, too, but since Noah wasn't here to blow your cover, you didn't mention it yet. You did however schedule an appointment with your own doctor. 

You got to assist with stitches, clean up a scraped leg while a little girl cried, and fend off a single dad who was blatantly looking at your boobs while he asked you out. Then you got to clean up the floor after a kid peed in the first exam room. You were just bracing yourself for a disaster when Dr. Kelly called you into room two where a boy had bite marks on his arm. "Happened at daycare," she told you, and you got the antiseptic ready.

If that kind of thing ever happened to Noah, you weren't sure how you'd be able to stay calm. Then you thought about the baby, and it threw you for a loop. You felt so protective of both of them already. You still had the scars on your arm from when you fell running away from Meredith. 

So you cleaned up his arm while you sang Noah's favorite song about dinosaurs, taking the time to be careful around the bruising. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, but he sat still for you. Then you let him have as many stickers as he wanted before he left.

You were exhausted and on the verge of tears when you left in your car at five o'clock. You should have known you'd be overwhelmed today, and you needed to get home and spend the night with Noah and Bradley like your sanity depended on it. Traffic was heavy, but when you finally made it back to the daycare, you rushed inside to get it over with.

Of course it was just you and Casey. She set the clipboard down on the edge of the counter but made no move to get Noah for you as you signed your name. Then a malicious looking smile found her lips. "He only proposed because you're pregnant. You know that, right?"

You already knew that's what people were going to assume. You even told Bradley as much. Casey must have been stewing over that information all day long, ready to try to make you feel bad about yourself. It didn't even matter, because you already knew the truth, but in that moment, you felt so damn petty. 

"Bradley actually proposed before he knew I was pregnant, and it was by no means an accident. But nice try, Casey. Now, would you mind doing your job and getting Noah for me? I can't believe I have to remind you what your job entails so frequently."

Her smile turned to a scowl, and you were ready to go a few rounds with her if needed as you slid the clipboard toward her again. You had the upper hand here no matter what, because the Bradshaws were all yours. But she didn't respond, rather she turned away from you and went inside the classroom to get Noah. The idea of knocking all of her neatly organized paperwork to the floor crossed your mind, but you decided to be an adult and just wait for Noah. You were almost immediately awarded with the sweetness only he could bring to your day.

"Mommy!" he called out, running across the small lobby to get to you. "I painted Skittles, but I made her green and yellow!"

"Show me," you said as you bent to pick him up, and then he was holding out his picture as you kissed his cheek. "She's stunning, sweet Noah. I love her."

"We can hang it up at home. On the fridge."

You nodded and carried him outside without looking at Casey. She could eat dirt for all you cared. "The refrigerator is looking really full of your artwork these days, but I'm sure we can squeeze it in. Now, do you want ants on logs or fancy apple snails with your dinner?"

-------------------------

"Well, I fucking did it," Nat said with an exasperated sigh when Bradley walked across the tarmac with her.

"Did what?" he asked, already slightly concerned about where this conversation might be headed.

She flapped her hands in the air in front of herself like that was supposed to mean something. "With Javy! I turned it from friends with bennies into a thing."

"A thing?" he asked, getting more confused by the moment. "What kind of thing?"

"A relationship!" she hissed before clapping her hand over her mouth like she'd said a dirty word.

"Oh," he replied with a laugh. "You're dating him? Like actually dating him? Is this your first boyfriend?" She kicked him in the shin. "Fuck!"

"Come on, Bradley! You know this is a big deal for me! Even admitting to him that I like him made me feel filthy."

"Jesus," he groaned, taking a step to the side to get further away from her as he walked. "I literally can't fathom what he sees in you."

She glared at him. "I could say the same damn thing about your sweet girlfriend. She could have guys eating out of her hand, but she somehow finds you charming?"

Bradley didn't want to say it, but you probably technically found Noah charming. And if last night's activities were any indication, you definitely did have Bradley eating out of your hand. All you had to do was just mention you wanted him to beg for you, and he was on his knees. He'd been that way since the beginning. He had no problem giving you control when you let him know that's how you wanted the evening to go.

"She's not my girlfriend anymore," he replied, watching her reaction from the corner of his eye. 

His best friend dropped her helmet and almost tripped over it as she reached out to wrap her hand around his forearm. She looked devastated as she softly said, "Oh my god, Bradley. She dumped you?"

His jaw dropped open as he came to a stop, and he glared at her. "Seriously, Nat? That's where your mind went? I proposed!"

Her eyes went wide. "She said yes? You're engaged?"

"Yes!" he insisted with his hands on his hips. "You're the worst."

But she didn't even hear him, because now she was screeching and stepping on his feet as she hugged him. "I'm so happy for you! That was quick, but holy shit, it just makes sense! Do I get to collect a finder's fee?"

When she kissed his cheek he said, "All you did was set me up on a bunch of miserable dates while she babysat Noah."

"Exactly! Mutual pining!" she replied with a laugh. "None of this would have happened if I didn't put the app on your phone, so you're welcome."

He tried to disentangle her from his arms so he could pull up the photo he took of the ring when he heard Maverick clear his throat. When he looked at his godfather, he didn't seem thrilled, and Bradley's stomach lurched when he said, "Rooster. We need to talk."

----------------------

Okay, well Casey is the worst. And Skittles is a chick magnet, but we already knew that would be the case. Now let's see if we can get to a wedding and a baby before disaster strikes. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 53

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #the younger kind

[cheriladycl01]

Baby It's Cold Outside - Carlos Sainz x BulgarianOlympicSkiing! Reader

Plot: You take your new husband skiing with your friends Alexandra and Charles.

Credit to bjeanesthings for the GIF

"How do you do this as normal training baby! I can barley do it two winter breaks in a row!" Carlos shivers looking around as you strap your gloves on.

"Come on! I want to get to the big slopes early so I can practice! Then we can have fun with Charles and Alex!" you smile at your husband as you pull your snow boots on that were at the edge of the cabin.

"But Alex and Charles get a lay-in why don't i?" he complains pouting at you and giving you the puppy eyes.

"Because you decided to marry me, and that doesn't lead to lay-in's on a Ski holiday!" you giggle.

"Okay, but over the summer you are coming with me to Mallorca and we are having lots of cuddles and lay-in's and walks along the beach and lots of morning sex!" he grins cheekily making you slap his chest.

"Okay, well lets go Skapi!" you smile taking his hand.

You guys headed first to the large slopes where you could go down and practice for the Olympics that were to be held in Milan in 2026. You practiced for around an hour, going at high speed and cleaning up your turns and corners.

Then Carlos decided it was time to head back to the log cabin you guys were sharing with Alex and Charles and ask them if they wanted to join you for lunch. You took a leisurely ski through the wooded ski area that was just a general skiing area rather than the specific slopes used.

He reached out for you, holding your hand as you both used one pole to change your directions as needed.

"It's a really nice day today!" you say after pulling down the bandana you had wrapped around your mouth currently. Usually you'd wear a full balaclava but where you were skiing with friends you wanted to be able to talk to them without shouting.

"Yes, the sun is bright!" he says looking around the white snow that if you both took the skii masks off you'd for sure be blinded by the dazzling white expanse.

"Mmm, so how do you feel about the rest of the year?" you carefully ask your husband. You had tiptoed around the subject of him having to leave Ferrari. He understood why they'd jump at the opportunity to take on a 7x World Championship when this year they had a car that was consistent and contending with the Red Bull, that didn't mean it didn't hurt though. You'd only found out a few days ago from Charles himself.

He'd found a true friendship in Charles and Alex, just like he had done with Lando. It didn't mean he would no longer see Charles but they were arguably one of the best pairing on the grid when it came to team-work and wins.

"Well, Audi have said they'd like to take me on in 2026, but that would mean a year out. Red Bull have also spoke to me about removing Checo, but I want a championship and with Max as Red Bull golden boy I don't think it would be feasible. Then obviously there's Mercedes but their car was so bad this year, so it really depends!"

"Well, whatever happens you know you'll have me right?" you say, slowly coming to a halt and pull him into a hug.

"I don't know what the best decision is, but I'm just going to try perform my best this season with Ferrari!" he offers and you nod, pulling him in.

"If you do go with Audi and have an off season in 2025 that means we'll have the whole year together!" he smiles at what you just said.

"Mmmm maybe we can travel without the stress of me racing each time!" he grins pulling you in and kissing you, your masks clashing together making you both laugh.

You walk back in to the cabin to find Alex and Charles cuddles up on the sofa under a fluffy blanket.

"Hey guys, want to go get some lunch?" you ask looking around.

"How on earth do you survive with it this cold!" Alex shivers looking at the snow that falls off yours and Carlos' boots as you slip them off.

"You are all from warmer regions. Mediterranean people" you sigh with a small laugh.

"Sorry we aren't Slavic or Balkan like you and can hold up in your insanely cold winters, I'm guessing that's how you got into skiing?" Charles chuckles.

"Yeah, my dad would take me up the mountains each winter and go skiing! It's how I got into it competitively!" you smile, remembering all the memories from when you were younger.

"It's amazing what you've achieved not only for yourself but your country!" Alex smiles.

"Thank you guys! Going for Gold in 2026 though! You guys will come support me right?" you ask, already planning to give them VIP seats where they could watch from.

"Of course!" they all reply while Carlos comes behind you and picks you up throwing you over his shoulder and launching you onto the part of the sofa next to Charles.

"Carlos be careful" you laugh at him, holding one hand on your chest and another around his neck.

"Just an hour of chilling? Then we'll do lunch and more skiing?" he asks using those big brown eyes off his.

"Alright fine" you smile, pulling him in for a hug as you tune into the show Alex and Charles had on.

You could 100% get used to this life.

y/user

Like by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

y/user: Holiday with Ferrari Family! Forza Ferrari <3 also Charles stole my phone :<

Tagged 3 People

View all 567 comments

scuderiaferrari: We love our Core 4! Happy Holidays!

carlossainz55: mi amor you showed us all up, don't recommend a Ski Holiday with a Silver Medalists!

-> fan1: I was at the slopes and saw her helping Alexandra, was the cutest

-> fan2: not mans complaining about his literal wife's achievements!

formulasantander: Alex and Y/N repping the red! We love to see it!

charles_leclerc: I look good no?

-> y/user: no lol, jk don't cancel me

alexandrasaintmleux: love you my best friend! <3 thank you for the ski lessons.

Instagram Story Caption:

Gang waiting on Carlos be like...

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz #cs55 imagine #cs55 x reader #cs55 #cs55 fluff #cs55 fic #carlos sainz jr

[thebibliosphere]

I saw your post about ingram, and out of curiosity, is there some advantage to going through the whole self-publishing thing with retailers when you're just starting out? like I mean the way that fandom zines work is that they don't even bother going through ingram or amazon or whatever. they just set up a social media site (usually twitter) to gain followers, open preorders (usually 1-2 months in length) to generate the costs of printing upfront, and then sell anywhere from a few dozen to several hundred copies of their books (usually artbooks, but anthologies exist too). I've seen some zines generate over a thousand orders. they're kind of like pop-up shops, except for books. maybe the sales numbers aren't so impressive to a real author, but the profit generated is typically waaaay more than the $75+ apparently needed for Ingram Spark, so I still feel like new authors could benefit from this method too, especially if they just need some start-up cash to eventually move to ingram if they want to for subsequent runs of their book. I think authors would also have to set aside some of the pre-order money to buy an ISBN number to have printed on their book, and I'm not really sure what other differences there are, but I just wanted to ask about it in case there's some huge disadvantage I'm missing!

So, popup zines work well for some people, and I know some authors who kickstart their work successfully. But for a lot, it's just not feasible as a long-term stratedy. Or even as a means to get off the ground.

Fanzines succeed primarily because an existing fanbase is willing and ready to throw money at something they love. They’ve got a favorite writer or artist they want to support. Supporting all the others is just a happy by-product. They also take a HUGE amount of short-term but intense planning that just doesn’t always jive with how some of us work.

I, for one, would never offer to organize a fanzine. I’ll take part in them as a creator, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than subject myself to wrangling that many people and dealing with the legal logistics.

When it comes to authors doing anthologies, it'svery much the same. The success of the funding often hinges on having other big-name authors involved whose existing fans will prop up the project. Or having a huge marketing budget.

Most self-pub authors have zero marketing budget. I’m one of them, and I’m under no illusions that my work would not be as popular and self-sustaining as it is if I didn’t have a large Tumblr blog.

When I thank Tumblr in my forewards, I am utterly sincere. Tumblr brought fandom levels of enthusiasm to an unknown work and broke the Amazon algorithm so hard, that Amazon thought I was bot sniping my way to multiple #1 spots and froze my sales rankings.

That’s not the norm. And while I could probably kickstart my own work as an indie creator, that’s because I’ve put literal decades into building up a readership. I’ve been doing this since I was 16 and realized people thought I was funny. I didn’t know what to do with it or if I’d ever actually write anything, but it meant the groundwork was already there (thank you, past-me). I basically fell upward into my success by virtue of never being able to shut the fuck up and wanting to make people laugh. Clown instincts too strong.

New or first-time authors trying to sell their work without that will find it infinitely harder.

All of that aside, even if an unknown author somehow gets lucky and manages to fund their work, there’s still the question of shipping and distribution logistics. Are you shipping everything yourself? Better hope you’re able-bodied and have the time for it. (for reference, it took me months to ship out 300 patreon hardbacks because of my disabilites. It damaged my back and hands. I couldn’t type for several weeks after I was done.)

Are you going to sell primarily at conventions? Better hope you’re able-bodied, have the time and don’t have cripling anxiety about being in large groups...

Also, will selling a dozen to a few thousand copies in one burst be sustainable in the long run as a career? Not for me. Doing things via Ingram and Amazon means I earn a steady trickle of sales for the rest of my life provided the platforms remain and so long as I keep working and can generate interest in the series, not just when I have funds to pay for physical copies to sell. The one-time (in theory) cost of $75 to distribute through Ingram gets paid off pretty quick that way. And it doesn't require the same logistics as doing the popup/crowdfund.

Ultimately, it comes down to what you are capable of but also the type of work you’re doing. If you’ve got an extended network of fellow creatives who will back you or you’ve got a large following elsewhere, doing it like a popup might work for you.

If you’re an exhausted burnout who can’t fathom the short but intense amount of organization that sort of thing requires, not to mention doing it over and over and over... Ehhhhh. No thank you.

[the-magpie-archives]

You see, Martin says 'I grieved for you' to Jon, but this doesn't do justice for just what he would have gone through.

As most people know, having a loved one in hospital is horrible, but Jon's case is an entirely different thing. Assuming Jon was initially taken to a hospital in Great Yarmouth, it would've taken Martin a while to get there, even if he left right away. He might have missed Jon's emergency treatment, but he certainly didn't miss the worst of it.

Many people assume that CPR is a quick, simple, lifesaving procedure, it is not. Jon was found not breathing, and without a pulse, so he would have had at least 20 minutes straight of CPR, and that messes up a body. On a person as weak as Jon it would badly break ribs, and cause a lot of bruising. Even if Martin didn't have to watch Jon's chest be crushed to no avail, that type of damage is often visible.

I don't know if you've ever seen a dead body, but it's different to an unconscious one in every way. Jon of course, was not dead, but he would absolutely look it. As I'm sure you know, blood being pumped is what keeps the body warm, and breathing accounts for a large part of what we perceive as living, so the absence of both of these, especially in a loved one, is jarring, and likely to send anyone into shock

In lots of TV shows you see doctors calling deaths, but in reality it's actually quite a difficult thing to diagnose. It's not a quick check of the pulse and you're done, there's a lot of tests; there are many conditions that can look like death. In Jon's case his mind and nerves were still active, meaning it would have been picked up on fairly quickly, but Jon would have been assumed dead until these tests were completed.

The thing with a case like this, is there's nothing the doctors can feasibly do; as Elias says, it's an unknown quantity. The most likely course of action would be to make him as comfortable as possible, and redo the death checks every so often. There would be no hope for his recovery, but legally the hospital would have to do this, and would be able to offer very little comfort.

Although of course you want your loved one to survive, many family members of coma patients confess to hoping that they'd just die. The limbo of waiting is impossible to process, and having them there but having no way to communicate with them can be excruciating. There's no way to properly grieve for someone if you always have it in the back of your mind that they could wake up.

Giving up on someone like that is terribly and awfully painful. You can tell them you're sorry all you want, but you'll always be thinking about how they'd have wanted you to stay. Having to create both sides of an interaction like that when truly you're in control of neither is simply impossible to recover from.

Every action Martin took after Jon's death was justified, logical, even. To succumb to the lonely after leaving the man you love, sentencing him to die alone?

It feels right.

#I will NEVER stop going on about the coma storyline...it was just so GOOD #My mum was a nurse I used to want to go to med school and I grew up with many relatives in the hospital so my brain says DETAILS #It's just the most exquisite form of torture for the characters <3 #tma #the magnus archives #the magnus institute #Jonathan Sims #martin blackwood #Jmart #jonmartin #tma analysis #tma posting #tma the end #mag 120 #mag 121 #Mag 122 #tw hospital #tw injury #tw coma #tw mention of death

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I'm a student about to start my second year, and me and all my friends are really nervous. It feels like first year was really rough for everyone all over the place and we're all really hoping for a better second year this year! Have lecturers been noticing that too? Do you think it's because of COVID?

Oh my god yes. Jesus yes. It's absolutely the covid effect, and we're expecting to see the disruption for the next five or so years, tbh - the current 18-21 year old undergrads went through the most important years of high school during a lockdown. That not only interrupted academic development (home schooling during a time of stress, massive disruption to exams and exam-taking skills, etc), it also enormously hit emotional development (mid to late teens have the highest socialising needs of the human lifespan, and no one could meet and interact with each other.) And that latter point is having a much bigger effect than the former.

Current undergrads haven't been able to develop the same resilience, the same approach to andragogic education, the same interpersonal skills for dealing with lecturers/fellow students. University is not like school; in school teachers are giving you the knowledge, and gradually encouraging you to try and use it to formulate your own opinions. In university, we're supposed to give you the framework to then go out and do you own research. The bulk of your education comes from you, not us; we're more like facilitators.

But, we're noticing that there's a far bigger skew now towards needing to get the answer right. Anxiety is higher, and so the fear of being wrong is much more crippling for these students, and that in turn means they're less willing/able to take charge of their own education and are more passive with it, wanting to just be fed the right answers so they can rote learn them and get the Good mark. And the disconnect between that and the reality of what lecturers are expecting is pretty big, it turns out, and is causing even more anxiety and stress. Record numbers of my students have started asking me to give their assignment drafts a quick look over, just to see if they're on the right track. Which, you know, I'm more than happy to do; but I do think it's a notable pattern change from three or four years ago.

If you're worrying on a personal level though, Anon, I have some Handy Tips if they're any use!

Remember: the idea of uni is that you are doing your own research and learning on the topics your lecturers describe. They're giving you the basics, but they're expecting you to look up examples, case studies, other research papers, etc. They want to see analysis. That's what gets you the good marks. If you simply describe the information you got in lectures and don't add anything, you'll struggle to rise out of a basic pass.

What's the fundamental point of your particular course? It's important to know this, because it'll tell you how to focus your assessments and exam answers. Just within the environmental sector, you could have Environmental Science (focus: academic exploration and research), Environmental Conservation (focus: applying the academic research to actual management and solutions), Environmental Impacts (focus: philosophy and ethics), etc. In all three, you might be given a paper about the latest IPCC report, but in the first you would focus on exploring all the research papers that formed the conclusion on climate change, in the second you'd focus on case studies around the world and the applicability/feasibility of the shared economic pathways that are going to fix the problem, and in the third you'd focus on the human impacts of both the problem and the proposed solutions. You may of course include elements of all of those, but your main focus should be chosen appropriately.

Keep your notes with copies of the lecture slides in nice ordered folders. Keep a bulleted list of the topics covered in each. This makes it far easier to go and double check the right info when you're stressed out

On that note, the best note-taking system is to add notes/comments to the lecture slides where you record clarifications and things the lecturer said (INCLUDING CASE STUDIES). Don't bother duplicating effort by writing what's on the slide.

I truly do know this is easier said than done, but don't leave your assignments until the last minute. Are you struggling with motivation? You need a study group. You need to body double.

And finally, the biggest: CONTACT STUDENT SUPPORT IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING. Every time I go to an exam board and we get to a student who has failed stuff, the first question the Academic Office asks is "Has this student been working with Student Support?" Even if they aren't that helpful in your uni, working with them means they know about the things you're struggling with, and that you've clearly been trying to work around the problems. That makes the Academic Office far, far more likely to take a lenient view of a student, rather than going "Well, clearly they just don't care then, withdraw them from the program." Your Student Support should be able to help you with counselling, study buddies, a support worker that can help you organise your time and interpret your assignment briefs correctly and give you interim deadlines, etc.

Oh, and remember to schedule in rest and downtime, just as much as study time.

And... honestly, you learned a lot in your first year. The learning curve is less steep in second year, even accounting for the academic rigour increasing. By now, you're basically used to things like referencing, routines, assignment formatting, etc. There are no more surprises, really. Now's the point you can get the bit between your teeth and run.

Anyway: good luck! And enjoy it as much as you can. University is hard, no doubt about that, but it can and should be fun as well.

#asks #the professional world of careers and tasks

[jennamoran]

The Far Roofs: Systems

Hi!

Today I’m going to talk a little bit more about my forthcoming RPG, the Far Roofs. More specifically, I want to give a general overview of its game mechanics!

So the idea that first started the Far Roofs on the road to being its own game came out of me thinking a lot about what large projects feel like.

I was in one of those moods where I felt like the important thing in an RPG system was the parallel between that system and real-world experience. Where I felt like the key to art was always thinking about the end goal, or at least a local goal, as one did the work; and, the key to design was symmetry between the goals and methods, the means and ends.

I don't always feel that way, but it's how I work when I'm feeling both ambitious and technical.

So what I wanted to do was come up with an RPG mechanic that was really like the thing it was simulating:

Finding answers. Solving problems. Doing big things.

And it struck me that what that felt like, really, was a bit like ...

You get pieces over time. You wiggle them around. You try to fit them together. Sometimes, they fit together into larger pieces and then eventually a whole. Sometimes you just collect them and wiggle them around until suddenly there's an insight, an oh!, and you now know everything works.

The ideal thing to do here would probably be having a bag of widgets that can fit together in different ways---not as universally as Legos or whatever, but, like, gears and connectors and springs and motors and whatever. If I were going to be building a computer game I would probably think along those lines, anyway. You'd go to your screen of bits and bobs and move them around with your mouse until it hooked together into something that you liked.

... that's not really feasible for a tabletop RPG, though, at least, not with my typical financial resources. I could probably swing making that kind of thing, finding a 3d printing or woodworking partner or something to make the pieces, for the final kickstarter, but I don't have the resources to make a bunch of different physical object sets over time while I'm playtesting.

So the way I decided that I could implement this was by drawing letter tiles.

That I could do a system where you'd draw letter tiles ... not constantly, not specifically when you were working, but over time; in the moments, most of all, that could give you insight or progress.

Then, at some point, you'd have enough of them.

You'd see a word.

That word'd be your answer.

... not necessarily the word itself, but, like, what the word means to you and what the answer means to you, those would be the same.

The word would be a symbol for the answer that you've found, as a player and a character.

(The leftover letters would then stick around in your hand, bits of thought and experience that didn't directly lead to a solution there, but might help with something else later on.)

Anyway, I figured that this basic idea was feasible because, like, lots of people own Scrabble sets. Even if you don't, they're easier to find than sets of dice!

For a short indie game focused on just that this would probably have been enough of a mechanic all on its own. For a large release, though, the game needed more.

After thinking about it I decided that what it wanted was two more core resolution systems:

One, for stuff like, say ... kickstarter results ... where you're more interested in "how well did this do?" or "how good of an answer is this?" than in whether those results better fit AXLOTL or TEXTUAL. For this, I added cards, which you draw like letter tiles and combine into poker hands. A face card is probably enough for a baseline success, a pair of Kings would make the results rather exciting, and a royal flush result would smash records.

The other core system was for like ... everyday stuff. For starting a campfire or jumping a gap. That, by established RPG tradition, would use dice.

...

I guess technically it didn't have to; I mean, like, most of my games have been diceless, and in fact we've gotten to a point in the hobby where that's just "sort of unusual" instead of actually rare.

But, like, I like dice. I do. If I don't use them often, it's because I don't like the empty page of where to start in the first place building a bespoke diced system when I have so many good diceless systems right there.

... this time, though, I decided to just go for it.

--

The Dice System

So a long, long time ago I was working on a game called the Weapons of the Gods RPG. Eos Press had brought me in to do the setting, and somewhere in the middle of that endeavor, the game lost its system.

I only ever heard Eos' side of this, and these days I tend to take Eos' claims with a grain of salt ... but, my best guess is that all this stuff did happen, just, with a little more context that I don't and might not ever know?

Anyway, as best as I remember, the first writer they had doing their system quit midway through development. So they brought in a newer team to do the system, and halfway through that the team decided they'd have more fun using the system for their own game, and instead wrote up a quick alternate system for Weapons of the Gods to use.

This would have been fine if the alternate system were any good, but it was ... pretty obviously a quick kludge. It was ...

I think the best word for it would be "bad."

I don't even like the system they took away to be their own game, but at least I could believe that it was constructed with love. It was janky but like in a heartfelt way.

The replacement system was more the kind of thing where if you stepped in it you'd need a new pair of shoes.

It upset me.

It upset me, and so, full wroth, I decided to write a system to use for the game.

Now, I'd never done a diced system before at that point. My only solo game had been Nobilis. So I took a bunch of dice and started rolling them, to see ... like ... what the most fun way of reading them was.

Where I landed, ultimately, was looking for matches.

The core system for Weapons of the Gods was basically, roll some number of d10s, and if you got 3 4s, that was a 34. If you got 2 9s, that was a 29. If your best die was a 7 and you had no pairs at all, you got 1 7. 17.

It didn't have any really amazing statistical properties, but the act of rolling was fun. It was rhythmic, you know, you'd see 3 4s and putting them together into 34 was a tiny tiny dopamine shot at the cost of basically zero brain effort. It was pattern recognition, which the brain tends to enjoy.

I mean, obviously, it would pall in a few minutes if you just sat there rolling the dice for no reason ... but, as far as dice rolling goes, it was fun.

So when I went to do an optional diced system for the Chuubo's Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine RPG, years later, to post here on tumblr ... I already knew what would make that roll fun. That is, rolling a handful of dice and looking for matches.

What about making it even more fun?

... well, critical results are fun, so what about adding them and aiming to have a lot of them, though still like rare enough to surprise?

It made sense to me to call no matches at all a critical failure, and a triple a critical success. So I started fiddling with dice pool size to get the numbers where I wanted them.

I'm reconstructing a bit at this point, but I imagine that I hit 6d10 and was like: "these are roughly the right odds, but this is one too many dice to look at quickly on the table, and I don't like that critical failure would be a bit more common than crit success."

So after some wrestling with things I wound up with a dice pool of 5d6, which is the dice pool I'm still using today.

If you roll 5d6, you'll probably get a pair. But now and then, you'll get a triple (or more!) My combinatorics is rusty, so I might have missed a case, but, like ... 17% of the time, triples, quadruples, or quintuples? And around 9% chance, for no matches at all?

I think I was probably looking for 15% and 10%, that those were likely my optimum, but ... well, 5d6 comes pretty close. Roughly 25% total was about as far as I thought I could push critical results while still having them feel kind or rare. Like ...

If I'm rolling a d20 in a D&D-like system, and if I'm going to succeed on an 18+, that's around when success is exciting, right? Maybe 17+, though that's pushing it? So we want to fall in the 15-20% range for a "special good roll." And people have been playing for a very long time now with the 5% chance of a "1" as a "special bad roll," and that seemed fine, so, like, 20-25% chance total is good.

And like ...

People talk a lot about Rolemaster crit fail tables in my vicinity, and complain about the whiff fests you see in some games where you keep rolling and rolling and nothing good or bad actually happens, and so I was naturally drawn to pushing crit failure odds a bit higher than you see in a d20-type game.

Now, one way people in indie circles tend to address "whiff fests" is by rethinking the whole dice-rolling ... paradigm ... so you never whiff; setting things up, in short, so that every roll means something, and every success and failure mean something too.

It's a leaner, richer way of doing things than you see in, say, D&D.

... I just didn't feel like it, here, because the whole point of things was to make dice rolling fun. I wanted people coming out of traditional games to be able to just pick up the dice and say "I'm rolling for this!" because the roll would be fun. Because consulting the dice oracle here, would be fun.

So in the end, that was the heart of it:

A 5d6 roll, focusing on the ease of counting matches and the high but not exorbitant frequency of special results.

But at the same time ...

I'm indie enough that I do really like rolls where, you know, every outcome is meaningful. Where you roll, and there's never a "whiff," just a set of possible meaningful outcomes.

A lot of the time, where I'm leaning into "rolls are fun, go ahead and roll," what it means to succeed, to fail, to crit, all that's up to the group, and sometimes it'll be unsatisfying. Other times, you'll crit succeed or crit fail and the GM will give you basically the exact same result as you'd have gotten on a regular success or failure, just, you know, jazzing up the description a bit with more narrative weight.

But I did manage to pull out about a third of the rolls you'll wind up actually making and assign strong mechanical and narrative weight to each outcome. Where what you were doing was well enough defined in the system that I could add some real meat to those crits, and even regular success and regular failure.

... though that's a story, I think, to be told some other time. ^_^

#the far roofs #jenna moran #rpgs

[after-witch]

(For Mahito)

"Could we go out and see the Christmas lights today?"

note: yandere, kidnapped reader, vague violence implications

--

You ask the question as casually as you feasibly can. You don't even look up from your book, or from your spot on the ground, where you're currently nestled on top of a pile of mismatched, patchwork quilts and blankets taken from here and there and dropped on the cement for you to arrange like some sort of comfort-starved underground rat.

But the casual pretense didn't appear to work.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you hear the hammock creak, and ah--when you look up, there it is.

Mahito is already leaning over the side of his hammock, upside down, current book discarded, a lopsided grin on his face and keen interest in his eyes.

"Oh? Why do you want to see them? Are Christmas lights important to you?"

Your heart speeds up, and you cover your chest with your book, stupidly, like that will hide what your sure is a pulse in your soul.

"No," you lie, turning a page. "I just thought it might be a change of pace from our usual night." You shrug, and curl up further into the blankets. "If you don't want to, it's fine. I don't really care."

"Hey!"

You hear the creaking rope again before there's the tell-tale sound of Mahito's feet hitting the ground. His voice has gone up an octave, and he draws the words out childishly as he plops himself down on your nest of blankets.

You don't look back at him, still, despite the increase in your heart rate. Despite the bead of sweat on your forehead. Despite the way your muscles tell you that you ought to be moving away.

"I didn't say I didn't want to!" He whines, before he simply plucks the book from your hands and tosses it aside, forcing you to--in slow, carefully orchestrated movements--give him your attention.

He grabs your mouth and squishes your lips together.

"Are they fun? I bet they're fun--tell me!"

Living with Mahito has given you the uncanny ability to plan ahead more than your body wants to; desperately, your mind, your muscles, everything wants to react quickly to the danger he presents. But that's the riskiest thing in the world, so you force yourself to think before you act.

"Well," you say, considering slowly, "They can be very beautiful, especially when it's dark outside. And when the weather is chilly, it gives everything the perfect winter atmosphere... like you're walking around in some fairytale or a cheesy movie. Or a snowglobe, if it happens to snow."

You shift on the blankets, propping yourself up on your elbow.

"And if you're walking downtown, there's usually other things you can do while you look at them. Window shop... oh," you don't bite back the smile, "Because everything is way too expensive, especially around Christmas. But it's nice to pretend. Or you can get hot chocolate." You lick your lips, imagining the sweet, warm liquid on your tongue. How long has it been since you've had something sweet that wasn't stolen, half-eaten, or questionably old?

"Nothing better than looking at Christmas lights on a cold night with some hot chocolate, you know? As long as you've got a cozy hat and some mittens, it's not so bad to be outside. It all adds up, I guess, to be something magical."

You're smiling, when you finish. And oh, oh, you've let yourself get too carried away. Let nostalgic make your heart beat-beat-beat too easily.

Because Mahito is staring at you with a cat-ate-the-canary grin on his face, his gaze locked firmly on your own as you realize your mistake.

His lips curl.

"Oh, pet. Your soul is humming," he whispers. His fingers grip the flesh of your side and squeeze casually, making you jerk, though there's nowhere to go.

"Will it hum like that if I take you? Or differently? Better? Worse?" He digs his fingers harsher into your side and tugs you close. His lips open again and you get the oppressive feeling of a thousand questions lingering behind them, waiting to burst out. Questions that would make you squirm, make you want to heave, make you grip your palm until it bled.

But he doesn't ask any more than that. Instead, he pecks your nose with his lips, leaving a wet splotch. "Well, I want to find out!"

And then he's off you, leaping to his feet with a giggle.

You stare up at him stupidly, feeling like your heart has been scooped out (by him, who else--who ever?) and dropped back in.

When you don't move, he grabs your wrist and yanks you unsteadily to your feet, so that you're forced to cling to his arm to avoid face-planting onto the concrete.

"I hope you don't mind stolen hot chocolate," he says, leading you on wobbly legs deeper into the sewer, where--somewhere--there is a way out. "Unless some of the clothes from my experiments have cash on them... well, let's look next time."

#yandere mahito #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yander #afterwitch writes

[musiclovingmoth]

after barely a day of my poll being up it seems like so many people know about and really love natural history collections which makes my heart sing!! i would love for my fellow natural history nerds to rise up and sign this petition to protect one!!

duke university is CLOSING its herbarium which holds over 800,000 plant/fungus/algae specimens including 2,000 types spanning 180 years of collection effort all across the planet. it is the second largest private university herbarium in the entire united states. this is really bad!! i will explain in short terms:

every natural history collection's purpose is to collect and maintain specimens, which are collectively supposed to be a thorough representation of biodiversity across time and space. when sampled at regular intervals at the same places, specimens can tell endless stories about changes in shape, abundance, range, genetics, and SO much more. basically, they are a big sample size to use in all manner of studies, including those that concern climate change and biodiversity loss! new species and evolutionary relationships are constantly discovered at collections even when specimens are like 100 years old. duke has recently championed itself as a global leader in biodiversity research which is honestly in jawdropping conflict with its move to close its herbarium. this herbarium not only supplies duke researchers with material but researchers all over the world. specimens have been cited in over 46,000 publications and over 13,000 since 2019 alone. we have old shit in our cabinets but the science is anything but history!

faculty and staff have 2-3 years to move the specimens elsewhere which is NOT enough time for 800,000 old dried plant/fungus specimens. this is an issue in even the BEST natural history collections at the biggest institutions but collections are pretty much always understaffed and underpaid. a university collection usually relies a lot on student labor and you know they do not have the time to be contributing to this move. to find collections that would take these specimens AND allocate the manpower and time needed to send them off is not feasible. types, especially holotypes should really NEVER be transported because they serve as the exemplar for the characteristics of the species it represents. i do not feel good about hurrying 800,000 old, fragile specimens including 2,000 types getting moved in a short amount of time by a few people. i do not want to know what will happen to the remaining specimens that don't make it out in time.

this sets a really dangerous precedent for other university collections across the world. this is not a random state school, this is duke university, which is practically an ivy league. if they close such a prominent and respected collection just because they're not 260% maximizing their profits, it may let other greedy university admins know they can get away with the same. i've only been in the professional collections world for a short time but shutting down a collection let alone one as big as duke's is almost UNHEARD of. i haven't seen scientists band together so strongly and quickly over an issue (i'm in an ENTOMOLOGY collections listserv and someone advocated for emailing duke admin against this decision), probably because they can all agree on how strongly this could impact climate and biodiversity research and policymaking down the road.

tl;dr if duke herbarium really closes, we would be losing a vital hub for ongoing and future research that helps us understand how our world is changing through the dynamics of our plants and their allies. other institutions might see this and follow suit with their own collections.

#tbh tho ento peeps are prob so concerned because if plants go we're next eek #science #nature #biology #botany #mycology #plants #fungi #fungus #mushrooms #lab notebook

[deanismysavior]

Hold on, I just thought of something. So we've talked a lot about how Mike's love confession monologue feels off and feels narratively clunky, but we don't really talk about WHY that choice was made.

Because here's the thing: the narrative imperfection is in direct conversation with Will's monolgue/love confession.

In both speeches, on the surface level, they seem like they should make sense, that is, until you start looking at the details.

In Will's love confession scene, we see him tell Mike that El "commissioned" the painting for him, which serves as a cover for Will's real intentions in creating that painting. On the surface, it seems like a believable thing El could do out of affection for her boyfriend, until you start to think about it again and realize we've never once heard El and Mike discuss DnD in any sort of depth, and she likely wouldn't be overly familiar with the roles of the party.

We also see Will here say that if Mike felt like El was "pushing [him] away," that it was likely just because she was afraid of losing him. Upon first hearing this, it sounds feasible that given the distance, El could be pushing Mike away, but when we look at the actual context of El's feelings towards Mike over the course of the season, we see her room filled with pictures of Mike and a box full of momentos, and we're privy to the dozens of letters she has sent him. In other words, we can see El's affection for Mike loud and clear, and so can he.

And when Will tells Mike that El needs him, these are sweet and reassuring words, but we've also seen how quickly El dumped Mike in season 3 and how she left without warning to go with Owens and get her powers back, once again leaving Mike behind. In truth, El might love Mike, but she doesn't need him, not like he seems to need to be needed.

Will's monologue is meant to throw off Mike, but we see a few shots within the van scene where it seems as though Mike is confused and processing, as if something isn't quite lining up, but he can't really put his finger on why.

In Mike's monologue to El, it follows a similar pattern. Mike tells El that he loved her since the moment he met her in the woods. From an audience standpoint, having seen Mileven's relationship manifest over the past three seasons, at first this seems sweet. But then as we parse the context of that moment, Mike's assertion rings false as we see him in the first scenes with El confused, afraid of her, and ready to cast her out in favor of finding Will. It's only when she demonstrates that she could help find him that Mike starts to see her as anything other than transitory.

Mike also makes it a point to say that he is "not scared" of El and that he's "never felt that way." While this is certainly something you would hope your boyfriend would say, this, also rings false as we see multiple times that Mike is shocked by her powers, and even accusatory with his famous "What's wrong with you?" line. Mike has been scared of El on MULTIPLE occasions.

He also tells El in this scene that he "doesn't know how to live without [her]." I'd say this is the most up-for-grabs statement that Mike makes, because he does care about and have love for El, but he's also shown twice now that he has lived without her. The first time, when he believed she might be dead, Mike checked in on El every day, but he never went after her. We see some definite signs of grief from his acting out in school and grades slipping, but his life with his friends remains overwhelmingly unchanged in her absence. The second time we see this is in season 4 when they are forced into a long distance relationship. While Mike does still receive letters from El, he doesn't seem lovesick or mopey that she's not around. He joins Hellfire and spends time with his friends. If anything, we get more indication that he's felt the absence of Will more strongly as he directly tells Will that "Hawkins isn't the same without [him]."

He says his "life started that day [he] found [El] in the woods." Another beautiful sentiment, until you look closer. This directly conflicts with Mike's character arc in season 1 in which his main priority was finding Will. It also conflicts with Mike's statement in season 2 that choosing to be Will's friend was the "best thing [he] ever did." Obviously Mike had a life before El, and even after having met her, he still believes that being Will's friend was the best thing he ever did, and not finding El or making friends with El or kissing El.

We also see Mike say here that he "love[s El]" with or without her powers. This has been the crux of their relationship drama throughout the season as Mike continually identifies El as a "superhero" and El, feeling lost without the thing that makes her feel special, goes off to regain those powers, because she thinks that's what Mike wants her to be. And even during that time, Mike refers to El as "Superman" during his conversation with Will. While Mike saying he loves her without her powers here might seemingly resolve this earlier conflict, he then goes on to specifically talk about and focus on her powers in his speech, making his words feel disingenuous.

He then once again refers to El as his "superhero" and tells her she can "fly" and "move mountains," both things that connect back to her supernatural powers and her otherness, but not her, not "exactly who she is" as he claims.

The entire time Mike is giving this speech to El, we see Vecna's vines TIGHTENING around El, not loosening, until she looks over at Max, someone who has over and over again reminded her what it is to be free and to be her own person.

This scene, just like Will's monologue, is meant to function as a form of misdirection, but not necessarily for El, for the audience. As we've discussed on the surface, all of these elements Mike brings up in his monologue should make sense for a couple in love, and to a casual viewer, would probably just be written off as a kind of corny scene, but what we as critical readers of the scene can take away from it is that this scene is intentionally meant to mislead you.

Mike is not talking about his real feelings for El here. He's talking about feelings for the version of El he created for himself in his head. For the larger-than-life savior. Simply, Mike loves the idea of El, but not the person she's become. And El knows that his speech about her, however touching to an outside audience it may seem, does not really reflect her, and that's why we see the vines tighten around her neck.

So what could this mean for season 5 and what does it mean in connection to the Will confession?

I think this heavily suggests that Eleven will be single in season 5 and that she will break up with Mike since he no longer really sees her for who she is. But I also think that this misdirection theme will play out in Byler as well. Just as the audience is meant to slowly piece things together after the fact, Mike is supposed to do the same in his relationship with Will. As season 5 unfolds, I think we'll see Mike get more hints that the painting was not commissioned by El and that the version of him that is loved and needed is not El's, but Will's. Mike, just like us, is supposed to read between the lines right now.

In conclusion, I think the Duffer Brothers may not have actually fucked up as badly as we thought, but instead created some somewhat genius foreshadowing and parallelling.

#byler #byler endgame #mike wheeler #will byers #el hopper #stranger things #st #stranger things 5 #st5

[im-poe-dameron]

you're upset one night, and you don't know where to go, so you end up at your enemy's house, and as they open the door, you stay silent for a second, before saying (with tears in your eyes) ''i don't know where else to go.'' your enemy doesn't say anything. instead they pull you into their arms, giving you a shoulder to cry on.

- back at it again with another prompt! could i possibly get this one with my other favorite flyboy, poe dameron?

IT'S ALWAYS BELONGED TO YOU

a/n: okay so this has been in my inbox for SO LONG, but i got a huge spark of inspiration and was in the mood to write for poe. so out came whatever this fic is of enemies to lovers meets heated arguments meets well...........the good stuff. i finished this tipsy and half asleep so i don't even know if it makes sense but enjoy my darling!! (yes the title is from will turner). unedited and not beta read so there is most likely mistakes.

summary: injured from a fight at the cantina you seek out someone unexpected.

pairing: poe dameron x fem!reader

word count: 5.5k+ (i guess?!)

warnings: explicit so minors BEGONE, cussing, so much angst, bacta shot (aka involving a needle), pain, arguing, mentions of death, fingering, cum eating, overstimulation (blink and you'll miss it), fluff.

The frigid feeling of the night on your bare skin kept you from staying still and debating on whether or not this was a good idea. Somewhere in the brawl you forgot your jacket hanging on the back of your chair. The same jacket that once belonged to your father. You wanted to go back for it, but you’d been tossed out of the cantina for a reason and re-entering didn’t seem like a feasible option.

With reluctance filling every bone of your body, you made your way through the rain and back towards the camp you’d been tasked with protecting. You weren’t sure why you were put in the same group of people as the man who hated you so thoroughly is hurt at times–but there you were. A part of you wanted to fall into your slightly uncomfortable cot for the night; giving up without another thought.

Only you knew that if you showed up with a split lip and cuts on your knuckles, you’d be reprimanded to Corellia and back. Which left you with only one other option.

Sighing, you tightened your still bleeding hands into fists, trying to ignore the chills that spread rapidly down your spine.

His door looked more threatening than a whole horde of stormtroopers. It was a ridiculous notion to come to, but there you were–unable to simply knock and ask for help. You were hopeless when it came to admitting that you needed it in the first place. Asking someone–let alone the man who loathed your very being–made you realize that you’d rather face those stormtroopers. 

What were twenty men with blasters compared to this situation?

A cough wracked your body, sending a searing pain down your side as you practically shivered. It was then you realized the bastard from earlier has most likely snapped a rib or two.

How would you explain this? How could you come back from this?

Nothing was worse than asking someone you considered an enemy for help.

Fighting the urge to tuck your tail between your legs and run, you raised your arm–knocking assuredly on the door. There was absolutely no turning back now. Which is what you were afraid of.

The echo of rain hitting against metal rang in the clearing behind you–reminding you of what you’d have to walk through in order to get home. If he said no, laughed in your face and refused to help, you’d be horrified but you would go. After all, the both of you had treated one another with enough cruelty to make even Leia herself shocked. You weren’t even sure what caused this whole situation in the first place.

Why did you hate each other?

Why did you want to see him hurt and why did he want to do the same to you?

For months you could barely be in the same room together for more than five minutes before you were going at each other’s throats. Yet you were pretty sure if someone asked you what started it all–neither of you would have an answer. It just seemed to materialize out of thin air. The hatred seeping so far into your hearts, you couldn’t find a good enough reason to let go of it.

You vaguely heard him shuffling towards the door, a thump of him hitting something filtering through the metal.

There was still time. You could sprint the other way and forget this whole night ever happened. You’d patched yourself up numerous times before. Why did you need him to do it this time?

You were five seconds away from turning tail and running when the door slid open to reveal a shirtless and sleep deprived Poe Dameron. The slight shock on his face at seeing you was almost laughable. Except you then realized–you couldn’t laugh without doubling over in pain. The surprise quickly slipped from his face, being replaced by a sour look you would recognize anywhere.

“Hi,” you said softly, tucking your hands behind your back to hide the sight of your split open skin. That however didn’t stop his eyes from falling to your bleeding lip. “I know I have no right to ask this–”

“Who did that to you?”

The small tendrils of heat you’d been reaching for began to curl around your chest. Squeezing tightly until you had no choice but to acknowledge that they were there in the first place. Your rib still hurt like hell, yet hearing the slight worry in his voice counteracted that pain.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said quickly.

“That’s not what I asked,” he said–eyes hardening as they fell to the way you were leaning against the wall, placing more weight on your left side than your right.

You’d only ever seen him look this way during the heat of battle. When he was determined to come out victorious–the rage shining through the dark brown of his iris, nearly burning a hole through your chest. He was angry you were hurt. It was a surprise to come to that realization and yet it wasn’t an unwelcome one at that. Shifting your body, you tried to alleviate some of the pain that shot down to your leg–feeling like you might pass out from hypothermia the longer you stood there.

“Some guys in the cantina didn’t want to believe I was with the Resistance,” you huffed, shrugging your shoulders slightly. “They are worse off than I am. Trust me.”

“Where are they?”

A flutter tore through your heart. You’d never felt this way in his presence before. Some part of you knew that you were supposed to have these emotions when it came to Poe, but that was just it. The knowledge that this felt wrong–made it feel so right.

Maybe that’s where the hatred came from. The incessant understanding that this–whatever it was–should not happen. Poe was going to one day be a general and you would remain just the way you were. An engineer who knew their way around a blaster in the midst of battle, but nothing more. So, you shoved down the emotions you were feeling until they settled at the bottom of your stomach–turning your body bitter.

Poe Dameron, no matter how appealing he was to you in this moment, would only ever be the asshole who called you names like slip and rookie.

“Why come here?” he asked, still taking up space in his doorway–keeping you outside.

He wanted an answer and just like when you were asked why you hated him–you couldn’t come up with a good one. Why were you there? Why did you feel the need to come to him? For all you knew he would do a shitty job in patching you up, but that didn’t seem to matter. You knew the answer and you also knew…you didn’t want to say the answer.

“I–I didn’t know where else to go,” you replied, lying through your clenched teeth.

Waiting for him to laugh–tell you to go back to your, too small, cot was worse than the pain now spreading like a fire through your chest. Except he merely stepped to the side, giving you enough space to hobble inside–tears building up in your eyes at the small act of kindness. His hand landed on your arm, dragging it up until your knuckles were directly in his line of sight.

“It’s not that bad,” you blurted out, forcing yourself not to wince when he led you to the small stool placed near what you assumed to be a kitchen.

“Bullshit,” he muttered.

Just that one simple word brought a smile to your face, but you promptly wiped it away as he returned with a bacta kit and a wrap from your waist. You hadn’t even told him that you suspected your ribs were broken. He could simply tell by the way you were holding yourself. Once again that sickeningly sweet warmth shoved its way to the center of your chest, spreading up towards your neck.

He didn’t speak as he cleaned your knuckles. Simply kept his head ducked down–his curls falling against his forehead as he tried to pull out whatever glass might have been there. The alcohol in your veins was gone the second his hand touched yours. The feeling sobering you up quicker than you would have liked. Which meant you now had to sit and try not to stare at his still half bare form; or the way the muscles on his back tightened as he hunched over slightly to get a closer look.

“How many were there?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Again you winced, averting your eyes when he lifted his head. “Four.” The word was mumbled under your breath, and it wasn’t until you felt his hand tighten around your own, did your gaze snap back to his.

“What the fuck slip,” he breathed.

“Look they weren’t–”

“You could have gotten yourself killed,” he snapped.

Rearing back, you tried not to flinch from the pain in your side. “I was perfectly fine on my own.”

“Perfectly fine huh?” He stood when you nodded defiantly. “Then explain why you came to me bleeding.”

“I told you I had nowhere else to go,” you said.

He scoffed, shoving the opposite stool he was on closer to you, and sitting down. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Why?” Now it was his turn to back away. “Why shouldn’t I lie to you? If you haven’t noticed Dameron–we hate each other. I can’t remember a single time you were ever nice to me willingly so give me one good reason why I should even consider telling you the truth.”

“Because–”

“Because why?” you shouted, no longer in control of the emotions that unraveled your very being.

This was inevitable in the end. A fight between foes–when the meaning was far more than either of you could comprehend at a time like this. If you weren’t injured, you’d have tried to shove him away from you. Put as much distance between the both of you as possible, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, let alone shift your body away far enough to clear your head.

“Because it’s us!” Dropping his head into his hands he rubbed at his eyes, oblivious to the way your mouth dropped open slightly. “It’s us. And yeah we fight, and we try to kill each other, but it’s us. I’d take a fucking bolt from a blaster for you.”

Your breath hitched, eyes watering at the sight of him tearing his own walls down for you. The same person he made everyone think he hated. You must have been stuck in a dream that found its fun in making something like this feel so real. It was twisted how much you longed for it to be real–how you wished you could break down your own walls just as he did.

“Poe–”

“If you don’t think that’s true then you obviously don’t know who pushed you out of the way in the last battle.”

You remember that day. A stormtrooper had gotten the upper hand, and while you were attempting to leap for an abandoned blaster on the floor, he had fired the shot. Someone shoved you of the way, effectively knocking your head against a rock and knocking you out. Except they had saved you from dying. Now–as you watched him run his hands through his hair to appease some of the stress building in his body, you realized how wrong you’d read every situation since then.

The walls holding in every built in emotion you had felt in the last year cracked. Severing your armor in two–allowing him to see a part of you that you closed off to everyone else.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you breathed, eyes still wide.

He shrugged. “Why didn’t you tell me you took down the TIE fighter that nearly blew me to pieces?”

Freezing in place, you watched his lips tug upwards in a small grin as the truth finally spilled free. You weren’t even supposed to be in an X-Wing, but then you heard the panicked transmission call. They were out-manned, outgunned, and on the verge of being wiped out. So you did the smart thing. You jumped in a ship and attempted to help–saving Dameron halfway through the battle from the very brink of death.

“How did you–”

He leaned closer, invading whatever personal space you had left. “Rose can’t keep a secret to save her life after four glasses of Jet juice.”

“You knew this whole time that I saved you?” Exhaling a shaky breath, you tried to stop your heart from leaping out of your chest. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“I figured you hated me, but not enough to watch me die.”

“Poe Dameron you’re an asshole.” It was said through a weak laugh, the tears spilling down your cheek as you realized how stupid the both of you were.

He smiled, cupping your face and wiping them away with a soft brush of his thumbs. “Right back at you slip.”

Shifting, you managed to lean your forehead against his, eyes shutting for a moment of peace. “Hey, why do you call me that?”

His huff of laughter washed across your face–his thumbs still stroking your cheeks. “Cause you slipped through my fingers when we first met and have been ever since.”

If you didn’t feel the absolute ache in your chest before that moment, you did now. Somehow he’d taken every time you’d burned with anger towards him and flipped it–causing you to burn, ache, long for him the longer you sat there. He was the reason you were still alive; the true reason why you came here for help instead of anywhere else. You wanted to see him–to know that the loathing he felt was just a cover for something he couldn't quite yet describe.

“Poe,” you whispered, placing your hands on his shoulder in order to keep him from moving. “I–” The breath in your lungs stuttered as you tried to get out words that you never realized you felt until tonight.

They were stuck, lodged in your throat as you realized what it would mean for you to finally admit that this was real. You’d have to open up to him–show him all the ugly bits you did your best to ignore, because they were far from perfect. You were far from perfect. Except he didn’t seem to care.

“I know,” he said. “Me too.”

Gripping lightly on his hair you dragged him closer until his lips sealed over yours, effectively stopping your heart. You were nearly positive that he’d stolen every breath you had ever taken and would take in the course of your life, with this one single kiss. Which only made you press against him harder, lips moving in a more swift manner to forget the pain you both put each other through to get here. How stupid were you to think you could make an enemy out of a fated lover.

Licking against his bottom lip, you felt his hand slide from your cheeks down to your waist. Gentle enough to avoid the wounded areas, but firm in the decision he was making. He chose you. He’d always choose you.

The taste of him would leave you inebriated for days to come. Peppermint and something so purely him that you wouldn’t have been able to put into words even if you tried. Somehow that left you wanton, desperate for more. It stuck to your taste buds, shooting lust through your veins. Curling your fingers even further into his hair, you tentatively opened your mouth to him, shivering when he took the initiative to lick slowly–hotly–against your tongue.

You could stay there for hours just doing this. Tasting him for as long as time allotted you to do so. However, fate had a slight difference in opinion, because as you moaned into his mouth, he gripped your side–sending a jarring pain down to the very tips of your toes. Crying out, you yanked him back by his hair; an audible groan tearing from his throat.

“I’m sorry,” you said, letting go instantly. “I just–”

“Where does it hurt?” He bypassed your apology, choosing instead to run his hands lightly over your side until he caught you noticeably flinching.

“It’s–fuck–I swear it’s fine.”

He shook his head, biting back his smile as you attempted to play off the pain that nearly had you collapsing onto the floor. Picking up the bacta kit he began to put it together. Really it would take a few seconds and it would be over with, but the way he glanced at you for permission before lifting the side of your shirt, felt like the act took longer than that. Biting down on your split lip, you ignored the way your body tensed when his warm calloused hands touched your side.

“This might hurt,” he mumbled, still so close that you could feel his breath against your arm.

“I can take it.”

Seeing him attempt to swallow down his smirk had your thighs clenching together. While you certainly hadn’t meant for it to sound that way, you weren’t upset when his mind fell to that conclusion. If you weren’t stuck in one spot, you’d have asked him to do far more than simply kiss you. Which made the entire situation that much more aggravating.

You could only kiss him.

Tensing as the needle punctured your skin, you forced yourself to think of anything other than the situation you were in. You couldn’t look at him–not when he was leaning forward like this, his lips inches away from your arm. Not when you could feel your control wavering, on the verge of snapping in two. Fuck your injuries, you’d heal eventually, but knowing Poe he’d demand that before either of you two did anything–you’d have to heal first.

“Stop fidgeting,” he said, pressing down on your side to keep you from pulling away.

“Just hurry up.”

“I’d be able to if you sat still.”

Grumbling under your breath, you felt him pull away, the clink of the needle hitting the counter coming from behind you. “Is that it?”

“I’m going to have to bandage your waist until we can get you to the medic tomorrow.”

“The bacta won’t…heal my ribs?”

He chuckled, grabbing the bandages he had pulled out from the closet you all had in case of emergency. “No it won’t. Bones are a little more complicated.”

“Well fuck–” Wincing when you shifted back, you saw him pause a foot away from you. “What’s wrong? Not enough bandages?”

Poe stumbled over his words, his eyes dropping to your body before dragging back to your eyes. You felt the tug in your stomach at the sight of him openly admiring you, but you shoved it down. Too prideful to admit that you liked the look on his face and wanted to see it again and again.

“No–uh–I’m going to need you to–well–”

“Spit it out Dameron,” you said, a teasing smile spreading across your lips. “It can’t be that hard.”

The words had their intended effect. His eyes narrowed, hands gripping the bandages tighter as he stared at you without any embarrassment in his eyes. Something shifted in the air around you–nearly sparking a fire that slowly inched its way through your body.

“Take off your shirt.” His clipped tone caused your body to react in such a visceral way you nearly let an incoherent whine slip free.

“What?”

Stepping closer, he began to unravel the bandages. “Unless you want the bandages on top of the fabric.”

“No–I–” If you weren't being watched by him–stuttering underneath his gaze–you would have made a sly comment. No doubt causing yet another argument, but the look in his eyes quickened your pace.

It took you painfully shifting and him helping you–his hands dragging up your sides slow enough to have you shutting your eyes for some reprieve–for you to finally get the shirt off. You were better off simply sitting here rather than feeling him handle you as if you’d break any minute. It was maddening. Yet each time he wound his arms around you to keep the bandage straight, each brush of his hands along your bare skin, sent shivers down your spine.

“Almost done,” he said.

You opened your eyes, peeking at his face and felt your stomach bottom out. His jaw was clenched, eyes staring directly at his hands that didn’t stray from his task. What you thought was merely you overreacting at the loss of touch you’d experienced, was something else entirely. Poe had always been the man to keep perfect control over everything he worked on–a spitting image of the leader he was meant to be. At times you found it annoying, except you never realized how far his need for control went.

“Poe,” you murmured, breaking through his tightly locked mindset and allowing him a moment to pull away.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

Shaking your head, you ran your fingers through his curls, pushing them away from his forehead. You never understood the fascination with a man’s hair until this moment. Until he titled his head back–leaning into your touch–as his eyes fluttered shut. The look on his face nearly brought you down to your knees and even as he opened his eyes, you saw the brown nearly swallowed whole by his pupil. He wanted more.

You both did.

“Poe–”

He pulled away, returning to his spot on the stool and tying off the bandage. “You’re injured,” he said. In all honesty you weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself. “I’m not going to be the reason you hurt even more.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

The words felt strange coming from you, knowing everything you went through to get to this point. It was ironic in a way. Except you couldn’t focus on the past–you didn’t want to. Knowing that the thoughts you had weren’t just fickle emotions, brought out new sensations you knew only he could make you feel. Poe Dameron was an addiction you didn’t want to kick. He was the poison in your veins and the antidote on your tongue.

Wincing, you leaned forward to bring his gaze back to you. “You can still kiss me…”

The worry on his face gave way to a smile you’d only seen directed at you a few times. Well–the times you’d actually been looking at him. You didn’t know it yet, but you were the cause of nearly all his smiles; the reason he found himself in a daze–lost in thoughts of you. Without hesitation, he captured your lips with his. The tang of him, already something you missed, once again filled your senses. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to drag him closer or pull away for air, but you decided on the former.

Gasping as one of his hands hesitantly brushed against your bare breast, you nearly fell into his lap. If you weren’t careful the both of you would end up on the floor and that would cause more harm than good. Poe knew that, which is why it only took him a few seconds to switch places with you. Shifting your body until your legs were over his thighs–the heat of his body now pressing firmly against yours.

“Fuck–” you breathed; practically shaking as your nipples brushed against his bare chest.

“My beautiful girl,” he mumbled against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your jaw–nipping lightly at the skin there. “Saved my life.”

The words you intended to say came out as a whine of his name instead when he pressed your hips down against his own. Effectively grinding his cock right against your clothed cunt. Sparks trailed up your spine, giving kindling to the fire that now streaked its way through your veins–causing you to press even closer to him.

Thankfully the bacta shot numbed the pain you were in, but you knew things wouldn’t get farther than this tonight. If there’s one thing you understood–Poe never backed out on his word. He’d kiss you until your head went fuzzy and your heart nearly gave out, but he wouldn’t press you into something that would cause your body pain. Somehow that only made you want him more. Until you were practically dragging yourself against his lap and sucking his tongue into your mouth.

He groaned, his hand grasping at your ass to still your movements. “We can’t–”

“Please,” you breathed; the beg was clear in your voice. “I’ll be good.”

“Fuck baby you’re going to kill me.”

Giggling, you scraped your teeth along his jaw. “You and I both know it takes a lot more than me begging for your cock to kill you.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” he grunted, his hand reaching for the button of your pants.

The first touch of his fingers sliding through your slick nearly caused you to lose all sense of yourself. A heady moan ripped its way out of your throat as you tucked your face into his neck. Without meaning to, you began to grind against his fingers–positive that you wouldn’t last more than a few minutes from just him exploring. You were desperate for him; aching to feel him fill you entirely.

“Is this cause of me?” he asked, his eyes wide at the feeling of you practically dripping onto his palm.

You nodded, pressing your lips against his. “Yes. Now can you please–please touch me.”

Your heart nearly shattered when he shook his head, pulling his hand from you. This was the sensible thing to do. Wait until you are completely healed to move any further. Only you couldn’t stop the cry of desperation from leaving you. Steadying your breath, you began to shift away from him; certain that the both of you would simply head to bed now.

His hand grasping onto yours is what stopped you from moving.

“What–”

“Show me,” he breathed, dragging your bottom lip into his mouth and letting it go.

“Huh?” Your brain had turned to mush at the idea he was suggesting.

It wasn’t until he clasped your hand over his, having you guide him towards your cunt did you realize exactly what he wanted. Show me. He wanted to know what you wanted. How you liked to be touched; what exactly would get you there to the very edge of climaxing. His eyes were clouded with lust, mouth swollen and spit slicked as he watched the realization dawn on your face.

“Show me,” he urged a second time, biting down on his bottom lip when you finally took the initiative.

A ragged gasp left you when you pressed his fingers lightly to your clit, teaching him the pace that made your toes curl. Already you could feel your orgasm building, the tightening in your stomach growing with every swipe of his calloused fingers against you. Pushing his hand down further, you guided him, moaning when his fingers caught on your entrance. It wouldn’t take you long to hit that peak, his name already a pleaded out moan on your lips, but you needed more than what you could show him.

“I need–” You tilted your head back when he pressed the first finger into you.

“What do you need?” he asked, his other hand cupping the back of your neck to bring your lips back to his. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“I–” He slid another finger into you, smiling briefly as you choked on your words. “I need more. Oh fuck.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, digging your nails into his shoulder. If you thought you were guiding him on how to give you an orgasm, you were sorely mistaken. Within seconds, you were a mess on his lap as he sped up the pace of his fingers, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit with every movement. Feeling his eyes on you as your mouth dropped open and your eyes fell shut was almost too much.

“Poe!” you cried out when he found the spot along your walls, rubbing his fingers over it with every thrust. “I’m gonna–ah fuck I’m gonna cum.”

“C’mon baby,” he murmured. “Cum on my fingers.”

You didn’t hear the rest of his words, because the coil in your body finally snapped. Shattering your very being in two as he pushed you even higher with his fingers. Above the sounds of your breathing was the audible echo of his fingers plunging in and out of your cunt. The wet squelch enough to have your orgasm prolonging to a point of near pain.

Sobbing out his name, your legs shook as he gradually slowed the pace of his hand until you were reaching down to stop it altogether. Sparks spread up and down your spine, rendering you immobile as you gasped for a full lungful of air.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, the disbelief clear in his voice.

Laughing softly, you pressed your lips against his. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Good kind or…”

“Definitely the good kind.”

You watched as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. The sight of his eyes shutting in bliss made your clit throb and you nearly asked him to do it again. Instead, you opted for kissing him–tasting yourself on his tongue–while you waited for the feeling in your legs to return.

Which they did a few minutes later.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, glancing at the digital clock he had attached to the wall.

“What’s wrong?” Sighing, you attempted to get up from his lap only to have him stop you. “What happened?”

“I forgot my jacket at the cantina,” you said.

“You can wear mine.”

The ease in which he said those words reminded you of your feelings. You would choose him again and again, no matter the consequences in the end.

“I’d love to,” you replied, wincing as you stood up. “But it was my dad’s jacket. I can’t lose it.”

Poe got to his feet–his hands settling on your hips to keep you steady. “Wasn’t he a pilot?”

“In the Rebellion. Yeah. I didn’t know you knew that.”

“I always paid attention when you thought I didn’t.”

Smiling, you felt heat begin to creep up the back of your neck, warming your face. “Thanks…for paying attention.”

“Don’t thank me yet slip,” he said, leading you through a few stumbling steps till your legs hit the edge of his bed. “I’ve still got to make you see the Maker once you’re fully healed.”

He laughed when you smacked him on the arm, your body finding the thought incredibly appealing. There was something dangerous about being this in tune with someone you thought you hated once. You weren’t sure it was a good thing or a bad thing yet, but you knew he’d help you find out eventually. So, rather than fight against the feelings that begged to be bricked up and hidden, you gave into something greater.

It took three more sexual jokes, a kiss or two, but soon you were lying together in the bed, his chest pressed against yours. You tucked your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you drifted off. Happy for once in a very long time.

Feeling the uncomfortable ache return to your side woke you up from your relaxing sleep–causing irritation to rise in your body. Poe slept soundly beside you, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist and head pressed into your neck. Which is why you tried to stay as still as possible. Except you could feel the burn start to come back with full force.

You had to see a medic today. The sooner the better.

Shifting slowly, you managed to turn to your other side–relieving some of the pain. Only to freeze as you caught sight of the brown leather pilot’s jacket hanging off the back of a chair. Blinking, you cleared the sleep from your eyes to make sure you were seeing what you actually thought you were seeing. The same jacket you’d left behind–the very last piece of your father you had–was directly in front of you.

Your breath caught in your throat–the tears welling up in your eyes. Poe had ventured out into the pouring rain in the late hours of the night, all to retrieve your jacket. He knew how important it was to you; understood the significance of the garment you wore proudly each and every day.

Blinking back the tears you felt the last of your walls crumble into pieces around you. Finally exposing your heart to the world that had turned it cold in the first place. Only now, as you felt Poe stir behind you–your eyes still stuck on your jacket–did you know that your heart was eternally protected. Just as he saved your life and healed your wounds, he’d do the same for your heart.

For as long as time allowed.

#poe dameron x fem!reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron #poe dameron fic #poe dameron smut #my writing

[muddyorbsblr]

the right partner

See my full list of works here!

Summary: You had no intentions of joining Stark's party, considering that your ex had just dumped you two days ago and he was already announcing his new relationship. And then along came Loki, offering to be your date for the night…

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: language (yeah no, not sorry, Rogers); little bit of steam at the end; reader w/ insecurities [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Steve is the ex; Nat & Wanda offering violence to avenge their bestie; borderline dangerous dancing stunts (don't try this at home, kids); coworkers/teammates to lovers

"Babes, stop fussing over the dress. You look hot. It's giving revenge dress if I do say so myself. Everyone covering the event will take one look at you and see without a doubt in their mind that you won this break up. Especially considering how hot your dates are."

Natasha nudged your shoulder playfully, probably in hopes of wiping the scowl off of the reflection staring back at you as you adjusted the strap of your midnight blue mermaid dress, making sure everything was secure and no unflattering angles were even remotely feasible.

Then again you could barely walk properly in the damn thing, so there really wasn't much room for awkward and unflattering, considering that you'd be able to do little more than stand and pose. You'd wanted to trade in the dress for something that gave you a bit more breathing room considering that the man that chose -- well, he'd argue strongly encouraged -- the dress was no longer your date for the night, but your choices would be stiflingly limited with how close you'd have been cutting it if you'd returned it.

Two days to break up, pack up, move your things out of his apartment in the compound, move back into your own apartment, clean up said apartment to make it at least livable once again, cry a bit, and then ready yourself for this charity ball? There wasn't time to return the dress that Steve chose, let alone pick out a new one. Even with the help of both Nat and Wanda.

"Remind me to thank Bucky and Vision for letting me steal you two away tonight?"

"Don't even worry about it. But maybe you could talk to Bucky later and tell him that there isn't even a shred of this that's his fault? He somehow got it into his head that because Steve's his best friend he should have sensed something. Should've told me. Or directly told you. He's been feeling like shit over this whole thing since I came home two days ago and told him I had to help you clean out your stuff from Rogers' apartment and move back into your old one."

Just as you were about to reassure the Russian spy that you would talk to her husband the second you got the chance to when there were no nosy reporters lurking around corners or planting microphones around the event to capture their next juicy story, Wanda walked into the room, her expression colored with a mix of pity and irritation.

"Well he might feel a hell of a lot worse now that he's seeing in real time what his best buddy's been doing since the breakup." Nausea began to swirl in your stomach as they each took one of your hands and the sorceress led you to the conference hall that had been fully decked out for tonight's event. The crowd had gathered around the dance floor, phones out and whispering amongst one another as they looked on the couple in the center.

"Oh you've got to be fucking shitting me," Nat bellowed in outrage, her hand leaving yours and wrapping around your waist to ensure you were still standing straight. "You even asked him point blank about her and he brushed you off--"

"Don't worry about her, Cookie, I'm just making sure she has the best training available to her," you seethed, feeling yourself shaking in your friend's hold as you repeated Steve's words to you just last week. "Babes, I don't think I even wanna go in there. I can already see the fucking headlines. Heartbroken Avenger Y/N Y/L/N seeks the comfort of her girlfriends' company as former lover Captain America debuts his new relationship with SHIELD Agent Ava WhatsHerFace. This isn't worth it. You two go. Be with your husbands. I'm going home."

"Are you sure?" Wanda squeezed your other hand, her free arm already radiating her signature red magic. "I can trip her and make them fall flat on their asses, just say the word."

It took you a great deal to not take her up on her offer, instead opting to just squeeze her hand back before letting go, maneuvering yourself out of their hold. "I'm sure. No tripping anybody, you two. Last thing we need is the internet speculating on which sides the Avengers are taking in what they're gonna try and spin as the breakup that shocked the world, and then making these idiotic theories about how we might cause a reiteration of Germany right here in the Big Apple."

"Okay what if I just poisoned her drink no one would know it was me--"

"Babes, everyone would know it was you," you cut off the spy. "No poison. No tripping. Not even a backhanded compliment. If you really can't stand the sight of her then walk away. Otherwise Pepper will kill us over making a scene over this and I'm not even joining the damn party but she'll drag me in anyway because she's gonna figure out that you two did what you did because of me."

"You're a better woman than that little shit ever deserved," Wanda grumbled, pulling you into a quick embrace. "We'll see you after the party then? Because no way in hell are you sleeping alone tonight."

"After," you confirmed, already walking away from the two as they walked toward the bar to where Bucky and Vision were undoubtedly standing and waiting patiently for them.

You'd walked down a good few feet down the hall when a voice halted you.

"Y/N?" You inwardly groaned at the sound of Loki calling out to you. The absolute last thing you needed was the member of the team who was undoubtedly and objectively the most unfairly breathtakingly beautiful person in all of New York -- hell, in all of the world as far as you were concerned -- seeing you in the dejected state you were in.

You did your best to plaster on a half-smile as you turned to face the god. "Hey, Mischief." You threw him a cursory glance, your heart skipping a good few beats when you registered his bespoke Burnham green tuxedo forming to his sculpted body like a well-worn leather glove. "You look great."

"You're breathtaking," he sighed, walking the rest of the distance and stopping a few steps in front of you. "As you always are." He gave you a curt smile, his fingers visibly twitching in your direction as he kept his hands to his sides. "Are you not joining the gala?"

"Thinking I might sit this one out, actually," you murmured, grimacing at just how miserable you sounded to your own ears. "Considering it doing Pepper a solid and making sure that tonight's all about whatever cause Stark decided to back this time around and not about the untimely demise of me and Rogers. The last thing we need is me becoming the center of attention because the media published headlines calling me the Heartbroken Avenger because I walked in there with my friends while my ex debuts his shiny new toy." You took an awkward step back, giving him an even more inelegant wave his way. "You have fun, though, Mischief."

He took your hand in his as you were turning away from him. "What if I escorted you?" Something with his soft spoken tone, partnered with the way his thumb was stroking the back of your hand, had you struggling to take your next breath. "We could walk in together, and it wouldn't cross anybody's mind to call you heartbroken or lonely or anything of the sort."

You couldn't help but scoff at his offer. "I'm not sure you wanna take on the media vultures who'll write about you getting Captain America's sloppy seconds. Hell, if I walk in there with you they'll think you probably did it out of pity. People already paint me as someone they don't think could have pulled the likes of Steve, but if we walk in there together you'll never hear the end of how charitable you were to--"

"Stop that," he cut you off, his tone sibilant and terse as if he was slicing through your self-pity party for one. "Rogers is an imbecile, he always has been. To have held painite in his uncouth hands and traded it in for mere rubble." He took a step closer to you, making you struggle to hide the shudder than ran through you when you could practically feel the warmth of his body radiating from him. "To walk into that room with you would not be an act of charity, darling. It would be an honor. A privilege."

"Okay come on that's enough--"

"How I wish you could see yourself the way I do," he murmured, his free hand lightly grasping your chin and making it impossible to turn your gaze from him. "Come with me. We'll share a dance and afterward if you still wish to leave then we will."

"Are you insane?" you blurted out, shaking your head at how absurd his offer was. "If you walk in with me and you leave with me, you're gonna find out real quick that people actually can hate me more than they did when I was dating Steve, because now I'm preventing you from getting all the pretty girls' numbers in the party. There are supermodels in there, Mischief. Pretty sure there're some princesses, too. They came here for you."

"Then they will leave disappointed," he answered back, the corner of his mouth pulling in a smirk as he watched your brows knit together in clear confusion. "As for attaining the contact information of, how did you phrase it again? Pretty girls? I already have that of the most beguiling woman who would be in that gala, I truly need no more." He let go of your hand to reach for his phone and tap away at it to call whoever he was referring to.

A few seconds later your little purse began to ring, making you give him a pointed stare. "Smooth." Your phone stopped ringing as soon as he put his away, finding yourself fighting to breathe properly once more when he placed his hand back in yours. "Fine," you huffed. "But we're not dancing, I can barely walk in this stupid thing, the dance floor would turn into a crime scene if I so much as spun wrong."

The soft chuckle that escaped his lips filled you with a weird sense of pride, knowing that even for a few short moment the usually terse god felt comfortable enough around you to seem so unguarded. He released his hold on you to hover his hands by your waist. "May I?"

You took a moment to try figuring out what he meant before answering, "I don't know what you're asking for but alright. I trust you."

His playful demeanor faltered for a moment, eyebrows knitting together and raising slightly before he placed his hands on your waist and gently guiding you to turn and facing the mirrored wall. Your breath hitched in your throat with a squeak as his gaze met yours on the reflection, bringing his face level to yours, his lips hovering just beside your ear. "Beautiful as you are in this dress, darling, you look as if you'd been forced to conform into something you're not. You were made to move freely, as gracefully and as fluidly as you move in the field."

You held your breath as you watched his magic washing over you, your dress melting away from the shoulders down and slowly being replaced with a dark emerald silk gown that stopped just below your ankles, the skirt flaring out from the waist with a slit going up to the middle of your thigh. The feel of your hair cascading down your back had you realizing that you were so caught up in the spectacle of your dress changing before your very eyes that you'd barely felt his fingers deftly taking the pins out of your hair and undoing the tightly knotted bun that borderline violently pulled at your temples.

"Hmmm…much better." You fought against the chill that ran throughout your body at the low tone of his voice reverberating in your ear. "Just one more…tiny flourish." His hand moved from your hair to rest his fingers lightly on the juncture between your neck and shoulder, a slight smile appearing on his face in the reflection when your breathing became audibly staggered as a teardrop emerald pendant hanging off a gold chain materialized around your neck. "Himmelske," he breathed out, the vision of him lightly pressing his lips to the top of your head making your pulse pound in your ears. "Shall we?"

"This is too much…" you sighed, turning around to face him and nearly stumbling over your own feet when you saw how close your faces were to one another.  "I can't possibly--"

"You can, darling." He took your hand in his again and brought it up towards his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, all the while his eyes never leaving yours. "You look ethereal, like a goddess walking among mortals." He pressed his lips to your knuckles once more. "Min gudinne." He began to walk backwards towards the party, keeping your hands intertwined as he led you down the hall, typing something away a quick message on his phone as the music from the repurposed conference hall gradually grew louder.

Once you were mere feet away from the doors leading to the conference hall, the old-fashioned music that made you want to retch on the spot screeched to a halt, and Tony's voice boomed through the speakers.

"Alright Cap that's enough, some of us actually don't want to see our dinner a second time tonight." The crowd began to chuckle at his joking barbs toward your ex. "Why don't you and your new babydoll take a breather for a minute. Or a hundred. While I go ahead and play on a special request for…well I'll be damned…Reindeer Games."

The sound of Tony's little nickname for Loki had you growing frigid in the god's hold. "Mischief, what did you do?"

Your question went unanswered, him opting to give you a soft smile as he lifted your joint hands up to place a tender kiss to the back of your hand before leading you to the center of the dance floor, the sound of your friends' claps and cheers -- as well as a round of hearty hollers from both Bucky and Thor -- filling the room and overpowering the piano intro of "Tightrope" by Sara Bareilles playing over the speakers as soon as you came into view.

Glares tinged with thinly veiled envious rage weighed down on you like cinder blocks as the raven-haired Asgardian placed his hand on your lower back, bringing your bodies within mere inches of one another. "Everyone's staring," you wavered, trying to keep your breathing even as he began to lead you in a basic waltz around the dance floor.

"Envious, petulant mortals," he answered with a sneer, giving you a small smirk at the end. "Likely because I have the most beautiful date among them all."

"Do gods wear glasses?" you bit back, scoffing softly at his words. "Because I'm pretty sure Adriana Lima is here and--"

"I can see quite clearly, precious mortal," he cut you off, the gentle tone of his voice not once wavering. "Better than you think." He upped the pace of your steps, the smile on his face growing wider as your steps became less structured and he raised your joint hands to spin you on the spot, your dress twirling fluidly with each step before he pulled you back to him, now chest to chest as he resumed leading you in a large circle around the floor. "You seem surprised, darling."

"I usually would have stepped on your toes by now," you whispered, your breath hitching as every step you took together felt perfectly synced, a part of you heavily dreading stumbling and sending you both into a clumsy heap on the floor. Especially with the even closer proximity of your bodies to one another. "Are you doing this?" He answered you with a slight furrow of his eyebrows. "Did you enchant the dress? The necklace? My shoes?"

"I did nothing of the sort, dear Y/N," he whispered into your ear, the feel of his breath on your skin sending your heart into overdrive. "Perhaps you'd simply been with the wrong partners all your life." You faintly registered the way his hold on you tightened the slightest bit. "I wish to prove it to you. A little flourish both for our benefit and for the entertainment of our audience."

A sequence of movements was projected into your mind, each motion requiring complete trust in your partner as you climbed over his back, held up only by your joint hands and your knee braced on his shoulder as he spun on the spot. And then capped off with a dismount that had you hanging upside down and suspended as such for a few moments before righting yourself on your feet.

"Do you trust me, darling?"

You didn't need to think twice about your answer. "Yes." He flashed a brilliant smile before twirling you away and out of his hold, turning his back to you and giving you a silent signal to execute the move. Within a few short moments you were propped up on his shoulder, held up by your joint hands and feeling as if you were flying as he executed each turn with visible ease.

The faces of the crowd, a mixture of pure shock and awe, said it all. No one on the team had ever placed that much trust in Loki, despite the countless times he'd undoubtedly saved any and all of you throughout your numerous missions together. And here you were giving everyone a blatant display that among all the members of the team, you probably trusted him the most.

There wasn't even the slightest tremble in your movement as you executed the dismount, briefly giving them all a face-splitting grin that nearly mirrored the blond Asgardian watching from the bar as he looked on at the spectacle you and his brother had created before turning back and facing your partner. The next moment he'd gone back to holding you and twirling you both around the dance floor with a slight flourish as you reunited.

"There you are, precious mortal," he breathed out, securing his arm around your waist and lifting you off your feet as he spun you both again, the skirt of your dress billowing from the motion and creating a perfect flourish to your steps, earning you various oohs and aahs from the audience. You assumed that the bitter hmph sounds came from your ex and Miss Ava WhatsHerFace. "I've missed seeing that smile on you. It's been months too long. How I wanted to strike at Rogers' face the moment I saw the light in you wavering."

"You saw that?" You prided yourself in concealing your insecurities and the downward spiral that your mind had taken the moment that the new recruit had been assigned to train for the Avengers, painting on a bright disposition despite the interest that Steve had taken in her and the rapidly dwindling attention he paid to you in turn.

It never occurred to you that people might be looking closer than you intended them to. Or that one of those people would be someone you'd carried feelings for ever since long before you and Rogers ever even went out on the first date. You kept on guilting yourself that you were no better than him, if you were being completely honest.

The only leg up you had over your ex was that at least you did right by him and you never acted on anything. But then again you had no reason to believe that you could; in your eyes, Loki had to reason to see you, let alone return your sentiment.

"I see you, Y/N," he murmured, bringing his hand higher up your back, leaning forward, and tilting you backward in a low dip. "I've always seen you." Your heart caught in your throat as you felt him press a soft kiss to your cheek before bringing you both back up to stand upright, a new sequence of movements projected into your mind.

This time of him lifting you into the air, a hand braced on your lower back, the other wrapped around your ankle, followed by a drop that would land you safely in his arms and have the god carrying you bridal style. You could see the silent question shining in his eyes as the projected image fizzled away, awaiting your answer. "I trust you," you whispered, taking a breath as he turned you to face away from him and lifted you into the air with ease.

There wasn't a single doubt in your mind even in that split second where you were falling through the air. You knew you were safe with him. Physically at least.

Emotionally it felt like he was leading you to the edge of a cliff, and you were all too happy to step off if it meant he'd look at you even remotely like he did throughout any point of tonight.

You landed in his arms with a soft, nearly soundless thud, once again met with appreciative applause from the room of onlookers and Tony's voice once again sounding through the speakers. "Jellybean, I take back every joke I ever made about your dancing. Now I know it wasn't you that made those moves bad and that's all I'm gonna say on that. Give it up for these two one more time, ladies and gentlemen!"

A traitorous squeak from the back of your throat slipped from your lips as the god carrying you briefly touched the tip of his nose to yours and pressed a kiss between your brows before setting you back down on your feet, taking your hand in his and lacing his fingers between yours. He led you through the dance floor that was quickly becoming crowded as a rhythmic thumping beat boomed from the sound system, placing you directly in front of him with his free arm wrapped around your midsection.

Once you'd reached the bar, crossing paths with Nat and Wanda and their respective husbands as they made their way to the dance floor, only Thor remained to greet you as you occupied two seats next to one another. "Brother, elation becomes you." Before he walked toward the buffet, handing his empty plate to one of the cleaning staff, he turned to face you. "Take care of him. Actually, take care of each other."

Your brows knitted together as you watched the blond Asgardian walk away, confusion niggling away at your brain as you turned your gaze back to Loki. "What was that--"

The rest of your sentence died on the tip of your tongue as the raven-haired god cupped your jaw, weaving his fingers through your hair, as he closed the distance between you and captured your lips in a soft kiss. You whimpered against him as he stood from his seat, framing your face with his hands as he stepped closer to you, all the while his lips never leaving yours.

He breathed your name as he pulled away, the way that he seemingly sounded almost as flustered as you were paired with the restraint so evident in his hold on you creating a heady combination that made the room spin. "He never deserved you."

Those words had your eyes snapping open, wondering if you'd heard him right. "Loki what--"

"And you should have had someone that treasured you. Worshipped you. That knew with every fiber of his being that he was the most fortunate bastard in the Nine for being the one that you shared the most intimate parts of your life with." Your heart thundered in your ears as he leaned in to kiss you again. "Someone that would proudly show whoever was around to watch that he is equally yours as you are his. Perhaps even more so."

"Are you trying to tell me that that someone is you?" The music had faded away to nothing more than a dull thumping in the background as you looked into his eyes, rife with emotions that you couldn't quite place as his hands traveled down to wrap around your waist, stepping closer to you, and leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple.

"If you would let me," he murmured against your skin. "He was but a fool to have let you go. But if his foolishness leads to my fortune, then perhaps I could be moved to despise him a little less." He kissed a trail from your temple to your ear, making your breath hitch again as his thumb stroked at your side and tracing the faint lines of your ribcage while he whispered a deliciously tempting offer. "Leave with me. Let me be the fortunate wretch that gets to take you home. That gets to worship you, to pleasure you. Even if only for tonight, let me make you equally mine as I am yours. As I have always been yours."

His offer alone already had you trembling in anticipation for what he could possibly have in store for you the moment you gave him your answer. "I have to find Nat and Wanda," you blurted out, making a motion to step off of your seat.

"Y/N please--"

"They offered to stop by my apartment after the party," you explained, mustering the courage to press a quick kiss to his lips when you watched in disbelief as a touch of desperation colored his features. "They wanted to make sure I wasn't going to sleep alone tonight. I have to tell them I have other plans."

A brilliant smile stretched across his face as he pulled you in for another kiss, both of you moaning into each other's mouths as he pulled you against him, lifting you out of your seat and setting you back down on your feet, holding you in his arms the same way he did a few moments ago as you weaved your way through the crowd.

It didn't take you long to find the two women in question, tapping both of them on their shoulders to call their attention. "Rain check on the sleepover?" you shouted over the music.

Wanda took one look at how Loki was holding you and eyed Nat with a smirk. "You got a better offer, I see. Go, babes. We just wanted to make sure you didn't sleep alone tonight."

"Now we gotta make sure you stay awake at the mission brief in the morning because you won't be sleeping at all," Nat capped off with a raise of her eyebrow. She eyed the god holding you with a pointed glare. "If you hurt her--"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Romanoff," he cut her off. "Unlike some people in our non-immediate company, I have every intention of holding on to painite with every ounce of my strength."

Your brows once again knitted together as your friends began to squeal and giggle while you walked away with the god, the alcohol clearly beginning to get to them. "Okay I have to ask. What exactly is painite? You've…said that twice tonight," you prodded, looking up at him only to be met with a tender smile and an intensity burning in his eyes that nearly made you fall over.

"It is the rarest, most precious gemstone on this planet. Perhaps in all the realms," he answered, turning you in his arms as soon as you stepped foot into the corridor and walking you backwards until your back was flush against the wall. "And despite its crimson hue I would still say undoubtedly the most beautiful." You shuddered under his gaze as he trailed a finger from the center of your neck down your torso until he reached your waist and pulled you to him for a fleeting but heated kiss. "That is how I see you. Rare. Precious. And undoubtedly the most beautiful creature I will ever lay my eyes on."

The next moment your surroundings were awash with a wave of his green magic, and you were inside his apartment, your moans piercing the quiet darkness as his lips latched on to your neck and you felt his hands working to divest you of your dress. His next words, rasped against your skin, already had your legs shaking without him having even begun to touch you yet.

"Mine. Finally mine."

A/N: Omg I've finally finished it 😩 And he's precious your honor 🥹 I've honestly had this idea bouncing around in my head for so many days now that I'm so happy that it's finally out for y'all to read and (hopefully) enjoy.

There is a plan for a part 2 of this but it's literally all smut and it's a long ways away because I have every intention to get into 'relinquish the crown' again and also 'back to you'…and also the requests from the 500 follower celebration so just like 'sworn fealty'…it might happen, it might not happen, and that's that on that.

Translations: Himmelske – Heavenly Min gudinne – My goddess

'everything' taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95

Loki taglist:  @calumance @severuslovebot @moonlightreader649 @i-stand-with-loki @nixymarvelkins @infinitystoner @lokisgoodgirl @purplegrrl27 @thedistractedagglomeration

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #muddyorbs writes #Spotify

[drdemonprince]

Hello! You have opened a fascinating door into kink communities I didn't even know existed. Thanks for that. I was describing some of your steamworks adventures to my partner, who works as a Disease Intervention Specialist (aka DIS, a government healthcare worker who administers free/low-cost STD testing and then attempts to track down and notify+test the recent sexual partners of any infected individuals). (He brings some INSANE stories home from work and gets to give sex ed talks at the local Christian college using a model penis that actually ejaculates--but I digress.) He was horrified by the hypothetical situation where an infected person could have blindfolded sex with an unknown number of nameless strangers. It's hard enough trying to track down partners when the patient only knew them by their Grindr username. How do you have safe sex in these situations? Some STDs can be transmitted via skin-to-skin contact even with a condom. Do venues like steamworks enforce any rules around testing/protection/etc.?

If your partner is 'horrified' by the actual sex lives of the populations he ostensibly serves I think he needs to read more from harm reductionist thinkers and queer activists from a variety of past eras and work on processing his feelings of judgement to ensure it doesn't impact his actions in that line of work.

The books and Melancholia and Moralism, Saving Our Own Lives, and Beyond Shame: Reclaiming the Abandoned History of Radical Gay Sexuality are good places to start.

If you're having anonymous or blindfolded sex in cruising spaces, one route of managing risks is to assume that every person there could be infected with STIs you do not have and to plan accordingly. Vaccines, condoms, PreP, testing, and education are just some of the tools at one's disposal, and one should always be cognizant of the risks that one is consenting to. Steamworks has sexual health educators and testers present within their space regularly, but they don't gatekeep based on serostatus, health status, drug regimen or use of protection -- doing so wouldn't be feasible and would be problematic on multiple grounds.

I don't believe the goal of a public health initiative or a life well lived is to eliminate all risk, or to regard the presence of any infection in any human body as unacceptable, but rather to empower people to make informed decisions about the level of risk they are comfortable confronting, or that is worth the numerous benefits to them.

Personally, I was in far greater danger when I didn't have access to such spaces. Cruising spaces make negotiating sexual consent far safer than privately dating and hooking up with someone, and Steamworks are vitally important queer community spaces, and for me are well worth the trade off. No one should have any illusions about this ever being an experience that they can eliminate all risk from, rather they should anticipate it and plan for it.

I think "safe sex" is an unhelpful framework to pursue because it is so binary and can't ever be guaranteed. What does safety mean? Which types of exposures do we consider to be "unsafe"? Am I unsafe if I encounter another person who, like me, has had a cold sore before, like 80% of the population? Or someone who has a strain of HPV I am vaccinated against? What about if I have an encounter with somebody with a cold? I'm "safer" being fucked by an HIV positive person who is undetectable and wearing a condom than I am having barrier free sex with a long term partner who cheats. I can't even know I'm taking a risk in the latter case; at Steamworks, I'm assuming my risk level to be on the high end and planning accordingly.

I understand that testing and tracing are important parts of public health for our populations. It was vitally important when monkeypox broke out. Maybe Steamworks should collect member emails and alert them if there was a reported transmission on a night that they visited. Though even then, there are some negative public health implications to dozens of people panicking. But there is no means of eliminating all risk entirely or tracing all human sexual behavior and I would be myself pretty horrified if there was.

[professorbussywinkle]

Some people have kids because they want a slave...

....Think for a second

The obsession with punishment and discipline and "teaching them a lesson" often in brutal, unforgiving ways that don't teach them to follow their internal guide, but to fear your wrath if they do something you might perceive as wrong

The lack of respect for their bodily autonomy, their feelings, and their personhood

Treating everything they do or say like it's beneath consideration or without any value or significance if it does not serve you in some immediate gratifying way

The overemphasis on obedience being a central factor to how much moral worth they have as a human being

Using the provision of basic necessities(food housing, clothing) to justify mistreating them, treating the provision as something that can be withheld if they misbehave or "step out of line"

Believing their child is somehow always up to no good for no certifiable reason, to justify invading their privacy, denying them access to their social circles and means of communication

Publicly shaming or humiliating their child on camera and posting it on the internet in order to get them to behave in the ways you want them to

Soliciting their child's opinion, then yelling at them for disagreeing with you or "talking back". Also ranting at length about things they know their kids disagree with them about until their kid finally reaches a breaking point and says something, at which point, they're horrible combative children for constantly arguing with you

Treating their emotions as frivolous and pointless, or a sign of weakness not to be expressed freely and openly, forcing them to walk on eggshells around you for fear that anything could potentially set you off

Frequently telling them how lucky they are to not be physically abused. also not telling you what made them angry, leaving you not knowing what it was that upset them and them deliberately not telling you when you inquire about it

Using the excuse "I am your parent, so I know what's best for you" in order to force children to do something that is only meant to make the parent feel in control, and not for their child's well-being.

alluding that you are the sole reason why they can’t do whatever the hell they want and wished you didn’t even exist so they can have more freedom. (This one hits close to home for me)

These types of parents get off on this, literally...in an almost pornographic way it would seem, by pushing around, harming, and denigrating someone who's smaller and weaker than them, by exerting power and control over a little human being who is unable or unwilling to fight back against them, all so they can flex their big boy muscles, all so they can prove they have dominion over you and show you that you have no power to do anything about it, and then deluding themselves about how it's all about "discipline" or "teaching" so they don't feel bad about it

Does it make you feel so fucking powerful??

Does it make you feel so in control??

Does it make you feel so badass??

abusing and traumatizing a vulnerable little person half your fucking size and feasibly being able to get away with it under the guise of "discipline" with no reproach or recourse because you can't or refuse to deal with your own emotional damage??

Demon behavior.

#parenting #parenting discourse #lgbt #gay #lgbtqia #queer #trans #discourse #tw child abuse #txt post #cycle breaker #neurodivergent #adhd tag #adhd stuff #autism #actually autistic #tw abuse #authoritarianism #childhood trauma #lgbtq community #tw parents #tw childhood trauma #tw childhood abuse #tw childhood neglect