#i have posted explanations for some but not remotely all

[anghraine]

I felt it was time for another very silly and self-indulgent poll, so ...

(Feel free to respond, but please not with "is that really disputed? It's actually popular/canon/whatever.")

#today i choose violence :D #i have posted explanations for some but not remotely all #anghraine babbles #anghraine's headcanons #legendarium blogging #legendarium fanwank #austen blogging #austen fanwank #sw fanwank #political shenanigans and codependent siblings #borgias fanwank #poll nonsense

[ms-demeanor]

hello! sorry to bother w this but im sort of desperate at this point. given your post about school abuse: so like. i had a similar experience and i thought that i had sorted my brain out. BUT. big but. now im trans and every time i have to correct people w/ misgender or come out to people that i dont already know their opinion on the issue, i get an anxiety attack that makes me unable to do it. ive told many therapists and no one so far has understood why im terrified of making stuff that other people can perceive as me being difficult to work with. would you have *any* advice? thanks!

Okay so first of all it is totally valid to feel that way; that isn't an irrational response, that is your body and brain going "!!!! I have learned this lesson before!" But just because it's a sensible response doesn't mean it's functional in the long term, which is why it needs to be addressed (which I'm sure you already know, I'm just explaining for people in the back).

So now here is some meandering advice:

Spend time with people you already know you can trust. It's okay to take a break from new people and situations (as much as is possible) when you are processing traumatic events and learning to care for yourself. Spending time with people who you don't have to come out to, who don't misgender you, can help you normalize being out and correctly gendered to yourself.

Recognize that you don't have to be out to everyone and some assholes aren't worth it. This is going to depend some on the context, but you don't owe everybody an explanation for yourself and if people repeatedly misgender you after being corrected you may just be better off not spending time around those people.

Loop in trusted people in low-stakes ways. If you get the sense that someone who you think is pretty safe has misgendered you on accident, it might still feel too intimidating to correct them in person but it might be a good idea to follow up with text or a call or a message to say "hey, just FYI, I think I heard you use a/b pronouns for me earlier, I just wanted to let you know that I use c/d pronouns. Did you want to meet up again next week?" the breakdown on why I think this is effective is - Distance means you're safe - nonthreatening "FYI" means you aren't saying "I'm offended" and assumes good faith from the other person - feels less accusatory (not that you need to tone police yourself, but if you're trying to lower the stress level overall then assuming it was a mistake and letting them know you don't think it was on purpose should reduce the overall tension) - request to meet up again or topic switch to something lighter once again says "I'm not mad, that was just regular information, we can now return to our scheduled programming"

I think that, generally speaking, this is also a decent way to come out to people if you're nervous; physically remote and emotionally casual can be a good place to work from (even if you're actually panicking in your head but you can pull off casual in a written message)

Find (or create) a space where people are 100% going to support you. If you need to create a discord server, if you need to schedule a regular coffee date with trusted friends or family members, whatever it is, give yourself a space where you are unconditionally supported and can have people to bounce ideas and concerns off of. Even if it's just you and one other person, it's good to know you have *someone* who you can say "I think I want to tell this other person to use my pronouns but it's scary" to and know that you're not at risk in any way. I'd say try to make sure that you're still interacting with people outside of that space, but have a space to retreat to where you can just drop the worry.

Recognize that somebody else's problem is not a reflection of you. If you have, for instance, a coworker who is being a piece of shit and refusing to recognize your gender, that is not a reflection of your gender that is a reflection of them being a piece of shit. If there is a classmate or a sibling who uses the wrong pronouns after being corrected that doesn't mean you're not entitled to your pronouns that means they are being a piece of shit. Some people are just not going to accept you and that's on them. Try to minimize your time spent with them and if you have to spend time with them at work take steps to ensure your safety, but don't fight losing battles with assholes.

It really is legitimately scary. You have good reasons to be scared and you are doing a very frightening thing (and not to do the meme thing but you are legitimately being so brave about it; the fact that you are reaching out and asking anyone for help, including randos on the internet, means that you are taking steps to doing the scary thing and that is SO GOOD and I'm really proud of you for making the effort in spite of the fear).

Here is some less meandering advice:

Practice. Talk to yourself in the mirror, practice with friends, practice with your therapist. Practice coming out to yourself in a casual way. Practice correcting your pronouns. Practice an introduction for yourself that explains the information you want to give to new people you might meet. Get it down to a quick little patter, get it to be something that's easy to say to yourself in the mirror first, then try it with friends for practice, then try it around the safer people you might want to give the information to. It'll get easier as you go.

Look for a local support group (or an online support group). If there's a local LGBTQ+ center you should see if they've got events going on or a support group you can join or workshops or any manner of social thing where you can go interact with people who have been through similar stuff.

Journal. Each time you find yourself frightened of talking to someone about your gender, do what you need to to get through the day and then sit down and think about that interaction. Write down what happened, write down what you were thinking. Was there something in particular that made you anxious? Is it something you can practice addressing? Was there something you noticed about the person that made you uncomfortable? Is that a common thread in the times you have trouble talking about this? If you're able to narrow down specifically what is making it hard to speak to some people that might make it easier to explain to therapists but will also make it more actionable for you.

Here's some very optimistic advice:

If at all possible find a friend who will be rabid and unflinching in their support for you and hang out with them around new people. Get yourself an attack dog copilot who will cheerfully step up and make corrections for you. I know not everyone can do this and I know that if you can find someone like this they can't be around all the time, but it can be wonderfully reassuring to find that one person who you know is going to be ride or die about making sure that everyone in the room respects you. (Being that person for someone else can also teach you how to be that person for you)

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Idk if I posted this before but something that sticks out to me about the Nimona movie is the subway scene where they pull up to the station where Ambrosius and all the guards are waiting, and when Ballister lays eyes on him, the first thing he feels is fear

I tried exploring this in one of my fics but like-- does anyone realize how fucked up that is. That kind of immediate, knee jerk response does NOT go away easily. When I see my best friend, I feel happy and excited, sometimes annoyed if he did something to piss me off, sometimes nervous or guilty if I did something to piss him off, but you know what I never ever felt upon merely seeing his face? Immediate and intense fear for my life.

Imagine him trying to heal and every time he sees his boyfriend it's a jumpscare for months. Every time he sees his boyfriend he has to remind himself that he's not going to hurt him. EVERY TIME he looks at his boyfriend and for just a moment, sees a threat.

I hid the deeper analysis and comparison below a read-more because I'm sure not everyone cares, but it's especially interesting as a writer for both the comic and movie dynamics. Like both these couples have insane trauma to work through, but it is NOT even remotely the same kind of trauma.

Blackheart has to work through anger, bitterness, and years of betrayal, and while I'm certain Boldheart would get some of that, it wouldn't be nearly on the same level. His Ambrosius had a far more valid reason for attacking him, his Ambrosius apologized quickly and showed earnest remorse from the get-go. Blackheart was emotionally and physically betrayed out of nowhere for no good reason and he didn't get an apology or explanation for a decade and a half and his Ambrosius continued to fight with him that entire time.

At the same time, Blackheart was never afraid of his Ambrosius. I can reckon there was some fear after the initial incident, but it's not shown. He knows that Ambrosius won't kill him just like Ambrosius knows Blackheart won't kill him. Ambrosius isn't a real threat to him in the least, he's more just a nuisance that gets in the way of his plans because that's the silly little game they both agreed to play. Their whole lives for fifteen years was a conscious, weird, fucked up little game of cops and robbers and neither of them really took it seriously, both of them continued to try and protect each other (from Nimona and the Director)

Boldheart for all intents and purposes believed Ambrosius was trying to kill him. He nearly did kill him. He believed Ambrosius would hear him out, but he also believed Ambrosius was prepared to kill him if necessary.

In either case it would be tremendously difficult to trust the other person again. But the unique flavor of angst presented by the movie situation is just OOF

#nimona #ambrosius goldenloin #goldenheart #ballister x ambrosius #ballister boldheart #nimona 2023 #ballister blackheart #nimona graphic novel #nimona analysis

[crafty-butch]

i had. the weirdest goddamn experience last night.

setting the scene: it's around 7:30 pm, well after dark this time of year. my beloved girlfriend is at work, so it's just me and the menagerie. it is also, somewhat relevantly to this story, cold as fuck outside.

the doorbell rings.

i answer the door. the man standing outside gives me some story about how he and his friend were trying to sell a stove to some guy who didn't show. then he asks if i could give him and his friend a ride back to a nearby town. he offers to pay for gas, which is not remotely near the top of my list of questions, but nice i suppose.

i say no, but offer to call them a lyft. the guy has to get the address from his friend, who is for some reason standing down at the far end of the block. while we wait, i ask a couple more questions about what happened, because i'm sure i couldn't possibly have heard them correctly about the "stove."

the Totally Legit And Not Sketchy At All™ story i get out of them is this:

they posted a "stove" for sale online

some guy was supposed to meet them to buy it, but he changed his mind

the friend's brother lives around the corner but didn't want a stranger coming to his house to get the "stove"

no explanation for why they couldn't go back to the "brother's" house instead of waiting outside in the dark and cold

also no explanation for how they got here with the "stove" in the first place

or their plan to get home if the guy did buy the "stove"

i don't push for more details, because i'm not quite nosy enough to give the third degree to strange men standing outside my house offering questionable stories about "stoves" while i'm home alone.

eventually the lyft comes. i keep an eye on the app to make sure the lyft makes it to the address they gave me. it does. all seems well. sketchy as hell, but sketchy guys don't need to be stranded and freezing either.

anyway this morning i step outside and sitting abandoned at the end of the block is a fucking brand-new stove

#chatty-butch

[mythicalartistx]

I know now without a doubt Kingdom Hearts is L—

No actually I think Kingdom Hearts is honestly purposely censored.

I used to be like well I don't think it's inherently the translators faults, Japanese is a tough language for people to know what it's referring to and likes to Americanized certain things like adding heteronormativity and romanizing things. People like romanticizing thingz so I can't exactly blame them it's part of westerners.

Like when you think of relationships most think of straight relationships so that probably what they thought of it's probably about even though the relationship doesn't really develop that much.

A lot of Action movies have the same problem when there is a male main character, there is always a forced romance with some side girl character when it's not a developed or good relationship it's just there to mark of the love interest category.

But now realizing how much Kingdom Hearts censors things, maybe they had an idea.

Some lines are WAY off from the original made to romanticized so much when the original wasn't even anything remotely like that or about a character in that way. And some scenes take out movements and edit it.

They change the entire meaning to censor things for American Audiences.

Nobody knows why.

And all I can think of is to make it have things that American Audiences would rather enjoy having romance in places unnecessarily or censoring things to be "safe"

I made a post about the Dream Drop Distance scene which gotten a crazy amount of attention only on the first few days it's at 300+notes, but the post was essentially about how when Sora was sleeping he tells Donald and Goofy it's his job to keep him on his toes and he puts his arm down in a fist. Then Riku moved his arm slightly to the left and put it in a fist again?

But the scene actually had Riku telling Donald and Goofy how he slapped Sora awake whenever he fell asleep on the beach and it shows Riku moving his hand in a slapping motion, not whatever that awkward motion was.

The thing is DDD was one of the side games and I thought they didn't pay much attention to the censoring in those. And given how gay DDD is and it wasn't as censoring their dynamic.

However, it got censored and it's like why? Did they think Audiences couldn't handle it?

Like it just seems like a silly thing he would do. It's kinda like how some people would pour water on someone to wake them up.

Like a teasing thing which he does A LOT and it probably wasn't that hard.

And other times I heard about how the language had some swearing or words that could be translated that way but of course since it's Disney the western version had to censor that.

The novels and manga actually still have more language in it.

And I think the main problem is Disney. They censor things a lot now.

They used to be more open to this kind of thing, but now they are soft and never take risks. I also heard how their team would edit things that would be in their original movie to tone it down for KH players.

It's kinda sad because there is definitely a lot of meaning to KH that is lost in translation. The battle with Vanitas is one in particular I had realized it's meaning is a bit more than the western version. The western version also simplifies things and tries to condense aspects as well. Xehanort's reason for everything is also worded very differently in the western version.

One of the reasons I look at fan translations is because it gives more meaning to certain events, not only because of dynamics and possible ships that are lost, but also explanations that are no longer there.

I'm so grateful for everyone who tries to retranslate things accurately and sometimes I use a site for certain things I'm curious but by no means do I speak their language and I get translation is hard, I really hope their future installments don't do this especially with KH4 and ML coming up in the next several years.

#soriku #kingdom hearts #translations #kh translations #kh censorship #the censorship is honestly real #Disney is probably the main team trying to censor things #but didney doesn't care about KH unless it does something with their properties #if they did care they would show it more #dream Drop Distance #kh3 #chain of memories #heteronormativity #this plays a huge factor as well #Sora #Riku #kh Riku #kh Sora #I hope kh4 censorship won't do this

[timetothirst]

Almost

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN reader

Inspired by this post that hasn’t left my head since I first saw it

Tags: Canon typical violence, you almost die, Ghost is soft in his own weird way, confessions, everyone needs therapy, i’m not British but i’m using British slang because it’s Simon’s POV, if i got any military stuff wrong no I didn’t, sad Ghost

Rating: M for violence and language

—————

You were dying when Ghost realized he loved you.

It started the same as it always did whenever he had to meet someone new, with a quick handshake and a short introduction before he inevitably found an excuse to walk away as soon as possible. He didn’t dislike you, not necessarily, but he was no social butterfly. You were just another face to him, that was all.

Until you weren’t.

He was having trouble sleeping. That was nothing unusual, though. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d got a full eight hours without some kind of interruption, whether it be an owl outside his window that wouldn’t shut up, an inability to get comfortable because of the countless aches in his body, his thoughts just being too damn loud, or something else entirely. Whenever this happened, he’d make his way to the common room and find some way to kill the time while he waited for everyone else, maybe even get breakfast started or put the kettle on if he was feeling nice.

It was on one of those nights, after he’d finished rummaging through the fridge looking for a decent snack, that he saw you. He went to sit on the couch, and there you were. He didn’t realize it was you at first and tensed up, instinctively reaching for his combat knife (which wasn’t there, of course, since he was in his sleep clothes). At first he was baffled. How did he not notice you coming in? He wasn’t losing his edge, was he? Letting his guard down?

But then he saw the half-eaten packet of crisps in front of you and realized you’d been there the entire time, sitting in the dark, in complete silence.

“Fuckin’ hell…say somethin’ next time, yeah?” He told you, finally allowing himself to exhale.

“Sorry, I didn’t know whether or not you were going back to your room, and I didn’t want to bug you, so-“

“S’fine.” He interrupted with a wave of his hand, sitting on the opposite end of the couch and grabbing the remote.

—————

“Am I missing something here? Why’s he acting so weird all of a sudden?” You asked, staring at the screen in confusion. This was the third question you’d asked in as many minutes, but Ghost didn’t seem to mind. At the very least, he wasn’t giving you death stares or walking away from you, so you figured it was okay.

“Pon farr.” He stated, not even glancing over.

“Am I supposed to know what that means? It sounds like a weird disease…” Ghost side-eyed you as you said this and scoffed quietly.

“No, it’s not a- look, just watch, will you? They’re about to explain it.”

You rolled your eyes, but did as he said anyway.

“Oh my god…so, he can only have sex once every seven years? And if he doesn’t, he’ll just…get really pissed off and fuckin’ die?” You laughed in disbelief, then ate the last of your crisps and tossed the empty packet into the trash.

“Nah, Vulcans can mate whenever they want. Pon farr’s just a biological thing that causes…well, s’ called plak-tow, but it translates to ‘blood fever.’ Means they’ll go mad if they don’t-“

You couldn’t help but snicker, slapping your hand over your mouth with a snort when Ghost’s head snapped toward you. He looked at you with an expression that could melt steel, which would have scared you shitless under any other circumstances.

“…Seen this one.” He grumbled as an explanation, looking away from you and back at the TV screen. He crossed his arms, his face hardening into its usual scowl.

“Yeah, I can tell.”

You spent the rest of the night asking Ghost increasingly complicated questions about the show, and despite his exasperated sighs and frequent eye rolls, he answered every single one.

—————

He just kept running into you, it seemed. Sparring, target practice, and of course, your late night binges of Star Trek, whenever the two of you happened to be up at the same ungodly hour. You sat on your designated couch cushions and laughed at the awful special effects as Ghost told you to ‘shut it and watch,’ though he was sure you could see him smiling through the fabric of his mask.

As much as he hated to admit it, as cliché as it sounded, his days really were a bit brighter with you around. You filled the silence when nothing else did, joked with him, spent time with him…he’d even noticed a few little things you had started doing, things that were specifically for him. Like the night he’d taken out a pack of smokes, only to realize that he’d lost his lighter. He groaned in annoyance and went to put them away, but then, there you were, holding out a lighter of your own, the small flame reflecting in your eyes.

“The lads and I must be a bad influence, eh? I swear I remember you tellin’ me that you don’t smoke.” He’d said to you after rolling up his mask just past his lips and taking a puff of his cigarette.

“I don’t. But you do.” You replied casually, shrugging as if you’d just said the most obvious thing in the world.

“And with the way you keep losing your lighters everywhere, you’re probably spending half your paycheck replacing them!” You added, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder.

Ghost rolled his eyes and told you to piss off, but he never bought another lighter after that.

—————

Price started pairing the two of you together on missions; citing the fact that you got along, as well as the way your combination of skills made you effective and deadly in the field. You were a good team, that was all. You got things done, and you got them done well, no matter the circumstances.

And then everything went to shit.

You had already suffered a dislocated shoulder and pretty bad slash wound, both to your dominant arm, so you were stuck clutching a pistol in one hand while the other dangled uselessly at your side. Almost all of the enemies had been taken care of at that point, but you were making a final sweep of the building in search of any stragglers.

Two seconds. Two goddamn seconds he looked away from you, but that was all it took. Five gunshots rang out in short succession, no doubt from an assault rifle of some kind. You screamed, shot a single round from your pistol, and two bodies thudded to the floor.

Ghost’s heart dropped. He charged into the room, looking around frantically. As badly as he wanted to rush to your side right that second, he knew he had to assess the situation first. He’d be of no use to you if he was dead, after all. The first thing he noticed was that you were breathing, and your attacker wasn’t, probably because they had a sizable hole in the side of their head. Ghost dropped to his knees next to you, trying to calm himself enough to properly check your wounds.

You looked so small lying there, curled up on your side with your face contorted in pain. A shudder wracked your body, blood beginning to pool as Ghost placed a hand on your shoulder. He gritted his teeth and turned you over. As expected, you screamed bloody murder, the movement causing your body to be jostled.

“Shit. Shitshitshitshit-” He muttered, his hands hovering over your body. Before he dared to do anything else, he reached for his radio.

“Bravo 0-7 calling for immediate medvac. Repeat, immediate medvac.” He spoke, unable to hide the tremor in his voice.

“Acknowledged. Requesting location.” A voice crackled over the speaker. He barked back your coordinates, along with an order to hurry the fuck up before disconnecting and turning his attention back to you.

“This is gonna hurt.” He warned.

He undid your vest, and his large hand immediately made contact with the most serious of your injuries, that being the bullet wound in your side. He pressed down hard in an attempt to staunch the bleeding as best he could, and your scream of pain was enough to make him feel as though he’d been shot himself. You seemed too shocked to speak, your breath coming out in short gasps, punctuated by anguished sobs.

“Shh. I know, I know…hey- look at me, yeah? Just keep lookin’ at me.”

Ghost couldn’t remember the last time he felt helpless. But here, now, as he stared down at you, it was the only thing he could feel. He wished he could be angry instead, but right now there was no one to direct that anger towards. Your attacker was lucky you’d managed to kill them before he got the chance to, or he’d have beaten them into a pulp with his bare hands and left them to rot where they fell as punishment for even fucking looking at you.

“Ghost-” You croaked out, your bleary eyes focusing on him momentarily. He shook his head.

“Simon.” He whispered, his own name feeling foreign on his tongue. You stared at him in confusion for a moment, but then your eyebrows raised and a look of realization appeared on your face.

“S…Simon?” You repeated. He nodded, tried to smile at you despite everything.

“Yeah…Simon.”

You smiled back through your tears and let out a laugh that quickly turned into a pained wheeze. “That bad, huh?”

Simon didn’t reply. He didn’t trust himself to. You’d see right through it if he lied, he was sure of it, but if he told the truth, he knew he’d break down on the spot. Instead, he gathered you into his arms and curled around you protectively, trying to keep your body warm to prevent shock.

With a start, he realized that this was the first time he’d ever held you.

“I think m’just gonna…rest for a few minutes, if that’s okay…” You breathed.

As he looked down at you, it was clear that you were struggling to keep your eyes open. He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, clutching you tighter and burying his face in your hair.

“No, no, no…not you. Anyone but you.”

Simon Riley had never been a religious man, but he prayed then. He didn’t know to whom he was speaking, but it didn’t matter. He only asked for one thing.

“Don’t let them die. Not here, not now. I’ll do anything. Give them more time. Take me instead if you want. I’ll go in their place, just let them live. Please.”

He knew he didn’t deserve you. He always had, really, but that didn’t mean you should be taken away so cruelly. You should have something so much better than this, better than a cold concrete floor slick with your blood and a man like him trying to hold you together while he himself was breaking from the inside out.

“H-Hey…”

Your voice broke through the haze, and he cursed under his breath, quickly wiping his eyes and lifting his head to look at you.

“Fuck. Sorry, I- i’m right here, love. I’ve gotcha. Nothin’ to worry about, yeah?”

You just nodded. Your eyes were barely open now, your chest still slowly rising and falling with your breaths. You felt around for his hand and grabbed it, the silence seeming to last forever as you considered your next words.

“…I’m really glad I met you.” You finally said.

“Don’t. Don’t start sayin’ shit like that. Makes it sound like you’re-“ He exhaled and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I can’t fuckin’ do this, alright? I know I can be an ass, and I know i’m not the best at sayin’ it, but…I need you.”

Simon looked down at you. You weren’t moving.

His time spent waiting for medvac to arrive was a blur. He held you tight, begged you not to leave him even though he wasn’t entirely sure whether or not you could hear. And when the medics did finally show up, they practically had to wrench your limp body out of his grip.

He had to take a separate transport back to base. he sat alone and stared at his hands, watching your blood slowly dry.

——————

Simon lurked outside the door to your hospital room like- well, a ghost. When the doctors finally deemed you well enough to take visitors, he was at your side, like a loyal dog lying at its master’s feet. He held your wrist in a loose grip the entire time he waited for you to wake up, his thumb pressed against your pulse point so that he could be sure your heart was still beating.

It felt like ages that he waited for you. He didn’t even know quite how long he did, actually. He only left your side once, and that was for a shower in freezing water where he scrubbed his skin raw because he was unable to stop seeing the red covering it.

When you finally stirred beneath him, Simon thought he was dreaming. He stared at you with a mixture of disbelief and blind hope, and then you finally opened your eyes. After days, he finally felt like he could exhale. He let himself fall forward, his head coming to rest on your shoulder as he shook ever so slightly.

“God…don’t you ever do that to me again, got it? Thought i’d lost you.”

You reached up and started to rub circles into his back, choosing not to mention the fact that your hospital gown was damp with tears.

“Simon, I-“

He shushed you, rolled up his mask and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple.

“You made it, that’s what matters. You made it back t’ me.”

“And I always will.”

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #angst #fluff #writing #swords’s stories

[amakumos]

CUPID’S CORNER — fifteen ; hyungyeom’s adventures in hell

because he’s a little shit, nishimura riki sends a totally embarrassing confession about you to “cupid’s corner”, a twitter account that posts anonymous confessions from decelis academy students. but when that joke confession suddenly makes a bunch of people confess to you on cupid’s corner (for real this time!) riki finds that he’s jealous — and oh… he can’t believe it took him a fake confession to realise that he’s crazily in love with you.

Someone taps you on the shoulder, and you look up from your phone, expecting it to be Riki.

But, instead you’re met with the sight of your cheating ex boyfriend, Hyungyeom.

Your eyes narrow, and your smile drops. “It’s you. What are you doing here?” you ask in a monotone voice. You’re not remotely interested at all in Hyungyeom’s comings and goings, but you haven’t seen him since the tournament (where Nicholas had to drag you away from Hyungyeom so you wouldn’t smack him across the head with your racket.)

“I work here,” he tells you, brushing his hair out of his eyes. You frown as you look at him — you can’t believe you ever liked him.

“Well, I’ll never come here again. Thanks for the heads up,” you say, before turning to leave.

But then Hyungyeom grabs ahold of your hand, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait.”

“Let go.”

He does.

“What do you want? You know I told you I never wanted to see or talk to you again.” you seethe. Where is Riki? you think. Riki would never just leave you, so he’s probably looking for you — this arcade is pretty big.

“I want to explain myself.”

“I gave you plenty of chances to do so,” you say, crossing your arms. “And you lied every time. So is this going to be an honest explanation or a deceitful one?”

Hyungyeom sighs. “(Name), just give me one more chance. I know I messed up, and I really like you—”

“That’s enough.”

Riki shuts Hyungyeom up immediately with his arrival. “Haven’t you hurt her enough?” Riki asks. Your best friend slips his hand into yours, giving your hand a small squeeze, as if to tell you to not worry.

Hyungyeom rolls his eyes at the sight of Riki. “This is a conversation between (Name) and I.”

“She doesn’t want to have a conversation with you.” Riki says, and Hyungyeom presses his lips together into a thin line. “That’s for her to decide.”

“I just told you that I didn’t want to see or talk to you again.” you say. Matter of fact, you had said that just a mere 2 minutes ago.

Hyungyeom looks at yours and Riki’s hands laced together, and his eyes narrow slightly. “So what, are you guys dating now?” he asks, nodding towards your linked hands.

That question would usually be bothersome, especially coming out of Hyungyeom's mouth. But you find that you don't quite mind Hyungyeom asking that question - maybe it's because you secretly want people to think that you two are dating.

“Why is that any of your business?” Riki says, before you can reply to Hyungyeom’s words. “Look, (Name) told you she didn’t want to talk to you again. It’s not that hard for you to understand, Hyungyeom.”

“Let’s go,” Riki tells you, dragging you away from your ex boyfriend, who’s eyes follow your figure as you both leave the arcade. “You okay?” he asks you, when you both have left.

“Yeah. Just super weirded out by him.” you say, and Riki hands you one of the plushies he had won for you. “This is new,” you hum.

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Got it when I had accidentally left you alone. I know you like Winnie the Pooh.”

A small smile makes its way onto your lips as you look at the Pooh plushie he had gotten you. “Thank you, ‘Ki. It’s very cute.”

“You’re welcome,” he says.

He’s not going to tell you this — but his heart was beating a million miles an hour when his hand was holding yours. He would’ve probably fainted.

He also hopes that the fluorescent lights in the arcade hid the blush dusting across his cheeks.

“Now come on, don’t think about that asshole. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

fifteen － hyungyeom's adventures in hell! previous ☆ next ♡ masterlist

author's note. is acegod inspired by quadgod.. yeah. yeah it is. because everyday figure skating stays in my mind

CUPID'S CORNER! a riki smau. genre: smau, crack, fluff, idol au pairing: non-idol! riki x non-idol! reader warnings: swearing, ignore timestamps taglist is CLOSED!

#kflixnet #k labels #enhypen smau #riki smau #ni ki smau #enhypen imagines #riki imagines #ni ki imagines #enhypen scenarios #riki scenarios #ni ki scenarios #enhypen x reader #riki x reader #ni ki x reader #enhypen au #riki au #ni ki au #enhypen fluff #riki fluff #ni ki fluff #enhypen angst #riki angst #ni ki angst

[transvampireboyfriend]

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

When they get to the lake an hour later, Eddie is the first to come spilling out of Steve's car.

He walks several paces away from it, tuning out the post-drive chatter of his friends, his arms stretching above his head as he walks closer to the lake, stopping a few feet away from its shore.

Eddie inhales deeply, enjoying the fresh air and admiring the sunrays twinkling on the water. He can feel them on his bare arms too.

So.

Maybe the world won't end because he said a bit too much about how good he thinks Steve Harrington is.

Steve came out to them last year, on a sunny afternoon when they'd all been lazing around, reading magazines on Steve's living room after spending all day in his pool. Nancy and Eddie were arguing about how hot some actor was.

Eddie can't remember who it was now, but what he does remember is Steve casually saying "I can settle this argument, lemme see", and crawling on all fours to where Eddie and Nancy were laying practically on top of each other.

They must have worn the same perplexed expression when Steve declared "He's hot", because he then took a look at both of them and shrugged, said "I like both. I like whoever" and that had been that.

So Eddie knows Steve would not make a big deal over him basically saying he finds Steve attractive, but he's still worried, because their sexualities don't automatically mean Steve will like him like that and Eddie would never assume that, but now Steve might think he did.

He looked uncomfortable in the car and it's the only explanation Eddie can come up with.

And Steve's never been particularly receptive of Eddie's gestures, Eddie tried flirting a few weeks after Steve came out and Steve froze, whenever Eddie pays him a compliment Steve gets a little weird like he did in the car, Eddie's tried asking him to do stuff together like go on a hike, or Eddie teaching Steve to play guitar or he's even asked him to dance but Steve almost always backs down when the activity involves touching Eddie.

And it's fine. Eddie can understand, he's not everyone's type, it's cool. He just wishes he could shake the attraction off, but so far he's had no luck. If anything he only feels more attracted to Steve with every day they spend together.

And Eddie doesn't want to make him uncomfortable.

So Eddie needs to be careful not to let it show too much, because then Steve would feel forced to verbally reject him and Eddie just knows that Steve would hate that, not to mention he would be devastated himself.

Steve can't know.

After all Eddie said in the car, he'd been thinking maybe it had been a terrible idea to come along on a week long trip to a remote cabin with Steve. He'd already shown too much of his hand by gushing about him to everyone who would listen, Eddie spent the whole trip kicking himself over it.

But, as a dragonfly circles him, Eddie thinks of his friends, and he decides he can be an adult about this. He'll clear things up and apologize if Steve's still uncomfortable and they'll have a normal week.

This is meant to be fun and he always does have fun with his friends, Steve included. He always has fun with Steve especially, and he won't let his dumb feelings ruin that.

Eddie listens to quick steps coming up behind him and then a small but firm hand slaps his back.

"Are you alright?" asks Nancy, coming to stand next to him.

Eddie scoffs, doesn't turn to look at her.

" 'Course I am," he supplies "why wouldn't I be?"

Nancy gives him a withering look.

She was the first to find out about his crush, already knowing Eddie so well within a couple of weeks of their friendship.

Eddie fondly rolls his eyes, finally looking at her.

"I'm fine." he assures her "It's fine."

He offers her a smile and turns back to the lake.

Nancy gives him a once over before she wraps her arm around his waist.

Eddie sighs into the touch, her warmth comforting even in the mid day heat.

"Don't lose my fucking scrunchie" she threatens.

Eddie chuckles "I promise I won't" he lies, probably.

"Stop making promises you can't keep." Nancy shoots, untangling from Eddie's side "We should get you your own."

"Maybe I could make some!" Eddie suggests, "To replace the ones I've lost,"

"How did we switch from you buying them to this?" Nancy asks, her mouth tilting into an amused smirk.

"Oh come on, this way is more fun!" Eddie protests, almost stomping his foot in his excitement.

"You don't know how to sew" Nancy reminds him.

"Do too!" he protests, thinking of his many customized jackets and jeans. Though, he'd never made something so delicate as Nancy's pretty hair accessories.

"And Buckley said she'd teach me!" Eddie concedes.

That startles a laugh out of Nancy, "Yeah, I'd like to see how that goes" she says.

"Oh, I bet you would" Eddie shoots back winking at her. He gets shoved for it.

"Shut up." Nancy demands, giggling.

As their laughter dies down and Eddie straightens up, Nancy turns to the lake.

"It's so pretty here" she comments, looking out at the forest tree line beyond the water.

"Sure is" Eddie agrees, watching birds fly by.

After a while Nancy slips her hand in his and interlaces their fingers.

"C'mon," she says "we're the designated lunch ladies"

"Oh?" Eddie asks, following as she tugs him along.

"Yup! Steve and Jonathan are unpacking and Rob and Argyle called dish duty"

"Thank god for that," Eddie quips

Nancy laughs "That's exactly what I thought"

part 3

#steddie #steddie headcanon #steveddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #the next two parts of this are ready too but im getting a migraine so you'll have to give me until tomorrow okay? okay. love u. gn! #. #pushing the ''Eddie and Nancy are best friends'' agenda #steddie lake fic

[lychgate]

I am begging for more explanation about the Rex-gets-his-balls-cut-off AU

oh MAN its a few years old and very heavy themes but the summary of that part is that in this au post 66 Rex fallen way off da wagon and goes from shitty job to shittier job until he's getting traded around doing slave labor and one of the slavers he ends up with castrates their workers and then he got p feeble and weaker until he was basically a rat in a box and- oh yeah this is an au where Fives doesn't DIE because we all have one of those, so instead of being shot Fives is instead chased off world by some Corrie guards and his ship is shot down on a very remote planet/the reports labeled him then as deceased and Rex took that shit at face value (stupid) but it leaves a Fives stranded at the end of the war with that crucial information for the Republic that by the time he gets off world unfortunately is too late, we fast forward several years into Empire era where this AU begins, where Fives has made a (crappy) living off of bounty hunting and has a small task to put some feral critter out of it's misery and that feces covered mal fed creacher is REX and Fives actually hates him a lot at this point because he'd been mentally imagining Rex all these years as the visual epicenter of his blame for why all this Empire shit happened since he feels like he never listened to him back on Coruscant years ago. (he looked like this wet sock at about this point):

but u know now that he has the easiest opportunity to kill him it's literally so fucking pathetic looking that he can't so he like takes Rex on his ship to start fixing him up and taking care of him but it's more like when ur neighbor forces some old dying sick dog on u and u don't even like dogs but u had no choice so u just glare at the thing every day as it lays in ur house pooping on ur carpet and throwing up it's dinner every night. I only ever got crappy little doodles made of some sequences it's just a fun AU to poke around in but here's some when he initially brought Rex onboard and bro was just head to toe caked in dirt and scabs

ITS A REALLY metaphorical punching bag diary page like AU but it slowly deals with two WAY mentally fucked up people, who are approaching their issues at opposite ends of the stick, where Fives feels like he's been cheated out of a revenge kill, and Rex feels so pathetic and indebted to Fives that he's asking to be killed by Fives about every 35 minutes on his ship.

so yea doodles like these were made when he was like half a year into recovery, trying to gain some weight back, medically taking hormones to make up for his MISSING BALLS and just regrow some hairs, attempted recovery to atrophied muscles, and other bummer things like keeping radios on all the time so he can hear and keep track of surviving clones in the Empire for no significant advantage other then to know which ones are still alive and junk. IT DOES GET BETTER they do work to become close again but not without a lot of bumpy roads cause neither of them are healthy

#my art #star wars #captain rex #arc trooper fives

[empressofthewind]

a while ago i made a post about Mello and Near potentially having hooked up during the canon timeline, and @optimisticgardenhologram pointed out some very interesting details in canon that potentially suggest that they met up (i strongly encourage you to go look at the original post!! i'm just here to verify the observations, not take credit for them). so i looked into them and i can confirm, there is absolutely enough evidence to suggest that they saw each other outside of the chapter 77 reunion.

Observation #1

this one was from chapter 97. Near states that the Death Note is "an ordinary notebook, just like Mello said":

but Mello never says this at all. i went out of my way to note down the exact phrasing of every piece of information Mello gives Near in canon:

"The murder notebook. It's a Shinigami's notebook, and people who touch it are able to see the Shinigami." (chapter 77)

"The notebook I had belonged to a Shinigami named Sidoh, who dropped it in the human world. He had to come down to get it back. But another Shinigami had it before." (chapter 77)

"There is a fake rule hidden amongst the rules written in the notebook." (chapter 77)

"I actually had a bunch of guys test the notebook a number of ways, but nobody who wrote the names down died after thirteen days." (chapter 79)

nothing there states that the Death Note is an ordinary notebook, nor is it even remotely implied. there are three possible explanations i can think of for this. one, Mello and Near met up sometime between November 19th and January 7th. two, Mello mentioned it on the phone during the three days they spent interrogating Mogi. three, Mello told Halle and she relayed this information to Near. Gevanni does not seem to question it when Near mentions it, which suggests either it's one of the latter two options or the SPK is aware of the meeting(s) Near had with Mello. all very plausible.

Observation #2

Near tells Light after Takada is kidnapped that he has a way of getting in touch with Mello. this one i do remember so i didn't go looking for it, but it does potentially imply that they've been contacting each other. he does say "i can try to contact Mello", in which the use of "i" would suggest that he personally would be the one to reach out (as opposed to him using Lidner to contact Mello), but he IS talking to Light, so he could just be intentionally keeping things vague.

Observation #3

this one imo is the most damning. Near's puppet of Mello has a quilted vest:

but the vest he wears when he visits Near is different:

here is the quilted vest, for comparison:

technically Mello's jacket is covering most of the vest in his scenes with Near, so you could assume it actually was the quilted vest and wasn't textured for the sake of simplicity - but Near wouldn't have had a clear view of it then either, and presumably if this was the only outfit he ever saw of Mello's, then he would draw the jacket onto the puppet too.

i think it would be too much of a coincidence for him to guess that Mello owns this exact vest. it would also seem odd to me if Mello and Near somehow ended up discussing Mello's clothes during the Mogi interrogation, and Mello mentioned that he owns a quilted vest. the same is true of Near speaking to Lidner; she COULD theoretically have told Near about the vest, but it seems like a bizarre detail to mention, and a particularly bizarre thing for Near to add to the puppet if he's never personally seen it. so i definitely think it implies that they saw each other again.

the first time i can find the Mello puppet in the manga is in chapter 94, which takes place on December 25, but the rest of the puppets appear as early as chapter 85, which takes place on December 1st. so if the Mello puppet was made around the same time as the others, they would have had to meet up during the Mogi interrogation to make it work; otherwise it could have happened while they were in Japan.

as a bonus side note, i looked through the entire manga and i actually couldn't find the quilted vest at all outside of the official art - granted i only had a quick skim-through so i could've easily missed an appearance, but i went back and checked this iconic post and it does not appear there either. so perhaps this is a special occasion vest for him (the two special occasions being posing for the official art and meeting up with Near; the most important things a man could ever do in his life).

in conclusion, there is a strong case to be made for Mello and Near having met up at least once in canon, which allows for plenty of speculation regarding the events that transpired during that meeting. thank you so much @optimisticgardenhologram for bringing these up!! this was very insightful :-)

#meronia #mihael keehl #nate river #analyses

[mandos-mind-trick]

The Wolf Pup

Summary: It’s no secret within the 104th that the stern Commander is soft for the Pack’s so-called Wolf Pup. After a close call on a combined mission with the 501st, Wolffe takes it upon himself to remind her they'll always be there for her, no matter what.

Pairing: Wolffe & Padawan!OC (entirely platonic)

Warnings: Substantial injuries, violence, blood, panic attacks, fluff, soft!Wolffe, whump cause I like torturing my characters.

A/N: So this was originally going to be part of a whump series that I was going to write and never got around to. I was actually going to post something else with these characters but then I was like...wait. Y'all have no clue who Lexa is so I'm posting this one first.

Some background:

Lexa is Plo Koon's padawan. She's a Twi'lek, around 16 years old when this happens in the timeline. She's a year or two older than Ahsoka, and of course they're like BFFs naturally. Lexa is a shortened version of her name cause she has a traditional Twi'leki name that's very hard for non-native speakers to pronounce so she goes by Lexa. She has light purple skin (Cause I can) with darker purple spots (like think Kit Fisto's spots in the CW show but all over her body) and our girl is tall. Like she almost be looking the clones in the eyes. (I swear I'm going to learn how to draw eventually so I can properly portray my OCs.)

MASTERLIST

Her body aches. 

It’s the first thing she notices when she wakes. 

She feels like she’s been hit by a speeder. Her head is throbbing, something trickling down the side of her face. Her arm is throbbing, a deep painful throb that only means one thing. It’s likely broken. She opens her eyes, fear beginning to well inside her. 

She can’t see. 

She presses her hand to her face, not feeling anything covering it. She still can’t see anything. She reaches for her hip, feeling along her side until she hits her belt. She trails her fingers along it until she hits metal. She breaths a short sigh of relief, wrapping her hand around her lightsaber. She ignites it, glad to see its familiar green glow in the light of the cave. 

It is a cave she’s in. She can’t see anything but darkness above her. No sign of daylight. The only other explanation could be that it’s nighttime, but she doesn’t think she’s been unconscious that long. 

It had been morning when they’d attacked. 

They were trying to prevent a droid battalion from setting up a base on this remote planet. If they got their communication tower online, it would cut off one half the Republic Army from the other. 

Master Plo and Master Skywalker had taken half the army one way, and she and Ahsoka had led the other half the other way. Things had looked like they were going well, until something had caused the ground to shake and it had opened practically under her and Ahsoka’s feet. 

Ahsoka. 

She pushes herself to stand, breathing through the pain. She does a quick scan with the force, feeling every bruise, nick, and cut. Her left arm is broken, likely from her landing. She disengages her lightsaber, engaging the com in her vambrace. 

“Master Plo?” Her voice is weak and shaky, her heart thrumming in her chest. 

Nothing but static. 

She tries again, getting the same result. 

Had their mission failed and the droids powered up the communication tower? Or had the fall damaged her comm? It was possible, as she had landed on her left side. 

Ahsoka was her only hope, that her comm was still working. 

“Ahsoka?” She calls into the darkness, hearing nothing but her own voice echoing. 

She reaches out with the force, feeling for Ahsoka as she shines her lightsaber along the ground. She shouldn’t be too far. They were close enough they both were swallowed up by the crack in the ground. 

She feels something, a weak pulse in the force a few feet ahead of her. She moves carefully, not wanting to trip over any rocks. That must be why she hurts. The ground is very uneven with many large rocks sticking out. 

The air leaves her lungs when she finds Ahsoka. 

She’s fallen on a small pile of rocks, her body bent over the beak. She’s still, having been knocked unconscious in the fall. For a moment Lexa thinks she’s dead, but she can feel the weak force signature still. She can heal her. Lexa was always good at using the Force to heal. 

First, she needs to get her down though. 

Lexa’s left arm is throbbing painfully. She’d need to fix that before she can help Ahsoka. She focuses the force, knitting the bone back together. She nearly passes out when she’s done, both from the pain and the exertion. She forces herself onward, though, knowing she needs to help Ahsoka. 

She uses the force, carefully lifting her body from the rocks, lowering her down to the small divot where she’s standing. She kneels next to Ahsoka, looking over her with the light of her saber. She doesn’t look hurt, but she knows she could be fatally wounded internally. 

She grabs Ahsoka’s comm, calling out to her master once more. 

Again, nothing but static. 

“Master Skywalker?” She tries, getting nothing but static again. “Wolffe?” She whimpers, panic beginning to settle in as realization dawns on her. “Captain Rex?” 

Nothing but static. 

Tears run down her cheeks as she begins to panic. She tugs at her lekku, a nervous habit she had yet to break. They’re entirely alone in this huge cavern with no discernable way out, and no way of contacting anyone. They at least knew they were missing above. Someone had to see them fall. This cave system could be huge. How were they going to find them? 

She’s hyperventilating, losing herself to her panic as she shines her lightsaber in both directions. The light disappears into darkness both ways. Which way would she even go? She can’t carry Ahsoka. 

She curses, slamming her fist against one of the rocks. 

She needs to get a hold of herself. 

First she needs to check Ahsoka, and try to heal as much as she can. Then she can worry about trying to find a way out. She’s not going to let Ahsoka die. Ahsoka is like a sister to her, and she’s not going to let anything happen to her. She had promised Master Plo. 

Lexa closes her eyes, taking deep breaths. She centers herself in the force, pushing down the fear and the panic threatening to take over. She can do this. She can be stronger than her fear. 

She puts a hand on Ahsoka’s stomach, focusing the force through her. She holds on as long as she can, healing as much as she can. 

She nearly blacks out, her body falling limp from exhaustion. There’s a headache thumping in her forehead, slowly getting stronger. She’s overdone it, but at least Ahsoka won’t die from her injuries. 

She wraps an arm around the young Togruta, pulling her close. She needs a nap. Just a short one. Maybe she’d wake up and they’d be rescued already. 

**

She wakes in the cave. It’s cold, her body already shivering. She curses, scooting closer to Ahsoka. She wraps her arms around the Togruta, holding her close to try and share any warmth they have left. She reaches for the comm, calling out again but once more, there’s nothing but static. 

She grabs her lightsaber, igniting it. The ground glitters with frost, her breath visible in the darkness, and so is Ahsoka’s. She’s shivering as well. It’s cold. Very cold. It must be night now, or at least close to it. She doesn’t want to think about it getting colder. Neither of them will make it. 

Lexa closes her eyes, reaching out in the force, trying to feel anything that might be close. She doesn’t get far, already feeling the exhaustion pulling at her once more. She can’t exhaust herself completely. Ahsoka needs her, and she couldn’t possibly get them out of here if she’s too exhausted to move. 

Lexa forces herself awake, trying to keep them from freezing to death, too. 

It’s a long and miserable night. 

Lexa is starting to feel the effects of her hunger and thirst by morning. She hasn’t eaten in almost a full day, and she’s beginning to feel it. Expending her energy using the force isn’t helping either, but she has to keep healing Ahsoka. Even if it’s foolish, she refuses to let her die when there is a chance. 

She also continues trying to reach someone on the comms, but she has no luck. 

Until that luck changes. 

It’s a garbled signal, barely audible but she hears it. 

“Master Plo?” She asks, listening to the static. 

More broken voices. It’s not her master. Those are clone voices. 

“Wolffe?” She asks. “Anyone? Can you hear me?” 

It’s quiet for a few moments and she rises to her feet. Maybe if she moved somewhere else in the cave, she’d get a better signal. 

She uses her lightsaber as she walks, pausing every time she hears a sound other than static from the comm. 

“Ahsoka, come in.” 

Master Skywalker. She’s never been so happy to hear another voice, pressing the button on the comm to reply when something swoops down out of the sky, hitting her. The comm link drops from her hand, her body falling back against the rocks. 

She gasps as the air is knocked from her lungs, the attack taking her by surprise. She pushes herself to her feet, shining her lightsaber to try and see what it was. Something swoops at her again, but she ducks just barely getting grazed by it. Whatever it is, it’s very big. 

She’s panicking again. What if there’s more than one? What if they find Ahsoka? Why were they now just attacking? 

She doesn't see it until it’s right on her, talons sinking into her chest as she’s lifted off her feet. She just manages to hold onto her lightsaber as she’s lifted into the air. She can feel skin tearing as the creature holds onto her, blood soaking her robes. She swings her lightsaber at it, catching one of its wings. It hisses out a horrible scream and she readjusts, slicing its feet with her saber. 

It’s a good move, until she’s falling. 

She braces herself for impact once more, only to hit water. It’s shockingly cold, almost stealing the breath from her lungs. She pushes herself to the surface, choking in a breath. Something glides along the water and she ducks down, holding herself under as the creature passes overhead. She keeps herself under until her lungs scream, pushing herself to the top. 

She takes in a big gulp of air, looking around. There’s no sign of the creature. She hopes it’s not because it’s found Ahsoka. 

She drags herself out of the water. She’s shivering, the water icy cold. She’s not going to survive another night with wet clothes. 

She also doesn’t know where Ahsoka is. 

“Help!” She screams, uncaring if it draws the creature, or more of them to her. She’s desperate. She’s lost Ahsoka, she’s soaking wet, and she's going to freeze to death. They both were, if she doesn’t get help. 

She continues screaming until her voice is hoarse, walking around the cavern in the direction she thinks Ahsoka is. She finally finds her again, dropping to her knees on the rocks. This is it. She’s going to die. They both are. She’s failed Ahsoka, and she’s failed her master. 

There’s a loud sound from somewhere above, rocks falling from the roof, clattering on the ground. Bright light suddenly fills the cavern, Lexa holding her arm up at the painful intrusion. 

“Help!” She screams again, putting everything she can into it. She falls back, nearly crying as clone troopers begin dropping into the hole using jetpacks. “We did it.” She breathes, huddling next to Ahsoka. “We’re saved.”

She does begin crying as Wolffe runs up to her, falling to his knees next to her. 

“Wolffe.” She whimpers, squeezing her eyes closed as his fingers prod at the wounds on her chest.

“Easy, ad’ika.” He says, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get you two out of here.” 

****

Lexa can’t sleep. She’d been freed from the med bay a few hours ago. Ahsoka was alright, making a full recovery thanks to her. Master Skywalker had already expressed his gratitude for what Lexa had done. Master Plo was proud of her and her bravery, even if she didn’t quite feel like she deserved it. 

She wanders the halls, something she does when she can’t sleep. She’d tried meditating already, but her mind is loud with memories of the last couple days. She holds the ends of her lekku in her hands as she walks, tugging on them absentmindedly. It’s a bad habit, it really is, but she’s never been able to break it. 

She nearly walks into a body, a hand reaching out to steady her. She blinks up at Wolffe, meeting the Commander’s naturally stern stare. It softens just a bit as he looks at her, his hand falling from her shoulder. “Sorry, Wolffe.” She says, dropping her hands from her lekku. 

“Careful, ad’ika.” He says. “You just got out of the med bay. Hate to see you have to go back.” 

She makes a face, scrunching her nose. “I hate that place. It smells bad.” 

A small smile tugs at the corners of Wolffe’s mouth. “What are you doing up so late?” 

“Just walking.” She answers simply. 

“Just walking.” He repeats, raising his eyebrows. He’s known her long enough to know when she’s hiding something. She’s good at hiding her emotions from her voice and her words, but her body language gave everything away if you knew what to look for. The subtle shake of her lekku, the little frown pinched between her brows, the tenseness in her shoulders, the way her hands can’t stay still. Wolffe can read her like a holonovel. 

“Well, it’s been a long couple days...” She shrugs, avoiding his gaze. Another sign something’s up. “Lots to think about.” 

“It has been a long couple days.” He says. “You should be resting.”

“Easier said than done.” She murmurs. 

“Come on.” He puts a hand on her back, starting to walk her back towards the barracks. 

It’s no secret within the 104th that the stern Commander is soft for the Pack’s so-called Wolf Pup. She’d wormed her way into their ranks and their hearts not long after the General allowed her to accompany them on missions. She already knew some of their names, and the others she learned quickly. She’s just as kind and caring as her master, and was not afraid to jump in to save one of them on the battlefield if she could. 

The boys loved their little pup as much as they loved their General. The absolute fear they’d felt when they’d been helpless to watch both her and Ahsoka disappear during the earthquake. Boost had been smart to mark the area as they marched on, forced to leave the two padawans behind. They had to get to the base before it could begin broadcasting, and that meant leaving the two padawans and hope they survived long enough for them to return. 

Wolffe had been terrified of what they might find when they finally broke through the thick crust of the planet. It was a long drop into the cave, and he’d thought the worst until he’d heard her screaming. It had broken his heart, how scared she looked, how much blood she had been covered in. Both padawans had lived, thanks to his little pup’s bravery and determination. 

He steers her towards his own barracks, her mind so distracted she doesn’t even notice until the door opens. He’s glad the others are still mostly dressed, not having thought that through very well. He nudges her inside, the others greeting her. Boost and Sinker squish her between them in a hug, their normal greeting for her outside of more formal instances. 

Her muffled voice sounds from between them and they release her, letting her take a deep breath in. The others greet her, despite having seen her only a couple hours ago upon her release from the med bay. 

“Boys,” Wolffe addresses them, setting his helmet on someone’s bed. “I think our ad’ika needs a cuddle pile.” 

They share looks before they all begin moving, grabbing blankets and pillows. Wolffe steers Lexa to the open space against the far wall, sitting down on the floor. He catches a pillow tossed at him, setting it in his lap before tugging her down. She rests her head against the pillow, the others arranging blankets and pillows around them. They all settle in, surrounding their pup with warmth and comfort. 

Wolffe gently massages the space between her lekku, her body practically melting into the floor. He’s not good with comforting words, not like the General, but he can offer her this kind of comfort. Remind her she’s not alone, that they would always be there for her. They would never leave her behind, no matter the odds. He can imagine the kind of fear she had felt, and he hates he couldn’t be there to protect her from it. 

All he can do now is remind her that it’s over, that she’s tucked in safely with her pack.

Taglist: (I know more of you have asked to be on my everything taglist but I was dumb and forgot to mark people so if I have forgotten you please let me know 🫣)

@bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @rosechi

#star wars #star wars fic #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #wolffe & OC #platonic clones #commander wolffe #plo koon #padawan!OC

[zorlok-if]

Hi everybody,

It's been a while. Sorry that I've been gone so long without explanation or communication, I've been in a bad place. For more info check under the cut. Otherwise, hello! I'm alive and so is this project. Progress has been stalled and will continue to be stalled because this is a hobby and I have to focus on priorities. That doesn't mean that it's dead. I still intend to release everything when I can. I appreciate your support and interest.

Hope you're all well! 😊

Albie

(cw: discussion of bad mental health, anxiety, and depression; school shooting mention)

Okay, hello! Welcome to the rest of this post.

Basically, I've been in a bad mental place for a long time and have a lot of issues that I've left unaddressed or festering—most of which tie back to depression, anxiety, fear, and self-loathing.

To start, I wasn't able to graduate this past winter because I fell one class short of my requirements. That really sent me into a spiral and put a strain on my interpersonal relationships.

Then I tried to take that last class this spring but fear related to recent school shootings exacerbated and activated some bad ND habits and I won't be able to complete this course. That means I still won't be able to graduate until I find some online equivalent or professor who will allow me to remain fully remote.

Around the time I found out I wouldn't be graduating, I also got some really cruel anon hate which added onto how I was already feeling and made me hesitant to put anything else out online.

Other things have happened: family stuff, work stuff, health stuff, sociopolitical stuff, etc. (I don't want to go into details with some and won't burden you with the rest). But, essentially, I found myself at a darker place than normal. I withdrew into myself and have been stewing in crippling self-loathing while wearing a convincing smile in my everyday life. (being really honest with this stuff so that if anyone else is going through/experienced something like this they can know they're not alone)

Fortunately, I was able to get away for a bit and spent some time with loved ones I rarely get to see. I've also made a few irl friends recently and feel like I'm coming back out of my shell and starting to heal after traumatic events and relationships. For the first time in a long time, I feel invigorated. I mean, I still feel like stinking trash, but garbage with a will to live and better itself.

As of right now, I'm moving out and finding more work so I can better support myself financially.

If you've read all this going, where's the Zorlok/(other game) update? Here you go: I've been working on Zorlok somewhat, but in the situation/place where I was at, found myself unable to justify dedicating a lot of time to writing and struggling to feel confident about what I was creating when I actually did sit down to do so. This project is in no way dead and I want to work on it and release games more than anything, but I owe it to myself and other people in my life to keep my priorities in check.

This is a hobby and in the past I dedicated time to it when I should've been doing other things. As long as this is a hobby, I can no longer take time away from my priorities to do something I just want to do (no matter how badly I want to do it). So, that's where we're at. I'm continuing to focus on critical things and stop feeling like a jerk for doing that. I know that this might disappoint some people, but that's how things are right now.

If you want to know more about where things are literally at: I'm close to finishing a heavily updated and expanded prologue but episode one has been undergoing changes. I feel pretty shit about myself and that's seeped into my view on what I create which is in turn stalling my ability to make meaningful progress that I don't immediately want to destroy. I've worked on potential Patreon content (including an exclusive game and a Creating Goncharov director's cut), made a Twine template and tutorial, and made progress on updates for Mousetrap and System Processing. I've avoided making changes to the Zorlok page (and my other itch.io pages) these past few months since I don't want people getting their hopes up seeing some sort of "update" from itch.io—only for that update to be "there's no game update yet." That's why those are still out of date, but I'll be fixing them as soon as I can.

So, that's where we are. I wish that I had way more to talk about and release, but that's not been a possibility and I'm just going to be upfront and honest—even if I am disappointed and somewhat afraid and ashamed to admit it. (that's it for the game updates, the rest just gets back to personal)

In general, I've always struggled with shame and fear and those are the main culprits for why I've been radio silent until now. I couldn't find a way to address these topics or talk about them without my odious inner critic getting triggered and shutting me down. However, I'm trying my best to not listen to that asshole because this (*gestures at everything*) must stop.

To be honest, I'm not content with prolonged existence anymore. I want to live—and that's more than I've been able to say for a long time. To be perfectly honest, for the past decade or so I've lived simply because others wanted me around, not because I wanted to be here. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of indifference being my best hope for how I feel about myself. I'm tired of forcing an apathetic soul to drag my flesh through the muck of living. I don't expect what I experience to improve, in fact things will definitely be getting tougher, but I want to change how I experience it. I want to actively live rather than passively slip by. I want to answer questions like "what do you want to do with your life?" and "what are your plans?" with more than vague shrugs and dead-hearted replies meant to brush people off the topic of the future. I want to stop passing through life as a ghost.

I'm still trying to find the motivation, purpose, or courage to genuinely live for myself instead of existing for other people. I still haven't found my "spark"—that properly and blissfully selfish reason to live—but I think wanting to search is a good start.

Anyways, I'll be around more and I'll be more honest with where I am and what's going on. It's my personal mission to deny fear's control over my life and actions. Part of that means allowing myself to be more open with people even if I'm afraid of judgment or negativity.

Excluding a few outliers, you've all been exceptionally kind and encouraging. I'm always overwhelmed and astonished with the support that's been shown to me and my creative projects and I appreciate you all. Thank you so much. Thank you for reading through this. Thank you for caring. You're part of why I'm around.

I hope that you're having a lovely day/night/et cetera and if you aren't, you're not alone ❤️.

I'll see you around. 😊 Thanks again,

Albie

#hi #albie's corner #update #but not a game update #sorry #just a general update #personal

[dissociacrip]

some ways that congenital hypotonia affects me personally in my everyday life

disclaimer: this is a "i want to see hypotonia talked about more"/vent-post adjacent thing rather than something that should be used as some kind of diagnostic reference. hypotonia is more of a symptom than a condition on its own & is associated with a wide variety of diagnoses, i personally don't have a label or explanation for what i experience other than "congenital hypotonia" (and my case is not "self-diagnosed," this was identified when i was still a child.)

generalized hypermobility and painful joint instability either caused by hypotonia or at least contributed to by it if not; no frequent dislocations but joints still tracking badly (especially my knees) and causing pain, ankle instability once gave me an injury

related to above, knees have occasionally buckled/threatened to give out, usually when i'm tired or when i've stood from a sitting position in a chair

unfixable bad posture putting unnecessary strain on a lot of things (reason why my hamstring muscles are so tight)

sitting or standing up easily causing fatigue and pain unless something else is adquately supporting my body (normal chairs usually don't suffice because that still requires adequate posture)

related to above, persistent need to lean on things for support; this is the primary reason why i own a cane

staying in bed a lot due to the above because it's the only time my body doesn't have to support itself

tendency to drool, usually when laying down

dysphagia (things feel "stuck" in my throat a lot, swallowing capsules is becoming more and more uncomfortable), aspirating food/water, acid reflux making these issues worse

may or may not be part of the reason i'm a bit of a loud breather

sometimes chewing hurts or is tiring (or talking)

related to above, mild speech issues mainly affecting articulation (e.g. mouth making a "v" sound rather than "th" sometimes), makes speech physically feel weird or forced, or something even painful; sometimes "talking out of the side of my mouth"

poor grip = poor handwriting, also often makes writing or gripping things painful, including holding/typing on my phone

related to above, makes drawing hard because i don't have proper grip/as much control over my hands as i should

doesn't happen too often but almost randomly losing my balance; i'll just be standing minding my own business and then i'll start tipping over

related to above, can't just stand still and be still, i start tipping in different directions and i think i've subconsciously learned to counteract this when i'n required to stand in place

walking/moving slowly because it feels like my muscles don't have the capacity to move any faster, even if i'm not really "tired" per-se (decreased state of readiness for movement)

have a very hard time holding my head up spine even remotely straight when i am actually tired/worn out

legs/arms start shaking if i hold them out against gravity

also, legs shake if i sit on the floor/a flat surface with my knees bent upward, or arms quickly start to give out if i lay on my stomach and prop myself up on my elbows

walking feels awkward/uncomfortable and wrong most of the time; anything wrong with my gait is probably only recognizable to a PT or someone else who knows what they're looking for, but things just feel too loose/floppy when i walk; probably the reason why i'm prone to tripping and accidentally kicking stuff (POTS-induced ataxia - or w/e it is - makes this much worse)

also probably contributes to constipation and maybe other digestive problems

there's probably more but that's all i can think of for now. this is not universal hypotonia experience as hypotonia is a symptom that varies in its severity and my case seems fairly mild, but i thought i'd talk a little bit about what it's like since it's an under-discussed thing (especially pertaining to disabled adulthood.)

this is okay to reblog.

#hypotonia #cripplepunk #cpunk #physical disability #actually disabled #j #body log #tagging for exposure.

[jflemings]

Prompt 82 w Cortnee vine xx

— cruel summer

prompt: 82 “i’m fine” from this post

a/n: i hope this is okay 🙃 it’s not my best but i gave it a go

“are you sure?” she asks worriedly

you look at her with annoyance before your face softens. her eyes are showing you nothing but genuine concern “yes, cort, i’m fine” you reassure for the fifth time that morning.

she hums and turns her back to you so she can continue to fold her laundry whilst you sit on her couch flicking through different streaming apps trying to find something to watch. the truth was that you weren’t fine. you were starting to regret coming over but you didn’t have the guts to get up and leave yet.

you didn’t think that sneaking around behind your teammate’s back was going to be that difficult, but you had been proven wrong when the girls came back home for christmas. a few of you had gone out for breakfast and caitlin, who really didn’t know any better, had not so subtly pointed out the hickey on cort’s neck. cortnee had flushed red and stammered through an explanation, claiming that it was from no one important and that it was just a one time thing.

your heart had sunk and from that moment on you kept relatively quiet, even on the drive back to cortnee’s. you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it because the two of you agreed that it was better to keep it from the team for now.

your mind was starting to change about that decision.

you give up on trying to find something to watch, putting the remote down and standing up just as you gain your nerve. you grab your purse off the coffee table and sigh “i’m gonna go” you say, trying to be as confident as you can.

she looks over her shoulder at you with a quirked brow before shrugging “okay. text me later?” she asks, returning back to her laundry that was apparently more interesting than you.

you hummed and swiftly made your way out of her apartment, letting out a heavy breath when you hear the door click close. you begin to walk down the hallway to the elevator thinking over your relationship. cortnee had been worried about all the media attention after the world cup, but your teammates weren’t the media. they were your family, and you told some of those girls almost everything about you and your life.

as the elevator rings and you walk through the foyer of the building you can’t help but feel defeat. you didn’t want to keep secrets just to keep her and you knew how you felt; it wasn’t fair to you to continue to do this. you understood at first but now it seemed pointless to you. people were assuming things anyway, and after caitlin’s comment you knew that at least half the team would be aware about it by the end of the week.

the australian december sun beams down on you as you get to your car, making you flinch back when you touch the door handle. you open the door and stand there momentarily preparing for burn you’re about to feel from the scorching leather seat, groaning when you realise that the pool at your building was closed for repairs this week.

you throw your head back and slide i to the driver’s seat as best you can, not noticing the notifications you get from your phone until you plug it into the aux.

cortnee 🤍

we should tell the team

if u want

but i want to

a wide smile overtakes your face as you press play on your summertime playlist and throw your phone in the cup holder before driving off, singing along to whatever songs come and go. it’s definitely the best you’ve felt all week, especially after this morning, and you can’t wait until you can finally, and proudly, call cortnee yours.

#pegs writes #pegs woso #pegs tillies #woso imagine #woso blurb #woso fic #woso x reader #cortnee vine #cortnee vine x reader #cortnee vine fic #cortnee vine imagine #cortnee vine blurb

[seresinhangmanjake]

Less Misery, More Company

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake has feelings for you but you don’t believe it, so you play a little trick to get back at him for all of his flirtatious teasing. But that little trick fails miserably, and as the weight of your mistake settles in, you realize you owe him an explanation, one that requires you to admit some things you’ve long denied.

Warnings/Notes: fluff, implied smut, slight angst, implied past masturbation, mentions of alcohol, cursing, flirty Jake, spelling mistakes i’m sure.

So my life kind of fell apart over the last month and I have written very little. I finally got back to it but I’m still trying to get back into my writer’s flow. This is not my best work, at least from my point of view, but I did my best under the circumstances, so I hope some of you like it anyway. I’m actually very nervous to post this. Like heart-pounding nervous. 

To those who made requests, I finally have a bit of time to start tackling them again so thank you for being patient.

Words: 3706

Requested: Yes

“You really want me to be miserable, don’t you, sweetheart?”

That not-so-simple question threw a hefty wrench in your so-far very peaceful day.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be one hundred percent pissed off about it. There was something irritatingly melodic about the way Jake Seresin spoke. His voice was neither too hard nor too soft; pitch neither too high nor too low. His words strung together in such a seamless way that you couldn’t help but be drawn in. His voice was a call to beckon you closer, with defining notes you could pick up on if in relatively the same space as you. But that didn’t mean you found him any less annoying than he consistently proved himself to be, and his question, which threw the pebble that cracked your expert concentration, only solidified that.

You didn’t look up from the tenth lime you were cutting into wedges from behind the bar as he waited patiently for your response. You only sighed, accepting that your last few moments of peace before the bar’s doors opened were going to be snatched up by the blond pilot.  

“Hangma—”

“No, no, I get it,” he leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the bar top directly in front of you, “everyone loves when a hot guy suffers; puts us in our place and reminds the world we’re just like everybody else.”

Your eyes rolled before you could hold back the reaction, but you could see his smile in your peripherals, it bright and unnaturally mesmerizing. Which was exactly why you didn’t glance up. That smile had been a problem from the very second he first flashed it your way. Your knees had nearly buckled that night, heartbeat sputtering uncomfortably behind the wall of your chest. But that feeling immediately defused when he flashed it again at the next nearest woman.

“You don’t have to keep turning me down to make a point, gorgeous.”

Blowing out a deep breath, you grabbed another lime and began slicing. “Wow.”

As if he couldn’t pick up on your obvious distaste for the conversation, he continued. “So, what was it, huh? What brought about this general hostility towards ridiculously attractive men? Did the buff, popular boy ignore the awkward, little wallflower in high school?” His eyes narrowed. “Are you using me as a stand-in to get back at him in sort of twisted, subconscious way?”

You looked up, and you could instantly see his satisfaction at getting you to finally pay him an ounce of attention. “That’s not even remotely close to accurate.”

“Then why not just go out with me? If you do, I’ll make sure to broadcast that you made me work for it and had me on my knees before you agreed. So, you know,” he smirked and lightly slapped the top of bar as he straightened his spine, “everybody wins.”

That forced you to put your knife down, knowing very well that not doing so would have likely placed you in a prison cell for a good long while. “How exactly does everybody win?”

He gave you a look that said nothing short of I’m so glad you asked before he said, “Well, I get to be with you and you get to tell people I’m a beggar and not nearly as charming as I think I am, even though we both know that’s not true.”

“Those are not equal in value. Why would I willingly go out with you, which heavily requires my emotional investment, when I don’t even have feelings for you?”

“That’s a small detail.”

“Oh, is it?”

“It is when it’s a lie, beautiful,” he said with a smile, “One I’m sure you continuously repeat before you tuck yourself into bed at night as well as when you pour your morning coffee, so that when I walk in here, you don’t slip up from the uncontrollable desire to attack my mouth with yours or rip my clothes off.” Pearly whites continued to shine through curved parted lips. “Either of those I would find acceptable, by the way.”

An irritating shock of panic licked up your spine, traveling throughout your limbs before it settled. His words were too perfect, too correct. Within them contained a daydream you’d given up on long ago. But you knew how he was. You weren’t stupid, and having Jake Seresin’s attention on you didn’t turn you so.

Why that attention was on you, why he bothered to look a little harder at the girl behind the bar after the drinks were already in his hands, was beyond you. Out of anyone else, you seemed to be the person he felt the need to annoy. You knew Jake only wanted one thing from you, and you also knew if you allowed him in, you’d get attached. So you learned to keep him at arms-length, trying not to let his teasing get to you.

You were growing tired of it, really, the shameless flirting. Had it been genuine perhaps you would feel different, but this was not that, and day after day he played this game. However, it didn’t go over your head that you could be as sly as he was if you decided to exercise that skill. You could play the teasing game too, so why not?

Filling your hands with the lime wedges, you turned to place them in their clear plastic container. “You know what, Hangman,” you said, securing the lid tight, “you’re right.”

You smiled to yourself and walked around the bar towards him, only stopping when barely a foot stood between you. That unshakable smirk was still perfectly in place, but his eyes held a little less of that confidence. As they scanned over your face you could tell he was quickly trying to understand your next move before you made it.

You brushed your fingers against his in a feather-light touch making each of his long digits twitch in response. Like magnets, when you moved your hand a millimeter away, his followed, chasing. But it was the moment when he attempted to intertwine your fingers that damned him. He wanted more, and you knew you had him wrapped around your pinky.

A sweet sigh passed your lips as you leaned into him, chests matching from the rise and fall of inhales and exhales, body heats forming a warm haze around you both. Other than your playful fingertips, no other part of your skin connected with his, despite his clear desire to have it be otherwise.

“I am so…desperate for you,” you spoke slowly. His fiery gaze snapped to your lips as you licked them then gently nibbled on the bottom one before releasing it. “You couldn’t even begin to understand what I go through to keep myself in control.”

You dared to run an index finger up the length of his bare forearm, tracing the pulsing vein. Your heartbeat mimicked the rapid thumping under his skin.

His adam's apple bobbed harshly in his throat. “Y/N—”

“Don’t.” You shook your head. “Just listen.”

That finger moved to fiddle with one of the buttons of his shirt, then continued up the line of his neck, along the curve of his jaw, until you reached his mouth. You slowly swiped the pad of your finger over his lips. The heat of his hand echoed at your waist, not quite making it through the fabric of your blouse from him not quite touching you.

“I’ve wanted to tell you how I feel,” you continued, “but I didn’t know if I could. I didn’t think you would take me seriously.” You turned your head away in false shyness before letting the confidence overtake you. “Now though…now I know I can tell you what I want.”

You took your hand away and inched your body to his until the space that lived between you suffocated into nonexistence. Your chin lifted as his face tilted down towards yours.

“Jake, I want…” you swallowed.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

Your lips were so close to his. So close you couldn’t tell how much you would need to move to actually connect them. You could forget your plan now, kiss him if wanted to. He’d never have to know your original intentions.

“I want you to…to…” Your eyelashes fluttered.

His lips parted, ready to accept yours as you planted your hands on his chest, fingers splaying across the span of muscle. One of his palms landed on top of yours.

“…to go fuck yourself,” you said, shoving him hard enough that he stumbled back a bit.

Your laugh bounced around the empty space. You were nearly doubled over, so much in a fit of giggles that you didn’t notice the fallen expression on his face.

“That’s not funny, Y/N.”

“Oh, come on, Hangman. You’re always messing with me.”

“Yea,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck, “sure.”

His voice coated you in discomfort. You’d never heard that tone from him. Cockiness, arrogance, pure sex—that often spilled from his mouth like some creamy, velvety dream, despite whatever irritating words he actually spoke. But pain was what was before you now, unmistakable as it slipped through the narrow space between his downturned lips. It completely froze you through and through, and you couldn’t move to be able to stop him from walking out the front door of the bar.

 -----

“And she finally joins!”

You half-heartedly chuckled at Rooster’s shouting as he raised his glass in the air, amber-colored alcohol sloshing over the rim onto Coyote’s lap, who angrily shoved his tipsy teammate in the shoulder.

Your shift at the bar felt agonizingly long, longer knowing how Jake had reacted to your teasing only hours before. You hoped he would’ve gotten over it by the time you were off and come into the bar with everyone else as always, but as you quickly scanned the area for the blond, you couldn’t deny the disappointment that sank into your gut at his absence.

“Where’s Hangman?” you asked, awkwardly shoving your hands into the back pockets of your jeans.

“Probably trying to glue the pieces of his heart back together.”

Your head shot to Fanboy in time to see Phoenix elbow him hard in the side and mutter some curses that had the man shrinking slightly in his seat.

“What!” You snapped.

Payback took a sip of his beer then said, “You did a real number on him, sweetheart. We don’t know what you said, but whatever it was, it hit him where it hurt.”

Your jaw slackened and you felt your knees go weak. Your ass would have hit the floor had Coyote not pulled out a chair for you to plop down into. Arms overlapping on the table in front of you, you dropped your head to rest on the backs of your stacked wrists, and a groan pushed up your throat and out of your mouth.

“Hon, it’s ok,” Phoenix cooed as she rubbed back and forth across the width of your back. “Hard as it may be for him to accept, you can’t control how you feel.”

Your head rose, eyebrows scrunched in pure confusion. “I don’t get it. I mean…since…when? How long has he felt like this?”

“Well, it’s been a while,” Rooster began, “I mean, I don’t remember the exact night he got hammered and spilled his undying love for you in a drunken slur, but it certainly wasn’t yesterday.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yea. You’re lovely, kid; Smart, funny, beautiful—all that good stuff, but you’re as dense as an overbaked cake.”

Phoenix sighed. “Rooster.”

“I say it with love.”

“You really had no idea?” Coyote asked.

“No!” You let out a huff as you slouched back in your chair. “He hasn’t acted the slightest bit different from the day we met. How was I supposed to know he was serious?”

Even with that justification, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel any better about what had happened between you and Jake earlier. Something about the way he looked before walking out the door only served to reassure you that, despite not knowing how he felt, you were in the wrong here. Even had he only wanted to get you into bed, did that mean your attempt at such a joke was actually humorous in any way? Did you really expect him to shrug it off without an emotional response? Or worse, did you think he would laugh along with you?

Not a single one of those questions had a realistic answer that would satisfy you and curb your guilt.

Your hand ran down your face. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

Bob shrugged his shoulders. “You could talk to him,” he returned, lips around the straw sticking out from his glass soda bottle.

“There’s no way he wants to see me.”

“Of course, he does,” Rooster said, leaning forward. “I mean, he may not admit it to anyone, because, you know, pride and all. But he wants to see you every second of every day. This won’t change that.”

“That can’t be true.”

Coyote snorted and threw an arm around your shoulders. “Honey, we live with him. He says your name eighteen times a day—”

“Minimum,” Phoenix mumbled.

“—And,” Coyote continued, shooting Phoenix a look at the interruption, which she chuckled off, “Not only is he saying your name, but if you’re unlucky enough to walk by his room at night he’s moaning it, too.”

The rest of the team groaned in unison as Coyote smirked at you.

“God, that I am getting sick of,” Payback added, shaking his head.

Fanboy slammed his empty glass down on the table. “Oh, you’re getting sick of it? I’m the one who shares a wall with him!”

Rooster tilted his head side to side in consideration. “That’s fair.”

“True,” Phoenix answered.

Bob snickered. “I forgot about that.”

“Because you’re all the way down the hall, Bobby,” Fanboy snapped.

“Hey, I share his wall, too,” Coyote said, “Although I don’t really hear him anymore. I’ve learned to block it out.” He looked to you and patted your shoulder. “No offense to you of course, sweetheart. I love you as much as the rest of us—well, excluding Hangman. He’s got us all beat there."

 -----

“Which door?”

“That one.” Rooster pointed at one of the gray slabs in the center of the wall on your left. “Now listen here, young lady, you tell anyone—”

“I know, I know,” you held up your hands in mock surrender. “If anyone asks, I’ve never been here before in my life. I got lost somehow. I’m drunk and I stumbled upon this base.”

“Good girl.”

You smiled at the praise and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Thank you, Roose.”

“No problem, kid.”

Then he was gone. Likely back to the bar with the rest of them, as he should be. Your friends’ jobs were no joke, and they needed the break after work. The opportunity to unwind was well owed.

Stepping forward, you took a deep breath. Your fingers anxiously pulled at the hem of your t-shirt, then they curled into a fist and you rose your hand to knock. And knock. And knock again without answer.

“Jake,” you whispered through the barrier keeping you from him. But nothing.

You sighed, leaning your forehead against the door. A piece of you—a sliver, really—wondered what the hell you were doing, why you were bothering when without a doubt in your mind Jake would turn you away, if he spoke a word to you at all. But the rest of you knew exactly why you were here, waiting for any hint or whisper of a sound on the other side of that door.

Suddenly, your weight fell forward, nothing but the dry, thin air to hold you up. Or so you thought, until your body was smacking into a wall of muscle. You cursed as strong arms wrapped around your form.

“What the hell?”

“Jake!”

He stood you up straight. Rough palms cupping your cheeks forced your eyes to meet. He blinked hard a few times, shook his head a little, and blinked again. His index finger and thumb cautiously grabbed a small section of your hair and rubbed it between the pads before brushing those loose strands behind your ear.

“Ok,” he said, a bit of curiosity in his tone, “you’re really here.”

Nodding, you replied, “I’m here.”

Jake stared with suspicion. You couldn’t blame him. Had he shown up at your door an hour before what started the next day you’d have been just as confused, likely a little pissed.

“Can I come in?”

Without response or hesitation, he moved to the side, allowing you to brush against tanned, bare skin before taking in your surroundings. There wasn’t much to the room. Plain furniture, dull lighting, a few books on the nightstand. It was simply there to serve one purpose. But the pale color of the walls and the dark, laminate flooring birthed a chill that a dozen blankets couldn’t shield you from. Jake deserved more. He deserved warmth and a body in his bed to wrap his arms around, and something to call home, which, according to your friends, Jake had sworn he found in you.

You turned and faced him. “Jake, I—”

“How did you get in here?”

Your airway seized at the dryness of his tone. “Um…Rooster,” you squeezed out. A dead beat passed, but receiving no reaction, you continued. “Jake, I’m sorry.”

Large arms crossed in front of a larger chest, a slight pout forming on those lips; a petulant child in the form of the man you were so desperate to have forgive you. “I don’t care.”

“I care.”

“You’re only sorry because you think you hurt me, and your conscience can’t take it. You’re not sorry because you didn’t mean it.”

That deflated any optimism left in your body and you resisted the will of your shoulders slumping. If he truly believed you didn’t care then maybe you were fucked. Maybe you missed your opportunity to not just apologize but to have him as your own the way you knew he had wanted you.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Again, he didn’t respond. He didn’t react anywhere except in the eyes which shown in a quick flash of protest, but it was gone within the half-second, concealed by a practiced expression of military sternness. He clearly wasn’t begging you to stay, but neither was he shoving you out the door. Ok, baby steps.

“I never thought you were serious,” you said, debating whether to take a step toward him, but the fear of him backing further away from you squashed the impulse. “I thought you only wanted to sleep with me.”

“Who says that isn’t the case?”

“Rooster, Fanboy, Payback, Coyote, Phoe—”

He groaned, running his hand down his face. His other hand rested on his hip. “I’m surrounded by fucking traitors. I swear, if I wasn’t forced to work with them—”

You kissed him then, lips meeting in a soft press, because Fuck baby steps.

“Do you love me?” you asked the moment you pulled away for a breath.

His irritation dissipated and he almost looked…shy, though you could hardly believe it. His head turned as if to avoid your stare, then he swallowed hard and nodded.

“Then show me,” you whispered, leaning forward to press your lips to his jawline. You continued those kisses slowly, gently down to his neck. “Show me, Jake.” You licked the words into his skin.

You sensed the slightest hesitation. Brief, but there. Then you sucked a little at sensitive skin and a strangled moan tumbled forth. Vice-like fingers firmly grasped your waist, twisted you in place, and pushed you onto the bed.

 -----

“What do you want from this?” he asked as he ran his fingers through your hair.

Your head rested on his chest, but you rose to look at him, lifting your body with a hand pushing down on his pec. The fingers in your hair moved to your spine in a barely tamed motion, keeping your form against his as if you might be rising to leave his bed. But unless he kicked you out of it, not a chance would you untangle yourself from his sheets.

Y/E/C eyes met his green, both sets of eyebrows scrunching a bit at the center. He had no idea what you would say and you could see it plastered across his face. You hadn’t proven to be trustworthy, and clearly your actions and thoughts didn’t aid in showing how you felt, so with conviction you said, “You.”

He shook his head, brushing his hair back with his free hand. “I meant after tonight.”

“Still you, Jake.”

“How?”

“Huh?”

“In what way?”

Rapid-fire questions. Not everyone’s favorite type of interrogation, or no, not interrogation you realized, drilling. He was drilling you like a sergeant with a softer voice, but you supposed it was fair enough.

Leaning down, you kissed him, your hand resting on his cheek, his holding onto the back of your head. Jake had told you he loved you, five times by your count while he had been inside of you, perhaps more, but every thrust—sharp, deep, shallow, or soft—fuzzed your brain far too much to remember accurately. From that, you knew the truth. Despite the twisted game you played, which, for other men that might have been enough to drop all intentions of a future together, Jake still wanted you, and you were willing to give that man everything.

He chuckled deeply at the little nip you gave his bottom lip, and when you separated he pressed a long kiss to your forehead.

“I’m not going to break your heart, Jake,” you swore. “You’re mine now.”

He reached over and grabbed the back of your thigh to pull over his waist. Your body followed until you were straddling him, your breasts smushed against his chest. As he had when you first stepped into his room, Jake tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear. “I’ve always been yours, honey,” he said.

“And now I’m yours, Jake.”

 tags: @marvel-ousnesss​ @thespeeder​ @nobody7102​ @marrianena​ @fangirlingoverfangirls​ @blue-aconite​ @my-soulmate-is-mycroft​ @dempy​ @chaoticassidy​ @alana4610​ @hotch-meeeeeuppppp​ @dracosluvbot​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @smit41​

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #Jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin top gun #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfic #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman fic #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #top gun #top gun fic #top gun 2 #top gun 2 fic #top gun hangman #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #glen powell #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin angst

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Hello. I've been binge reading your meta post an I loves all of it. I have one question, though I don't know if you had the same question or not. If you had I'm sorry feel free to ignore this but if you hadn't, this is my question. Many people said Adrien as sentimonster is a good plot and the other said it's also good metaphor for abuse children. But what do you think about the senti plot? Is it necessary? And what do you think the writer is trying to achieve with the plot if Adrien doesn't even allowed to know about what he is?

Thank you! I'm glad that you've been enjoying my rambles! I don't think I've touched on those aspects of the sentiplot, so here goes!

Is it Necessary/What's The Goal?

I don't think that the sentiplot is even remotely necessary. My two cents is that it reads like something that was added relatively last-minute in order to add some cheap drama to draw the plot out because they didn't have enough content to organically fill seven seasons. Part of the reason that I'm comfortable saying that is because we've seen the writers do this type of move many times before. I don't wanna get too into the weeds on this, but a good example is the love triangles with Luka and Kagami.

Luka and Kagami are never treated as real alternate love interests. They're just road blocks on the love square highway that allow for seasons three to end on a cliff hanger. The fact that season four opens on two episodes meant to reassure the audience that Lukanette and Adrigami are doomed to fail is proof of this. No one is actually supposed to ship those ships. There's no Team Luka vs Team Adrien. It's just cheap drama.

The other reason that I feel comfortable calling the sentiplot cheap shoehorned drama is because the sentiplot has no teeth. A big reason why I refused to believe that it was going to be a thing was because it's an extremely serious plot that has no place in a Y-7 show. The wielder of raw destruction can have his free will overwritten at any time! The show has made jewelry theft a common teenage past time! This is bad!

And yet, once it's introduced, it goes nowhere. Gabe gives the most lackluster commands humanly possible and Nathalie undoes every one of them before they have a chance to meaningfully impact the plot. The biggest fallout of the sentiplot was that the Adrienette kiss got delayed a bit. How terrifying.

If the sentiplot had the weight it deserved, then it would have destroyed Adrientte in a big, dramatic fashion. Gabriel would have commanded Adrien to date Kagami and Tomoe would have done the same for Kagami re Adrien. But that's too serious, so we don't even get Gabe telling Adrien to break up with Marinette. He just tells Adrien to not see her and Marinette never has any clue that something went wrong there because Nathalie undoes the command two minutes later.

The Sentiplot's and Emilie

You may have read the previous section and thought, "But wait, doesn't the sentiplot give an explanation for why Emilie used the peacock? Didn't we need that?"

No, we didn't. Felix's little play and Gabe's memory of the night they used the peacock both heavily imply that no one knew that the peacock would kill you. It's why Felix exists! His father did not willingly give his life to have a kid and neither did Emilie. It was an unknown side effect.

Imo, it would have actually been better if Emilie hadn't used the peacock for such obviously selfish reasons. I mean, is anyone really saying, "Oh no, the rich lady used forbidden magic (and possibly killed some people?) to get a designer baby, then faced unexpected consequences! How awful for her! She didn't deserve that!"

Wouldn't it have been a far more interesting and complex story if Emilie used the peacock because she wanted to help someone else? If she was an unambiguously good person who suffered for doing the right thing or even just a morally gray thing? Wouldn't that make Gabriel's quest feel more righteous and less like a temper tantrum by a rich, entitled white guy who used his wealth in a morally dubious manner and paid for it?

The Sentiplot as an Abuse Metephor

I don't think that the writers meant for the sentiplot to be an abuse metaphor. In fact, I sincerely hope they didn't because it's a terrible one! Or, at least, a depressing one.

Abuse - especially childhood abuse - is something that sticks with us. A lot of victims will be forever scared by what they went through. But just because they bare scares doesn't mean that they're trapped by their abuse and can never break free. This is true even if the abuse caused mental health issues like PTSD or CPTSD, conditions that can never be cured because you know what they can be? Controlled and mitigated to the point where the victim is no longer ruled by their condition.

There's also the fact that abuse victims - especially child abuse victims - can and often do reach a point where their abusers no longer have any power over them. I have personally seen a child abuse victim go thought the process of realizing that their parent is just another adult now. All the power that the parent once held is gone. The child doesn't depend on them for food and shelter anymore. If the abuse starts up again, then the child can just get up and walk away.

That's not true for a sentimonster. Sentimonsters don't grow up and get more agency/power. At any point, their abuser can get ahold of their amok and override their free will, taking away the sentimonster's freedom even if the sentimonster is on another continent! There is no means of true escape.

No abuse victim will ever be that powerless. Abuse victims can escape abuse and they do have true free will. Sentimonsters will always be sentimonsters.

Is the Sentiplot Good?

No. It's too serious for a kids show. In fact, now that it's canon, here's my two cents: all of the sentikids are massive liabilities to the team who need to give up their miraculouses immediately because they can never be truly trusted. Felix has shown us time and time again how easy it is to steal an amok and replace it with a fake, so we must always assume that the sentikids are compromised because to assume otherwise is to invite the miraculouses to fall into the wrong hands. It's just not worth the risk to trust a senti.

Along the same lines, the love square should never be canon unless Marinette gives up Guardianship because Adrien is a liability to the safety of the miraculouses even if he didn't wield on himself. The only way to get around this issue is to use the wish to make the sentikids human, but Gabe failed to even do that one kindness for his son, so here we are. Season six will either drive this point home by having Lila use the amoks to mess with Adrien or it will drop the sentiplot forever, proving just how cheap and poorly thought out it was.

Other issues I think I've already addressed in other posts, but that are still a problem that make the plot bad:

a sentimonster's creator defines the sentimonster's worth, thus there being no issue with Felix making sentimonsters and then killing them or the heroes destroying them, but it would somehow be wrong if we did the same thing to any of the sentikids

any command you give a sentimonster can be overwritten and sentimonsters can't resist even if they know they're being controlled, so there's truly no hope to free them

giving your leading lady anxiety issues and a boyfriend whose free will is constantly in jeopardy is cruel and unusual punishment

an insane number of lore issues like why is it impossible to destroy other sentimonsters, but Adrien can be destroyed in akuma fights? Cataclysms are pure destruction! It makes no sense that akumas can do what a cataclysm can't. And is Adrien able to die a natural death? What happens to his amok when he does? Will his children be able to be controlled by his amok too since they're part of him?

the lore around Gabe & Emilie finding the miraculous makes no sense and should not be possible. That's another rant, though.

#senti salt #ml writing salt #ml writing critical #ml season 5 salt #adrien deserves better #this plot is only suited to an angsty or bittersweet ending #I don't know how you can hope for a happy ending when Adrien is forever a slave