#look i hope people are as emotionally damaged by this as i was making it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sootsz · 1 year

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qsmp has accidentally stumbled into a psychology experiment that would make the stanford prison experiment sob in fear. they’ve gotten a bunch of cc’s, and tens of thousands of viewers, to be deeply emotionally connected to pixel eggs. in doing so they’ve presented a problem:

how the fuck do you get outta this

the eggs were obviously never intended to be permanent (logging on every day to do tasks isn’t feasible to upkeep forever) and they were even given a vague limit of When Mama Dragon Comes Back (and then, of course, the “6 days til they die” thing). now you’ve made it so quackity (and his team) have a big ol dilemma, where two things are true: 1) they can’t keep the eggs forever since it’s not sustainable 2) you can’t take away the eggs without, oopsies, emotionally damaging your friends that you invited to have fun on your server.

turns out, when you give a group of humans all their own fully-realized individual who presents as a (weak, vulnerable) child that is in need of care from them, whatever instinct has kept us alive for generations goes “!!!!!” which is both really cool and compassionate, but also kinda concerning!

because, well: not sustainable! and if the eggs aren’t sustainable, what’s the alternative? killing them?? no! just look at jaiden’s reaction to bobby “losing” a life, even when it wasn’t his last one. or bad’s genuinely heart wrenching reaction to dapper losing a life. or how quiet and angry phil got after chayanne and tallulah had a “nightmare,” before it was resolved. that’s not acting. that’s real. what the hell will they do if the eggs actually die? from what i see, the cc’s are taking the “6 days til death” thing as something that’s avoidable. a threat that can be overcome. and for their sake, i hope it is.

ever played a dnd game where you actually feel insulted bc of smth someone’s pc did? yeah. that x20 because there’s SO much overlap between “streamer persona” and “literally just who they are”. and this level of roleplay character bleeding is cool, but i hope the eggs are handled carefully, or all those involved might end up actually hurt.

there’s also the whole added element of fans, many of whom only tune into the streams for egg content. the plot is very egg-centric. the roleplaying and characterization that the cc’s are doing is all centered around the eggs in one way or another. it’s been going on for a month, but it does not feel at all resolved, and plot-wise it would completely mess up so many plot threads happening if the eggs were all to go (charlie’s unresolved deal with lil j, quackity’s goal to bond with tallulah, the trial, etc etc) so if you take away the eggs, you risk messing up the whole vibe they’ve got going on, and facing backlash from fans who are also emotionally compromised by pixel eggs

we inherently want to protect the cute and vulnerable, and by god are these eggs cute and so very fragile. (then, there’s another layer of people’s own issues that they project onto the eggs. be it desire for paternity, some kind of maternal instinct, or, even in the matter of chayanne, using chayanne as a sort of way to cope with loss by making connections between chayanne and technoblade. which is beautiful and very sweet but would give chayanne dying some additional emotionally charged elements which i think should be avoided at all costs). there’s a reason that movies and other media generally do not kill named children characters—audiences really hate it. it’s taboo for good reason.

which leads us to

schrodinger’s egg: until sunday, they r both alive and dead. and this is both good and bad. god help us all

#please handle it carefully please handle it carefully please handle it carefully please handle it carefully please handle it carefully pleas #eggs :)#qsmp #quackity #Wilbur soot #tallulah #Philza #Charlie slimecicle #pleaasseeeeee #and this isn’t even touching on how the eggs feel #emotionally connected to somebody #never to talk to them again #having to watch them be sad #knowing it’s because of you #kinda fucked up #badboyhalo #dapper #Jaiden animations

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thatsdemko · 2 months

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better than it was - f1 grid

previous part (secret Santa) | masterlist

pairings: f1 grid x driver!fem!reader | warnings: NOT intended for minors + mentions of fingering (f receiving) + angst(ish)

a/n: the long awaited part 2 is finally here. enjoy!!!

it’s poor behavior to talk about this with Daniel. but he’s the only emotionally intelligent person left on the grid and he’s seemed to pick up your agitations.

“three months? you know, I can check that out for you—“

you place your hands hard against his shoulder and shove him into the wall, “this is not funny! my sex life is not a joke.” you growl in his direction.

Daniel was not the person to consult. he was a talker at heart and a gossiper. he wiggles his way into the drama, and exits before you can even have a last breath.

so leave it to him to reorganize the secret Santa cards and perfectly place your name into his hands. the two people under a serious dry spell that could make the desert laughable.

“so he set us up?” you stare blankly into the ocean blue eyes in front of you. his pink plump lips are covered in salt from the rim of his margarita.

“I didn’t know until last week. Lando talks too you know?”

lando. all night you’d consulted in him and he was riding right along on this plan. he knew for a fact he’d show up, even when you doubted. every time you pondered the hand writing or the meaning of the gift, lando stood right there with a faint smirk and evil laughter track in his head.

“I’m stupid to think you’d actually have the brains to do all this.”

he gasps, sarcastically placing a hand against his chest, “I have you know all the things said in the card were true. I’m offering you a special gift.”

rolling your eyes you take a sip of his margarita and place it back on the coaster, “it’s still no. I can’t have sex with you.”

“with me?” he seems appalled and you know he’s not faking this. there’s nothing wrong with him. he’s absolutely perfect, and the rumors that circle around about him scream fuckboy. so why should you even do it? all it will end up being is bad press.

and if the news ever got out that you two—rivaled drivers to be specific—were having a secret affair? you cannot imagine that no amount of damage control and PR training could save you two from this wreck.

its risky behavior, to be with him right now, but the dim lighting and closed down bar you’re in help hide yourselves to the world.

“you cannot be serious. you don’t know what’s said about you? I’ll have you know, women talk.” you scoff downing the last drops of tequila and sugar before sending the glass at the edge of the table.

“but this is different.” he corrects you, “we can fix each others problems.” he adds hoping to change the look on your face that screams of terror and fear. you know hooking up with him was a bad idea, but why’d it have to feel so good? why’d the sex in the back seat of his car make your body scream in ways it hasn’t before. why’d it have to be so attractive to hear him say your name when you sucked his cock? why’d all of this have to be so good yet so bad?

FEBRUARY 2024

it’s been three months…again.

it’d been three months since the best mind blowing back seat sex you’ve ever had. and now you’re back where this all lead you before. in a dry spell.

it didn’t help that preseason testing was around the corner, and Bahrain was just as dry and overheated as you were.

you stayed in your teams garage whenever you had the chance. you didn’t dare watch his car fly down the straights and turns of the track, and you didn’t dare wait up for him at night.

you were back to how things were before, just friendly.

however it felt irritating to him. to see that race suit hang against your hips, the fireproof show off every curve of your body. it pained him to watch you just walk off.

“you’re having problems again.” Lando announces, his voice startling you that you nearly lose your page in your book before tossing it aside on your bed.

“what are you talking about?”

“you never told me about December.” he redirects the conversation, seating himself on the edge of your hotel bed, “you always tell me this stuff.”

“not after I found out you were meddling this situation do I tell you this stuff.”

a blush covers his cheeks as he nervously scratches the back of his neck, “okay so I wasn’t totally innocent in this— but neither are you! you shouldn’t of opened your mouth to Daniel!” he exclaims rather loudly that you’re sure whoever shares the walls with you could hear.

huffing out a sigh, you tell Lando from start to finish everything that happened that night many moons ago. by the time you’re finished, Lando looks as if there was more to be told, but that was it. the story ended at him saying he’d call you and he never did.

“he never called?” Lando mumbles the words to himself, you can see he’s trying to connect the dots on maybe why he never called but you’d given up. you spent two weeks in that same rut Lando was in and decided it wasn’t worth it. you both got what you needed and that was the end of it.

“trust me, I’d know if he called, but the line has been silent.”

lando’s eyes widen, a lightbulb clicking, “I have an idea,” he stands up off the mattress and before you can stop him he’s sprinting out the door letting it slam behind him.

this is why you never talk to Lando Norris.

—

“so I never called.”

the words come from behind you, and while all signs tell you, you should turn around, you avoid it. you keep reading your book in hopes that maybe he’ll shoo along and take the hint.

“that’s it? after all that—“

“all that?” you say slamming the book shut. all that? you could not believe him. while the sex was good, and he was a natural at giving you pleasures, he also didn’t last. it took no more than one minute for him to come and that was the end of it.

“you really believe it was ‘all that’?” you turn to face him now to see the man you once spent an evening with. he looked different yet the same. there was more muscle to his body, more of a maturity than there was before.

“y/n, the deed is done. did you really think I was going to call?”

you can feel your heart plummet out of its cavity, thinking back to your early conversation, you always knew he never would. he ran his way around women often, and always left them to dry. he wasn’t ever going to call because that’s who he was.

“wow.” you say feeling as if all the air in your lungs were gone. like the only air left was the dry air of Bahrain and it wasn’t enough to keep you from falling, “after you said this was different. you played me with this stupid Christmas gift and now,” you pause. your chest tirelessly rose and fell trying to supply air, “now you expect me to what? forgive you? move on like all is well?”

shaking your head you stumble across the empty paddock to find somewhere—anywhere away from him.

you slam yourself into bodies, unable to look up from the blacktop pavement beneath your feet as you push yourself into the nearest garage and drivers room. slamming the door shut jolts whoever is in the room with you, he turns from his game to find you in the corner hunched over trying to breathe.

“Jesus, y/n.” Lewis pushed himself out of the chair he’s in and moves down to your level, “what’s the matter?”

“max.” you grit out through your teeth feeling tears threaten to spill, “fucking max.”

you can’t see the frown that takes hold of his lips, but you feel his arms quickly wrap around you making you safe in his embrace, “so your secret Santa sucked huh?” Lewis chuckles carefully place a kiss to your hair, “I assume he was awful then? didn’t fulfill your needs?”

a scoff unconsciously escapes your lips as a reply, “fulfilled his own then left. said he’d call, he never did.”

Lewis let’s out a sigh, pulling himself an inch away from you, “he didn’t—“ Lewis stops himself trying to find the right words, “you didn’t get what you wanted?” he exhales, watching you pull your knees into your chest trying to shrink into the corner.

“no.” you whimper softly feeling a heat wave across your face. it’s humiliating really is what it was. to know the entire grid left last season knowing of you dry spell and if word got around, they’d know yet again, you’d been let down. so what’s Lewis to do? be a horrible man and not give you the pleasures you deserve? you’re a woman after all, a woman who, simply put, just wanted to feel.

Lewis extended his arm towards you, his fingers brushing your cheeks, he pulls a few hairs off your tear stained cheeks, “darling,” he moves closer again, this time you can almost hear his heart beating out of his chest, you can smell the lingering scent of rubber mixed with his cologne, “all you have to do is ask, and I can show you.”

swallowing the lump in your throat you remove your knees from your tight grip and slightly part your thighs, “show me.” your voice feels small in the room, quiet like as small as mouse.

he’s gentle. closing the gap between you two, his lips carefully crashing against yours, teeth tug on your bottom lip and his tongue sneaks in. he’s more experienced at this than you are, you let him take control.

slipping his hand down your pants, his index finger swipes across your panties that are thick with moisture, “six months of this huh? must’ve been hard.” you cut off his chuckle with a kiss to his cheek, lips trailing down his neck, you’re sucking at his earlobe while his finger slips in your folds.

your breath hitches, a moan escaping your mouth that you just can’t control as you feel him pump you, his thumb run carefully across your clit. it’s pitiful, how easy it was. six months and not a single man had touched like Lewis did. not even max could get you like this.

“feels good, huh?” he asks, softly. watching your eyes roll to the back of your head while he continues to rub the bundle of nerves and feeling the need to add a second finger.

you’re taking him well, despite the shake in your legs and the pitiful lack of self control to stop yourself from coming so soon. Lewis doesn’t really seem to mind, he just undoes his pants, remove his underwear from around his hips, and hoist you up against the wall.

your head pounds against the wall, fingers gripping Lewis’s shoulders, his rhythm is short, sporadic like he too had been waiting six months to fuck someone. the two of you are at match for who’s the loudest in the drivers room, and if anyone was listening they didn’t seem to stop you two.

he’s long, no doubt. it’s painful how you’ve never thought of Lewis like this. like someone who needs someone so bad they do it in their room where almost everyone can hear them. he was a man with honor around these tracks, but fuck his honor. he’d rather give you the pleasure you failed to recieve months ago.

finally releasing the two of you pull away from each other and lie against the wall, bodies nearly toppling each other.

“was it anything like that? with max?”

you attempt to let out a laugh, but you’re out of breath panting from the recent activities.

“he didn’t last as long as you did.”

Lewis laughs pressing a kiss to your cheek, “some of us are more experienced than others.”

—

DEAR MAX,

looks like I gave her the one thing you couldn’t. merry belated Christmas to me.

— LEWIS HAMILTON

tags: @monzabee @lovelytsunoda @willowpains @vellicora @smartstupyd @bbxnny-bbxtch @asmoothoperator @surazim @whyamireadingthis @msolbesg @barcelonaloverf1life @landowecanbewc @uuzhanggggggg @champomiel @yagirlhayes @sugarvibez @omgsuperstarg @fluvsof @itsjustaninchident

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vhagarlovebot · 1 year

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WON’T LET GO.

♡. ── gif credit. ; ( aemond targaryen masterlist. )

pairing: prince aemond targaryen x fem!reader

summary: aemond is in pain and you want to help, but he doesn't want to scare you.

content warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, insecure aemond, mentions of losing an eye, mentions of abuse.

note: if there are any mistakes i apologize but as some of you may know english is not my first language. hope you enjoy! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

LOSING A PART OF YOURSELF, physically or emotionally, comes with a great pain.

and aemond targaryen knows that very well.

ever since he lost his eye there are times where the pain is almost unbearable. not even the milk of the poppy helps to ease the pain.

when he decided to used the sapphire, it was the best decision he ever made. everyone started to fear him more, he felt powerful. he felt attractive, less a monster.

however there are days in which all he wants to do is lock himself in his chambers and remove the gemstone. just lay there without his eyepatch, everyone who would look at him disgusted forgotten behind his doors. he knows it was a fair exchange but sometimes he whishes to have his eye back.

and once he met you that wish became more and more painful each passing day.

aemond knows you love him but sometimes his insecurities make it impossible for him to believe that he can be loved. so he forces himself to endure the pain. until one night it becomes too much.

you wake up because you heard a noise and as you try to touch aemond you realize he’s not next to you in bed. scared you get up, and even in the dark you can see him in a chair by the window, hands covering his face.

"aemond? are you alright?" the cold coming from the window makes you shiver, and you hug yourself as you crouch down beside him.

aemond is quick to look away, giving you just enough time to see that his eyepatch is missing.

"my love?"

"go back to bed." he groans. he's in pain and you feel useless, not knowing what to do to help him.

"is it your eye?" he still doesn't look at you and you start to feel impatient. "let me help you. please."

"i do not.. i don't have the sapphire- i don't want to scare you." his voice barely rises above a whisper and you can't help but let tears fall from your eyes.

you cup his chin, slowly making him face you, his one good eye closed. his empty eye socket doesn't even affect you.

"you want me to help you put ointment on the scar?" you ask softly, standing and turning around to go look for it. however, you don't make it too far when a sob escapes aemond's lips. rushing to his side, you wrap him in your arms, pressing his body tightly against you as he lets it all out.

he's hurting and you are hurting with him.

and it’s not just a physical pain. he’s hurting from the inside. he is still an abused child, damaged and scared, trying to live without an important part of himself. always remembering the pain he felt, how the only two people who stood by his side and defended him were you and his mother.

he, a child, was forced to grow up listening to the awful ways people referred to him, making him feel insignificant and a burden. he was forced to create a wall between him and the world; it was the only way to endure the pain.

aemond didn’t deserved everything that happened to him.

you don't know how much time passes but eventually his body stops shaking and he finally looks at you.

"you would never scare me." you make sure to wipe his tears, leaving a kiss on his forehead. "you don't have to hide from me... i love you, aemond. just as you are. and i’m here for you, i’ll always be here.”

he takes your hands and tenderly kisses them. "just hold me, please." he looks so broken it makes you want to burn the whole world to ease his pain, to lift that weight from him.

you hold him in your arms all night, only pulling away to put ointment on his scar or to make sure he’s no longer in pain. he falls asleep with his head on your chest and his arm around your waist, hugging you tightly even in his sleep.

#📮 ⌇ my works ˖⋆࿐#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen angst #prince aemond x reader #aemond x reader #aemond fic #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen scenarios #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen

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mrzombielover · 2 months

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- slow ride ch1

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

series masterlist | next chapter

warnings: NSFW, enemies to fuckbuddies, adam and reader both suck, unhealthy relationships, size kink oooops, light degradation

a/n: oh my god this is so self indulgent. something is fr wrong with me bc all my favorite men are irrevocably fucked up and toxic and emotionally damaged and would treat me like shit teehee

wc: 2.2k

“You took my shame and you took my pride / And now you gonna take me for a slowride”

When even Charlie is trepidatious about checking someone in to the hotel, you know they’ve fucked up bad.

Adam had shown up, tail between his legs, admitting something about how he’s “desperate enough to try anything,” even this “stupid delusional humiliating hotel.”

Charlie, who’s more like an angel than Adam ever was, had ultimately decided that he could stay. After a lengthy and heated discussion, she’d reminded the group that the hotel’s policy states that everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of the sins they’ve committed. Considering he killed your friend, you thought that was bullshit, but it’s Charlie’s hotel at the end of the day, and you’re just along for the ride.

You like Charlie, which is why you put up with having Adam around. She’s a good person- genuinely, deep down. There’s no hidden motives in her actions. You’ve not met many good people in your life, so she’s won your respect, even if you have your doubts about the hotel’s premise.

But for as much as you love her, you briefly questioned her sanity when she asked you to keep a special eye on Adam.

“…and how exactly is that the job of treasury secretary?” You deadpan.

“Wellll…” Charlie trails off, looking away for a moment. “It isn’t really. Buuut what if I was asking as a favor, for your friend?” She clasps her hands together, giving you a smile. You have to avert your eyes from the hopeful look on her face before your resolve cracks.

“No way in hell,” You say quickly.

“Please!”

“No,”

“Pleaseee!”

You bite your lip as you think. He’s obnoxious, yes, but what’s really the worst that could happen? You close your eyes and sigh.

“…you owe me one,”

You regret accepting every day. Nobody got along with Adam. Well, nobody except for Nifty, who seemed thrilled to have a real bad boy staying in the hotel. You, however, got along with him the least of all.

For someone who’d come to the hotel in his time of need- who was in no position to ask for anything other than forgiveness- Adam sure has a smartass mouth. It seems Charlie just wants to give you a brain aneurysm, that’s why she gave you this job. Even if that wasn’t her goal, that’s certainly the stage you’re approaching, because fighting with Adam everyday is 100% going to make you pop a blood vessel.

You can’t help it. Something about him- the way he acts, the forced proximity, just gets under your skin, makes your eye twitch. He should be groveling, begging for forgiveness, putting his heart and soul into bettering himself, yet all he does is bitch and moan. Constantly complaining would be one thing, hell’s full of whiners, but he also feels the need to voice every thought he’s ever had, which often includes insults and snide remarks about those around him. You’ve never been one to take that shit- though, nobody at the hotel really does. It seems to be much worse with you two, specifically, though.

The problem comes in because, as much as you hate to admit it, you might sometimes occasionally have some things in common with him. No, you’re not quite as loud or crude or obnoxious, you don’t generally insult people for fun, but if someone deserves it?

You’ve tore into people for way less than murdering your friend, showing up on your doorstep and being a pain in your ass 24/7, especially if you’re in a particularly shitty mood. Reduced people to tears for mildly inconveniencing you, having an annoying voice, wasting food, etc etc… all of which Adam does.

Generally, you’re apathetic to what goes on around you, especially at the hotel. You’re fed, don’t have to pay rent, and can pretty much do whatever you want, so dealing with the annoying, traumatized, dramatic residents and staff is a fair trade off in your eyes. Adam should, in theory, be no different than the rest of them to you. So you cannot, for the life of you, figure out what about him makes him so much worse than the rest.

You just try not to think about him as much as possible. But when you ignore him, he just seems to get worse.

“Jesus, you don’t think it’s a bit early to start drinking?”

You mentally groan as you hear his voice, avoiding eye contact as you crack open the bottle.

“I mean, Isn’t this shithole supposed to be for rehabilitation?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he opens the fridge.

“Why don’t you focus on your own rehab first, dick? Been weeks now and you’re still an asshole,” You snap, before taking a swig of your beer. He shrugs, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and placing it on the counter. He walks past where you’re leaning on the counter to get a glass.

“I mean, damn, you didn’t even try today, huh?”He laughs.

“Why are you pickin’ a fight with me right now?” You raise your voice a little, exasperated and too hungover to deal with this.

“oh, uh, i dunno… i’m bored?” He shrugs again, looking over to you with a self satisfied smile. You groan in frustration, then sigh, forcing yourself to keep it together.

“…and you wonder why your wives left you,” you mumble with a roll your eyes, turning to quickly leave the kitchen. you don’t see his face, but judging from the sound of a crash and footsteps quickly following you into the hallway, you hit a nerve. oh, god, here we go…

“you fucking junkie bitch!” he yells after you as you stomp up the stairs.

“you’re proving my point right now!” you say over your shoulder.

“Like you have room to talk? Let’s bring up your love life, huh?!”

“oh my god shut up!” Angel yells through the door as you pass his room. “Every fuckin’ morning with you two!”

Adam ignores him, continuing to rant as he follows closely behind you, every degrading name he can think of spilling from his lips.

“…fucking whore cunt- whose not even fucking listening to me!” he says as you turn into your room. you turn, attempting to slam the door, but he sticks his foot in the gap and grabs the door, shoving it back open.

“what in the fuck is your problem today?!” you yell.

“it’s you, bitch!”

“oh my god- how do you care about anything this much? Seriously, it’s not that deep!”

you jump a little as he suddenly slaps the beer bottle out of your hands, the glass shattering loudly and the leftover beer soaking your socks. your jaw drops, outraged, and you can’t help the reflex to reach up and smack the side of his head.

“ow!” he yelps, and you raise your fists to hit him again, when-

“you- fucking bitch-!” he shouts. you cry out in surprise as he grabs your wrists and yanks you with surprising ease, shoving you roughly into the wall behind you.

theres a struggle, both grunting with the strain of pushing against each other as Adam wrestles to keep the upper hand. You go to knee him, but he moves quicker, slotting one of his legs between your own and pressing his body against yours to pin you completely against the wall.

then, something changes. he pauses, the close proximity seems to have finally registered in his brain. his eyes widen and you pause too, both panting, faces inches apart. his grip loosens, and a flicker of confusion crosses his features.

“wait, what’s-“

“shut up,” you snap suddenly. before you even realize what you’re doing, your hands are on his chest, and you’re shoving him towards your bed.

“take off your shirt,” you command as the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s falling backwards. he quickly does as you say, looking up at you with wide eyes as you straddle him and rip your own shirt off as well. he mumbles a nice when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. you reach to tug off the sweatpants you had on, and as soon as you can kick them away Adam’s hands are on your waist and flipping you over. He hurriedly rips off the rest of his clothes before he’s back on you, leaning down to eagerly press kisses down your neck. you have to tilt your head to make room for the horns now permanently attached to his head, and you think of the irony of this situation.

the sound of fabric ripping followed immediately by two of his fingers finding your clit makes you gasp. you bite back a whimper as he begins to rub rough and sloppy circles on your clit. the pleasure doesn’t last long before he’s pulling his hand back, only to shove a finger inside your cunt quickly, and you gasp again. being so unprepared, the stretch burns a bit. fuck, has he always had such big hands? he’s gentle at first, as he works the single finger in and out of you, and once the pain subsides, he quickly adds a second one.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the curse that slips past your lips, and before long you’re rocking your hips against his hand. his movements are rushed and sloppy, impatient as he stretches you out. he chuckles dryly, and you shoot him a glare.

once again, before long, he’s pulling away, and grabbing you by the shoulders to make you sit up with him. you whine involuntarily at the loss of contact, and the cocky bastard laughs again.

“So impatient, babe,” He grins.

“Shut up,” You say again, pushing him so that he’s sitting up against the bed frame. You crawl over to him, and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass, groping it roughly while you grab the base of his cock and align the tip with your entrance.

You both gasp in unison when you swiftly lower yourself to take his full length. A strangled moan escapes from your lips and you let your head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. Eyes squeezed shut, you wait so you can adjust to his size. Seriously, how had you never noticed how big he was before now? Prematurely, Adam angles his hips and suddenly thrusts up into you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Oh you like that, bitch? Huh?” He says teasingly, running his hands up and down your back before moving his hips again.

“You have seriously got to learn to be quiet,” You retort through gritted teeth, reaching up to pull his hair from the roots. He lets out a groan, followed by a more pathetic whine as you begin to move on his length.

It must be all the pent up emotion, because you’re very quickly unable to speak beyond a few curses and wanton moans. Adam however, can’t seem to stop talking. Mumbling about how good you feel- for a whore, how he didn’t think you’d be so tight, how you’re so fucking sexy he wishes he’d done this sooner.

“Ugh, Adam- shut up!” You groan as you move desperately. He whines as you pull his hair again for emphasis, biting his lip as you feel his hips snap up into yours.

“Oh, god-“ You’re squealing, back arching as you can feel your whole body tense. You’re on top, but as you grow more limp, he’s holding you upright as he roughly fucks into you. “I’m close!” You warn, and it comes out a strangled sob.

You’re so, so close. Euphoria clouds your brain, and collapse onto him as he continues to hold you up to thrust into you.

You fall backwards, and Adam follows, caging you underneath him as he chases his own release now.

“oh- fuck- don’t stop!” You’re practically screaming as your orgasm crashes over you, and you wrap your arms around and claw at Adam desperately, fingernails leaving marks on his fleshy back. You only faintly register the breathless laugh he lets out at your state as he now pounds into you.

He slams into you with an intensity that forces the air out of your lungs, and even Adam can’t form thoughts or speak anymore.

“Oh, fu-uuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” He can’t believe the noises that are coming from him, but he also can’t find it in himself to care when you feel this good. You’re so sensitive, and still tight from your previous climax, and he can feel your pulse in the walls of your cunt as you clench around him.

Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you moan his name again, reaching up to pull at his hair, horns, wings, anything, as tears begin to prick at your eyes. Hearing you moan his name, seeing the look on your face, knowing he’s the one doing this to you is what he needed to send him over the edge.

“o-oh my god-“ he groans, hips stuttering as he presses his body as close to yours as possible, spilling his cum deeply inside of you with an actual moan.

He stays still for a moment, both of your breathing labored, sweat making your hair stick to your foreheads and necks, but you stay holding eachother. While both your brains are still fuzzy, thoughts muddled from the aftershocks, he takes a hand up and wipes your hair away from your face, and the tears from your eyes.

Eventually, he sits up and pulls out of you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Neither of you say anything, too fucked out to think of the repercussions from your actions.

#!my stuff #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #ok how do i tag this…#first man adam #first man adam x reader #idfk idc #!not sfw #female reader #this is like so cringe LMFAO #it’s ok tho idc😜

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vampykween · 5 months

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You know how some freaky stuff happens sometimes. People going missing with no evidence of them getting kidnapped at all. You see this woman with her child walking inside the grocery store, shopping for groceries then suddenly she turn a corner and she and her child was never seen again. What if that happens to wife reader and her child with toxic husband simon? Honestly I just want an excuse to read through his pov for once

anon this so eerie!!! because i literally had a nightmare i got kidnapped last night i swear!!! also, forgive me this isn't totally fleshed out :( but i knew i would be better at writing the emotional side of this versus a ton of action but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

simon could recognize you anywhere; he could never get enough of the familiar hairstyle you always wore and the curves of your body. he also could recognize the little hands clasped in yours, toddling after you. you used to always lovingly complain that your firstborn was his carbon copy, so he would quiet you with kisses and retort that you two would just have to make another baby so you could have your mini-me. you're debating between some odd two items on the shelf like you always did; he used to groan at how long you spent grocery shopping, it's not like your family strayed too far from what you got every week. now, he'd give anything to have you reminding him to check off the items on your list and to please stop letting the baby gnaw all over the handle of the cart.

simon's heart ached at the realization that he was admiring what once was his life from afar. now you two were divorced, lived in separate places (he's a little proud you worked your ass off to get your own place, but only marginally), and he didn't get to wake up on weekends with slobbery little kisses pressed into his scarred face followed by squeals of "daddy! daddy! wake up!"

shaking himself out of his daydreaming, he watches the three of you turn the corner, and despite feeling acutely aware that he probably looked like a creep, he trails behind you. instead of finding you and the girls, simon was met with the sight of a hastily abandoned cart and the tiny skeleton plushie his youngest always carried around.

suddenly he felt like he was on a mission; his senses were on high alert, and his head swiveled rapidly but steadily to survey his surroundings. there was nothing amiss in the aisle where you three had disappeared and so, he swiftly slinked through every aisle searching for any sign of his family.

when his search comes up short, simon's heart clenches painfully in his chest; his body growing hot with rage until he feels like a roaring furnace. he wasn't sure if the tears pressing behind his eyes were from anger or devastation. he couldn't bear losing his family again, not after he tried so hard to save them the first time. he may be emotionally damaged and shit at showing his appreciation, but you and those tiny girls were his entire universe. how was he supposed to go about his life when his reason for living had been snuffed out? you were the light to his dark and stormy aura, and he wouldn't rest until he found you; there was no alternative he would ever be able to forgive himself for.

#mic answers #mic writes #toxichusband!simon #toxichusband!ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley

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centrally-unplanned · 6 months

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Just finished The Coffin of Andy and Leyley - at least the two episodes we have so far! A very fun game, I definitely recommend it. The thoughts, spoilers everything:

-- The tone of the game is extremely on point, Andrew & Ashley have such a great trauma-criminal dynamic that never strays too far from being cute first, awful second. Look at these babies! Of course that is the blood of their parents they just murdered for a satanic ritual and/or petty cash, what else would it be?

-- The game nails a pretty niche fetish of mine - no, not the incest part, no judgement but I could do without that just fine. Instead its the weaponization of sex (and other forms of intimacy) to manipulate and break down someone's resistance to your demands:

But, while no shade thrown at the classic controlling doms out there, Ashley wins by being a complete mess and possessing minimal intentionality around her emotional blackmail. Her toxic codependency on Andrew controls her and, as inevitable as the tide, forces her to periodically hurt & degrade him, then compensate via affection bombs & demands. She thrives on his weaknesses such as trauma-nightmares & anxiety as they are places she can slot herself into his pysche as load-bearing support, and sex is set up as another part of that web. Its that lack of control that makes her so attractive - the vast emotional void she is hoping her manipulations will fill is a funhouse mirror version of the physical need intimacy can fulfill.

I will note she is a slightly different from the "Mamimi" (from FLCL) archetype - for the Mamimi, sex is deontological, it is what she needs to cope with her damage. For Ashley it's instrumental, and could be swapped out for another tactic as quick as an outfit change if doing so got her what she really wanted.

Probably also worth mentioning that this isn't an eroge; this dynamic is primarily implication and subtext, becoming text only rarely. Don't want to mislead anyone there.

-- Another standout point is that Andrew himself is *not* the typical wishy-washy boytoy target of his bae's emotional machinations, but instead exactly as toxically codependent as Ashley is, just expressed differently. He thrives on her sense of need and the comfortability of the dyad role her vision for their lives creates for him. What makes him a fun contrast is that he has a "normal" half of his brain that recognizes all of this as fucked up and wants to quit, which often pretends he is being blackmailed by duty or circumstances, but that isn't really true. Where the game excels is that it has multiple routes - neither of which have notably different plot events, but where the different factions of Andrew's brain win out or fade away. Is very tight marriage of narrative and themes.

-- Its also good to add that the incest concept is somewhat foundational. I am not an incest person but I have been on the internet, I am familiar enough with its semiotics, and the "mutual, similar-age, unhealthy codependency" subgenre of relationships when its not incest always struggles with a bit of a believability issue.

So narratives are generally about arcs, sex is about build-up, and that combination means you want to portray the moment a relationship forms, tips into romance, right? And your subjects of choice are two people who constantly cling to each other, destroy outsiders who could challenge their attention monopoly, and psychologically scar each other in order to foster emotional addiction. And they are ~20 yeas old.

Why aren't they fucking already?? They obviously should be fucking. If these were childhood friends, they would be fucking, for years now, easy. You can say they just haven't gotten there yet but that changes the characters, makes them naïve and innocent, that is a narrative constraint you might not want. But if they are siblings...well then there ya go. That is a socially-ironclad excuse for how they got so emotionally close without romantic intimacy, and a reason for them not to cross the threshold (until your plot events make them ofc). Its a fetish that makes your storytelling efficient, not just something that works on the fetish level directly.

(Btw Andrew is not a doormat; that is a lie he tells himself)

-- The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is a classic RPG Maker indie project, and it used its gameplay conventions well. Its essentially a visual novel with RPG exploration elements that offered small puzzles as you traverse from plot point to plot point. They create immersion while rarely being too difficult and dragging down the pacing - it knows they aren't here to intellectually challenge you, but to make the world feel lived. And sometimes - most often in Ashley & Andrew's dreams - the light puzzle elements are very deeply woven into the plot & themes, used for making narrative choices & reinforcing emotional beats. They rarely overstay their welcome, which is refreshing. Its not uncommon for a game to get into trying to "gamify" what should just be a visual novel, and while not perfect Coffin doesn't fall into that trap.

Additionally the creator definitely likes Undertale, and the dream sequences remind me of Flesh, Blood, & Concrete in their colors & abstraction. Good times!

-- It is extremely amusing to google this game for like ending guides or w/e and to be bombarded with the "controversy" of its incest plotline. A: The main duo murder their parents and nonchalantly make a meal of their bodies out of sheer habit, way to not have your eye on the prize. And B: my brother in Christ you clicked on the Incest Game. Why are you on Pornhub complaining about porn??

#the coffin of andy and leyley #mini essay

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mulderscully · 2 years

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i think part of the disconnect a lot of the wwdits fandom has is misunderstanding the genre until now. wwdits a horror show. comedy and horror often go hand in hand. jennifer’s body is a prime example of this. it's comedy, but it's still horror.

i have seen a lot of people say “from marwa’s perspective, this is a horror show.” even before freddie aired, and while that is true - it’s true for everyone on the show who is not our main cast. think about how the sound guy LITERALLY got eaten alive. think about how terrifying that must have been for the rest of the crew. think about the virgins guillermo lures to the house. think about the old woman nadja gaslit after literally torturing her as a child. think about laszlo being jack the ripper. think about nandor killing all 36 of his other wives before choosing marwa. that was objectively awful, but we laughed ONLY because of the framing.

that’s what makes wwdits so compelling. it’s all about framing. that's why freddie was hard to watch. the framing changed, not the characters behavior.

so much vampire media is really told through a christian lens. so much is vampires hating being a vampire and finding it to be a curse because they are evil. wwdits is special because it doesn't do that. sure, nandor sees being a vampire a curse now - but it's not because he thinks it's wrong or immoral - but because he has no bitches. he's just lonely! the vampires like being vampires, they like being evil and they revel in it.

yes, i fully expect nandor to grow in the sense of treating the people he loves with more respect and be less emotionally repressed with them, but he's always gonna be a monster if you look at him objectively because he always has been one even as a human.

the same applies to guillermo, and that is why highlighting how monstrous guillermo is as a human is important. their relationship would never work if nandor has to stop being a monster in order for guillermo to want him. guillermo likes him evil, guillermo not only is alright with murder and stood by as nandor brainwashed marwa, he actively participates in the murders AND the fucked up wedding.

he just wants nandor to treat him and their relationship with respect. they're both selfish and codependent and awful to people who are around them. they deserve each other. it's so important to also look at guillermo objectively and embrace how he is a very fucked up person. they're both fucked up and will continue to be so, just not to each other. you have to understand the context.

i do genuinely think nandor will probably undo all of his wishes in s5 (goodbye 20% extra penis) but that will be because he will have realized he loves guillermo and his wishes hurt who he loves and damaged their relationship, not because he is ever gonna be a "good" person. he doesn't care about marwa and he never will, but it is important that the narrative should - which is what i hope for later on. but what nandor did is not ooc or worse than anything he has ever done. the difference is that this time he realized he was wrong because his love for guillermo is that strong.

and that's fun. that's interesting. because it's not how vampire media and romance is usually handled.

#wwdits #wwdits spoilers #nandermo

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bluarlequinno · 2 months

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It's kinda funny to me that Husk mentions that Charlie is trying to fix others because she's avoiding fixing herself but I don't see lots of people talking about it (or about her in general) and even the show itself makes a very clear indication that Charlie's motives and actions for helping people aren't just because of pure altruism, don't get me wrong I do believe she has good intent and genuinely wants to help, but I personally what I interpreted, I feel it comes to the fear of her being unwanted and A LOT AND I MEAN A LOT of characters treat Charlie so shitty, but Charlie always bottles it up and treats them back with kindness, (at least until she can't no more and explodes), there are very few characters to which she responds back with violence being (Valentino, Lute and Adam (rightfully)), but in general she is extremely optimistic to the point it almost seems self damaging and I really wish it was talked more enough because it opens up a whole level of complexity to her character not many people give her, she isn't your typical altruistic good protagonist, she's extremely good to people out of her own fear of rejection, look how she behaved when she realized she damaged more than she helped Angel dust, yes it is normal to feel overwhelmed when you know you've harmed a friend, but Charlie's reactions although played for laughs, go to an extent of over compensation out of fear of being rejected and not receiving the benefit of the doubt to be forgiven, (also because it faces her face to face with her own flaws), just like how she always tries to do the same with others to the point of probably putting herself at harm, I'm not sure how conscious she is of it herself, but it's obvious she over compensates to anything to make sure people won't leave her, because as much as the show says she's got daddy issues, I feel more overall she's got abandonment issues in general, because literally both her mother and father left her at a point in her life and even when Lucifer comes back she's hesitant as to when is his staying going to last (I have problems with how quickly their issue was resolved but that is a discussion for another post).

My main point is that Charlie's issues with herself are so fascinating to me because I love characters who seem like the perfect altruist hero but actually unknowingly to themselves, have more emotionally "selfish" motivations, obviously I'm not saying Charlie has any ill intent, but she's literally an over protected princess of an exploited, unfair and exploitative system who has a very shielded and naive view of morals and goodness and badness.

I know this is fuckin Hazbin hotel, but I srs have so much brainrot.

I know critics of the morals of heaven and hell ain't anything new, but there is genuine good commentary in my opinion, not by any means perfect, but it definitely is doing insistent questions on the nature of a religious morality and using real life politics systems to somehow drive it further and connect it more with reality, of course modernizing it and treating it as a modern, tumblr version of so, but it's really good and the songs are amazing.

The point is, I'm really hoping they will explore more of the character of Charlie and how she transforms to her "demon" form when she is more emotionally unstable that could do a lot of commentary too if used right, but maybe I'm just projecting my own headcanons and ideas for her lol.

Actually I have no previous knowledge of any other media of the creator outside of Hazbin Hotel because I watched it some days ago in Amazon prime so yeah I just really like media and edgy media I'm sorry I liked this show, with it's problems and all I did like it, maybe it was too obvious for most, but I'm really new to the fandom so forgive my rantings

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel opinion #hazbin hotel commentary #media analysis #analysis #media commentary #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #idk #i tried to be as coherent in my words as possible but i wrote this quickly because i really wanted to say it #it might be an unpopular opinion but charlie was actually my favorite character #surprisingly #i love her so much im serious #still love the deer cannibal though #how can you not #alastor rules

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jaegersdevil · 7 months

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like real people [megumi fushiguro]

megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: love can still find you even in your darkest hour. w/c: 1.7k a/n: megumi and reader are in their early/mid-twenties. this is a little different from anything else i’ve written in terms of the language, but i think i'm happy with it. i'm a bit scared to post this. i hope it makes sense, and if it doesn't, tell me, please :) warnings: angst, idiots in love, both parties emotionally hurt by past relationships, insinuations of past relationship abuse (megumi), ooc megumi, it's 4am idk please let me know.

“Is it so wrong to wish to love and be loved in return?”

No words came before you. To say you weren’t expecting this conversation would be a lie — it was a long time coming. After the party, after you had blatantly brushed him off in front of his friends, Megumi couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for why you did what you did. After months of dancing around each other, why couldn’t you commit to what you wanted when it was so very clear, Megumi?

“Megumi,” You weren’t oblivious to his lovelorn stare or his fingers fidgeting.

“Please,” He begged, stepping closer to you, his hands clasped before him.

You screwed your eyes shut at his vulnerable state. Was it easier to remain ignorant of your apparent and lengthy tension? Perhaps then you wouldn’t feel so guilty about the impulse to leave.

But, standing before a man who had a hard time sharing his emotions and choosing to ignore them rather than help? You wouldn't do such a thing.

“It’s not wrong, per se, Megs,” You started, eyes trained on the hardwood floor, never meeting his pleading ones. “Maybe naive.”

A sharp intake caused a shiver down your spine. “Naive?”

You chewed heavily on your bottom lip and couldn't keep your tears at bay. "I just learned you planned to get engaged when we met, Megumi. What was I meant to do? I didn't want your friends to think I was exploiting your emotions. How I never knew until now..."

Megumi sighed and looked away, shaking his head. He wanted to say that meeting you saved him. How you dug him out of the ground and breathed life into his delicate lungs brought him back to life. If you had never met, he would still be six feet in the dirt, a ghost of who he once was. Do people love others who have been damaged so severely that the idea of love itself is considered terrifying and not comforting in the slightest?

"You know they wouldn't think that of you. And I didn't tell you because I was embarrassed and afraid. I know that isn't a good enough excuse for you because you've been in my life for so long, but it was better to keep it quiet. I don't know!"

He tried to keep his voice steady, always one to hold back his true feelings until he was behind closed doors — and even then, he would force them back inside.

But, as he looked at you, Megumi believed the possibility of admitting he loved you was far closer than anticipated. However, the fear you wouldn’t reciprocate burned in his bones so profoundly he feared they would turn to ash inside him. All he wanted was to love and be loved without the devastating consequences he had suffered before — if love without pain existed.

Nonetheless, Megumi couldn't seem to shake the feeling of emptiness that had been plaguing him for weeks.

“Will we ever be normal? Will we ever kiss like real people do? Will I ever get to hold you without the looming fear that you’ll just pack up and leave?” He thought out loud.

A flight risk. You gave him a bitter smile and nodded.

“That’s all I am to you? Someone that you’re scared to be with because I’ve never ‘stuck around’ for anyone else? Do you ever wonder why I left them?” You raised your eyebrows in question. When Megumi didn’t answer, you finished. “Because they were assholes who just wanted someone to use, and I was at their disposal.”

Megumi grimaced at your choice of words but understood. It had taken him almost a year, but he finally understood your greatest anxieties. “I would never use you.”

You sniffled, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I know that, but I'm still paranoid. Leave before you get left, isn’t that what they say?”

The room was silent for a moment while you both collected yourselves. In contemplation, Megumi ran his hands over his dark hair, and you picked at your nails.

“I’m sorry,” Megumi mumbled, wiping at his cheeks where stray tears had left salty trails. “I’m sorry for offending you. I didn’t mean it like that. My anxiety is not on you at all; it’s not your fault, and I’ll apologise for the rest of my life if that will make up for my sheer ignorance.”

You shrugged half-heartedly, a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m sorry for calling you naive. It’s not true. Love is humanity’s greatest desire, and you are entirely valid for wanting such things, especially after your ex..." You narrowed your eyes at him softly.

Unspoken words hung in the air like smoke. His past relationship was calamitous, and her name was never spoken amongst his friends again after they found out what had happened. She was referred to as ‘she who must not be named’ in his friend group, but that was the only joke. Nothing she did to Megumi was laughable.

The kitchen light was flickering, you noticed. You'd have to change the bulb.

“I bet you regret meeting me,” He smiled fleetingly. You looked at him quizzically. “Anyone else wouldn’t be insulting you in your kitchen.”

“I'll never regret meeting you, Megumi,” You took his hand in yours. “And you didn’t insult me. Yes, it hurts, but it’s a harsh truth I have to swallow. I have to understand that not everyone is out to get me. It'll take some time, but I wish to get there someday.”

“And I'll help you believe that, okay? I won't leave you. Not now, not ever, because you are my favourite person, darling. And should I ever leave you, let me die the most painful death because you deserve a great deal of love — more than I could ever give you, but I will try my best, alright?”

You nodded, reeling with the weight of his words. He spoke with such comprehension it had you reeling — had he ever confessed his feelings for someone like this before? So thought out and with a pleading look in his eye that made your chest hurt?

Instead of wondering about him, you pulled Megumi closer by his jacket collar, which you realised he never took off when he got to your apartment. Pushing the jacket over his shoulders, you placed the garment on the kitchen counter. Your tear-stained cheeks were glossy under the yellowing ceiling light, and Megumi pulled you back to him, running his fingers over your face to wipe away the streams.

A switch flipped, and suddenly, it felt like the world would end if Megumi didn't tell you his deepest longings. He would lose you if he didn't express how much he had come to care for you. You couldn't take chances in a world full of Jujutsu, especially when the one you loved was tiptoeing the line of death every day.

“I don’t want to not be with you, and it was never my intention to insinuate that. I have a lot of love to give, but I’ve given it to the wrong people in the past who never acknowledged or appreciated it. But I’m ready to give it to you,” Megumi muttered. It required abundant courage to say it, but Megumi was glad he didn’t hold back once it was out — his father would be disgusted if he saw his son now.

The room's atmosphere had changed dramatically, and all hostility once felt in your stomach had dissipated. This was a time of reassuring each other that their greatest fears would not trouble them as long as they were together.

“I adore you,” Megumi whispered, his heart beating out of his chest. “And I’m not just saying that because of our argument. I’m telling you that I never meant for us to end; I was just getting started with you when I walked through that door tonight. Never mind if you brushed me off at some stupid party.”

Your face heated with shame at the memory. “I'm sorry, I panicked.”

Megumi nodded in understanding. “I know. And I’m here to tell you that there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ll be on your side, always.”

Lifting your head from his chest and resting your finger on his lips, you shook your head. “My turn.”

Megumi’s eyebrows raised slightly, and he nodded.

“Enough consoling me, okay? You need to know that you’re the one for me, too, so you don’t spiral again and start doubting my love for you and your own for me,” Megumi flushed. “You are the most remarkable man I’ve ever met, and no amount of scepticism would deter me from you because you’re all I want. I love you, okay? I will live and die for the moments we share because I treasure them the most out of everything I do. You are love, and I want to drown myself in you for the rest of our lives if you let me.”

It was silent. Megumi’s heartbeat was so quick he almost couldn’t feel it. You love him.

You ignored his blank stare and continued. “You don’t have to say it yet, but I know you do. And if it turns out you don’t love me as much as I, you, I will live on my own for the remainder of time because I know that I had the most incredible love in the universe with you, and I would be content with that. Nobody else could make me feel the way you do.”

Megumi squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars and then sighed. “You mean so much to me. I’m sorry I can’t find a way to tell you yet, but I will. I know it in my soul.”

“You already have,” You hugged him tighter, and Megumi rubbed his large hands up and down your back.

The kitchen light had stopped flickering.

“Why can’t we have a relationship like real people? Because I’m starting to think we’re living in some sort of hallucination together,” You mumbled, giggles slipping from your lips.

Megumi’s chest vibrated with low laughter, but the action rattled his bones. “We’ll figure it out. We're not like real people anyway.”

—

playlist: like real people do - hozier — this is me trying - taylor swift — labyrinth - taylor swift — snow on the beach - taylor swift (w lana del rey)

#megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro imagine #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk #megumi x you #megumi angst #— ann writes!

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aro-comics · 2 years

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Maybe More People Are Arospec (Part 3)

Maybe More People Are Arospec, 3/3 - The Alloaro Edition, in which we cover some alloaro specific (negative) tropes that I personally believe is the reason why there are so few people who identify as alloaro 🙃

I both have everything and nothing to say on this one, because the topic at hand hits home harder than I want to admit 😔. I think it's important to acknowledge the harm that constantly enforcing these ideas about sex without romance as being inherently emotionally drainining, a sign of emotional immaturity, or predatory, etc. probably damages the self-perception and self-worth of most alloaros greatly. Of course,:I understand that NOT ALL highlighted are inherently related to being alloaro - but the way these ideas are framed, especially in the split panel, imply sex without romance is the root of the problem, which in reality it is not. A lack of communication, respect for other's boundaries, or being flat out a predator is the actual issue here.

Anyway, I do understand the intersection of different issues that lead to the ideas that I referenced in the comic (elaborated more in the comments). I suppose the solution, as usual, is more education and more nuance surrounding the discussion 😅😉

I'm so glad to finally have this last part of the series up! I hope you enjoyed the ride, and for sure let me know if there's anything else that I haven't covered here you think also keeps people from realizing that they're aromantic 💚💚💚

[Image Description:

Slide 1: Celia sits on a green armchair in a living room. "Actually, let's make this take even more spicy - maybe a lot more people are alloaro in particular."

Slide 2: She looks down. "Alloaros are more likely to be labelled as heartless, or feel that on top of being 'broken' there's something predatory about themselves -"

Slide 3: "There's this idea that people who only want sex, and not romance, are the kind of people you want to avoid. Who don't care who they hurt. You know the trope - "

Slide 4: An illustrated example of the stereotypical trope. Shown is a house party where two characters are interacting. A taller man leans over a clearly intimidated woman:

"Hey Babe, you alone here tonight?" "Umm …" "Come on, don't be so cold, why don't you loosen up a little?" "No, uh-"

An arrow points to the man that says ""the predatory-college-fuckboy-frat-bro-trope"

Slide 5: Another series of examples, this time illustrated from Celia's childhood. The panel is split into three as you progress through the years. In each section Celia watches a television show.

1: "You can't trust him, ALL he does is sleep around - he's never settled down" 2: "Sorry I'm only looking for something casual right now …" "You're scared of commitment" "No, I-" "You're just using me!" 3: "At least it happened with someone who's loved her and been dating her forever", this is in reference to a teenaged character having sex the first time.

In this last section celia says, forlorn, "There's something wrong with ME, isn't there?"

Slide 6: Celia speaks to viewer directly. "I sure as hell didn't want to admit I was Aro because I knew I wasn't Ace."

Slide 7: "So yeah, those are my thoughts. I've told my allo friends about my theories and they …"

Slide 8: "… didn't exactly believe me." Celia is shown video chatting with her friend, saying "So those are my theories as to why romantic attraction is probably less common than we think, and why there's probably way more Aro people! People are probably too embarassed to admit it because stigma or never even realized it!"

Friend awkwardly says "I … I'm sorry I gotta say I don't agree …"

Slide 9: Celia holds her finger up to her chin, pondering. "Maybe it's just an Aro thing."]

#regularcomic #MMPA #MaybeMorePeopleAreArospec #thealloaroedition

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izukuwus · 10 months

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the past half hour wasn't real - Miguel O'Hara x Reader

M.list - Read on Ao3

A/N: continuing the trend of using tfb lyrics whenever I don't know how to title things. almost didn't post this one and definitely didn't edit this one but it's cheaper than acquiring a therapist <3

Summary: Miguel accidentally startles you in exactly the wrong way. Your behavior may require an explanation.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, panic attacks, past sexual assault

Word count: ~2700

You've been hurt before. Past lovers and your own stupidity mostly, if we're looking at number instances alone. But that's not what I'm talking about.

It isn't something you talk about. Once, you'd gotten fed up with your own self-destructive coping mechanisms, reached out, and booked an appointment with a therapist.

The day came, and you freaked out, canceled, and told yourself you'd never try to speak about what happened again.

And really, that wasn't a problem. You dealt with it how any normal person would: you closed off. You became Only The Employee or Only The Hero and occasionally let work acquaintances talk you into 1-3 dates with a guy who you would inevitably break it off with because you have numbed yourself out to that shit. Once or twice, you managed relationships longer. Those, too, fell apart.

Granted, at first, you tried not to. You tried to be daring and open and honest with partners. You tried to tell them: you had been hurt before. You might be a little cagey from time to time, you might have limits that don't make sense, but it is only because you have been hurt and you will spend the rest of your life navigating it.

That didn't work.

It didn't work because instead they saw you as cracked and damaged, or else extraordinarily fragile, and they would never touch you until, eventually, they moved on, and you would return to being Only the Employee and Only the Hero.

That was until you met Miguel and the others.

Hundreds and hundreds of people—all just like each other and, to a lesser degree, just like you. Spider-mutated heroes from different dimensions, working together to keep the multiverse in one coherent-incoherent piece. And Miguel, at the center of it all, Atlas holding up the world on his shoulders.

Miguel, who re-invigorated your life and, whether he realized it or not, yanked you violently out of depression.

Miguel, who, by taking you back through that portal with him and the others, allowed you to realize that while you were frequently Only The Hero, you were not The Only Hero.

Miguel, who called you in to help with an anomaly and found you emotionally rotting in your suit and didn't force you to drag yourself out anyway.

Miguel, who quietly sent a pair of Spiders to your dimension for a little bit so you could ride the waves of the anniversary of the day That Man Hurt You until they finally left you crashed on the shore long enough to stand again.

It was little wonder that you fell head over heels for him. It was rare that he let others see the humanity in him long enough to be registered, but he let you see enough that there was never any hope for you to begin with.

And that, my friend, is exactly the fucking problem.

Because you have been hurt before.

Maybe you did careen into a relationship of sorts with him—you're pretty sure you're exclusive, at least, given how little capacity either of you seem to have for entertaining the idea where even one person is concerned, and you spend time together and he lets you see himself a way that no one else ever sees him: human, tender, kind. Of course there is kindness in his actions day-to-day, but it's always masked, beneath his unmasked, flat tone and the seemingly cold logic present.

You know he has not been completely vulnerable with you. This is okay, because it's not as if you've been vulnerable with him.

You have pushed yourself through, because you love him. You have let him kiss you, because you love him. You have given him affection until he breaks because he needed it and you love him.

You have not had sex with him.

And oh, you've tried. You've told yourself a million times—he is not Him, he is nothing like Him, he would never hurt you the way He hurt you. These are all true statements. Factually, there is not a single shred of doubt to be had in these points.

Except trauma does not care about what is true now. It is determined to remind you, again and again, that You Have Been Hurt Before. You, conversely, are determined to tell capital-T Trauma to suck your fucking dick about it and fuck off so you can live a normal, well-adjusted life as a superhero dating an alternate-dimension superhero.

So you push yourself. You do not initiate, but you don't run away, because for once in your life you have enough love to stay, and anyways if you ran, he would chase you, and you wouldn't be able to keep it together.

It is late, and there has been a lull in anomalies to contend with lately, and you have just spent a wonderful day with Miguel. You don't track time like normal people do, so you can't say how long you've been together, just that it's been a long enough time that it's not really unfounded when you both crash at your apartment and you invite him to spend the night.

You have unspoken boundaries that he has effortlessly sensed and not once attempted to cross, so tonight, you don't expect him to walk up behind you sitting on the edge of your bed and wrap tender arms around your waist or press a sweet kiss to the back of your neck.

To be fair, he does not expect you to freeze.

He does not expect you to jolt away, to shove him with all your force, for whimpering pleas to pass your lips between breaths that turn to gasps, for you to settle on the floor seven feet away and grab harshly at your hair just to find some way to ground yourself.

The reactions are automatic. They have to be, because it is no longer you in your body in the room with him. It is memories, and it is fear, and if you could bring yourself to do anything beyond pulling your hair and hyperventilating, you'd be halfway out the window by now, whether it was open or not.

He's in front of you in a second, eyes searching, almost wounded, and the little part of you that's still in your head wants to apologize, to tell him it's not his fault, fucking hell this is Miguel he'll never—

But you can't. All you can think of is that night, of pleading nos, of the pain of it all and waking up and just crying for hours.

"Tell me what I did wrong, cariño, and I will never do it again. Please."

His voice is grounding. He is stricken, to see you this way. He is careful not to touch you, not to move too fast until you finally manage to worm a hand out of your hair to find something to claw at, to find a source of pain to bring you back down to Earth (667, in your case), and then he is lightning as he pulls your hands away from yourself.

"[name]. I need you to look at me and see me. Can you do that?"

You can do that.

You meet his eyes, focus as hard as you can on the place where his hands hold yours, the look in his eyes—calculating beyond the hurt. He's trying to figure you out.

He is counting, and it takes little time for you to understand that you are to follow the numbers with your breaths. You've played this game before. You try your best to match him, and he is encouraging and kind even when your attempts to just take a slow breath are interspersed with involuntary inhales and hiccups.

The pads of his thumbs, calloused and rough, smooths over the back of your hands in little circles, and when you struggle to breathe and struggle to listen, they, too, bring you back down. Each pass of his thumb feels like a confession of things you have not yet said, despite the time:

Swipe. I love you. Swipe. I love you. Swipe. I love you.

Time moves weirdly coming down from panic attacks, and so it is impossible to say how long it takes you to come back down enough to speak, how long he spends counting and rubbing his thumbs into your hands, how long you spend expending every effort just to breathe correctly.

When at last you can breathe and his counting stops, he does not let go of your hands. They are a reminder he is here. They are a reminder you are loved.

"I'm sorry" are the first words out of your mouth when you can think to say them, although the Everything took quite a bit out of you and you don't have many more words to give right now. You had been lucky so far; you stayed masked in front of everyone. Not your Spider mask, but the other mask, the one you never let down around others. No one suspected you to be Different before this, and now you're stuck wordless and feeling remarkably alone.

Except, hey, isn't Miguel just like you? Isn't that part of why you love him so?

He asks in low tones if he can carry you somewhere more comfortable than the floor. You nod, and he carries you to the couch, puts on the TV. He lets you be the one to fuck with the remote, seemingly understanding without you telling him that you do not have the words to direct him yourself right now. You put on something non-offensive and easy, and when he gets up with gentle words informing you that he's going to get something from the kitchen, you cling to him wordlessly.

A rumble of a laugh soothes you. "I'm just getting you something to drink."

You shoot him pleading eyes. Stay. Please stay.

"You need to drink water. I can carry you, if you don't want to be alone right now."

You unwind, offer him the tiniest of nods. He lifts you, again with ease, and carries you one-armed into your kitchen so he can get you a glass of water.

It is unbearable, how clingy you've become in such a short time. It is pathetic, how he sets you down with your glass of water and sits beside you and you immediately press into his side. He may have been the danger for a moment in your traitorous mind, but now, direct contact with him is the absolute safest place to be. He is an amazing sport for simply allowing it.

When at last you have it in you to drag words up to the surface, you're immediately apologizing all over again, and he is meeting each one with a gentle refusal.

"I don't need an apology from you. I just need to know what you need from me so that I never set you off that way again."

Your face falls, and you consider the sentence you need to pull out of yourself.

Honesty. That's important.

"You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry."

He arches a brow. He does not buy it and does not appreciate your continued apologies.

"...I haven't always been strong enough to take care of myself. Someone I trusted a lot..." The words die in your throat. Even now, after everything, you still can't bring yourself to say them.

As it turns out, you don't need to. It is rare that Miguel emotes in a way others completely understand, beyond angry and stern, but you know heartbreak when you see it. "Oh, cariño..."

“I just got scared,” you whisper finally.

He is holding you, then, gentle and firm all at once. “You should have told me.”

“I don’t want you to be afraid to touch me.”

Now that it’s out, that fear strikes you to your core.

Miguel, who would never want to hurt you.

Who now has reason to fear that he’ll hurt you no matter what he does.

“I won’t ask you to go into detail. But if we ever run into him, I can’t be held accountable for what I’ll do.”

A bitter scoff. You rest your head against his chest, let the sound of his heartbeat soothe you. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Your arms wind around his midsection, and you gradually slide onto his lap. “Please don’t let this change how you think of me.”

“What do I have to do so that you never get the idea I might think less of you over something like this ever again?”

You shudder with the sob that rises at that, but you refuse to let yourself cry more tonight. “It isn’t that I thought you’d see me as less. It’s just… I managed to tell someone once. About what happened to me. And he pulled away. He wouldn’t touch me. Wouldn’t even look at me.”

“You’re afraid I would leave you to keep you safe.”

“Mm.” You’re glad for the position the pair of you have wound up in. You couldn’t stand to see his face right now. “I didn’t—don’t—want to lose you. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize that we never had a sex life because I let you see this part of me and you decided it was better for me.”

He is silent. That is the scariest part—he is silent.

“I know you’re always putting others above you. I know you’re trying to protect all of everyone in everything you do. I realize it’s selfish to ask you not to protect me. But it is goddamn torture to be put in a little glass case to be looked at and never loved because everyone’s afraid to hurt me, and it makes it all the worse, and I am so, so tired of letting him haunt the rest of my life. Can I please be selfish?”

“It’ll be difficult,” he replies, and your heart drops. You’re already moving to untangle yourself from him when he continues: “But if you’ll talk to me, and we discuss your boundaries, and you tell me the nanosecond something feels wrong to you…”

He isn’t leaving.

He isn’t pulling away.

You sit, frozen, on his lap, and search his face with wide eyes, but there’s no hint of deception. Not that you were ever the Expressions Reader, but still. You like to think you’re learning his, and you don’t see deception there.

“I love you,” you say, and that’s not the words you intended to say, not for the first time like this. “Please don’t ever sneak up from me behind like that again. Make noise. I don’t care what noise.”

It is his turn to be stunned, and for good reason, because you’re not sure anyone expected you to drop the “I love you” tonight. For a second, you think that will turn out to be the final nail in the coffin, but then he’s peppering your face in kisses, and you flush under the attention.

He isn’t letting you kiss him back or escape the assault, and you find yourself dissolving into laughter when he holds your face still to better aim his affections. At last, when you’re reduced to a giggling mess in his arms, he grants you reprieve so he can speak.

“I promise, that’ll never happen again. I love you, too.”

You are exhausted and drained, but sitting here with him, there is warmth, and light, and hope. Tomorrow, he will return to HQ, and you will remain in this dimension to make your rounds and keep your lights on. Someday, he will tell you about the pains he carries, and on another Someday, you may give him details about yours. But it is tonight, and tonight, you will settle into one another, murmur quietly a conversation about limits and love and how to move forward.

One thing you should know: although he is scared, he will never pull away because of this. You are safe in that.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @yohoe-hoe

#my fics #miguel o'hara x reader

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submalevolentgrace · 1 year

Text

(yesterday i received an ask, which prompted me to write the following response. the asker has apologised for sending it and i took it down to prevent anyone from laying into them, but present is anonymously below because i like my response and want you to see it)

"Based on the fun new revelation that the world is ending before I graduate, is it even worth it to try prepping or should we all just get ready to jump into traffic come 2025?"

okay, there is, A LOT to unpack here. i'm gonna do my best to respond to this helpfully, the way i am facing it: confronting it, emotionally processing it, pragmatically preparing, and holding on to a sort of grim, dark hope.

we're talking about climate collapse and the latest IPCC report here right? first off, it's not a new revelation. maybe it is for you personally, but for humanity as a whole, we've known about the inevitable outcomes of emissions damaging the climate since like the 70's. i found out about it myself in primary school in the mid 90's, when it was still called the greenhouse effect, and i then spent 20 years on and off in various roles of support for climate activism, when i had the spoons. if you're young and just finding out about it now i know it's probably overwhelming, and especially sucks the later you've been born into this mess… but i'm pointing out that it's not new, to underline the point that it's also not sudden. yeah it's getting worse, but it's been getting worse for generations, and will keep getting worse for generations.

it's not a meteor, or a volcano. it's a creeping steady decline of habitability with sputters and bursts of natural disaster; there is no timeline or event or threshold at which the world ends here.

that 2025 "deadline" from this year's IPCC synthesis report, for instance; it's not a date that the world ends. honestly, in some ways, it's kinda meaningless. what it is, as i understand it, is that all the data says that if we want to limit global average temperature rises to 1.5C by end of century - which we do, because even 2C would be catastrophic - we need emissions to peak by 2025 and then rapidly decline. it's a vastly oversimplified agregate of incredibly complex data reduced down to the point of absurdity in a desperate attempt by scientists to get corporations to allow governments to take action to limit corporations. it's a deadline for government action to limit effects by 2100. the year will come, and pass, and the world will go on. probably with emissions still going up, probably with targets shifted again and 2C accepted as the next half hearted goal that will also be missed, but life will go on.

no end of the world. life will go on. into the 2030's, into the 2040's, into the 2100's, life will go on. it'll be hotter and colder, wetter and drier, more storms and bushfires, less food and fertile land, but life will go on. populations will starve, land will become uninhabitable, life will go on. when you hear about "the end of the world" from climate collapse, it's not a hard apocalypse that kills us all off or whatever. it's the slow creep of nature getting more harsh, and the way we do things much harder.

if you look at the serious reports from scientists and militaries, the language you see isn't "end of the world", it's "end of modern societies". that's what's really at risk: the fragile infrastructure that holds up the ruling classes of rich nations and has us all scurrying around to make it work. mass scale power grids, international supply chains and just in time logistics, silicon wafer production, year-round plastic wrapped preserved passionfruit chunks grown in thailand, packed in argentina, sold in france, profits to america, money stored on a computer in the cayman islands. i can't sugarcoat it and say that's all that's at stake; people are definitely going to starve and drown and die of exposure; but that already happens every day in most of the world, right now. there are a million rohingya at the border of bangladesh, locals fleeing khartoum as the west airlifts out is nationals, people whose civilisations were crushed under the boots of empires and land destroyed to create the farmland and factories that are killing the planet. life for them goes on.

i mean, i get it. seeing the impending collapse of your society, everything you've known for your whole life being willfully destroyed, it's fucking devastating. we want to keep sitting here on comfortable couches with our gold and cobalt plated supercomputers sharing cat gifs on the hellsite. we don't want to have our civilisation taken away from us and be forced into brutal struggle to survive. it's going to fucking suck, it will be awful, and it will be (and already is) most destructive to the people who are already the worst off, which just sucks even more… and maybe your life is already bad enough that you don't think you can handle it getting worse. i mean, i've been suicidal since i was 14 and i've been through trauma and medical torture you wouldn't believe since then. i get it. you're scared, terrified even. existentially threatened. you don't know what you can handle and maybe you donn't wanna find out.

but here's the thing: the ONLY sensible thing you can do, now and going forwards, is prepare for it.

you wanna kill yourself when it gets hard? let's say sure, i agree with that. what's the threshold then, what's the limit? when will you kill yourself? the power grid going down? sewerage backing up? supply chains failing and being unable to buy food? from the comfort of the developed world, those all feel like exit points i can imagine many people taking as their out… but how long does it have to last before you know it's carbon-monoxide-party time? a month of no power, no flush, no food? a week, a few months, or a year? because it won't start that way.

it's not a meteor or volcano, it's a slow slide. some powerlines sagged so there's rolling blackouts every now and then, a few hours or a day at a time. pipes backed up a bit so pressure is reduced for a week until repairs are done. fires and plague have closed roads so shelves are bare and stores are limiting purchases on essentials this month. there will be bumps along the road before there will be any sort of definitive cliff where you can say "this is it, now is the time to kill myself". these bumps are already happening.

i really hope you can agree, it'd be absurd to be such a fatalistic doomer that you kill yourself instantly at the first blackout, dry tap, or closed grocery store; when you can't know if it'll be back up in a few hours or tomorrow or next week. these small disruptions are already happening right now, directly as a result of climate collapse, but we're still here, still living. if we're going to talk about suicide as a pragmatic option, you need a threshold, and wherever you set it, you'll have to get through what comes before. "i'll kill myself after a month with no grid" still means you gotta be ready for a week without it. you gotta prepare, even if you plan to not survive.

and i know it's overwhelming, i know. to look around and think about what is essential to keep you going, what you can sacrifice, how you can make it through. but you're not going to be doing it alone, everyone around you is going to be doing it with you. we're all going to be struggling through it, and based on how communities have responded in the last few years to a string of once-in-a-lifetime disasters here in my home of climate-fucked australia, i am certain that when the climate collapses around a group of people, they will form a community and help each other, no matter how selfish and mean of a country bogan (translation: redneck) they are. people will help each other; people already are helping each other.

because yeah, climate collapse will probably destroy modern civilisation… but so what? it's a neoliberal capitalist hellscape quickly plunging us into technologically enforced eternal authoritarianism… and like, not to be an accelerationist or anything, but here's that dark hope i mentioned: i'm kinda relieved by the thought that the infrastructure that enables it won't last this century. that climate collapse will force us out of these horrors, and back into real, interdependent community.

so do what you can to prepare, how you can, to make the little disruptions more bearable and comfortable. there's plenty of resources still available for off grid life, camping, home agriculture, and general self sufficiency out there on the still-existant internet, and more people are getting into it all the time - not just what you imagine when you hear "prepper". any skill you can develop, anything you can do to prepare, even if it's as simple as keeping extra shelf stable food and a jug of clean water around, anything you can do will help you materially and more importantly, mentally.

having some jerry cans of water and a small solar setup has been amazing for my mental health and anxiety! and as much as i'm putting material and energy into preperations, i'm also putting them into comfort, maybe even hedonism. collecting some cool lego, got some fancy synths i didn't need, making fucked up noise music with them. enjoying the sound of the neighbours' chickens, looking forward to the day "the world ends" and i can free-range my own on the council's nature strip and share the eggs with the pottery lady down the street. once you're prepared to survive a week of grid down, maybe you'll realise a month, a year, isn't so unbearable. maybe it starts to feel nice?

because i've been there, the suicidal grief. 2018 was absolutely the worst year of my life and i was sure i'd die being tortured in hospital, and coming out of that, in 2019, both the IPCC and ADF released incredibly bleak reports on climate collapse outcomes, and it all sank in. all the spare spoons i'd sunk into helping when i could, all the decades of scientists desperately warning, it all failed. the final warnings have been coming for years, with no change in course, it's happening. and i faced the realisation that my decades were limited, my time of comfort short, and i started despairing and grieving. i turned to what support systems i had, and they failed me. when my psych asked what i was so anxious about and i started explaining the climate reports, he tensed up and started asking diagnostic questions for dilusional psychosis. i went home and cried, i was sleeping on the couch in the junk storage room of my sharehouse because i'd let my own room fill up with so much trash that there was a distinctly organic smell of growth choking the whole place out. i was fucking done, my heart and body broken, there didn't seem to be any point in anything, not without a future. it's the closest i've been to killing myself since leaving home…

so i said, fuck it. i've got a tiny pool of cash from welfare backpay, and i bought a synth i wanted. it fucking rocked, and brought me so much joy, so i bought another, and another. no future to save for, anyway. i made some cool music, i never saw that psych again, i gave up on my drive for revenge on doctors and finding answers about my fucked up nervous system, why bother when the world is ending? and i made music. i can kill myself later maybe. i started loving myself more, because what's the point starving to death hating myself? i made music and got confident and cleaned my fucking room, bought a new mattress. i met a girl and took a chance and we fucked real good and i fell in love again. i moved out somewhere new and quieter and left a home of over a decade behind me, left parts of my identity behind me, moving forward and growing for the better. i have a family now, the first family that has ever loved me without expecting anything in return, and i love them with all my heart. i listen to the chickens, and watch leaves float down the storm water drain, and make cool music. yesterday i listened to a 14 minute track i made 6 months ago and almost cried, because nobody can make music that is so perfect for my tastes except me, and i brought it into existence. on the weekend i'm gonna set up the solar panel to keep the backup battery topped up, i use it to charge my phone and laptop, which the kids would call solarpunk and i'd call cool as fuck to have a solar powered laptop.

in 2019 i stared into the void and realised there is no real future for me, for human civilisation as we know it, and i grieved and processed… i almost killed myself, but i didn't, and the years since have been the best of my life, no question.

so, no. don't kill yourself, now or in 2025 or at any point until you can't handle the torture anymore. "graduation" sounds young, real young, even if it's tertiary. i'm creeping towards 40, and the age that "graduation" conjures makes me think that you've got a hell of a lot of potential left in you, for fun and stupidity, and growing up, and finding love and heartbreak, and your version of wierd-arse synth music.

so go out there, prepare, and enjoy.

…

…..and for the love of all the false goddesses of the void, never, NEVER EVER again contact a random fucking blog on tumblr and ask if you should kill yourself. holy fuck buddy. the amount of pressure you put me under to deliver an emmaculately worded response that somehow talks you down from the ledge without lying, is way, way too much fucking pressure. i really hope you were being stupidly hyperbolic, but even then, Eris Fucking Kallisti Herself In Absurdist Pagan Blasphemy, so incredibly unacceptable to say to a stranger. i think you need a therapist, even if they do think you're catastrophising, because like. shit dude. this is abso-fucking-lutely not okay!

now go. prepare and enjoy.

(reminder that asker apologised and i have no hard feelings for a midnight despair ask)

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tismrot · 5 months

Text

ARE YOU A CROWLEY? Hello, how are ya? Let’s be friends.

I, too, started out as a loud, emotional child who was into ✨SPACE✨. I’d ask questions wherever I went - some adults found it endearing that a four-year-old asked the types of why’s they didn’t have answers for, others asked me to shut up, be quiet. I realize as an adult I asked a lot of uncomfortable questions, having no idea i shouldn’t.

Home life was turbulent. My dad had the same issues as me, probably, but his generation never talks about anything, and he became an unpredictable, emotionally distant and sometimes explosive presence. The words he used to call me still hurt, way more so than any bruise he left. Mom smoked cigarettes in the kitchen, reading difficult books instead of daring to look at the difficult lives we all had. It was the 90s, after all. Nobody ever did anything about problems.

I should have been sent to some sort of screening, of course. But I was a girl, and hyperlexic. Diagnoses were for boys who couldn’t spell their own names, who threw chairs at teachers and brought knives to school.

My anger issues and social naivety, as well as unconventional intensity of interests, alienated me from my peers. I usually played alone, even though I was extremely extroverted. I was bullied relentlessly until I moved away for high school. There, I was only shut out, I didn’t have anyone yell things after me anymore. It was a freedom.

All my friends, from early childhood until now, have been the other misfit freaks. Some of us were extremely damaged, but all of us had baggage. I’m only friends with a few of them still, we all had dramatic lives and quite many of them are now dead, in self-imposed isolation or have managed to turn their lives completely around (which means they cut out me). Self-imposed isolation became my way of dealing with my past, and I’ve cut out a lot of people. I don’t judge anyone for deciding I wasn’t the friend they needed. I’ve done dumb things, I’ve made bad choices.

I was extremely extroverted, happy (despite the anger), motivated and creative. After family, school and life happened, I became a socially paranoid, bitter, arrogant mess. I said I hated people - the truth was that I suspected they all hated me. I self-medicated with (almost) everything I could get my hands on (but I preferred stimulants), until I got stimulant prescription medications - I’ve stopped doing everything else and life is very predictable. I’m healthy and reliable, I can talk about weather with strangers on bus stops, I don’t always say the weirdest thing one could say in any given situation (and realize only two days later). I work out to stabilize my hEDS (the connective tissue disorder that made me walk funny, sit funny, move in strange ways, made everything hurt all the time), I read up on traumatic family dynamics.

Would be boring if I didn’t still vividly remember where I’ve been before.

So. Seeing Crowley on screen actually DID something to me. I know, fatal brainrot, but I see myself in him. Whatever he does in the show, I get it. I see parallels to my personality, my neurodivergencies and my trauma. It feels affirming and I feel represented in a way I didn’t know I needed. I mean, it’s almost uncanny/silly - I, too, wear only black, have a thing for snake themed jewelry (for years, not related to Good Omens at all) and I almost always wear sunglasses (light sensitivity). It’s dumb, almost, but it’s true. I dressed up as him recently and only had to buy the lenses - all the rest, including the sleeveless turtleneck body, was already in my closet.

(Oh, and ✨Flex Time✨, kids absolutely dig me. They climb on me and tell me beautiful and horrendous things from their lives without apprehension, and adults often don’t like that. I talk to them like I’m a kid myself, I don’t try to be above them. I work with kids now, and the other adults always send me the stink eye, but the kids apparently need to talk and I hope I’m making a positive impact in their lives.)

And the best part? Via Tumblr I’ve learned that my experience isn’t unique. So many of us see ourselves in Crowley, for these exact reasons. I love that about us!

So. Are you a Crowley? Let me know. Add me. Let’s be a group of the all of us.

(GIF: Accurate depiction of me watching Crowley In The Beginning, him not understanding how questions could be dangerous - then remembering how many teachers absolutely hated my precocious, arrogant, eight-year-old ass for always raising my hand to ask something that would reveal how little the teacher actually knew, and I had no idea that was what was happening until I tried to be a teacher myself and actually ENJOYED having kids ask me weird questions).

#crowley #good omens fandom #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #good omens 2 #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable spouses #innefable husbands #ineffable divorce #crowley edits #female crowley #crowley brainrot #good omens brainrot #audhd problems #actually audhd #aj crowley #crowley good omens #anthony j crowley

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froot-batty · 6 months

Note

Hello! I am in love with your AU, it tickles my brain just right and I adore everything about it. So I just have a couple questions:

1. Why is Jervis so eepy all the time? Does she have narcolepsy? Is it a side effect of his brain damage? Or is she just like that?

2. So this Jon is aspec, right? Who does he love/care about, and how does he show his love and affection to him? (Also bonus: does Jon go by "it" exclusively when Scarecrow?)

Thank you!!!! And have a lovely day ^^

Thank you very much !! I'm always glad to know my AU is infecting people like a little brain parasite

Jervis is permanently eepy mostly because of the brain damage, yeah! She liked to sleep before the bump to the head (it was a kind of coping mechanism - to sleep through her problems - and it has been ever since she was a kid), but it only got worse as a result of that

One of the symptoms he experiences is a whole ton of fatigue. Chronic migraines paired with muscle weakness make a lot of activities physically exhausting for him, so sleep is one of the ways he recharges or escapes from particularly painful days

Also, sometimes it's just a good excuse to cuddle up with your friends :]

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Jon is both Demiromantic and Demisexual :]. As of right now he doesn't have a partner, and he's quite content with that, but he's got lots of people he loves - even if his emotionally stunted ass won't admit it

His closest friends are Ed, Jervis as of right now, and Waylon! He also has a soft spot for Harley, as they were former coworkers! How he shows his affection differs depending on the person:

With Ed, they're both really emotionally distant guys, and neither of them seek physical touch (with Ed disliking it), so he's all about actions with them. Busting them out of Arkham, reluctantly answering riddles or testing out their puzzles, things like that. Ed is much the same way. They are a very snarky pair of guys.

Jervis' main love language is obviously physical touch, so the easiest way for Jon to show his affection is by letting Jervis cuddle up with him or hold his hand. He also will NEVER admit it, but he worries about her physical condition. When she gets tired, he'll let her sit on his shoulders (He also does tend to consider Jervis weak and in need of protection, and often underestimates him)

Waylon and him are SOUTHERN BUDS. Jon likes being around Waylon because he's just a genuinely nice guy. They have nice chats and look out/do favors for each other! Another example of Jon's love language being "busting your pals out of an insane asylum" though

When he worked with Harley, he thought of her as an overconfident, naïve, but well-meaning little sister. They're still friendly after Harley turned over to the dark side, but there's a part of Jon that resents how the Joker stole that glimmer of real promise that Harley had. Jon shows his affection for her by not injecting that annoying clown with a lethal dose of fear toxin

And to answer your bonus, yes! It came from the news articles written about the Scarecrow when Jon first started out, which used it/its for it because nobody really knew what the Scarecrow was. Jon liked it so much he adopted it into the Scarecrow persona (he probably wouldn't mind being called it/its in his normal life, but he ain't opening that can of worms, no sir)

Thank you for your questions !! I hope this satisfied >;}

#LONG ONE #frootverse #jervis tetch #the mad hatter #jonathan crane #the scarecrow #too lazy to tag the others #doodles

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coraniaid · 6 months

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I'm not suggesting that Buffy and Faith were secretly dating (or at least making out between patrols) before the events of Revelations. Even if Buffy joked about “seeing someone tonight” when her friends asked her if she was dating somebody, before putting her arms around Faith and insisting that they were really “just good friends”. Even if Faith’s reaction to finding out about Angel – “Buffy knew … I can’t believe her” – is very easy to read as romantic or sexual jealousy. Even if Gwendolyn Post’s last attempt to manipulate Faith (the accusation that Buffy was “blinded by love” for Angel) seems specifically designed to play on this jealousy. Even if Faith’s decision at the end of the episode that “you can’t trust people” implies she’s been betrayed by more than one person; even if Buffy’s “you can trust me” is met with a disbelieving smirk.

I don’t really think that’s how the writers intended the show to be viewed. More importantly, I don’t think that Buffy – even if she was emotionally self-aware enough to acknowledge her own feelings – would be ready to have that sort of relationship so soon after Scott Hope, let alone be able to keep it a secret.

But what I am saying is that, in a world where that actually was the explicit plot of Revelations, you really wouldn't have to change any of the dialogue in the opening scene of The Wish at all.

This is a scene in which Buffy’s lament that she “couldn’t reach [Faith] … again” segues straight into her commiserating with Xander over the fact he’s had “no luck reaching Cordelia”. Cordelia of course, is Xander’s ex-girlfriend who refused to speak to him the last time he went to see her, after Xander was seen secretly kissing Willow, and hasn’t been seen with him since. Cordelia's furious because she was just starting to tell herself that she was in love with Xander and he betrayed her. Faith, on the other hand, is Buffy’s [redacted] who refused to speak to her the last time she went to see her, after Buffy was seen secretly kissing Angel, and hasn’t been seen with her since. Faith's furious because she was just [redacted].

Meanwhile Willow tells Buffy she’s looking forward to seeing Oz again so she can “beg for forgiveness”, and Buffy – fresh from visiting Faith’s motel to do “damage control”, to apologize for keeping secrets and to promise her that she’s on her side, and who just finished telling her friends that she’s sad Faith hasn’t been hanging out with her lately – tells her that that works too, and she “knows the feeling” Willow is going through.

The one line I might cut is the one that doesn’t make much sense even in isolation. Xander decides that Buffy can relate to what he and Willow are going through because she “went through it with Angel”. Only … well, yes, it’s true in a very broad sense that Buffy has already experienced some sort of heartbreak with Angel, but the comparison doesn’t really work beyond that, does it? Angel didn’t break up with Buffy because she was unfaithful. (Sort of the opposite, really.) Buffy never had to apologize to Angel for kissing somebody else. She's carrying a lot of Angel-related guilt, but it's not particularly similar to the guilt that Willow or Xander should be feeling (Buffy blamed herself for Angel losing his soul in Innocence and for sending him to hell in Becoming, but she had no way to know the first would happen and was forced to do the latter to save the world). As of the last episode, if anything it’s Buffy who broke things off with Angel. As parallels go it just feels a little forced.

Again, this is the first time Angel’s been brought up in the conversation. And yet, Buffy has been talking about somebody she hurt and deliberately lied to and wishes she could make things right with, hasn’t she?

But, like I said, I’m not suggesting that Buffy and Faith were secretly dating before Revelations. I’m not.

Obviously that didn’t happen until Bad Girls.

#btvs #buffy rewatch 2023

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