#so as we can see here. they both put on a mask and are self sacrificial about it for the sake of others | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kaladinkholins · 2 months

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Very interesting to me that a certain subset of the BES fandom's favourite iterations of Mizu and Akemi are seemingly rooted in the facades they have projected towards the world, and are not accurate representations of their true selves.

And I see this is especially the case with Mizu, where fanon likes to paint her as this dominant, hyper-masculine, smirking Cool GuyTM who's going to give you her strap. And this idea of Mizu is often based on the image of her wearing her glasses, and optionally, with her cloak and big, wide-brimmed kasa.

And what's interesting about this, to me, is that fanon is seemingly falling for her deliberate disguise. Because the glasses (with the optional combination of cloak and hat) represent Mizu's suppression of her true self. She is playing a role.

Take this scene of Mizu in the brothel in Episode 4 for example. Here, not only is Mizu wearing her glasses to symbolise the mask she is wearing, but she is purposely acting like some suave and cocky gentleman, intimidating, calm, in control. Her voice is even deeper than usual, like what we hear in her first scene while facing off with Hachiman the Flesh-Trader in Episode 1.

This act that Mizu puts on is an embodiment of masculine showboating, which is highly effective against weak and insecure men like Hachi, but also against women like those who tried to seduce her at the Shindo House.

And that brings me to how Mizu's mask is actually a direct parallel to Akemi's mask in this very same scene.

Here, Akemi is also putting up an act, playing up her naivety and demure girlishness, using her high-pitched lilted voice, complimenting Mizu and trying to make small talk, all so she can seduce and lure Mizu in to drink the drugged cup of sake.

So what I find so interesting and funny about this scene, characters within it, and the subsequent fandom interpretations of both, is that everyone seems to literally be falling for the mask that Mizu and Akemi are putting up to conceal their identities, guard themselves from the world, and get what they want.

It's also a little frustrating because the fanon seems to twist what actually makes Mizu and Akemi's dynamic so interesting by flattening it completely. Because both here and throughout the story, Mizu and Akemi's entire relationship and treatment of each other is solely built off of masks, assumptions, and misconceptions.

Akemi believes Mizu is a selfish, cocky male samurai who destroyed her ex-fiance's career and life, and who abandoned her to let her get dragged away by her father's guards and forcibly married off to a man she didn't know. on the other hand, Mizu believes Akemi is bratty, naive princess who constantly needs saving and who can't make her own decisions.

These misconceptions are even evident in the framing of their first impressions of each other, both of which unfold in these slow-motion POV shots.

Mizu's first impression of Akemi is that of a beautiful, untouchable princess in a cage. Swirling string music in the background.

Akemi's first impression of Mizu is of a mysterious, stoic "demon" samurai who stole her fiance's scarf. Tense music and the sound of ocean waves in the background.

And then, going back to that scene of them together in Episode 4, both Mizu and Akemi continue to fool each other and hold these assumptions of each other, and they both feed into it, as both are purposely acting within the suppressive roles society binds them to in order to achieve their goals within the means they are allowed (Akemi playing the part of a subservient woman; Mizu playing the part of a dominant man).

But then, for once in both their lives, neither of their usual tactics work.

Akemi is trying to use flattery and seduction on Mizu, but Mizu sees right through it, knowing that Akemi is just trying to manipulate and harm her. Rather than give in to Akemi's tactics, Mizu plays with Akemi's emotions by alluding to Taigen's death, before pinning her down, and then when she starts crying, Mizu just rolls her eyes and tells her to shut up.

On the opposite end, when Mizu tries to use brute force and intimidation, Akemi also sees right through it, not falling for it, and instead says this:

"Under your mask, you're not the killer you pretend to be."

Nonetheless, despite the fact that they see a little bit through each other's masks, they both still hold their presumptions of each other until the very end of the season, with Akemi seeing Mizu as an obnoxious samurai swooping in to save the day, and Mizu seeing Akemi as a damsel in distress.

And what I find a bit irksome is that the fandom also resorts to flattening them to these tropes as well.

Because Mizu is not some cool, smooth-talking samurai with a big dick sword as Akemi (and the fandom) might believe. All of that is the facade she puts up and nothing more. In reality, Mizu is an angry, confused and lonely child, and a masterful artist, who is struggling against her own self-hatred. Master Eiji, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

And Akemi, on the other hand, is not some girly, sweet, vain and spoiled princess as Mizu might believe. Instead she has never cared for frivolous things like fashion, love or looks, instead favouring poetry and strategy games instead, and has always only cared about her own independence. Seki, her father figure who knows her best, knows this.

But neither is she some authoritative dominatrix, though this is part of her new persona that she is trying to project to get what she wants. Because while Akemi is willful, outspoken, intelligent and authoritative, she can still be naive! She is still often unsure and needs to have her hand held through things, as she is still learning and growing into her full potential. Her new parental/guardian figure, Madame Kaji, knows this as well.

So with all that being said, now that we know that Mizu and Akemi are essentially wearing masks and putting up fronts throughout the show, what would a representation of Mizu's and Akemi's true selves actually look like? Easy. It's in their hair.

This shot on the left is the only time we see Mizu with her hair completely down. In this scene, she's being berated by Mama, and her guard is completely down, she has no weapon, and is no longer wearing any mask, as this is after she showed Mikio "all of herself" and tried to take off the mask of a subservient housewife. Thus, here, she is sad, vulnerable, and feeling small (emphasised further by the framing of the scene). This is a perfect encapsulation of what Mizu is on the inside, underneath all the layers of revenge-obsession and the walls she's put around herself.

In contrast, the only time we Akemi with her hair fully down, she is completely alone in the bath, and this scene takes place after being scorned by her father and left weeping at his feet. But despite all that, Akemi is headstrong, determined, taking the reigns of her life as she makes the choice to run away, but even that choice is reflective of her youthful naivety. She even gets scolded by Seki shortly after this in the next scene, because though she wants to be independent, she still hasn't completely learned to be. Not yet. Regardless, her decisiveness and moment of self-empowerment is emphasised by the framing of the scene, where her face takes up the majority of the shot, and she stares seriously into the middle distance.

To conclude, I wish popular fanon would stop mischaracterising these two, and flattening them into tropes and stereotypes (ie. masculine badass swordsman Mizu and feminine alluring queen but also girly swooning damsel Akemi), all of which just seems... reductive. It also irks me when Akemi is merely upheld as a love interest and romantic device for Mizu and nothing more, when she is literally Mizu's narrative foil (takes far more narrative precedence over romantic interest) and the deuteragonist of this show. She is her own person. That is literally the theme of her entire character and arc.

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #akemi blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai meta #just in case... im gonna tag this as #mizukemicritical #akemizucritical #though this post isnt actually criticising the ship itself but rather fanon's portrayal of the ship and the characters #for that reason lemme also tag this as #wank.mp3 #feel free to disagree of course but please be civil #and if you need to rant about how wrong i am without any convincing evidence kindly feel free to make your own post. peace and love <3 #fandom.rtf #meta dissertations.pdf #shut up haydar #edit: for full disclosure. i do rather dislike this ship. but obviously it's fine for anyone to enjoy it. please do! have your fun!#it's just that as usual! popular fanon and fandom around a ship is what has completely deterred me from any sense of enjoyment of it #it's a shame too because i was very open and even eager for some mizu/akemi romance in the future #but out-of-character fanon + the rudeness of certain fans has definitely soured it for me #but that doesn't mean people can't enjoy it obviously! ship and let ship!!!#plus it has its appeal which i DO STILL see and enjoy!!!!#i would even go as far as to call them soulmates because their narratives and characters are LITERALLY intertwined!!!#but. yeah. my gradual distaste for this ship is indeed very unfortunate.

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moonstruckme · 3 months

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Hey love, im back to plague you with another idea...

A situationship / budding relationship james x reader where shes the Black brothers sister, but every time one of them catchs the two of them alone they physically pick her up and just walk away with that menacing Black stare.

Tysm love x

Thanks for requesting sweetheart!

James Potter x Black!reader ♡ 911 words

“Do you really think this is the best place to hang out?” you ask James, eyeing the closet in his dorm as if you’re brother’s going to come popping out.

“It’ll be fine,” he promises you in that optimistic, sure-footed way of his.

From the way Regulus had talked about Sirius’ friends at Hogwarts, you’d expected James to be insufferable. Arrogant, entitled, the true embodiment of the mask your oldest brother puts on when he’s here at school. But you’d discovered when you’d arrived that Sirius’ goofy friend wasn’t the James Potter you were warned about. He was self-assured, certainly. Confident, but in the years you’ve known him it’s never seemed like anything more sinister than that. James doesn’t walk into every room like he owns it; he walks in like it’s home. He brings that everywhere with him—that feeling of home, of belonging. It seeps into you when you’re with him, and to your brother’s acute repugnance, you’re with him more and more these days.

“Remus is off with Lily, and Sirius got pulled aside by coach after practice, so he’ll be on the pitch running drills for a good hour yet,” James goes on. He sits down on his bed, and you follow suit. “Plus, your dorm is occupied and this is the only other semi-private place I could think of.” His smile goes a bit sheepish as he shrugs, one-shouldered and boyish.

You catch his meaning—the privacy carries implications neither of you are ready to act on—and you’ve got no reason to feel awkward about that but a nervous laugh fizzes up out of you anyway. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admit. Though Sirius is far from unaware of this blossoming whatever between you and James, neither of you are keen on him finding out through the grapevine that you were seen canoodling in the hallways. Privacy is ideal. “So, I’m guessing practice went better for you than it did for him?”

James shrugs again, the show of humility making you both grin. You can never seem to stop doing that around him. “Yeah,” he says, “practice for a seeker is pretty straightforward. Less strategy to it, so I guess I got off easy.”

“You make it sound like Sirius isn’t just hitting things with a bat,” you deadpan, and he laughs. The sound feels like sunbeams shooting straight into your gut.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” he hedges. “But hey, are you coming to the party after the match on Saturday?”

“Is there still going to be a party if you lose?”

James fixes you with a look. “We never lose, sweetheart.”

Another giggle bubbles out of you, though the joke isn’t really that hilarious. You secretly love when James calls you names like that. It makes your heart do all sorts of funny, acrobatic things. You don’t love that it’s probably not so secret, and he can almost definitely tell. His eyes go warm now, a knowing smile playing on the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ll think about it.”

“You should come,” he encourages, leaning his hands back on the mattress. You very pointedly do not let your eyes linger on his forearms as he does so. “It’d make me happy to see you there.”

“You’re always happy,” you tease.

“That’s because you only see me when I’m seeing you.” You must look confused, because James’ clarifies, voice softening slightly, “I can’t help but be happy when I’m with you, sweetheart.”

The combined effect of the words, the tone of his voice, the sweet way he’s looking at you—it starts up more than butterflies in your stomach. There’s got to be a whole ecosystem in there by now, with buzzing bees and jumping frogs and everything. You look down, a half-hearted effort to hide the smile that takes you.

“James,” you murmur, lightly chiding.

The door comes open, and your brother’s eyes widen as they take in you on James’ bed, his hand an inch away from your leg and both of you looking terribly caught. Then they narrow.

“James Potter, zip your pants back up right this instant!”

“Sirius!” you exclaim, and there’s no lightness to this chiding, your face heating with mortification. You glance at James’ zipper, just to be sure—and yup, it’s fully closed, everything contained—and then glance quickly away, horrified all over again that you’d looked.

“We weren’t even doing anything,” you seethe, knowing your stare matches your brother’s as you glower at each other from across the room. “What are you even doing back?”

Sirius rolls his eyes, utilizing that older brother’s insouciance he knows gets under your skin like nothing else. “It seems you’ve gotten turned around. These are the boys’ dorms.” His words drip venom onto the dull red rug. “I’ll be happy to escort you back to yours. Let’s go.”

“No.” You set both hands on James’ bed, feeling ridiculously petulant. Sirius raises a brow as if to say No? but you ignore him. “This dorm is as much James’ as it is yours, and he invited me here.”

“Pads,” James says, not quite softly, but mildly compared to the fiery tones you and your brother are throwing back and forth, “we’re just talking.”

“And now you’re done talking.” Sirius shrugs, stalking toward you. You grip James’ sheets a bit tighter on instinct. “If I recall, you have a potions’ essay to write, and you’re not—ugh.” He grunts, wresting you away from James’ bed using a hold that’s worked since you were kids. James himself offers no help, other than a sympathetic grimace as you’re hauled off. Sirius fixes him with a cold glare in return. “You’re not getting that done in here.”

“You are so immature,” you gripe as he starts tugging you towards the stairs, your feet barely skimming the ground.

“We can talk about—oi, quit!—we can talk about who’s more mature when you stop pinching me, you prick!”

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 months

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Just like how kalim embodies scarabia's mindfulness in his own way, how do you think other boys embodies their respective dorms spirit?

For the sake of ease and consistency, I will be using the official TWST localization's terms for each dorm's core value.

Please note: these are my personal interpretations; even the definitions of each dorm’s “spirit” is not explicitly defined within official TWST materials, so I’ll be running with my own definitions before covering each NRC student. Additionally, since I’ll be covering 22 characters in this post I may not have time to get into painstaking detail for each one.

***Main story spoilers (including late book 7) below the cut!!***

The Queen of Hearts' Spirit of Strictness

Literally speaking, strictness refers to following rules or beliefs exactly. There is rigid enforcement of these rules or beliefs, and very few, if any, exceptions or mercy granted.

Right off the bat, it’s easy to see how Riddle aligns with the spirit of strictness. He is the embodiment the law in Heartslabyul, serving as both judge and executioner to his students. Riddle insists that the rules—no matter how nonsensical—be followed, and he does not hesitate to unleash his wrath and collar those who step out of line. He is strictness itself. Beyond book 1, we do see Riddle trying to be more patient and flexible—however, the fact remains that he upholds rules and continues to have trouble with circumstances where he has to think independently or without a set of instructions to refer to.

Trey is known for frequently indulging others and behaving in a manner which some may call kind. The twist here is that Trey’s strictness is present in the “big brother” role he adopts when dealing with his peers. He’s generally more lenient than Riddle, but Trey often alludes to the fact that he shouldn’t be underestimated or thought of as a nice guy. There are moments when Trey gives others their comeuppance for misbehaving (such as in his dorm uniform vignettes, where he deprives first years of cake for complaining about his same-y baked goods). The thing is, most don’t see it coming because he’s typically so… nice. When he wants to be stern and put his foot down, he certainly can—it just isn’t something that happens a lot, since he’s more mild-mannered than his classmates.

Cater is strict with his public image, specifically how his peers view him. This is most obviously seen in his obsession with social media. He's constantly taking pictures and posting, being heavily involved on Magicam—a space where he can control the narrative about the type of person he is and the life he has. Cater keeps up this front in real life as well, acting cheery and sociable with his classmates while masking a far less motivated and sad side to his character. (This is implied in his Lab Wear vignettes, where a mandrake he infuses with his own magic becomes gloomy and huddles into itself.) There are occasions when Cater expresses that he is lonely or that he wishes he had more friends growing up, but he never fully opens up about his true nature. He strictly keeps that part of himself locked up tight and is seemingly afraid of what others would think of that persona.

Like Cater, Deuce is strict with himself. In Deuce's case, this arises from a past of delinquency and the desire to reform and to be an honors student that his mom can be proud of. Because of these goals, Deuce tries very hard to excel in class (but often falls short) and to behave in a way that he believes honors students would. This means changing the way he looks (he let his natural hair color come back in; it used to be bleached blonde), the way he speaks (not using foul language), the way he dresses, and, most importantly, the way he acts. Of course, his temper gets the best of him at times and his delinquent self bubbles back up (like in book 1 when the eggs were ruined), and Deuce is currently working on better repressing that.

Ace is probably the most carefree and the least stereotypically "strict" of the Heartslabyul group. Instead of having a focus on enforcing rules, Ace is usually the one breaking or defying them. How, then, does he embody the Queen of Hearts' spirit of strictness? I believe it comes through in some of Ace's most iconic scenes: the ones where he is calling others out on their bull crap. Time and time again, it's Ace that is bluntly telling others what they're doing or saying is hypocritical or wrong, or that they haven't truly taken accountability. He does this no matter who he is facing, be that his own dorm leader (book 1), an undead bride (Ghost Marriage), or Malleus Draconia himself (Endless Halloween Night). Ace has his own set of morals and beliefs, and he speaks them loud and clear without imposing as harshly as Riddle does.

The King of Beasts' Spirit of Persistence

Persistence is when one continues their course of action in spite of difficulty or opposition. In other words, there is an obstacle in the way of achieving a goal, and one persists in the face of that obstacle.

Leona is a somewhat strange case to make for persistence because initially he comes off as a very lazy character. We quickly learn that though he appears unmotivated, he’s comfortable scheming and thinking multiple steps ahead to cut out difficult or unnecessary work. There’s no doubt that Leona has had a challenging childhood, feeling like he was always being compared to his brother and never recognized for his own talents. We feel the effects of Leona losing this hope as late as book 6, when Leona says that Jamil is capable of change, unlike himself. Some fans even speculate that Leona’s dialogue implies he has fallen into depression as a result of frequently being dismissed and put down in spite of his efforts to be seen. Even when Leona is dealing with such trauma, he cooks up a plot to return his dorm to glory and to support its future. He, the lowly second born prince, wants to prove himself and his team of misfits, as being worthy of respect and admiration. When the plans fall through, Leona is quick to give up (which seems to go against the idea of Savanaclaw’s persistence). However, I would say this is part of his character growth in book 2. Later in the main story, Leona also throws in the towel quickly—but it doesn’t contradict his development; he knows when to strategically retreat in book 6.

Ruggie comes from an extremely impoverished background. He has had perhaps the least “cushy” life out of the entire NRC cast. Even so, Ruggie was able to study and work hard enough to earn decent grades, get multiple part-time jobs, and pick up many useful survival skills. He’s street smart and knows that what he lacks in strength he can make up for by sticking to someone who is strong (Leona). (Their relationship is mutually beneficial!!) Ruggie knows that just having money isn’t sustainable in the long run, so he’s hauling ass now to make something of not only himself, but also for all the people in the slums.

Jack embodies persistence through the events of book 2. At first, Jack tries to get Leona to see reason by letting him know that he genuinely is a figure Jack admires. He’s put in a moral dilemma when Leona argues that even if they play dirty, he has good intentions. If Jack interferes, he is messing with the future job prospects of his dorm members. Jack wrestles with the question before ultimately coming to the conclusion that he has to tell others about it—and, what’s more, put his own pride as a lone wolf aside to confront Leona and stop to his machinations.

The Sea Witch's Spirit of Benevolence

Benevolence may refer to meaning well or general kindness and compassion. It involves a willingness to help others and caring for them.

Azul, being at the head of the operations at Octavinelle, passes himself off as a benevolent man who will listen to your woes and grant your wishes. In fact, he does—but at a price. The shady ring he’s running is NOT wholly benevolent; the deals can definitely come across as malevolent in book 3 (when Azul wrote the contracts in such a way that the loopholes could fuck clients over). The deals themselves (assuming no foul play), however, are neutral since both parties agree to the terms. Contracts are written with the idea that they will benefit the clients. And Azul is, of course, also seeking out benefits for himself, as that is the nature of business dealings.

Jade represents a kind of benevolence associated with acts of service. He’s Azul’s right-hand man and information broker—furthermore, much of how Jade presents himself alludes to being a butler or some other supportive role. Jade just generally behaves in a way which benefits others. He acts demure and servile, then uses the trust he has gained through service to ply what he wants out of others. Jade does it so sweetly and so expertly that his prey don’t usually notice, or willfully overlook it, being far too impressed by his abilities to fixate on his ulterior motives. This strategy works even on notoriously stern individuals such as Vil (Jade Dorm Uniform vignettes).

Floyd gives “free hugs” :) is… well, ironically, the “kindest” of the trio in a weird way. While this is highly dependent on his mood, the fact of the matter is that Floyd is the easiest to read in terms of “telegraphing” his actions. If he’s in a bad mood, he usually will not hide it. You know what you’re signing up for as soon as you see him. He also typically doesn’t put forth an effort to manipulate or to scheme like Azul or Jade would; Floyd would prefer to be direct and get it over with already. That, in a sense, is the mercy that he offers: something swift and plain to see.

The Sorcerer of the Sands' Spirit of Mindfulness

Mindfulness is a state of being aware of oneself and the present moment. A mindful individual can aknowledge and accept one’s feelings, thoughts, and bodily sensations. Mindfulness may also extend to being aware of others and perceiving their own states of being.

Kalim is not viewed as the most intelligent or crafty of leaders, but where he shines is in his ability to welcome and to bond with his dorm mates. His emotional intelligence is extremely high, which proves itself to be a useful skill in getting to know others and to earn their trust. Kalim has made a name for himself in Scarabia because he is always there to listen and lend a helping hand to his dormmates. He is unabashedly open about his own emotions too, crying when he is sad and trying hard when he is frustrated or dissatisfied. He often asks to know what is wrong when he senses upset within his classmates and wants to do what he can to rectify those situations. This is peak mindfulness--not only is Kalim acutely aware of his own emotional state, but he's also pretty consistent with sensing those in others (the one big exception here, of course, is Jamil). Sometimes Kalim can be blindsided by his own blind faith in others or his overeagerness causing him to blurt things out unintentionally. He's definitely not perfect in this regard--however, there's plenty of room and willingness to grow and to learn (something which Kalim has expressed both in book 5 and in birthday vignettes).

Jamil more readily fits in with a less savory interpretation of mindfulness. He thinks ahead and uses what he knows of others to manipulate them or put himself in an advantageous position. This notably occurs in book 4 (when Jamil plans to use the feedback of Yuu and the Scarabia members to dethrone Kalim), as well as in events (like Beans Day, where he plans to entrap Kalim when Kalim cooks a fragrant lunch that Jamil purposefully packed for him). He uses what he notices or knows about others (Azul’s shadiness, rumors about Lilia being a bad cook) to avoid interactions which could be less than beneficial to him. Jamil’s main fault is that he fails to recognize people’s strengths (something which Leona calls him out for in book 6), and instead focuses mainly on their weaknesses, shortcomings, and how those could be exploited (mostly because he’s in a position where he cannot outright act in certain ways without suffering some consequences). Jamil is aware of these potential consequences and finds or plans workarounds for them. However, he is also mindful in a more conventional sense too. He’s usually the competent one in Scarabia’s leadership and fulfills the organizational tasks that Kalim doesn’t. The duo is like sun and moon; they balance each other out.

The Beautiful Queen's Spirit of Tenacity

Simply put, tenacity is determination and endurance. One is persistent in maintaining, adhering to, or seeking something valued or desired. Each of the members of Pomefiore knows what they want, and they are stubborn in their pursuit of it.

Vil makes it clear in book 5 that he wants to win VDC/SDC, thereby proving to himself and to the world that he is capable of more than playing the part of a “villain”. He already had high standards for himself prior to book 5 (exercising, doing skincare, maintaining a healthy diet, etc.), but you can see how single minded Vil is toward this one goal. He drives his team members hard and even cancels a major job offer from his manager so he can dedicate all his time and energy into seizing the win. And how many times has Vil lost in the past??? Countless, I bet. Yet here he is, trying again and again, even when he knows that happy endings aren’t guaranteed and his efforts may not bear fruit after all.

Rook pursues any and all things beautiful!! He used to just be content admiring beauty, but with Vil’s prompting, Rook soon also found value in beautifying himself. It means Rook can also put beauty out into the world, and helps him better appreciate other works of art. This man is infamous around campus for his… admittedly creepy and unnerving habits. He follows people around, documents them in photographs, memorizes their personal details, etc. His keen eye has also earned him praise though—Vil can comfortably rely on him for honest feedback, and Neige recognizes him as a dedicated member of his fan club. Rook is nothing if not determined and dedicated to his craft.

Epel is tenacious too, but in a way that Vil would not approve of in all circumstances. Epel is stubborn in his thinking and refuses to let go of his hometown roots. He’s very proud of where he comes from, so he puts up a fight with Vil when Vil demands that Epel address his upperclassmen more politely. Epel sees the command as a threat to himself, and a challenge to the hometown he loves. Additionally, it takes Epel a while to reevaluate his deeply ingrained views on gender norms. He’s all-around very strong-headed!

The King of the Underworld's Spirit of Diligence

Diligence is when one is involved in careful and persistent work or effort. This principle generally governs all of STYX, the blot research organization operated by the Shroud family. Their job is a thankless one—they do such important work, yet it isn’t recognized by the general public due to STYX’s secretive nature.

Idia, as the temporary acting director of STYX in book 6, gets involved in their research. There’s many Phantoms kept in the STYX facility, so there are many safety precautions in place and care taken to ensure no one is harmed. (Ironically, it was Idia’s lack of diligence that led to Ortho’s passing.) Outside of book 6, one can say that Idia has a diligent personality, at least when it comes to his hyperfixations. He becomes dedicated to media that captures his interests to the point where it actually incentivizes him to leave his room (Ghost Marriage) and overcome his meek stutter to speak confidently and lecture people (first Halloween event, his Dorm Uniform vignettes, etc.).

I believe Ortho is diligent in being Idia’s emotional support both before and after Ortho is officially recognized as a separate student. He cheers Idia on and encourages him to touch grass socialize, wishing nothing but the best for his big brother! Ortho wasn’t always like this either; he used to be quite stiff and monotone, and had to learn how to emulate emotions by carefully observing and absorbing media. His motivation in book 6 is also fueled by diligence—Ortho worries about what he can do to support Idia’s wishes, and this is ultimately what drives him to taking over STYX and unleashing the Phantoms. Then, in Fairy Gala: What If, Ortho stubbornly tries to come up with his own ideas regarding the theme of evolution rather than rely on others for answers. He works hard to developing his own concept and is able to put on a show-stopping performance with it!

The Thorn Fairy's Spirit of Nobility

To be noble can refer to strength of character, mind, and/or literal position, birth, rank, or social status. No matter which definition you go with, I think they could all apply to the members of Diasomnia.

Regarding noble status, Malleus and Silver are both princes. Lilia and Sebek may not be nobles themselves, but they (in addition to Silver) serve royalty and have close personal connections to people in high places, be it via friends or via family. Diasomnia is very well-connected.

Beyond superficial nobility, one can say that those in Diasomnia are noble in character as well. To begin with, Lilia has sacrificed himself for his country on multiple occasions. This isn’t limited to going to battle, but also ferrying his princess’s egg to safety, traveling the world for knowledge on dragon eggs, and going so far as to give up his own life force to hatch Malleus. And what does Lilia get for all of this? Banished from the capital, screamed at, shunned—all because he is a nobody, a bat of no status. Despite this, Lilia does not become bitter nor hateful, he instead opens his heart and mind to the world and seeks to instill others with the same wisdom. Through all the tragedies he suffered, Lilia rose stronger than ever rather than sinking to the same levels as the narrow minded senators that rebuked him.

Silver is, perhaps, the most overtly noble in character. He extols the virtues of listening and getting along with others, often serving as the peacemaker between parties (typically between Sebek and their peers, but we’ve also seen Silver smoothing things out between all of NRC and diurnal fae). He also assumes the best of others and is ready to leap into action to protect them at a moment’s notice. His kind and gentle nature attracts many forest animals to him, who can likely sense the purity of Silver’s heart.

Sebek’s brand of nobility isn’t geared at others in general but rather is pinpointed on one person (that being Malleus). He is noble in the sense that he dedicates himself to his prince. It’s no secret that practically everything Sebek does is to “live up” to perceived standards so as to not shame Malleus or the Draconia royal family—from doing well academically to dressing neatly and throwing himself into training… Sebek’s passion and eagerness is what makes him stand out. It could also be said that he fiercely defends his friends and those who have earned his respect (albeit maybe not worded in the most tactful ways). That, too, in a sense, is honorable.

Finally, we have Malleus. What can be said about him that hasn’t already been said? He is the prince of a nation, so there are many people looking to him for leadership. As such, Malleus must always conduct himself in a manner that puts his country’s best face forward and expects the same of others. Indeed, he reprimands Sebek for behaving in poor taste and instructs him to apologize to Leona, the prince of another nation. However, what is most telling about Malleus is his impetus for Overblotting. He deludes himself into thinking “this is what is best for everyone”. In his mind, he frames forcing everyone into dream states so they can stay forever and have their happily ever afters as the “good” and “noble” thing to do. He’s definitely not doing this for himself, he argues, it’s a gift for everyone. And throughout book 7, Malleus tries to gaslight others into this belief too 💀 when bro’s already convinced himself of this and refuses to see otherwise—

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soaringthroughthegalaxy · 5 months

Note

Hi. I read your work on Ao3 and I saw that you said we could come here and leave a request. Can you write something with Crosshair x fem reader with the prompt "What kind of spell did you put on me?" And if I can help you with the plot, maybe the reader could be a shy doctor who agreed to work with the boys when everyone else rejected it. There aren't many stories out there with Crosshair and a shy reader. You choose whether there will be smut or not. xoxo 🌺

Thank you so much, anon. Writing a shy reader was fun. I hope I did it justice! Kept this one SFW.

Cracks in the Wall

Not much could ruffle Crosshair's feathers or get past the wall he'd built around himself over the years - until he met you.

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: sibling banter/teasing, shy!reader, doctor!reader, Cross doesn’t know what to do with feelings but he’s trying okay, sprinkle of self-doubt from both Cross and reader, alludes to medical trauma, fluff, softness, cheeky lil’ kiss, pet names.

“Off somewhere?” Hunter’s voice cuts through their shared barracks, stopping Crosshair as he heads for the door. He’s careful to keep his voice even, suppressing the smile that’s trying to appear.

Crosshair grits his teeth, freezing at his older brother’s question. He’d hoped to get away with minimal fuss, but the Maker didn’t look to be on his side today. “Fresh air.” He answers cooly with a slight shrug, sliding effortlessly behind a mask of indifference.

“Right…” Hunter drags out the word, raising an eyebrow as he glances out the panoramic window. “In the storm?” He clarifies, knowing eyes turning back to his baby brother.

“Nah, he’s slinking off to see that pretty doctor again, ain’t ya?” Wrecker steamrollers, not one to miss the opportunity to tease Crosshair. He sits on the edge of his bunk, leaning forward like an excited child about to be told a deep secret.

Crosshair doesn’t dignify the question with an answer, though nerves have him sliding the toothpick between his lips to the other side of his mouth.

Tech knows he shouldn’t torment his twin, but when it’s been so beautifully laid out for him, he would be remiss not to. “Feeling unwell again?” He asks, tone neutral though the mirth in his eyes is unmissable.

The frustrated grunt Crosshair lets out makes his brothers chuckle, and he stalks from the room, the sound of their combined laughter only dying out once the door slides shut behind him.

Making his way down the corridor towards the medbay, the sterile white halls of Kamino make him squint, the light unnecessarily bright. He hates the constant noise and busyness here, the Regs sneering at him as he passes. He hates how sterile everything is and all the memories of being tested and tormented as a cadet.

But that hatred evaporates as he rounds the corner and spots your name on the board for ‘on duty’ doctors. At least there was one good thing about coming back.

Crosshair’s pace slows as he reaches the doors to the medbay, pesky nerves settling into his gut. He takes a moment to compose himself, adjusting his armour and smoothing a hand over his hair. He might be an expert marksman on the battlefield, but the prospect of a simple conversation with you has him feeling oddly out of his element.

You were the only doctor who’d tend to him and his brothers when they were injured, the only one willing to adapt how you worked to suit their differences. The memories of your considerate actions flood his mind – dimming the lights so he doesn’t have to squint, providing candy to uplift Wrecker’s spirits, explaining procedures to Tech, and creating a more comfortable space for Hunter’s senses. It wasn’t just out of professional duty; there was a personal touch, a kindness rarely extended to him and his brothers.

Somewhere along the way, Crosshair had found himself replaying your interactions like a cherished film, analysing every word and every gesture, searching for any signs that you enjoyed his company as much as he did yours. You never pushed or asked too much of him, never complained when he denied a test, and you didn’t draw attention to the way his body betrayed him by trembling ever so slightly whenever you approached with a needle for blood tests or booster shots.

With a deep breath, he pushes open the medbay doors. The familiar hum of medical equipment and the crisp scent of bacta greet him as he steps inside. Memories try to resurface, but he battles them down, even as his heart races.

The medbay is relatively quiet, with a few Regs resting in recovery beds and a medical droid diligently tending to its duties. And there, at the back of the room, head bent over a datapad, he spots you. He hesitates for a moment, watching you work. He shouldn’t be disturbing you; he knows you’re always busy, but since Tech had informed him that they were heading back to Kamino, he hasn’t been able to shake the urge to see you, speak to you, and exist in the same space as you.

As he approaches, his boots make a minimal sound on the pristine floor, and he clears his throat, his usually confident demeanour faltering in the presence of the one person who manages to unravel his composure. “Hey.” His voice breaks the silence, though it doesn’t draw the attention of the Regs or droids.

Caught off guard, you startle a little, glancing up. Your eyes widen slightly as you take in the man standing before you. Elation floods your body as you gaze into the sharp brown eyes you’d come to adore, and relief follows quickly at the realisation that he’s in one piece and has survived whatever mission he’d been sent on recently. For the longest time, you’d tried to convince yourself that your care for the quiet sniper was solely professional, but you were fooling no one. “Cross… you’re back.” You greet him, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

He’d never admit it, but warmth spreads through his chest at the nickname. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He mutters, sliding his toothpick back to the other side of his mouth.

Your eyes track the movement of the toothpick before flicking up to meet his gaze, offering him a warm smile. “No problem. Just caught up in the datapad, you know how it is.”

He nods, though internally, he’s relieved by your easy response. The following silence is awkward, and your gaze dips away momentarily, but you take the initiative and set aside the datapad. “What brings you to the medbay today? Not feeling under the weather, I hope?” You inquire, concern evident in your expression.

Guilt churns in Crosshair’s gut, but he refuses to let it show. He can’t help himself. “Feeling off.” He states, the lie rolling from his tongue with ease.

With a slight frown of concern, you gesture towards the private consultation room, a familiar song and dance now. Crosshair enters the room first, depositing his toothpick in the trash can near the door before he slides himself up to sit on the exam bed while you enter. The door clicks shut, and you fall into a standard med check routine.

Crosshair answers your questions with his usual brevity, providing enough information to satisfy your professional curiosity and cover up that he’s lying to be here with you. As you work, the tension in the room eases.

As you move to the physical examination, you watch as Crosshair pries his left hand plate and gauntlet off, enabling you to slide your fingers under the cuff of his blacks, pointer and middle fingers pressed to his wrist, counting the beats of his heart.

Despite his best efforts to remain indifferent, he can’t help but feel warm at your touch, heart rate elevating.

Under your fingers, you feel his pulse quicken. It’s throwing off your count, and you know that once again, you won’t get an accurate figure, but you don’t draw attention to it, blissfully believing it was his anxiety at being in the medbay. Selfishly, you enjoy this part the most. Crosshair is warm to the touch, skin surprisingly soft, and you can stand a little closer than usual, enabling you to breathe in a scent you’ve come to associate with him – regulation body wash, blaster cleaner, and a sour sweetness you’re sure is from candy. You’ve seen how he eyes up the sour gummies you hand to Wrecker whenever you’ve finished patching up or looking over the gentle giant.

After a minute, you draw your hand back, offering a slight nod, which sees him sliding his armour back into place. Lifting your pointer finger, you wait for his gaze to snap towards it, and then you watch as he tracks it side to side, up and down, near and far. You’d recommended the addition of this check when you’d learned about his enhancements – never a defect, in your opinion – and how heavily he relied on his vision.

He tracks your finger with ease, eyes moving smoothly and quickly. “Everything seems to be in order.” You state quietly, reaching for a nearby datapad to update his medical file.

Crosshair can’t help but admire you as you tap away at the screen. He sees a great deal from afar, but being closer opens a new world. “How’ve you been?” He asks, finding himself genuinely curious. He hates small talk with a burning passion, but he’ll always make an exception for you.

“Good! It’s been busy. We had some of the boys from 184th come in, and their injuries were unlike anything I’ve seen before.” You paused in your tapping, glancing up at Crosshair, gauging whether to continue. His gaze was focused on you, and the fact he was still listening gave you the courage to continue. “I mean, I’ve dealt with blaster wounds, shrapnel, even the occasional strange accident, but this...this was something else.” You shared, focusing back on the screen before continuing the story.

“They had this inexplicable rash all over their bodies. I’ve never seen anything spread so fast. And the worst part? No one could figure out where it came from. We ran every test imaginable, yet their blood work was normal; there were no signs of infection, but this rash kept spreading.” You rambled, excited at getting to share this with him. It had been a highlight of the last few weeks – a break from the usual. “We started brainstorming, throwing around ideas, and then it hit me. We needed to check their gear, their uniform, everything. And you won’t believe what we found.” You paused again, looking up at Crosshair with wide eyes.

Did Crosshair give a damn about some Regs with a rash? No, not really. But he cared about you, and the excitement on your beautiful face, as you shared this story, meant he’d gladly listen to the tale a hundred times. “What did you find?” He asked, watching as you broke out into a smile. Sometimes, his heart ached at how easy it was to make you happy – that all it took was someone willing to listen to you.

“Coma-bloom flowers. They’d made camp beside a huge patch of coma-bloom and, while sleeping on the ground, had rolled into some of its pollen. It could’ve killed them if they’d accidentally ingested it, so thank the Maker, all they did was get it on their skin. But still…took a lot of meds, and a lot of showers, to get it out of their systems.” You explained. It had been a fascinating case, expanding your medical knowledge and driving you into exploring other fauna and flora that could be toxic to the men who swung by the medbay.

The realisation sank in quickly that you’d rambled for a while, excited over a case of troopers with a rash. Maker above, he’d think you were crazy. Head dipping a little, you tapped at the datapad screen nervously.

Your sudden shift in mood wasn’t lost on him. He’d seen his brother act the same way after info-dumping. “Smart girl.” Crosshair murmurs, a deep feeling of pride settling in his chest. The shyness that overcame you at his compliment made his gut twist. You were too sweet.

Warmth blooms in your chest at the compliment, and you busy yourself by sifting through his medical file, so you don’t dwell on the feelings bubbling inside you. “You didn’t collect the prescriptions from your previous visits...” You mumble with a frown, double-checking that you were reading his notes correctly. “Did the symptoms go away on their own?” You ask, glancing up at him.

Crosshair freezes, mind racing as he tries to devise an excuse. Any excuse would do.

They were shipped out before he could collect them? No. Once, perhaps, but more than that, and it would be obvious he was lying.

He could go down the route of feeling better before collecting them. But no, that would only make it seem like he’d been wasting your time.

With a sigh, Crosshair realises he only has one path. “They were never there to begin with.” He comes clean.

Brow’s furrowing, your head tilts ever so slightly, curious and concerned. “What? Then why did yo-“

“What kind of spell did you put on me?” Crosshair unintentionally interrupts, watching as your concern melts into surprise, your beautiful eyes blinking a few times. He reaches out, tracing a finger across your cheek before dragging his thumb across your lower lip. “You won’t leave my thoughts. Driving me crazy.” He whispers, loathing how vulnerable he feels but unable to stop himself now there are cracks in the wall he’d built up around himself.

“O-Oh…” You swallow, not sure what to do with such a confession, caught off guard by the intensity of the words and his gaze. The thud of your heart rings in your ears, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Urm, well, I’m so-”

Before you can finish the sentence, Crosshair presses his thumb more firmly to your lips. “Don’t you dare apologise, doll.”

Silence hangs in the air between you. Your thoughts are a whirlwind, processing the unexpected confession from Crosshair. His touch lingers on your lips, and you can feel the warmth of his skin against your face. The nickname catches you off guard, and a flutter of something unspoken stirs within you.

Crosshair, for all his stoicism, appears different in this moment. Vulnerability seeps through the cracks in his demeanour, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart race. You can’t deny the attraction you’ve felt for him, the way your heart would skip a beat whenever he entered the medbay, but this...this is a revelation.

Finally, Crosshair withdraws his thumb from your lips, filling the room with a charged silence. It’s as if the atmosphere has shifted. “When are you next off duty?” He asks. He’d already shown his hand, and you hadn’t run away or demanded he leave – it was worth pushing his luck just a little more.

Confusion mars your brow. “Tomorrow.” You answer quietly.

“I know this great place on Kowak.” Crosshair pitches, anxiety clinging to his words despite his attempt to sound casual. He’s never been one for small talk or sweet gestures, but the prospect of spending time with you outside the confines of the medbay is something he finds strangely appealing.

Your eyes widen in surprise, the unexpected invitation catching you off guard. Kowak isn’t exactly a typical choice for a casual outing, but then again, Crosshair is anything but typical. “Kowak? Really?” You respond, a mix of curiosity and amusement colouring your tone.

He nods, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, there’s this little cantina with the best atmosphere. Quiet, secluded. I think you’ll like it.”

A genuine smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “I’ll take your word for it. Tomorrow, then?”

Crosshair nods again, a subtle tension releasing from his shoulders. “Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 0900 hours.” He shifts off the exam bed, booted feet meeting the floor. He holds your gaze for a second longer before breaking it and heading for the door.

A fleeting feeling of panic laces through you. You don’t want Crosshair to go, even though you’ll see him tomorrow morning. As he reaches to press the small button to open the exam room door, you call out his name, watching as he pauses. Feet carrying you across the small space, you don’t know where the courage comes from as you push up on your tiptoes, pressing a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

Crosshair freezes at the unexpected touch, his heart pounding in his chest. The sensation of your lips against his cheek sends a jolt through him, and for a moment, he’s unsure how to react. It’s a rare instance where he finds himself genuinely caught off guard.

He turns to face you, his sharp brown eyes meeting yours. The vulnerability in his expression is back, your small gesture cracking open another layer of the wall he tried to hide behind, and Crosshair finds himself at a loss for words.

You, on the other hand, feel a mix of bravery and uncertainty. You’ve taken a leap, and now you’re waiting for the reaction, unsure what it means for the dynamic between you both. His gaze lingers on you, and the air is thick with tension.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Crosshair breaks into a rare, genuine smile. It’s a subtle curve of his lips that transforms his usually serious countenance into something softer. “You surprise me, doc.” He says, his voice a low murmur. “But I’m not complainin’.”

With that, Crosshair steps back and opens the door, sliding a fresh toothpick between his lips. As he exits the room, he glances back at you, a lingering intensity in his gaze. The door slides shut behind him, leaving you in the quiet room, heart racing and mind reeling from the unexpected turn of events.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

#the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #tbb x you #tbb x reader #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair bad batch #bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair #crosshair x you #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #star wars clone wars #ct 9904

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 5 months

Text

Astrology Observations Pt.4

Long time no see everyone :) i have a few astro observations i wanna share so lets get to it

Lilith/Mars individuals carry an unspoken confidence that ignites a fire in the eyes of other people and can make others fall in love with them. Their self expression comes in through the form of bravery and letting the world see their raw truth unfiltered, not giving a damn about what others think. This makes for strong attraction and they have a hard time getting people off of them, and i mean this in two ways: one way being that others have 'feelings' for them 'down there' *wink wink* causing them to show a deep sexual attraction to them whether they are uncomfortable with it or not. their unconscious thoughts will be shown to the lilith mars person with seemingly lil to no effort. they wont know why they just know it feels good (or embarasing/harboring a lot of guilt) however these lilith babes are about exploring parts of ourselves that we mask and no judgement zones are a necessity when in their spaces. the other way is others will be triggered by them due to the octrasized lililith/mars person embracing their freedom and living their truth no matter what. all in all, both fall under secret (or not so secret) admiration.

Lilith/Pluto are the powerhouses of being who they are and when they want to be it. Literally octrasize by people all their lives and wen through lots of trauma. the way they express their power is through their traumas and taking back what was stolen. People have a hard time looking to them as real people because of their auras they possess. their sexuality/sensual energy is unmatched and is hard to tame. at some point they know when to let go and let this energy in them grow. if it makes people go crazy then so be it. naturally hypnotizing i cannot tell you how bad this cause you could definitely give away something to them and all they did was look you in the eye with a smile. Their natural aroma scares others but also perplexes them. its like damn are you a witch? maybe, maybe not. its just so much deeper than that. a personal message for them is being aware of yourself and the world around you is gift. People that dont know themselves will look up to you in the long run, you are the underdogs of your generations and you're healing a lot of wounds that most people will never face because they do not like what they see in the dark. You like your freedom and do not care what others think, you make your own rules because thats what we're meant to do. Be humans who create our own paths for ourselves and move to the beat of our own drum. Dont take what people say too close to the heart, youre mirroring back the shadows they hate in themselves.

Venus/Mercury has a gift of gab. Highly inspirational and their words connect you to the divine. The heart space opens up when they express their truth through the power of words, the use of their hands and the beauty of their minds. A rare placement since its only in conjunction and sextile. Not too many people have this one. Venus/Mercury babes channel from a source that connects them to the power of love, and when you speak you touch people and we fall in love with you all over again. If you have a voice please sing, speak, share with us your gift of light. Thats what you're called to do. If you are a writer share your stories with the world, your creative mind takes us back to the inner child. Enjoy it while its here!

Mars in Saggitarius. Go. GETTERS!!! When they want something they will not stop to get it. Their fire burns to achieve something bigger than themselves and with the right amount of optimism they will make it if they put the work in. One of the signs that mars works wonders in, because they can achieve their dreams quickly because of the excessive amount of fire in this house. Saggitarius only grows, never limits itself. The more they work hard the more good fortune comes their way. Others can get nervous around their because of their boastful confidence. Its too big.. its too wide. its too strong.. it wont fit or whatever beyonce said LMAOO thats yall. Very big egos and for a good reason. Yall get what you want when you want it. Nothing can stop them from getting what they need and mars sag babes wanting more in life is whats going to keep them moving.

Pisces Ascendant babes are the muses, the stars, the messengers, the oracle, the originators. These dreamers are capable of seeing the beyond even when the world doesnt see it yet. The world could doubt them but if they believe in themselves more they will prove to the world that all dreams are possible. Their reality is formed through subconscious thinking, so they must pay attention to what goes on in the inside of their minds because thats what controls their day to day reality the most. Shapeshifters who naturally move with the beat of the universe, their new look can be formed not just from an idea but because something new is changing in the world, and they are normally the first to get this information first. This is why some of them are trendsetters in fashion. Everything happens in spirit before it is physical, however for them the spirit and the psychical will always meet. And with their transformations it can sometimes be a message from the divine. Before anyone says its not that deep, i wanna tell you that anything with pisces is going to be that deep LMAO no other way to spin that. Their connected to the cosmos and their pineal glands connects them to other worlds we just havent tapped into yet. Its a gift. So a lot of times when they change, something in the environment changed too. All in all, pisces asc are good at picking up on other peoples energy. they can absorb others vibrations and anything around them and this can be a problem for them. Pisces asc will consistently have to connect to nature and cleanse more often than most because they can feel that sense of foggy-ness around them due to picking up on energy that is not their own. They will have to strengthen their discernment skills, level up with shields for the body and wearing certain garments/jewelery for protection because their auric fields naturally take in more than what they can handle.

5th House Plutonians are strong powerhouses in the form of creation. Their dark power is spilled out into the world of arts, giving them the nutrients they need in healing traumas or any dark thoughts thats been held in themselves for so long. Outlets that form a stage for these individuals makes for incredible perfomances that nobody will ever forget due to the way they make others feel. In this life time, they will learn to accept this power with grace because even if the way they feel performing for others makes them feel uncomfortable, someone is being triggered to feel those raw emotions that we hide in us. If they cant find an outlet for their creative expression, they will start to 'go crazy' and be more into psychotic behaviors that will make them lose touch of reality. This raw power that they have must be fed to others as we need to feel the deepness of our own bodies so that we can grow into the beings we are meant to be. Pluto in the 5th house can create an influencer who is just being themselves and the world around them is either inspired by or deeply maddens them. The gift of being yourself is their strongest attribute to society, and can be one of the ways for them to have power and establish some sort of wealth. If they never use this gift to soar into any artistic expression, the world would be missing a fine piece to the puzzle: Raw Truth. I hope this helps!

i hope yall enjoy!

#astrology #astrology thoughts #tropical astrology #astrology observations #astrology signs #astro observations #astro notes #pluto in the 5th #lilith mars #lilith astrology #venus mercury #deja's astro observations

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broooooo · 6 months

Text

Dronehood

____________________

In today's world , the world has been slowly taken over by drones, whether it was by force, choice or persuasion, men are being converted, covered in a shiny black latex, a second skin, a well built muscled body, constantly aroused and hard. The mind does seem to remain keeping the hosts personality, but there's a big focus of obeying the master and the pleasure of dronehood

At first the world was scared, but as the drone army expanded, it slowly became normal, as if it's a rite of passage for teenage, adult men. It's even become a kind of entertainment to watch a conversion happen, could inspire others , or worn them.

Then there's me

I am Aaron, 21, regular build, living in an apartment, IV never been opposed to the drone movement. It's interesting to watch.

Deep down I wouldn't mind becoming a drone myself, it genuinely sounds fun.

Iv watched my childhood friend, Jason, become one before my eyes, he had wanted it for a while, and decided to get a slow conversion, he wanted to experience all the feelings grow and build.

The conversion itself is simple, intercourse with a drone, you may or may not include leather articles of clothing such as gloves or boots for extra pleasure. When it's done, the new drone is given a serial number name, but can keep their human name for interactions with others, plus they can take off their head mask for easy identification.

I myself don't leave my room a lot, i just watch from my TV or the window, hearing it through my walls too at times. Jason's my roommate, but he's never home, he's busy converting others or just hanging out with other drones.

Somewhat makes me jealous, before his conversion , we were the same, locked in your rooms not doing much, it honestly is a better life for him, and I'm happy,

It's possible to request a drone conversion, many have done it, Idk why I haven't done it yet, I guess I want to keep my peace for a little while, but ik at some point it will get too much to bear and then I will know I'm ready.

_________________

It was a normal day for me, watching my conversions , and contemplating life. When suddenly I hear the front door open, I rush out to see him, Jason standing in the door way, his heavy leather boots stomping on the floor as he closes the door. He looks at me, I haven't seen his have a week's.

JASON!?* ITS been so long, how.. have you been?*

He smiles and embraces me in a hug

*Iv been well, I missed you*

My face goes flush red, as I hug him back.

His latex skin is soft and shiny , the feel of hard muscles, it makes my heart race.

We pull away and I ask*

What are you doing here Jason?* Don't you have missions ?*

Jason laughs and says * well I do live here, plus even drones need rest.*

I answer back"

Well that makes sense , yeah*

Jason goes sit on the couch to watch TV.

*mind getting me a sparkling lemon water Aaron?.

Oh? Ok sure , I'll make us both one *

I go the kitchen, fill two cups with soda and prepare to cut lemons, during all this my mind races with thoughts, the sudden appearance of Jason and the feeling of his skin, it felt great. I feel hot, almost dreaming of it

As I'm cutting lemons the knife slips and cuts my hand, breaking me out of my dream like state

GAH*

Jason turns and runs up to me concerned

Are you ok?*

I'm fine just cut my self.

I go to clean up the blood and find a bandage, but problem, we where out of bandages

*darn we're out of bandaids.

Well I have a suggestion*

I turn around to see Jason's bear hand outstretched holding a latex glove.

You took it off? Isn't that yours?

Don't worry, I get a new one, my body can create it naturally.

I look at the glove as I hold it, it's soft,

The glove has a healing effect to it, it protects us drones from major injuries.

Huh, convenient , as I smile* thanks

I put the glove over my disinfected hand, I move my fingers about feeling it, it was soft, silky and comfortable.

So this is how it feels?* I say

Yeah, it's quite the sensation isn't it?,

Very much so, no wonder many ppl become drones.

Jason helps me finish the drinks and we go sit on the couch together.

Have you thought about dronehood much Aaron?

I turn to him and choke a little ,

Have I thought about it? It's ALL I can think about xd* I say with laughter, I observe it happen from my room, since your never hear.

And before you ask, no, I don't think I'm ready yet.

Jason looks into this drink and back up to me, he leans a hand over to touch my shoulder,

He smiles and says, * when you're ready then, no force, I want you to enjoy it as much as possible.

I peek up, *I KNEW IT, you planned this, laughing.

You were always a trickster you, we both laugh

Well Aaron , I. Do hope you enjoy that glove, it will help you decide, I'm sure of it.

I turn to look out the window and smiles

*thanks, i-, will definitely have an answer soon I'm sure.

___________

Afterwards we hang out the rest of day, it was a fun reunion, full of talk and catching up untill sun down

We both go to bed , crashing instantly as I'd been so tired after today.

The next day Jason and I bid farewell as he leaves for a mission.

I'm left alone and go to my room , sitting on my bedroom couch

_____

Hm, planed or not, I'm happy I have this glove. I turn on the TV to watch some more conversions

I feel hot and steamy imagining it, before I know it I'm rubbing my bulge with the gloved hand , my dick getting erect from what pleasure I can muster,

And idea popped into my head, I head over to Jason's room, and my mind was validated when I saw them, an extra pair of leather boots,

*planned this too Jason? Well idc, thanks*

We happen to be the same size, even so is force my feet into them, the boots go up to my kne, tall and shiny, sliding my feet in, my heart and mind are racing , my dick is rock hard , the sensations are over powering, I lace them up tight, whist I remove my clothing.

I stand up to look to the mirror, naked with only a latex glove and leather boots on, the weight of the boots and the tightness, protecting me, I go to my bed,I start to edge off slowly, aroused to high heavens and enjoying it all. Whilst the sounds of conversions from the TV hum in the background.

I never realized it but the dream like state I was in of edging and leaking lasted 3 days, I was covered in pre, drooling and gooing out, the latex glove and boots has started to spread up my legs and arm, then came Jason, he stood in my bedroom doorway, smiling, he comes over and jumps on top of me, squeezing my nipples hard

I moan hard and leak over me

*ready Aaron?*

Laughing through the intense pleasure ,

*hehe yeah. Convert me friend* I'm ready*

Jason's glowing purple eyes look into mine,

___________

Jason's hard latex dick at the ready, and with a passionate kiss it commences, what felt like a. Eternity, lasted a week of slow intense sex and conversion. As I expected it all

By the end of it, we and the bed were wet in pre, drool and juices, through the days, the latex nanites from Jason's dick slowly transformed my body, spreading the latex all over whist giving my muscle to fit, the climax of the conversion was then.

Jason fucking my tight ass, we both prepared for it , cum

It was a screech of intense pleasure, black nantite filled cum sprayed in ropes out our dicks, lasting 69 minutes of constant cumming, fucking and kissing, and the cum pool around us and soak back up into our bodies, , strengthening the conversion.

When it was all over , we lay there together tired and in love

My eyes start to glow to an intense blue. My mind was reshaped and ready,

Looking to Jason's eyes I say.

* I am ready to obey , ready to spread , ready to cum alongside you *

Jason smiles and kisses me, *ik.. drone 6923..*

My eyes flash, * yes... My new name.. thank you..

Drone 8696..*

___________

In the end we two drones, continued to make out intensely, passionately, never running out of cum

Untill the next mission is handed to us, and. I join Jason on my first crusade, We will enjoy each other forever.

______

: D

I enjoyed this one , genuinely think it's one of my best works yet

Hope you enjoy it, fellow drones

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msfantasy-comics · 7 months

Text

The Opposites Attract

Dick Grayson x Reader

Summary: A Head Cannon on which Dick Grayson and Y/n oppose each other yet remain wholly compatible.

Warning: Y/n is depicted as angsty and a little feral.

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Opposites attract they say.

Yet Dick and Y/n are such polar opposites surely their difference outweigh each other.

Despite it all, the two love birds gravitate each other due to their completing differences.

Extrovert vs. Introvert

Dick is insanely outgoing and is recharged by socialising. His perfect setting is in a crowded rowdy rooms where the conversation moves like wildfire. Wild and Abrupt.

Y/n on the other hand, prefers a quite space with one-on-one conversations.

In typical extraverted fashion. Dick adopts the introverted Y/n and encourages her to step outside her comfort zone and talk to others.

But it’s just not in her nature.

How the hell are you meant to jump into a conversation?

How are you meant to have a say on a topic when three other people are talking over each other to get their 2 cents in?

You gave up almost immediately and retreated back to your safe corner always from the shoulder bashing and elbow jabbing walk way.

Dick was initially disappointed to see you give up so quickly until he noticed that you were carrying on your socialising in your own way.

You sat silently as strangers poured their heart out to you.

Silently nodding and humming in agreement every now and then before the person sighed, thanked you for listening and walked off.

Dick really admires that about you.

Dick: “Need some company.”

Y/n: “Only if you bring me the good vibes.”

Optimist vs. Pessimist

Dick is a buzzing bundle of bountiful energy.

Dick is never short on absurdly positive outcomes despite all odds indicating otherwise.

Why live in a delusional state? You know the realities of life.

And the reality is that life can be shit and it doesn’t turn out well for everyone no matter how much they try or desperately scramble to achieve their hopes.

Hope is pointless.

There is just something obnoxiously wonderful about Dick.

How is it that your boy wonder lights a flame in you that fills you with certainty that all will be right as long as he is here?

You greatly admire how infectious Dicks positivity can be.

Y/n: “Why keep sending them to Arkham only to escape and ruin lives? Might as well just put an end to their burdensome presence.”

Dick: “Oh honey nooooo. Everyone deserves a chance at redemption. Snuffing out the life of a person doesn’t solve the root of the issue.”

Y/n: “Who cares! Nothing matters in the end anyway, we will all die and become obsolete. Only to let the next generation bitch and moan about the inequality of it all.”

Dick: “Ah, my precious little sunshine can be such a downer, yes you can.”

*Condescendingly pinches cheeks*

Secretive vs. Open

Dick just wants the best of both worlds.

To be the figure head for heroism, hope, peace and safety, without an of the consequences of having your image publicly known.

Dick would never want to endanger the lives of those around him due to his passions in crime fighting.

Therefore, he must maintain the secrecy of the bat and the mask.

You, however, don’t understand how or why your boy wonder hides his true identity.

It’s not like Dick Grayson is an every day normal civilian.

He’s a fricken heir to Gotham wealthiest philanthropist.

It’s not like he doesn’t have any privacy on either alter egos.

But the Bats secret is not your own to share.

So instead you live freely by your own rules.

You admit your identities and aren’t afraid to show the public your true self.

You honestly couldn’t care less about public perception.

Dick, admires your unapologetic lifestyle.

Aggressive Random: “You shouldn’t -“

Y/n: “Piss Off- no one asked you.”

Dick: “Ah sweetie… maybe you should listen to what they have to say.”

Y/n: “I couldn’t give a rats!”

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two-white-butterflies · 10 months

Text

drug | toto wolff

Description: He meets his girlfriend's parents, and they don't like him. (age gap.)

Pairing: toto wolff/horner!reader

He was your forbidden fruit, a thing that you weren't allowed to have but was delighted to get. He was everything that you needed - all of your dreams pressurized to form a single man - too bad, he took the form of your father's hated enemy.

"Are you nervous?" you ask while adjusting his tie. "Yes," he responded truthfully while pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. "Did you warn them about me?" he inquired with his thick Austrian accent. Your eyebrows merged into each other.

"I gave them a brief description about you." you brushed against the topic, afraid that he'd be mad at you too. "Old Austrian Businessman, who has a knack for dating his enemy's daughter." he gave a brief description of himself - pressing another kiss on your forehead. "You're not old." you pout. He was perfectly aged.

"Are you ready to meet them? We can reschedule," you give him one last change in changing his mind. "No, I'm ready perle." he hummed, taking your hand and pulling you away from the porch.

You raise your eyebrows at the sight of his car. "Not using the Mercedes?" you teased, seeing him open the door for you. "Might be too much on the noose, yeah?" he smiled, helping you inside.

To your surprise, your father was already standing in the driveway.

"Shit," Toto chuckles, his hand was on your thigh - other hand on the steering-wheel. "Ready to meet the wolves?" you take a deep breath, seeing that Christian was already walking towards the car. "It's a good thing that we had a shot of vodka for luck," he mumbled - seeing his sworn enemy open the door for you.

"(Your Name)," your father greeted with hidden warmth, he barely acknowledged your presence - his eyes were already pierced on the man in the driver's seat. "Dad," you exchange a glance with Toto.

"What is he doing here?" your father placed a hand on your shoulder. "I was going to tell you sooner," you began to explain - seeing your mother in your periphery. "Nice to meet you, Christian." Toto smiled - deciding to put the f1 business behind them.

"Aren't you going to invite us inside?" your eyes narrowed, forcing the door wide open and taking a step out of the car.

For middle aged men - they both acted like kids.

"So uh, Toto. How's Mercedes?" your mother attempted to create small talk, but Christian was evidently upset. "Amazing, we've done a few changes in the car." he smiled, glancing at your face and searching for signs of sadness. "How about Redbull?" he stared at your father - waiting for a reply.

"That's classified," he says in a polite tone, returning back to his penne pasta. Your mind began to flash back to the times where your father would complain about Toto, in your opinion - it was childish rivalry - and they would do better as friends.

Your mother gives him a 'look' while taking a sip of her juice.

"How did you meet each other?" your mother interrogated, searching for cracks in the relationship - fortunately there weren't any. "Do you remember the dinner that dad forced me to attend? The one with Lewis and Max," you reminded - smiling at your father as he attempts to mask his disappointment. You expected him to send Toto home - you were thankful for your father's self-control.

"Oh, the one I had to drag you to attend." Christian chuckled, remembering all of the excuses that you came up with. "I met him there," you placed your hand on top of Toto's.

"Ah," he replied - keeping his eyes on the food.

The dinner was short - it only lasted for an hour. Toto and Christian were trying their best to eat as fast as they can. Your father didn't even let anyone have ice cream. He was adamant in sending Toto home. "Bye," you wave at the window - seeing his car fade from view.

"We need to talk," your parents welcome you on the couch. A sigh escapes your mouth - already anticipating the outcome of this conversation. "I know that you like dating older boys," your father began - attempting to sound like a cool dad.

"- but I don't think that Toto's a good choice." he raised his arms in mock surrender. "I'm an adult, I don't need your unsolicited advise." you start in a calm tone - your voice was always gentle. "Do you remember the last time you brought an older guy home? What did he do? Ride off you career, and treat you like...shit." your mother hesitated with the cursing but your father agreed.

"That was different, I was a teenager." you groan - annoyed that they were using their faults against you. I mean, everyone could see that he was bad news - parents shouldn't be letting their seventeen year old daughter date a twenty two year old. "I'm grown now, and I know that Toto's a good guy." you defended your boyfriend.

"And if you're going to throw hate against him, I can't sit here and take that." you grab your coat that was conveniently placed beside you. "I-I want you to think about this." your father referred to you by your family nickname. "I will," you respond while walking out.

vanillay/n_horner: i will always choose you.

0 comments 12,391 likes

part two

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff

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psychelis-new · 2 months

Text

pick a pile: "What type of karma/karmic cycle are you healing now"

[TW FILLED READING]

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read about what karmic cycle you are called to end in this moment and the triggers that may be related to it. it could be something from this life or a past life as well. piles seem to be interconnected somehow so if you're called by more than one pile, it's okay (but remember to focus on the word "now" when asking your question). reminder that I'm not a therapist of sort, so take everything with a grain of salt or just as an input to maybe navigate further within or contact a professional figure (if necessary according to you ofc). it's also a general reading so messages may not/all be for you.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life. readings do not substitute real life experience nor professionals/doctors advices.

(photos found on unsplash)

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1 2 3 4 - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1 (relationships/communication)

You are probably healing something related to your connections/relationships. It could be something you couldn't see properly in your past (or at least you couldn't see from a different perspective) but now you are starting to realize or will soon. Maybe it's an habit you picked up in your early life, like wearing a mask in fear of being judged or left alone, or people pleasing, or always being there for others but feeling like a burden when it was you the one supposed to receive as much (and therefore acting as an independent person who doesn't need anything and for whom everything is fine). Maybe you also *fear* misinterpret others' behaviours in your regards, or you may overthinking if they are somehow betraying you or something. Like treating you in a certain way but actually thinking differently of you? Maybe you fear being lied to, somehow. And not being really appreciated unless you overgive and try to not bother them with your "problems" (which are problems ofc, but you may try to keep them for yourself and deal with them alone or deem them as less important than others' problems and put them in a second position -as you put yourself on a second choice level compared to others). You may be thinking: if you give so much and don't ask for anything in return, how could they leave you? It could be a reasonable thought, but at the end of the day it's not... Relationships are far more complex than this, and also very different (so maybe not everything in this pile may resonate with you).

Ofc it's understandable where you come from: you probably had been dealing with lies/betrayals/abandonment of different kind in your life and now it's hard to both be yourself and also trust others. But the message you send when you're being too self-reliant/independent (a silent cry for help despite what you're showing) cannot often be heard by them. All they can read between the lines is: "I'm okay, I don't need you". And ofc, this doesn't make people interested in you, especially if it's an habit of yours to keep them out of your needs (and out of your life: people cannot read our minds, and they're not here for that. But those who care would like to experience the joy of helping us, if we let them in and told them about us and what we need. They'd love to help us as much as we love to help them. They'd love to feel as happy and warm inside as we feel after we help them. But maybe first we need to stop and think about who we really are and what we really need from others, and from ourselves too. And let ourselves be vulnerable, knowing we can survive anything and that often others' reaction to us are not related inherently to us: we're not responsible of what they do with our trust/words).

You're learning how to properly communicate your needs, your fears and your boundaries. How to let others see you for who you are without any fear of judgement. How to be able to properly receive all that you wish for in a relationship. In order to do this, you need to take a brave step and look at what is going on from another perspective, different from the one that is suggesting you you're simply not good enough to have good and fulfilling relationships; or that you're unlovable or that people leaves cause you're just supposed to be alone forever. Or that everyone hates you. That is not so. Don't trust your wounded ego in this, do not follow its pattern into the hole. Be stronger than those fears, and see yourself as the lovely, kind and sweet human being you are. The very deserving of love and acceptance human being you are. And start by loving and accepting who you really are. You're not too much to bear with (as I read not long ago: when you fear being too much asking for something, it's generally because you didn't get enough of that). Analyze your relationships from a more objective point of view: we tend to see the "guilt" in the others (we blame them for abandoning us/letting us down, feeling resentful for how they treat us but also powerless when confronting them) or in ourselves (we're not enough for them/we cannot be seen and this may makes us angry too), but in relationships the truth is often halfway. And lack of proper communication, respect and understanding is what ruins everything (together with possibly not-compatible issues/traumas: if someone cannot give you what you ask for it's okay, other people will be able to fulfill your needs. Do not stuck/fixate yourself to receive from one single person everything you need, stay open. And let yourself be seen first: do not always wait for others to be interested in you to start with; at times it's hard for people to climb our walls and they may renounce, so at least lower them a little here and there, as you feel comfortable to. For as much as it can be okay to generally not be the one always taking the initiative, it's good to occasionally do that and show interest in the other as well). Anyway, don't be too harsh on yourself: you always acted and act for your best, to save yourself from pain, and you couldn't see that you probably were helping this pain staying alive, unconsciously searching for confirmations of its existance and of your inhability to have good relationships (maybe you were searching for them in the wrong places?). Forgive yourself and others (especially those who gaslighted, diminished, silenced or *unconsciously* taught you that you're not worthy first), and let things change for your best. Let your people find you.

For a few: If by any chance, you're not hiding yourself but actually trying to stand out or show yourself at any given time, it's probably the other face of the same coin. You try to get the attention you couldn't get to receive and what you learned is that to get it, you need to stand out or call for others/interrupt them, make them notice you, show you're as worthy if not more by being more vocal, and feel better about yourself after succeeding. Many people may not appreciate this or believe you do it as a form of egoism, but it's generally not so. Try to balance and listen to others too, do not just let your fear of ending up being unseen take you over and eclipse others (Ik you can't always see that cause you're trying to fulfill your own need and therefore unconsciously closing off from others' ones, but it can happen). You'll be seen as much as you need anyway. Be patient. :)

song: through the dark | vanbur

[if you're called by pile 3 as well, feel free to take a look + if you have been seeing lot of 3s, it could be a confirmation for this pile n.1 being yours]

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pile 2 (control/abandonment issues)

Out of all the piles, I think yours is the one needing more work, and also more patience, time and reflection/introspection. Be kind with yourself and go slow.

You're probably closing (or need to close) a chapter in regards to your need to be in control of what is going on in your future/life. You're deeply scared of the unknown, of not being able to control what is happening and probably you also fear not being able to take your own decisions but having to conform or accept whatever is going on for you. And ofc this is scary because the moment something you don't want to will happen, you won't have any other choice but to lower your head and obey/go with it. It's like you're caged. The future and this *fake* lack of control are making you pretty anxious and in need of knowing every detail of your life before taking any action, to be sure it's all okay. Maybe you also fear not being able to really close with this chapter and being trapped in it forever? As said, not knowing how things may turn out, would be too "risky" for you. I feel like it's also too scary to receive some kind of "no", whatever it may be about. It would crash you (or you think it would, somehow... but why?).

You probably need to separate yourself from what is going on around you. Nobody has real control on what life offers to us and when/how, nor on others' feelings about us (which only depend on how those people see us from their personal pov and based on their own experience of life, on their background: they can only have opinions of us based also on what we allow them to see of us). But we have whole control on ourselves, on our emotions and on how we respond to life and other people' choices/thoughts about us (what we make them mean about us). And we have control on what we want to do, how, when, why and if we want to say "no" to something. We have free will (I understand in some cultures and maybe also families it's a bit more complicated than this, but maybe you can get to at least politely talk and show your pov instead of giving up since the first minute? Or find a compromise on something else. Idk... Maybe it won't go as bad as you think, especially if you also silenced yourself out of fear in the past. Maybe the no's we've got in the past were about a specific thing for a reason, and not about everything as we think). I guess many times you just accepted your fate/destiny in the form of a decision taken by someone else (an authority figure of any type, from a boss to a parent... even tarot/astrology readings -excessive/anxious consume-?), without ever contraddicting them, feeling you're the one that doesn't know anything, feeling not enough to/inferior. Accepting what they were telling you about who you are and who you are supposed to be and obeying, living up to that (in pain and resentful, but still...). Or maybe this is also a way to save yourself from failing? If it's someone else guiding your life or telling you what to do/who you are, you won't have to take the blame of being "wrong" or feel guilty for having taken a "bad" decision and being a bad person, maybe. While it's good to get guidance and opinions in proper/healthy ways, we cannot let others take decisions for us all the times. They cannot live our whole life for us: we are beings that are too complex to be reduced to what others just perceive of us or want us to be. I think you may be dealing with perfectionism and fear of failure too: maybe you learned you need to keep specific high standards (in what you say, think, do...) to feel worthy/loved/appreciated, and not living up to them may mean, somehow, that you lost your self worth or it changed (lowered).

But that's not true: your self worth is always the same since the day you came on this Earth and it's the same as the one of everyone else on this planet, even if you cannot see it because of how you were/are treated or treated yoursef. Or feel you were treated: as kids we don't understand the reasons behind adults' behaviours, and if they too are not so emotionally stable or able to verbally explain things, it may be difficult to understand what is going on since we are learning all that from them (= esp. the "authority figures" around us: caregivers/parents/teachers/relatives...). We may make their reaction to us not being "perfect" (= not acting as they would want us to) mean we're not enough, we're bad, not deserving enough, and that we need to perform better to receive something good/praise/love and to obey to them, because we cannot take decisions that are correct. We're a failure and cannot do anything right. And we may risk losing them or them may let us down/abandon us if we don't perform well.

I think you need to move into known water, to know everything is good and will be good, so that you know you won't fail? Or that you won't be considered as "bad", whatever that bad means to you (probably that you're not worthy of something, of others, of... Idk). Not knowing/not having the control means you won't be sure of how things will be and if you will be able to make it, to survive (yes you will), to be considered well and... not abandoned. But if you keep the control of what is going on and get confirmations that you're taking the right decision before taking it definitely, and that all will be fine, you can actually perform well and do things right and be sure of your success and nobody will see you as a loser and leave... right? Well yes, but no. Cause that's not something that you or anyone's actually able to do: we cannot control what's outside of us and know every little detail of it with absolute certainty... And those "authorities" may be wrong as well when taking decisions for you. You may be scared of being you cause you feel like you lack something (you are "unable to do things well", eg.) and people may end up leaving, while if you try to control everything (eg. plan what to say/do based on how others will respond/what they like and not on who you are and what you think for real) instead you'll know that all it's fine and safe and you're okay and they won't leave, and you'll be accepted and a good person. But again, we cannot control it all: many things are not depending on us in this life and probably.. it's about trying to deal with your guilt (an old wound too, again in regards of how you see yourself and think you are seen: "imperfect/flawed", bad) and letting yourself just be you. We're all imperfect and flawed, occasionally bad; we need to forgive ourselves and just be kind with ourselves cause we're trying our best anyway, especially when we're actually trying: it means we're allowing ourselves to take risks and live our life no matter how it will be, but we'll get to live it fully at least. And to decide for our own self. To see what can happen good, to trust that the unknown doesn't have to be bad, nor us, even if we're not "perfect" (remind yourself that perfection is not an absolute dogma, everyone of us has their own definition of perfection, and society has its own as well that btw keeps on changing whether it's physical or about life goals. Someone not liking you doesn't mean nobody likes you). Take control of your fears, talk with them, acknowledge them and love them. Be there for them and yourself: you can do this.

song: just one day | deproducers

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pile 3 (self neglect/emotional avoidance)

You're generally healing a cycle of self neglect. You either dismissed or deemed your experience as less important or worthy, you probably use/d to compare with others a lot and see them as better than you too. Or more deserving. I think you may have disconnected from yourself in order to follow and help others, or out of a huge traumatic experience (nothing strange here: it's a common self defense mechanism). You probably felt responsible for others cause that's what you learned is your duty here (also to survive/save yourself in some way: eg. you had to grow in an "unsafe" environment, so you tried to keep it as emotionally safe as you could by taking charge of making the mood/solving problems that weren't yours to solve, or something like that; you could have learned to read others' emotions by being hypervigilant of their moves/words so to predict their moods and save yourself), but it's not so.

You're trying or are called to come back to yourself. To get back in touch with your core. To do this, it's important to take time for yourself, and do some self reflection (journaling could be a way too: you don't have to write things chronologically or that are reasonable, just let your thoughts/emotions flow). Reconnect with your body too through healing movements (yoga, walking, exercising... as you wish) or simply taking good care of it by giving it rest and the correct supplements it needs. Realize your worth and that you're deserving of receiving and give to yourself, especially time (you have lot!). It's important that you reconnect with yourself also cause that way you can reconnect with your intuition as well and trust yourself again. You may have stopped trusting signs or downloads or even your own feelings or gut instincts, deeming them (and yourself) as wrong, incorrect, likely to fail. But that's just probably a fear of yours: an insecurity that originates from having judged your mistakes too harshly (maybe after having being criticized the same way a lot, or having been caused to feel guilty for unimportant stuff, even unwillingly -cause of other people's issues: especially if you were surrounded by people self criticizing a lot or self talking negatively, you may have picked up this same habit too. But what if instead of "stupid/ignorant" you're just distracted or tired/stressed and therefore you made a mistake, that is very likely solvable too?). On a side note, self trust doesn't mean you feel sure and okay when taking an action. You may still have doubts or not like what you may need to do. We're still humans, and we can trust ourselves and still be scared of being wrong. But our intuition will always tell us if what we're doing is the right thing to do, no matter how it will turn out (intuition may not always be right especially if we're not grounded and also if->).

Your inner critic/wounded ego may be a bit too strict when it comes to you, pretending perfection in you in particular but also around you. Being ready to always point out every little flaw or incongruence that you may see. It may really shut your intuition as well. All this acts as a self defense mechanism: getting what you wish and having your intuition actually pointing you towards that result could be scary, so you tend to find flaws or imperfections in it to keep yourself away from that and safe in a known situation (even if it's not what you want). But we can only end up ruin intuition when trying to look at it through reason/thoughts. You may need a lot of constant reassurance, cause you may tend to overthink a lot and get any little negative sign as the confirmation things aren't going well (at times you may also be so focused on needing a specific answer that you may shut other possible ones out of you: try to stay grounded and open before asking for confirmations or such, especially from your Guides). You may also tend to project your fears and perceived imperfections on others: as Carl Gustav Jung said, we tend to project and judge others first to defend ourselves from their judgement, but it's actually ourselves that we're judging. Not them.

It's okay to put yourself first: as long as you are not trying to impose yourself on/take advantage of others, you're just putting yourself on their same level. And showing yourself you're deserving of as much. And you do. You don't have to always help others reach their goals by giving up on yours, or letting them having what you want: you're too kind for this world, but this world won't give you a prize for doing this. It will just give you nothing (and this also if you're doing it out of fear of actually getting what you want, not just cause you think others are better than you or you better play it safe to feel included/not be let down). So, fight for what you want. Acknowledge your wishes, emotions, desires... yourself. Show how much you care about yourself and stop comparing with others: there will always be someone better than you but not in everything. They may be better at something, but not at everything (put things into perspective). And even if they were better at everything, according to you, are you sure that your definition of better is the same as the rest of the world's one? Or is it personal of your life/you being harsh on you? And what if you can reach their level too instead of feeling inferior them? Or what if you're already there but just cannot see it?... What if you're just different and nobody is worse or better, actually? What if your different is what's is best for someone else, and for you too? It may feel scary, but try to be more balanced when it comes to see your worth and what you can do, who you are. When it comes to trust yourself. There's so much you can have, and already have, don't close your eyes to it our of fear. At times we need to do the scary thing: take ourselves by the hand and move in unknown waters. And it doesn't have to be as unsafe as it seems. Master your ability and knowledge, learn from your emotions instead of shutting them down out of fear of knowing them and their reasons (you may fear finding some hurtful truth in the process: if so, and if it feels too much, ask for help or guidance to someone you trust or a professional figure): they don't want to hurt you, they want to teach you and help you work on what you need in order to get what you deserve and want. Listen to yourself, come back to you.

For a few: Again, don't let your wounds/fears disconnect you from your intuition or make you misunderstand a need of yours with an intuitive hint. At times we may misinterpret signs/symbols because we really need a specific answer/confirmation emotionally/to feel better (especially in hard times). And having any little confirmation (or what we think it's so) can cause us to focus on something generally comforting/entertaining as a way to distract ourselves from the real problem/issue. Focusing on that problem could be too scary/overwhelming so we try to attach ourselves/fixate on other things/ideas/emotions to avoid dealing with the "real" ones. But we may not realize it. And for as comforting as it may look on the surface, it could really be something not good for us, as it may also lead to delusion (related to that specific thing/idea: be mindful, great things will come for you anyway and that's out of question. It's not an absolute no, but a call to see yourself and heal first). Therefore yes, try to focus and know your emotions first after having neglected yourself (and having been neglected) so much. Take good care of you.

song: under the bridge | all saints

[if you're called by pile 1 as well, feel free to take a look]

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 4 (discomfort/changing)

You're probably dealing or learning to deal with discomfort in your life. I think maybe you don't feel like you belong with the environment you are in (it may also be about who you are, not just where), and you may feel isolated. Or probably it's a bunch of different reasons, like a huge tower moment you're going through where it seems everything is against you and you cannot find a way out. It's a sad/lonely period, negative period in general and it may be more or less long. Pretty umcomfortable time in general. You're healing and losing sight of what else is going on. You're called to take a look within, into your heart, and like try to bring it back to life (esepcially if you feel "numb" somehow or lost) to realize it can beat again and you have power against all the darkness and negativity around and inside of you. You can still fight for yourself and win. Darkness is also there, the moment we learn how to watch it, to make the light shine brighter. To help us find happiness and peace too. To enjoy the process of change, and that change can actually be good despite the discomfort. And that healing is a part of our life, not all of it.

As humans, we tend to focus on what goes bad and notice all the other things that go as bad, even the smallest ones, losing sight of the little good that is around (as it kind of lose importance in our negative perspective: who cares if the sun is shining again and flowers are blossoming when there's this *negative thing* in my life?). Probably it's a matter of balancing better your thoughts, without letting them spiral and take you places you're not supposed to go (and won't even get to go: when we spiral, we may just end up creating fake thoughts in our mind out of fears and general negativity. This will keep the cycle alive and not let us get out of it but just kind of even attract more bad stuff into our life -or notice it more easily-. When we're more positive/happier, we shine, attract better things and are able to see also the good side and good events that do always happen in our life, despite everything else). When for example we don't get rid of the stress we may pick up in our daily life (even a slightly stressing situation may create an imbalance in our emotional and mental state if we don't get rid of the excess of energy it creates), when we're used to respond with fear/stress/anxiety to specific triggers even if we know we're safe, when we need for things to not change in order to feel safe, when we're tired, sleepy, cannot give our body the correct supplements it needs and feel depleted... we create the perfect inner environment for ourselves to start being overwhelmed and even spiralling or having panic attacks/burnouts at the smallest next stressing event. And the urgency we get to get out of that negativity asap, may just add more stress and pull us further down.

Do not let all these illusions to govern you, whether you create them in your mind, increasing your emotional instability when you start overtinking (even random unreal stuff that you have no proof may happen: our minds tend to fill up the void/the unknown/future with negative/fearful/fake thoughts so to block us in the same old cycle. They do this to keep us safe but we can show them that maybe they don't have to fear the unknown for they don't know how it will be for real) or you allow them to take space in your mind cause you "forget" to take care of you to give them attention. You are the one in control of your emotions and of your choices/priorities: most of the times anxiety originates from overthinking our insecurities and our "inability" (we feel the one always "wrong", lacking, failing... maybe also cause we don't trust our memory. But once you are grounded and trust yourself, your insecurity won't have much power anymore). You can take breaks and give yourself a time out before things get out of control. You can talk with your heart, with yourself, and your inner child too (probably the one who bears most of the stress and fear for various reasons -this may not be your only pile ig), and you can find space and time to disconnect from the stress you are experiencing. You can distract yourself by focusing on more comfortable things, using any of the various methods you can find online (focusing on naming things around you, on your breathing, on feeling your body and where you are/your senses...). You don't have to confront your fears immediately, and again you don't have to follow them. Or you can stop following them. It's not easy, especially at first, to recognize what is happening, so give yourself time and be patient. It's okay to shut those voices inside, and focus on something else, especially on you and what may be your needs at that time: prepare yourself for a bath or treat yourself something, anything that can relax you and nurture you; it's important to give yourself back, especially when you need breaks after working hard so that you realize you did well and can unwind from the stress of it. Especially, take naps if you can or need: I feel pretty drained suddenly. Try to not sleep deprive yourself (ofc overthinking/stressing can be very draining so it may be that that's also not allowing you to sleep/rest properly). If you're scared of sleeping because you may either lose time or have nightmares, remember you have time (plan it well: even a 5-10 minutes nap can work magic) and work on what these fears mean for you and how they originated: what are the nightmares about, what they want to show you about you? Ask for help if you need, also if you cannot deal with the negativity and all that is happening by yourself. For as long as it's good to distract yourself from triggers when you feel too overwhelmed, it's also good to try and check them more closely once you feel more calm/grounded, to see why they're there and what they want to show you about you, what you may still need to heal. What you may need to do to free yourself from this negative cage and see things from a more positive (or at least neutral) perspective. Yes, if you cannot change your mental pattern, work on finding similar sentences to those your mind is suggesting you that may have a more neutral meaning.

When things change, they change emotionally and energetically first (you can feel it in you, despite it not being so clear but just feeling unsettling), and that's what you may need to work on the most. Changing may feel scary and may bring you lot of negativity or mental/emotional traps or make you fall into a negative pattern about how it may be. It may re-open old wounds, even ones you didn't know existed in you. It may give you fallbacks about triggers/issues you thought you healed already (healing is not linear and these are perfectly fine: plus the closer we get to ending a cycle, the stronger they get). But with patience and time, self compassion and forgiveness, you can work through all of them and see them from another pov. You can use them at your advantage too. You can start seeing the good again. Take time to grieve what you're leaving behind, to give yourself proper closure, and move on. Stay balanced and present, enjoy also whatever else life is offering you at the moment, and do not discard anything out of fear of not being healed yet (being healed also means we do not react unheathily/anxiously to triggers anymore, not necessarily that we do not get triggered anymore; and we don't know what experiences we may need to make in order to "complete" our healing process or check it: trust your balanced self).

song: forward motion | daya

#pac #pick a pile #pick a card #pick a card tarot #pick a picture #pick a card reading #pick a photo #divination #tw triggers #tw trauma #tarot readings #tarots #healing #intuitive readings #psychic readings #clairs readings #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #self help

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wingedjellyfishflight · 1 month

Text

Cafe Fare

You own a small café off base. Most of the time, you just see people hurrying through wanting a ready-made meal, a coffee, or energy drink. Then, a masked man stops in for lunch. Something fresh from the kitchen. He stops in the next day and the next. The fourth day, he drags along a flirtatious Scot who gets a head slap when the skull-faced man tires of him not ordering. They're gone the next few days, but then the skull man is back alone. The day after, the Scot, Soap, as he insists you call him, brings in another soldier. Gaz, he introduces himself as. All three men become regulars, typically dining apart when they have time. Then Gaz brings in The Captain. You never catch a name beyond that, but you quickly make another regular out of him.

It's only a few months later when a man nearly too big for the booths sits for lunch. A mask covers his face even more thoroughly than Ghost, the name you have finally wheedled out of your masked man. The others shoot glares at this new man, and he retreats behind a menu. When you take his order, you smile just as wide as you do for those regulars, and he seems to relax. Especially when you call him Sugar, Dear or Honey. Those remnants of your American upbringing always seem to disarm even your big tough SAS regulars, and the Austrian is no different.

The other men try to warn you off of König and you tell them this is a no conflict zone. You're a civilian, and this is a café, not the barracks. They bite back protests, agreeing to keep the peace for your sake. As a concession, you try to always seat them away from each other, preferably so they can't see the other table at all.

Time goes on, and the café gets busier and busier. You have to hire more people to keep up. It seems that your regulars have brought in a whole wave of soldiers who want to try the food that is better than any chow hall on base and always treats them with a little love. Civilians pour in, too, as you get consistent five-star reviews.

One day, you have two full tables and then some of KorTac and 141 men, as they seem to refer to their separate factions. The rest of the cafe is packed full as well, and yet again, a young officer is demanding that you serve him first instead of the enlisted men at other tables. He oozes self-importance, and it makes you want to gag. Putting on your customer service persona, you tell him that rank doesn't matter here. He will be served when his food is ready and not a moment sooner. He stands, towering over you and gets in your face, yelling about teaching you your place and obeying orders. You cock an eyebrow, ready to fire back when a wall, no two walls of flesh are suddenly between you and him. König and Ghost stand shoulder to shoulder glaring down at the man. They begin to argue over who should be allowed to deal with him.

"He's an officer in my military. He's mine," Ghost growls.

"But we are off base in the civilian world. That makes him mine." König's higher pitched voice sounds just as deadly scary. They go back and forth for a minute or two before you tap them both on the back.

"Luv?"

"Liebling?"

You hide a grin as they both use the same term of endearment. "Why not compromise and do both? König, you handle it now in public, and Ghost, you handle it on base after whatever complaints roll in as an officer. Because I bet there will be complaints." They think for just a moment before nodding at each other. Ghost wraps an arm around your waist and guides you over to the counter where food is waiting to be dropped off. Meanwhile, König is giving the ass chewing of a lifetime to the officer who has nearly pissed himself by this point. When König finishes, the officer runs out the door, and you can guess you will never see him again.

You give both men their meals on the house despite their protests.

"Next time, you can pay me then. It's not like that was the first, and it won't likely be the last time that happens." The men mull over your words, and you miss their exchanged look. You don't know it now, but you have fundamentally changed the dynamics on base. KorTac and the 141 cooperate on and off the field, realizing that working together is far more entertaining and satisfying than constantly arguing. The Captain gifts you a bottle of top shelf bourbon that Christmas in thanks.

Ghost and König are not best friends, but more often than not, the two teams now eat together, prompting you to reserve a table for them at lunch every day. The number fluctuates, but König and Ghost are there every chance they get. When one or both are down range, as they call it, you miss them fiercely. When they return, you always excitedly hug them to welcome them back home. At first, they had frozen under your hugs, but when you greeted them and only them with a hug, Ghost and König felt themselves hugging you back possessively. Soap and Gaz loved to complain about their lack of hugs, but you notice they never even try to initiate one, and a glare from Ghost has them shutting up.

It's been nearly three years since Ghost first tried your food, when you see them loitering around near close, looking nervous. You've never seen these men nervous, and it has you on edge. You hurriedly work through your closing duties, locking the doors and pulling the blinds shut before sitting heavily across from them.

"What's wrong?" Your question seems to surprise them. "You two are more nervous than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest." They break out in laughter, much of the tension bleeding away.

"Luv, what the 'ell kind of sayin is that?"

"A good one, now spill." They sober up, and you see them exchange a look.

"We.. fuckin Hell. How do I word this?" Ghost's nervousness is back already. You've never heard his voice waver before.

"We want to court you. Both of us, if you're interested. We have fallen for you." König reaches a hand out as he speaks, lacing his fingers with yours. You are too stunned to speak for a moment but squeeze his hand.

"Umm... I was not expecting... what I mean is... yes?" You clear your throat. "Yes, I would like that." They seem almost as surprised at your answer as you were at the implied question. You stand and walk around the table, resting a hand on each of their shoulders when they go to stand. "Can I kiss you? I've wanted to kiss you both for a ridiculously long time." You are blushing deeply but determined to push past it.

Ghost tugs you into his lap and tugs his mask up, kissing you deeply. You feel him smile against your lips when you moan quietly and wrap your arms around his neck. After a few moments, he pulls away and passes you over to König's lap. You smile up at him in a bit of a daze but reach up slowly to lift his mask above his lips. He leans down while lifting you up a bit. Kissing him is different, but just as satisfying. He nips at your lower lip, making you gasp into him. He plunges his tongue into your mouth, holding you tight against his chest and groping your ass. When you finally pull away, your eyes are lidded, and all you can think about is doing more. So you do. It's a few hours later, after more than a couple rounds with them, that you teasingly ask if this is how courting is supposed to work. They stumble over their words, but your cheeky grin has them promising revenge soon.

That Christmas, you attend the joint KorTac and 141 holiday party with your men fussing over your every step. When The Captain tries to give you another bottle of bourbon, you pass it over to Ghost politely. He huffs, complaining that the bottle he gets is never this good. You roll your eyes and pass the Captain a box. When he opens it, he freezes, just looking. Soap, the nosy bugger tries to see what it is, and The Captain slams the box shut. His eyes bore into you while you giggle at him. He grabs for the bottle, but Ghost pulls away, having anticipated the move.

"What is going on, Captain? You get a gag gift?" Gaz teases him, knowing that you would never give a bad enough gift to prompt such an action.

"No! I gave a bad gift! I need to exchange it!" He cautiously opens the box again, seemingly to confirm what he saw.

"Captain, just hold it up already." Ghost is a bit impatient to get this over with now, and you rub a hand down his back. The Captain pulls out a small piece of fabric and holds it up. A onesie, well two onesies, he realizes. They read "My Grandpa goes by Captain"

"Two onesies? Did ye gettae discount for buying an extra?" Soap's voice booms with laughter.

Ghost pauses a second, wanting to time it perfectly. "We bought two for the same reason they issue me and you separate uniforms, idiot." Soap chokes on his drink, coughing while trying to talk. The room is silent for a moment before cheering excitedly, congratulating all three of you. Your men don't stop smiling all night, not even when they carry your sleeping form to bed after falling asleep on the couch at the party, curled up like a cat in König's lap.

#konig x reader #könig x reader #call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 2 months

Note

hello seth! i don’t think my tumblr works with anon so i’ll just send it like this! i’m a huge fan of your writing and i absolutely adore it. whenever i am in the need for a good story and writing inspiration i go to your blog. so i was hoping if you could write a sally face fic! i haven’t seen too many on here and willing to write for m reader or ftm.

i like the thought of being with sally and just having time with him, soft domestic type stuff. then he starts asking you how you really feel about his face and you smile and take off his mask with permission and kiss him saying he’s beautiful and to not worry. you kiss him and hold him. he then sits up but keeps your lips locked and you begin to explore each other sexually but in a such intimate way you both are crying almost. if you want could be m reader but i would love a ftm reader! can we also have reader be bottom but still be guiding sally and affirming him. i know this is a big ask and you’re always working so hard so please take liberty with this ask! take what you want from it and remove what you don’t like. i just love you’re writing. take your time as well! writing can be draining sometimes and you really need to find that inspiration so i want to make sure you feel no pressure!

have a good day/night/evening!!<3

❝ I'll show you how we're supposed to feel (when we meet at Orion's belt) ❞

warnings: mentions of facial dysphoria, self-deprecating thoughts (Sal), unprotected sex, praise (a lot of it), minor hair pulling, creampies, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like cunt and boypussy are used)

masterlist ;

authors note: thank you so much for your kind words! hearing that you use my writing as writing inspiration made me feel so warm and fuzzy on the inside oh lord 😭 you're too kind! This request was the softest one I've ever worked on, thank you so much for gracing me with the opportunity to write this~

*song on repeat: Orion's Belt by Sabrina Claudio / Baby Girl by SMNM

"Cold, cold, cold," Sal lifts his head from the couch. The sight of you rushing down the wooden stairs in nothing but a towel makes him lift himself to sit. "Fuck! Sal, you should put carpet in here!" Grinning, he leans forward and folds himself in half to stare at you furiously lifting the towel up to wrap around your shoulders instead.

"You hate carpet. B'sides, it'll get that weird moldy smell in here. I told you to get those fuzzy slippers," Gizmo meows in agreement from his corner of the couch. "Traitor!" you exclaim and he simply meows once again, lifting a leg to lick his stomach and Sal reaches over to give his head a good scratch.

"See? Even Gizmo agrees."

"Gizmo has in-built fuzzy socks. He has no say in this," your huffing and puffing simply makes Sal roll his eye, lifting Gizmo up to place the large cat right on his stomach while he props his head onto the armrest of the couch. Gizmo stretches out onto his torso, unbothered by the change in position while he presses his nose into Sal's chest and twists until he's nearly full on his back; the action makes Sal secure the old cat on him. His olive-toned arm loosely wrapped across Gizmo's purring body.

You're still rambling but it's all background noise to Sal. The sight of your bare legs and backside calls for his attention and despite how guilty he feels, he can't help but drag his sight all the way up to your — now — bare shoulders. The towel is now limply draped over the towel rack, and your muscles and bones are moving seamlessly underneath the fabric of your skin.

Everything about you can make him feel like he's going to explode. In a good way, if you can believe it. He sure as hell didn't. Sal remembers the first time he saw you, thinking you looked cool and that it was nice your interests lined with his. Somehow you managed to become more than that.

More always scared Sal. It was greedy and selfish. He wasn't religious but there was a sense of anxiety that came from wanting and needing more than you were given. Some sort of divine guilt was planted within him through passing by churches and reading the signs of worship plastered on billboards. Needing more is frightening, especially from other people.

More time spent with you two. More hours of listening to you speaking. More days spent with you in his home, bare skin and bare soul all for him and only him.

It frightened him!

Because, as self-centered as it sounds, he'd have to give you more. Don't take this the wrong way, he wants to — God, he wants to — but...but...

What if you don't like all that he has?

The fabric of his skin is spoiled. Marred. One of his eyes is artificial, his jaw asymmetrical, bone blown to bits, nose cut off and skin grafts stitched together and spliced.

His heart hammers in his chest, and his breathing is shaky as he squeezes Gizmo. The patch-furred critter mews, twisting once again and crawling up. His weight on Sal's chest is comforting. The pressure across it squeezed down on him, reminding his body that it was real and he was safe.

"In conclusion, I propose we buy a heater! That way we can — "

You're dressed in Sal's pajama pants, hands in the middle of pulling down the oversized band shirt when you notice Sal squeezing his eyes shut.

"Sal? Baby? What's wrong?" You sit by his legs, placing a hand on his knee and pressing your hands on it to ease him back down. "You're okay, baby. You're okay." It's not often Sal gets like this. You've known him ever since he came to Nockfell County; you know he's the type of person to withdraw within himself when his anxieties get the best of him. He's certainly gotten better with time and as your friendship — and eventual relationship — got stronger, the both of you worked on ways to lean on each other when things get tough.

Sal inhales deeply, Gizmo raising with the motion, and exhales. You don't pry more, giving him room to find the words and tether back to you. Gizmo's purrs muffle the silence.

"Sorry, just, the sight of your ass gave me a heart attack, Jesus," the joke is met with a loose grin but Sal knows you better than that. Still. He's grateful you snort at his jesting. Gizmo stands — Sal grimaces as he puts all his weight on his sternum — then walks over to your lap instead. The sight makes him calm down.

The faded grey of the once-black band shirt and his pajama pants do too. It's silly but the sight of you in everything that's his comforts a part of him. You're here. You're in love with him. Your gaze holds nothing but patience and adoration and a tinge of worry.

But you're here, in his clothes, in his room, his cat in your lap, and your hands on his body.

"You feeling better, Sal?" He nods, pushing to sit. "Do you wanna talk about it, baby?" Gizmo gives your chin one more bump before he jumps on the floor and meanders his way to his food bowl. Taking the chance, you inch closer to Sal and he's grateful for it.

You're not scared of the cold prosthetic on his face. The iron bolts that secure the straps to his face and head, the glass eye that shines humourlessly in any situation.

"Do you ever want...more from this? From me?" That line of questioning made your brows furrow and mouth frown. "What do you mean?" You reach for him and Sal reciprocates by holding your hand in his lap.

"I was joking about seducing Mr Smith from the electronics store for a heater," he scoffs at your lame joke but continues. "I don't mean that, I'll get us a heater. Just..."

"You've never seen...all of me." His grip loosens but you don't let it. "So?" he looks at you, his face angled low and the shape of his prosthesis mimics his brow bone. Sal is pinching his face, confused at your indignant tone.

"So?" He whispers. You lift his hand up, inching in closer and placing his knuckles over your clavicle.

"So?"

"Doesn't it freak you out? We've been together for so long and you've never seen my face," he murmurs. Since you're so close, speaking above a whisper would ruin this moment. Sal's heart is racing again though this time the anxiety is laced with his love for yours. It's a confusing emotion but he relishes the way you press your forehead to his, nose bumping with the bump on his prosthesis.

"Do you want me to see your face?" He inhales sharply, glancing away.

"...I do. But..."

"Mm?" you spread his fingers out, guiding them to your neck and the calloused pads of Sal's fingers make gooseflesh spread. The hairs on the back of your neck standing in applause; because that's what he does to you.

He makes your pupils expand, makes your heart race, makes your brain produce dopamine; your body lights up like a goddamn firework when he so much as looks your way. You can be yourself with him without fear because you know you do the same to him.

"...I've only ever let you kiss me when it's dark. The first time we had sex, I couldn't even take off the mask...I just...I'm..."

Your frown deepens when Sal sighs, his shoulders dropping.

"Be honest. Does it bother you?"

He's glad you don't reply immediately. A part of him always worries your love for him overtakes everything else. That, if something ever happens between the two of you and it tears you apart, you'll feel regret once the love is gone. You brush his hair behind his ear, cupping his jaw as you shake your head.

"No. It doesn't. Because it's you, Sal. I love you. Even the parts you aren't ready for me to see." He exhales and his breath escapes through the slits of his mouth. You feel it on your thumb and it makes you grin.

There's a twitch in his eye and your grin falters for a moment before it reappears when he locks eyes with you.

"...Do you want me to see your face, baby?"

His jaw is set. His tongue is made of lead. So Sal simply closes his eyes and gives you a minuscule nod. If it weren't for your hand on his jaw, you probably would've mistaken it for a twitch.

"Can I take off your prosthetic?"

Another nod.

"Are you sure, baby? I won't do it if you're not — "

"I'm sure." He says in one breath. "I'm sure."

A moment of silence was shared and you leaned forward to press your lips in the molding of his. The cool material does not pulse or pump with life but it's your Sal's and you cherish it deeply; he exhales shakily and you grin as your fingers dance through the locks of blue to find the straps that hold the prosthetic in place.

It's secure, it's meant to be, and you can feel the wear and tear of the years in the material. The scratches and indents weaved into every fiber. You unbuckle the lower end first and Sal tightens his hold on you, so you pause and press another kiss to his porcelain cheek.

When he nods, you continue, cupping the mask in one hand to steady it while you undo the upper buckle.

Sal would be statue-like if it weren't for the nervous tremors in his fingers. The mask loosens and its weight drops into your hand. His breath does not come through the slits anymore and you can feel it breeze through the fine hairs on your fingers.

He says nothing and neither do you. Still, you place one more kiss on the forehead of his prosthetic and lower it from view.

Sal has his eyes cast away, but he faces you. There's a large scar across the right side of his mouth, splitting his lips and exposing his teeth. There's a dent on the right side of his lower jaw that leaves his bone structure slightly unbalanced, and the cartilage of his nose is completely missing. The skin has healed, stretching his eye and tugging on the rest. It's pinkish still, never quite settling into the rest of his olive-toned skin, and Sal understands why it's jarring.

It's like peeling back the layers of what makes humans...humans.

The skin. The sight of his face makes people unnerved. Teeth and gums and muscles and the lack of a nose. One side of his face was a plain canvas and the other was a goddamn Jackson Pollock painting of horror.

Your touch on his bare skin shocks him. The pads of your fingers drag across his cheekbones. "Does it hurt?" You ask with your eyes lidded.

"No, no, it...it doesn't." You smile and your thumb rests just under his eyes, sweeping fondly while your palm holds his face preciously within your hand. There's a flush to his skin — it's not unusual with how the prosthetic held over his face nearly 24/7.

There's a feeling of nakedness that comes without the even pressure across his visage but your hands are an amazing substitute.

"You don't have to be nice," he says. "It takes a lot to get used to — "

"I know I can't completely convince you to not think of yourself as 'something to get used to' but you're not. Not to me." Sal's eye water and he wills himself to finally look at you.

There's a pinch to your brows, it makes your eyebrows cast this shadow across your eyes and highlight the colours of your eyes. You're frowning at his self-deprecation, though beyond that he can see you mean well.

"I would gladly sit on your face, Sal."

He scoffs, groaning as he slips away from your hand to toss his head back and flop right onto the couch again. "You're fuckin' impossible, (Y/N)," he mumbled as his hands covered his face. You place the prosthetic down on the makeshift coffee table near the couch and chuckle as you swing one leg over his hips and rest your crotch over his.

"What? I'm being honest here!" Bracing your weight on your elbows, Sal finds the comfort of your body across his similar to Gizmo's. "You're fucking beautiful," he squirms at that and you huff, nuzzling your face into his neck while he peeks from over his fingers.

"You don't have to say that," you huff once again. "I'm not saying that because I have to, I'm saying it because I want to. You're fucking beautiful, me being your boyfriend is just a coincidence."

He feels you shifting and instinctively, his hands rest on your hips and there he is again. You know you shouldn't stare, so you don't, but the shy glances at his face are less than secretive. His eyes are blue, cobalt almost, and his eyebrows are a darker shade of his hair. The shape of his eyes is rounded, with a deep crease and heavy eyelids just like his father's. Lifting your head, you gaze down at him and your hands are once again gingerly ghosting on his skin. This time, they're tracing his collarbones, feeling up the protruding muscle of his neck and halting at his jaw.

"Can I kiss you, baby?" He has a quirk. A lip twitch that he does when he's excited; you've been dating him for years and you're still finding out new things about your boyfriend. It makes your heart race and it only triples in speed when he nods. Hovering, the peak of your lips ghost his. He had always envied how you kiss his prosthetic. It was an extension of himself but he hated how badly he wanted to feel you on him.

They press to his and Sal slips his eyes closed. It's nothing more than a peck. Innocent, chaste. But then he's tightening his grip and pulling you in; tilting his head like he's always seen other people do and you're grinning into it. He knows because he can feel it.

He can feel it.

How your lips spread, the hint of teeth that slide over his bottom ones, and the crinkling of your nose that's brushing over his cheek.

"You taste so good, pretty boy," your words make his ears red. "I'm sure anything is better than kissing porcelain," he replies with a breathless tone, leaning forward again as if unwilling to part from you even if just to talk.

"No, don't disrespect yourself like that. What did we say about making those jokes." "Hah, I'll stop when you do."

Giggling, you're leaning in again. Sal wonders if kissing you is the only reason he's not completely in tears. The first time he'd accidentally showed Larry his face, he'd cried because Larry didn't look away from him. You taste tears on your lips and Sal curses softly as he tucks himself under your jaw, groaning. You shush him comfortingly, threading your fingers through his hair as he takes a few deep inhales.

"I love you." Those words are followed by more tears and you squeeze him again. "I love you, Sal," he nods against your — his — shirt. He can feel the grin you have from the crown of his head.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

Because you did. Sal was the man you wanted to be with until the Earth decided to throw in the towel; it didn't matter how buried your love for each other would be, because when your bones are dug up, or his guitar, or the treasure trove of things you've called yours; in the future, when you whisper to those archeologists: "Do you know?" they'd nod and reply, "We know you loved him."

Sal has never felt love like this. One that felt overwhelming at first, the same way entering a body would be for the first time in your life, but once he embraced the feeling? It was so...fulfilling.

How lucky was he?

Sal pulls away to cup your face and he leans in. You meet him halfway.

The feeling of your breath, your heart thudding against his own chest, the pulse beating under his thumb as he holds your neck — Sal isn't sure if he'd ever get into heaven but he doubts it ever compares to you.

His jaw moves and your lips part as you press closer. Fuck, kissing him felt like drinking in sunlight. There's a freedom that follows it, leaves you floaty and blissful.

"I love you," he replies between the friction, teeth biting down on your lower lip if only to hear if you'd gasp. You do.

"I love you so fuckin' much, (Y/N)." There's a feverish desperation in his words. But it makes your heart swell. There's no doubt in his eye, nothing but the truth and the truth is he'd worship you.

You're kissing again. Eager to show him the explosions he sets off within you. Between desperate lip locking and messy tangles of tongues, his hands move down and up your — his —shirt.

Squeezing your sides as he drags his digits across your skin. It spreads fire across your planes, has your already uneven breath shuddering as he memorizes the shape of your body again.

There's a growing hardness between his legs. You can feel it — twitching below your crotch as he tilts his head and tastes the lust that perspires from your neck.

He's greedy with his mouth. How could he not be? Sal has been wanting to taste you the second he realised how badly he wished you were his.

"Fuck, Sal." You groan, chewing on your lower lip as he experiments with this unmarked territory. His tongue is warm, his teeth brushes over pumping arteries with an air of amusement; when he finds the sweet spot? The spot where your breath hitched as he kissed it?

Sal makes your blood vessels explode. It isn't enough that the hairs on your neck stand in attention because of him, or how your blood rushes to your head when he so much as looks your way. He's determined to show you he can worship you in more ways than one.

You're gripping onto his shirt and your hips grind down. The moan he lets out makes your cunt wetter than before.

"I need you," you tell him as he sinks his teeth in. Just to test it out, to see if you'd like it. You do. His back feels cold as you lift his shirt but he grips at your wrist, panting as he moves his head away so you can see him.

"Can I...Can I keep it on?" He already felt a touch too exposed. You nod, reassuring him with a chaste peck.

"I'm gonna take of my shirt. You've made me all warm," he smiles a bit too smugly. He's handsome that way. When he gets a bit cocky — it's a sure fire way to make your head dizzy with desire.

"My shirt," he mumbles.

But when your bare torso is revealed the sass is pushed away. Sal presses kisses on your chest, teasing your perk buds with his too-warm hands and relishing in the way you toss your head back when he takes one in his mouth.

"Sal, holy fuck." He kneads at your ass, making your hips move back and forth. Rocking your clothed cunt over his boner as he leaves hickeys and bitemarks.

Here is where I plant my love, he thinks as he feels your heart pound against your ribcage, here is proof that he's mine.

Your pants are pulled below your waist and Sal moves back, making you yelp at the loss of balance. One second you're over him and the next, you're both tumbling over the couch.

His hand cradles the back of your head, curling over you as much as he could when you crash. Thankfully, none of you knocked into the coffee table but the adrenaline of the short fall makes the both of you wide-eyed.

"Holy fuck!" You laugh breathlessly. He scans you for any injury but soon follows suit. "You okay?" His hair curtains your face from view as he descends to claim your lips again.

"I'm peachy, baby." Sal grunts as you tug at the waist band of his pants. "Don't stop..." and how could he say no to you when you look up at him like that?

Your hands invade underneath his shirt and Sal moans as you press your fingers lightly into his back, kneading at the tense muscles. "M'not gonna take it off. Just wanna feel you," you assure as you reach his shoulder blades. God, the feeling of your hands on his body made him feel so Holy.

Ironic in the grand scheme of things but it's not like Sal gave a damn.

It's your turn to mark him up. He often already is. But this time your lips latch onto the obvious places. Lifting yourself to sit, Sal is suddenly at your mercy as you lovingly bruise him up with your mouth.

Sal lifts himself off your crotch a bit, panting and moaning at your ministrations, and slips his hand down your pants. Your breath stutters as your boyfriend touches your core.

"Sal," you plead. "I know, baby. I know," Sal frowns when you whine. "What? What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"You're just..." You're breathing heavily as you stare up at him, nails lightly digging into his skin as your dick twitches against his palm.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Sal."

That catches him completely off-guard. He hates how tears immediately burn at his waterline but regret doesn't come when they travel down his cheek. You're kissing him and the self-depriciation doesn't once rise. That snivelling, hissing, voice of doubt remains mute as you hold him.

"So fucking pretty," he slips his finger in as if attempting to distract you with pleasure. It makes you keen but you continue to sing praises for him as he pumps his digits in and out of you.

It's hard to move when you curl your arms over his back, hands peeking from the stretched out collar of his shirt. Forehead once again pressed to his.

"I can't — "

"You're all mine. My pretty boy is all mine." Blood should not rush so quickly to one's head. His chest is dusted in red, his shoulders, his ear, the apples of his cheek —

"You feel so good, Sal."

You allow him to push you back, splaying out onto the floor with your eyes lidded in want as he looked at you.

"...Shit, you're making my brain go all stupid," he grumbles — it sounds more like a whine. You lift your hips as he tugs your pants down and off. Sal gets between your legs and for a moment you think he's about to just slide in — which causes you a bit of concern considering how much meat he's packing between his legs — but then he lays on his stomach and your cock peeks straight up.

"I've watched a few pornos," he says with a grimace, "but — "

"I can guide you, Sal." He's looking up at you with those doe eyes and you chuckle as you brush some of his hair back. "You made me cum from grinding on your goddamn leg before. You've got this, Sex Grandmaster Sal."

"Really don't think mentioning Larry's marijuana induced rambling is setting the mood, babe," your giggle smooths out the furrowed brows he had. "Sorry, sorry."

Your cunt is making his mouth water. Sal presses his thumb on your cock and the sigh you let out eases his worries. His tongue on your dick has you inhaling deeply, slowly, back arching off the floor as he looks up at you.

He's overzealous but fuck does it make you wetter than you've ever been. Licking and sucking on your cock while he teases the opening of your cunt with his fingers. The hints of teeth makes your hips twist but he holds your hips down with muffled groans.

"Fuck, yes. You're doing so good, Sal. S'fuckin' good — holy shit, babe," the way your voice gets all pitchy makes him grin. Your slick on his tongue is making him want more, so he spreads your lips apart and sinks his tongue inside, it makes your grip onto his head, and Sal moans into you at the pinpricks of pain that follow.

Fingers accompanies his tongue and you're clamping your thighs around his head. It forces Sal's face into your cunt and the whole thing has him chuckling against you.

Pinning your thighs apart, Sal licks and swipes at the slick around his mouth and chin, catching his breath as he curses.

"Fucking Christ, does it feel that good?" You whine in retaliation. "You're the one going down on me of course I'm going fuckin' crazy. You get all whiny when I go down on you too — "

He curls a finger inside of you and you cut yourself off with a particularly loud moan. The floorboards above you creak and like a deer lifting its head as a branch snaps in the distance, another follows as whoever was in the living room heard the echoing cries of pleasure.

Sal slips another finger in and you cover your mouth, glaring at his handsome face petulantly. It falters as he stretches you out, thrusting in and out with a steady rhythm that he occasionally breaks to curl his fingers up.

You're groaning and curling your toes, eyelids fluttering and squeezing shut as he jerks you off with his other hand. Loosening his jaw, Sal uses his spit to lube you up further. He had a thing for sloppy sex. You once joked he enjoyed the slick-and-slide of it all and he didn't deny it then and probably won't ever.

"Nuh - no, don't wanna cum yet, I wanna cum with you, baby," he slows his rhythm, staring at you as you lift yourself onto your hands and taste yourself on his lips.

"Want you inside me. Please, Sal, I'm beggin'"

"You don't have to. I've got you." He nods when you hold onto the waist of his pants. Pulling it down to his knees and let his cock spring out into the air. Fuck, it's a pretty dick.

It's fat and heavy. Thicker than longer, the girth always makes your toes curl. It's a darker colour compared to the rest of his skin tone, the mushroom tip a warmer shade that burns when you tease him too much. You motion for the couch and he leans against it, whispering your name as you hover over his cock.

"Fuck, you're so hot," he says as you pump his dick with your fist while you line it up to your cunt. "You're pretty fucking hot yourself, big dick," he struggles not to laugh in your face, shaking his head in 'disapproval' that's short-lived.

You sink down on the tip of his cock and Sal moans out your name, squeezing your hips. You shiver for a moment, willing your insides not to clench so excitedly when you've still got some ways to go.

"Shit, (Y/N). You're so fuckin' tight." You could not agree more. The more you go down on him, the more you're tempted to just squeeze him like a vice. Sal brings your face down to kiss him, very quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of it. It's no wonder teenagers made out in the hallways all the damn time.

Gravity helps you the rest of the way. When he's all the way inside of you, you part your lips, the way your eyebrows slope being felt on Sal's forehead as you clench around him.

"Fuuuuck, Sal" you're whimpering his name, arms wrapped around his neck as you look at him. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby."

He swallows thickly, reaching to push your hair away from your face as he gazes up.

"I love you, so fuckin' much. I love you, Sal," you're determined to make him turn into nothing but mush. He's certain of it. His insides felt like a field of flowers, all blooming at once, even if it didn't sense at all. There's an airy moan that escapes him as you squeeze your inner thighs, your hips move forward and Sal grips you like he's afraid you're just a figment of his imagination.

"I know, baby," he whispers back. "I love you, more than you can imagine."

A dopey grin appears on your face. "You think you can show me how much you love me, handsome?" He smiles and your heart feels like it's going to stop.

"I can do more than show you, pretty boy."

He turns you over on your side, not once pulling out. You hastily grab some couch pillows for the both of you before your descent onto the floor. It's cold but that's all the more reason to hold onto each other.

Once your head is on a pillow and you're on your back again, he drapes over you.

Another kiss. Another mischievous nibble. A sly dance of tongues.

Sal is pulling out, the drag of his dick makes you whimper, and thrusts back home. The action has your nails leaving welts on his back but it just reinvigorates him.

He's splitting you open and filling you up. Every thrust makes you see stars. You're unwilling to let him go if the legs wrapped around his waist are saying anything.

But Sal is growing flustered the more praises you tell him.

"That's it, baby. Fuck this pussy, this pussy's just for you."

"Fuck, you look so good, baby. On top of me, fucking me, shit — !"

"Oh, God, your cock is — yeah, right there! — you're in so deep, Sal -Ah!"

You're so fucking filthy.

He wants to hide his face in your neck but he doesn't wanna take his eyes off you. Eyes trailing where his lips and teeth had been, eyeing the sheen of sweat on you and your messed up hair.

The shower you just took had been in vain, huh?

"Fuh - fuck, I'm close," he warns, bracing himself on his elbows as he hovers above you.

"Yeah? Me — mff! — too. Cum inside, baby. Need to feel you — fuuuuck — dripping outta' me," he chuckles breathlessly at your words.

His hips are stuttering and he can see the way your brows are furrowing, angelic moan after angelic moan being knocked out of you. He gives your cock a rub and the way your back arches off the floor makes him hold his own orgasm back just so he can see you like this as clearly as he can take it in.

"Sal, oh fuck, baby!"

"I've got you, (Y/N)."

He chokes out a groan as he feels you clamping down on him, your cunt gripping onto him like it never wants him to let go. You gasp as he snatches your breath, messily making out with him as the aftershocks of your orgasm are barrelled through thanks to Sal's deep thrusts.

"Shit, shit, shit," you smile as he begins to lose his rhythm. Ignoring how sensitive your boypussy feels as he chases his end. "C'mon, baby, fill me up. Yeah, that's it."

He cums with one final thrust. The warmth of it floods your insides, earning pleasant shivers from you as you moan out his name. He's riding his orgasm out, pushing in and out of you shallowly as he catches his breath above you.

"Jesus, fuck..." You giggle at his words, chest rising and falling in rapid motions as your heart tries to calm down.

"That was, Christ, that was — " "Fucking amazing?"

He nods, falling on top of you as carefully as he can. You embrace him, humming as he kisses your neck while you rub his back. The both of you catch your breath, satisfied expressions etched on your faces.

When Sal moves, your eyes are already closed. He pulls out and you whimper at the loss, ignoring the way he stares at his own jizz dripping out of your cunt in favor of gazing at his face.

"We gotta take a shower all over again," he says, helping you sit up and accepting the hug you give him when you're righted.

"...Wanna do it all over again in the shower?" Your question earns a throaty chuckle. "Thought it was implied in my statement."

Another beat of comfortable silence is shared. Sal sighs, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"Thank you, (Y/N)."

"I've got you, Sal."

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #gay reader #male!reader #ftm reader #trans reader #sally face x reader #sally face x male reader #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher x male reader

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five-thousand-loaves-of-bread · 2 months

Text

poke hornet nest

my stance on ABA

(my stance on ABA)

as someone with (some) lived experience

most of it is shit.

for long time in past and even now, ABA only service available for a lot autistic people & family.

most of it (< ABA*) still is shit. (*this disclaimer applies to rest of repetition)

heard of more than enough cases of. insurance/school system/etc give pathetic number of hours/sessions for speech, OT, etc for autism but many more hours of ABA. or only cover ABA.

most of it still shit.

some speech & OT & other so called “alternatives to ABA” use behavioral & ABA tactics.

most of it still shit.

for many family, especially those with autistic person diagnosed as “severe” or level 3 and or have extreme behavioral issues etc. their option isn’t “ABA or no ABA.” often, option is “ABA or be labeled as abusive neglectful by government” or “ABA or have child taken away” “you ‘willingly’ enroll in ABA or we take and put them in ABA anyway” or “ABA or lose job.”

most of it still shit.

“ABA or lose job” because school not able or not willing help (because autistic person’s needs “that much”), you keep getting called to pick them up from school, from day care. other people not know how “deal with” your autistic family member, you know how help them a little more but also you sure as hell don’t and are just as lost. so you keep miss work to go pick them up from places that kick them out and you exhausted and you not get sleep because autistic family member needs pretty constant supervision and you not have respite and you not know how help and eventually your job fires you because you keep miss work. and oh did ever mention caring for disabled person extremely expensive? but oh btw there ABA agency you can send autistic family member to for up to 40 hour/week so maybe you can keep job and thus keep roof over head and can still put food on table for family for your autistic family member. oh they also say they may able help with autistic family member behavior so maybe they don’t get kicked out of every necessary service.

most of it still shit.

ABA agencies frequently kick out people deemed too severe or “cannot be helped” or too violent or too many behavioral issues or cause too much harm.

most of it still shit.

in world where may & very often do kill you for seeing you as different thus “threat,” ability mask life saving survival tactic. am talking about POC. am specifically especially talking about Black people. is teaching how mask greater evil than dead killed hatecrimed? sure, no one should have to choose between these two options, but world not care about your morals n your “should”s n your envisioned better future you may or may not be actively help build right now, these people need survive in real world here and now.

most of it still shit.

there (some. a few.) ABA survivors who went thru ABA in past and now who think ABA helped. helped them gain skill. help them prevent harm. some of them don’t see self as abused in ABA or traumatized by ABA. some see it as both abused and helped and grateful for help and hate abuse. some see as both abused and helped and don’t see amount of helped as ever worth abuse.

most of it still shit. (so many were & are abused. n abuse is abuse)

many newer ABA agencies realize ABA heavily criticized n labeled abusive & say they change methods & no longer practice old school ABA & now no longer abusive.

most of it still shit. (many of these agencies still do coercive abusive stuff even if call themselves changed)

some of them maybe truly changed. getting rid of abusive practices, focusing on skill building & adaptive functioning, child-led, instead of drills and forced masking.

most of it still shit.

talk a lot with people who so adamant about “all ABA abuse” “all parents who put child into ABA abused deserve get child taken away” who never was in personal proximity of ABA who. when ask to describe what ABA is in own words, not able to. or give generic response like “abuse & force mask”, but when ask to describe specific methods they do that, not able to. when ask them what discrete trial training and prompting is and what goals may look like and how they write behavioral analysis, never heard of any of them. say listen to ABA survivors, but not able name any individual names. just “oh listen to them online, if you actually listen like me you would know & i wouldn’t need say more so it really your ignorance.” but more often, just get reactionary shut down whole conversation be seen as ableist threat if even be asked first question. how you help advocate for ABA survivors if don’t even know what ABA is? or who ABA survivors? if cannot even talk about ABA? how even fight against your enemy if don’t even know what enemy look like, not able pick out enemy from crowd unless spoon fed?

most of it still shit.

found that. when am talking about ABA. from add nuance to encourage thought provoking questions to even rhetorically ask people to describe ABA. have to repeat emphasize that am not saying ABA all not abusive. even if it first thing i lead with. even if it super clear that am indeed criticizing ABA, just with more grey area and nuances than people used to. lot people will block me from this post just within some paragraphs. lot will block me over saying “most of it still shit” instead of denounce all ABA, when it clear that use of word “most” is deliberate choice n reason of said choice is in every corner of this post. others will finish reading (if even that) and all get out of is repeating “most of it still shit.” made similar posts year(s) ago. and still, find people vague post or explicitly post about me or my post, paint me as evil ABA apologist. whenever come across people who talk about “post where talk about ABA good,” stop and wonder, are they talking about me?

don’t want to talk about ABA because of this. tired, not worth it, often is bad starting point is turn off for people who never seen my posts when have other posts much easier entry point, n start off at bad start may cause them to not listen to me and maybe even other higher support needs and or nonverbal nonspeaking autistics in foreseeable future or ever.

you know, this post started off as “… so you all know i don’t think kindly of ABA right”

throughout write this post, don’t know which part am emphasizing more. the “most of it still shit” part or parts in between.

still. most of it still shit.

#loaf screm #aba tw #aba therapy tw #long post #repetition

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thefloorisbalaclava · 1 year

Text

love on the brain [simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader]

▸pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader ▸words: 3,362 ▸warnings: illness, lovesick ghost, kissing, making out, simon makes up his own little game of hide and seek, the balaclava stays on ▸summary: simon doesn't do feelings... until he does.

▸a/n: i just wanna kiss him.

⋆masterlist⋆

Ghosts had secrets. Plenty of them. Hell, even his face was a secret. But there was one that he considered his deepest.

He was in love.

You would never guess it by looking at him; he had his mask to thank for that. His self-consciousness stopped him from saying many words to anyone outside of a mission. And just being around you made him feel like all the wrong words would come out.

He wasn’t much of a romantic and couldn’t even remember the last time he was in a relationship. What was he even supposed to say to you?

“Hey, Lt.” Your voice was like music to his ears.

“Evenin’,” he said gruffly.

“What are you doing out here in the rain?” you asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.” His palms were sweaty, and he was happy you couldn’t see them.

You shrugged. “I guess I just like the rain.”

“Yeah, so do I. Helps me clear my mind,” he said.

“Am I bothering you, sir?” you asked, worry filling your tone.

“Not at all. I’m actually surprised you found me.” There were all sorts of places he went to be alone, and no one knew about them.

No one except for you.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone else about your hiding place,” you said, and he believed you.

“How did you find me?” he asked.

“I have no idea. Maybe fate brought me here.” You looked out at the view in front of you. He looked at you, heart beating faster.

“Bollocks,” he scoffed. “You actually believe in that?”

“We gotta believe in something, sir.”

He hated that you called him sir. It reminded him that he was your superior and his feelings for you were beyond inappropriate.

“You can call me Simon, you know,” he said.

“Simon,” you said quietly, to hear how it rolled off your tongue. You smiled at him. “It’s a lovely name.”

“It’s not,” he said, “But thank you.”

“Do you ever let anyone compliment you?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just…whenever I say something nice about you, you find a way to downplay it,” you said.

He felt like such an idiot. He was hurting you and didn’t even know it.

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to it,” he confessed. “I’m sorry if I…made you feel bad.”

“You didn’t. I do the same thing. I guess it’s my way of deflecting. Sometimes my self-esteem makes it hard for me to take a compliment.” Your smile began to fade, and Ghost couldn’t have that.

“We should get inside before we both get sick,” he said, and it seemed like he was ready to end the conversation.

“You’re right. You came here to be alone, and here I am bothering you….” you sighed.

“No! I mean…that’s not what I meant. You don’t have to go,” he said.

Please don’t go. Please don’t go. Please don’t go.

The smile was back on your face. “Okay then. What should we talk about?”

Simon was still thinking about that night even as he lay in bed with a fever, runny nose, and cough. He was able to convince himself to stay in bed and rest, which wasn’t easy for him.

He nearly groaned when he heard the knock on his door. He put his balaclava on quickly and walked to the door.

“This better be bloody important,” he said, swinging the door open.

“Hey, sir…I mean, Simon.” You looked up at him and noticed something was wrong right away.

“Y-You…what are you doing here?” he asked in a raspier voice than his usual one.

“You too, huh?” you asked, and he tilted his head. “Sick?”

“Yeah. What brings you here?”

“I…uh…you know what? I don’t even know. It’s like my feet just brought me here on their own.” You gave him a smile that broke through his tough exterior and wrapped around his heart.

“Dunno if you wanna come in here with me bein’ sick and all.”

“I’ll leave you to rest. I need to do the same myself. Lots of fluids, sir,” you told him.

“Simon,” he sighed.

“Sorry. Simon.” You stood there and looked at him for a while. “Feel better soon.”

“You too, love.” He closed his eyes and cursed inwardly at the slip-up. If you heard him, you didn’t make it known.

A few days later, Simon was back to his usual self, and you were trying to be. As he made his way to your room, he rehearsed precisely what he would say.

Isn’t all this supposed to come naturally? He thought. Yeah, when you’re not head over heels in love with the other person.

He knocked on your door and tried to stand as naturally as possible before you opened it.

Your face lit up as soon as you saw him. “Simon! Hey.” You rested your head against the door.

“How’re you feelin’?” he asked.

“Eh, could be better,” you admitted.

“Is there anything I can do?” He put his hands on either side of the doorframe and leaned in.

“You’re sweet, Lt. I’ll be fine, though.” You didn’t need this man doing anything else to make you fall even more in love with him.

“Oh…” He was disappointed, to say the least.

“Actually,” you started, and he stood up straight again. “Would you mind bringing me some tea? You’ve made some for me before, and it was fantastic.”

You like his tea.

It was a silly thing to gush over, but he felt his face getting warm.

“I can do that for you,” he said. He turned and walked away.

“Hey, Simon!” you called out, and he turned to look at you. “Thanks.”

“What do you need two cups of tea for?” Soap asked. “Still not feelin’ well, Lt?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” he said. “This is for—” He froze, and a knowing smile spread over Johnny’s face.

“Ah, I see.” He smiled smugly.

Simon sighed and walked off. He hoped the tea would still be hot enough by the time he got to you.

You were dozing off when he knocked on your door. You stood excitedly and walked to the door to open it.

“Tea,” he offered, and you took a cup.

“I would ask you to come in, but I’m probably still contagious.”

“I’ll come in if you like. I don’t mind,” he told you, hoping you’d let him stay.

“Okay, come on in.” You closed the door behind him and hugged yourself as you walked over to the sofa and tried tidying it up.

“What are you doin’?” he asked.

“Cleaning up,” you said.

“You don’t have to do that. You’re not feeling well,” he pointed out.

“I know, but….”

“Don’t,” he said, nearly reaching out to touch your hand. “Sit and drink your tea.”

“Sir,” you said playfully before sitting down.

He stood in the middle of the room awkwardly. “How’s the tea?” he asked.

“It’s perfect. You make it?”

“I did, yeah.”

“You can sit down.” You pointed to one of the chairs. You doubted he wanted to sit on the same couch as you.

But he walked over slowly and sat beside you. You looked over at him and smiled.

“What?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to sit so close.”

“Why not?” he asked, turning to you.

“Well, no offense, but you like to be alone…you don’t seem to like getting too close to anyone,” you said. You hoped you hadn’t said too much or overstepped a boundary.

“I don’t,” he started, “But I make exceptions now and again.”

“And I’m an exception? Wow, I feel special,” you said before taking another sip of tea.

“You are special,” he said. He took a sip of his tea casually. “Look, I have to tell you something, and I don’t want you to say anything until I finish. Just listen.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“When I say you’re special, I mean it. I…feel something whenever I …look at you. To be honest, I’m not sure how to manage this,” he confessed. “I want to protect you; I don’t want anything or anyone to hurt you…ever.” He looked at you when he said that.

“Simon…”

“Not done. I think I’m in love with you, and I’m not quite sure what to do about it,” he finished. “You can say something now.”

“In love?” you asked, and he nodded.

“Yeah. Is that…bad?” he wondered.

“Why would it be bad, Simon?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know anything about it.”

“You do. I think your mind is so full of a sense of duty that it’s hard to focus on anything else.”

“You may be right,” he admitted.

“I am right,” you said with a smirk.

“You see…when you look at me like that….”

“And when you look at me, Lieutenant...”

“What?” he asked.

“I love your eyes,” you told him. “There’s something in them that makes me feel safe.”

“What are you sayin’, love?”

“I’m saying I’m pretty much in love with you, too. Tea’s getting cold, Lieutenant.”

“Fuck the tea. What did you say?”

“I’m in love with you, Lieutenant. I know it’s wrong, and I know you’ll go on about how wrong it is, but—”

“The rules don’t matter. I’d break every single one if it meant you’d be mine,” he said.

“If I weren’t sick right now, I’d kiss you.”

He looked down at your lips. “Save it for me, hm?”

“I don’t think you understand just how…hot that is.”

“Hot?”

“Yeah, like…sexy,” you said shyly. “Your voice, eyes….” You were leaning in closer to him without even realizing it.

“Anything else?” he asked, ending up in his own daze.

“Um…you…you…Simon…”

“Yeah?”

“I’d like to kiss you, but….”

“You’re sick, I know. I can wait,” he said.

“You can, but I don’t know if I can.”

He chuckled. “You’re impatient.”

You laughed. “You’re always saying that about me.”

He leaned in even closer. “Drink your tea, love.”

“Wow, Lieutenant, you’re a tease, I see.” You took a sip of tea.

“Pardon?”

“A tease, sir. You’re a tease,” you repeated.

“I haven’t done anything…yet,” he said quietly.

You pointed at him. “See? Tease!”

“I ain’t trying to be.”

“You don’t have to try, Lieutenant.” You both sat in silence for a while.

“I want you to call me Simon,” he told you. “I don’t want to be sir or lieutenant around you. I want to be me. I want to be Simon. Just Simon.”

“Okay, Simon.”

“You told her! Yes!” Soap shouted.

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny…” Ghost murmured. “Any louder, the whole base will hear you.”

“Sorry, just happy for you, mate. It’s about time, Lt.”

“Yeah, but…not much has happened yet. We’ve, uh, we’ve drank some tea together,” he told Soap.

“That’s it?” Soap asked.

“She was sick, Johnny. Besides, I’m a patient man,” he said. Soap cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“She’s better now, so…I’m thinkin’ about taking her for a proper date, but….” His words trailed off.

“But?”

“I don’t know what…I mean, it’s been a long time since I’ve been out on a date.” He was trying his hardest to avoid what he really wanted to say.

“Are you askin’ for my help, Lt.?”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Lt., she’s already head over heels for you. There ain’t much more you have to do. I mean…you do know how to kiss, right?” Soap asked, and Ghost threw him a glare.

“Of course, I know how to kiss….”

“If you need practice….” Soap puckered his lips, and Ghost was about to slap him over the head when you walked in.

“Am I interrupting?” you asked, smiling brightly.

“Yeah, I was about to kick Johnny’s ass,” Ghost said.

“Oh, okay, well, I’ll ask this quickly then. Simon, would you like to see a movie with me?” you asked.

Both men froze. You couldn’t see the look on Simon’s face, but Soap was beaming. He looked at Simon and then nudged him.

“What he means to say is yes, lass.”

“Simon?” You wanted to hear it from him.

“A movie? Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay, great!” you said excitedly. “See you later.”

“Later…tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah. Is that okay?” You looked at him.

“Yeah. Are we going off base or what?”

“Yup, if it’s okay, sir.”

“It’s fine. Time?”

You looked at your watch. “1900 hours?”

“Sounds good to me,” he said. You nodded and walked out.

“Guess it’s time for a crash course,” Soap said.

He walked downstairs, and there you were, waiting for him. You turned to him and smiled.

“Punctual,” you said.

“Always, love.”

You moved closer and wrapped your arms around him. “Thanks for this.”

“What? Did you think I was going to say no?” he asked.

You shrugged. “You could have.”

“Listen, I’ve been through some of the hardest situations, but saying no to you would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do.”

You looked up at him. “Do you know how badly I want to kiss you right now?”

“Save it for the end of the date, hm?” He tapped your chin gently, and you nearly sighed aloud.

“I’ll try,” you said.

“Are you going to ambush me with kisses or something?” he asked.

“Don’t put it past me, Simon.”

As you got into the car, you could only think about kissing him.

The date went off without a hitch. Simon was a gentleman—you weren’t expecting anything less—and you behaved yourself.

The tension in the car was palpable as he drove back to the base. The tension in the elevator seemed to grow even stronger. You watched the numbers change—2, 3, 4—Simon is on the fourth floor.

The elevator dinged, and the door opened. He walked toward the opened doors, and you thought he was going to step off the elevator without saying a word, but suddenly you felt a firm grip on your wrist, and then he was pulling you along with him.

He moved so quickly for such a big man. You looked up at him as he guided you through the hallways, turning here and there before finally stopping in front of a door.

You were both slightly out of breath as he unlocked and opened the door. The lights were off, but Simon walked through the place as if he knew it by heart.

Of course, he did, you thought.

His room smelled clean as if you’d expect anything less from him. There was also a hint of his scent in the air. It was a scent that you could never quite place. Tea, for sure, but something else was there that was purely him. The man had his own musk.

“Come to me,” he said, voice cutting through the darkness. You went in the direction of his voice. “I’m here, love.” Wait, now it sounded as if it was coming from somewhere else.

“Are you moving?” you asked.

“You tell me,” he said, and you closed your eyes. “Over here…”

You whipped your head around. “Simon…”

“Yes?”

You kept your footsteps light and your ears open like he always told you. You listened for any change in the air. Humans radiated heat. Simon especially.

“Simon,” you whispered.

“Yes, love.” He was directly in front of you. You reached into the darkness and felt his broad chest in front of you.

“Good job, soldier,” he said with a hint of amusement. “Give me your hands.” Your eyes were adjusting now, and you could just see his hands. You placed yours in his.

He held them gently and moved them up until you felt the fabric of his balaclava.

“Go on,” he said. He dropped his hands and allowed you the honor of moving his balaclava. You felt your way, making sure not to lift it any higher than his nose. Even in the dark, he deserved to keep his secrets.

You felt around. He had a strong nose and lovely cheekbones. You felt a long, somewhat smooth line going from his cheek and over his lip, and you gasped.

“It’s all right,” he said, “Don’t hurt anymore.”

You could feel his warm puffs of breath on your hand, and you were tempted. You slowly moved your fingers to his jaw, which was covered in a sprinkling of newly growing hair.

Then you were touching his lips. They were soft and full. You felt them move and noticed that he had kissed your fingers.

“May I kiss you, Simon?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he said. He met you halfway, and when your lips met, it felt as though the room lit up, but it was still dark. He stumbled back a bit, overcome by the feeling of your lips. Once he had his footing again, he deepened the kiss and walked you backward carefully.

Not once did you bump into anything or stumble until the backs of your knees hit a sofa. He guided you down carefully, putting a protective hand behind your head so that you wouldn’t land too hard.

“Kiss me again, Simon,” you breathed.

“Say it again,” he said lowly. He was right there—his nose touching yours.

“Kiss me again…Simon,” you whispered, and he did with a slight moan. He loved hearing you say his name.

The kiss became a little needier with tongue and teeth and a need to be closer. He pressed his body against yours, and you melded to him, wrapping yourself around him so that he wouldn’t move away.

He began kissing you teasingly—a peck here, a peck there—he wanted you to chase his lips. You whined, and you swear he chuckled.

“Don’t do that,” he said quietly before lowering his head, so his lips were against your neck. “Save those whines for another night.”

Those words were full of promise and a hint of lust that shot right between your legs. It was almost as if he knew because he swirled his hips against you. He was slotted perfectly between your legs, so you felt the friction in the perfect place when he moved his hips.

“You’re such a good kisser,” you moaned before he and his tongue swallowed up your words.

“I could kiss you for the rest of my life,” he admitted. “Give me your tongue.”

You stuck your tongue out, and he swirled his around yours before sucking it.

“Mm!”

He pulled off slowly. “Like that?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer—his lips were on yours in a flash.

You pulled away and kissed along his jaw. When you worked your way down to his neck, he shuddered. You continued along his neck, and he turned to give you access. You latched on just below his ear, and he pushed his hips between your legs hard.

“Like that?” you teased.

He was practically rutting against you now. “Hush,” he said before kissing you again.

You slid your hands down his body, and he pulled away from the kiss to stop you.

“Not tonight,” he breathed. He moved your hand to his face. “I just want to kiss you tonight.”

“Sounds perfect.”

He kissed both of your cheeks before moving to your lips. “I can’t remember the last time I kissed someone…like this,” he said.

“Me neither.”

“Is it okay?” he asked.

“Is what okay?”

“That I just want to kiss you,” he said, his lips brushing against yours.

“It’s more than okay,” you told him, giving him a quick kiss.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, nuzzling your neck.

“So are you, Simon. Thanks for going out with me tonight.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, love. It was my pleasure.” You could tell he was needy for more kisses because he kept giving you little kisses here and there.

You initiated the kiss this time, claiming his lips as your own.

Tonight was the night you realized that you never wanted to kiss anyone who wasn’t him.

Tonight was the night he realized that after all that time not kissing anyone—he was waiting for you, for the right one to kiss.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley x reader #fic #headcanon #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley call of duty

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doki-doki-imagines · 10 months

Text

tw: starts sweet end with smut. AFAB!Reader.

author's note: I'm writing this with a high fever, have pity of me LOL.

"For real, liebe? You have a weak ass body" you wince at his voice, your ears sore and brain too tired to formulate a good comeback. "Michael, you either come here and help me or we can close this call-" the recognizable sound of a closed call; asshole. This reminds you that your boyfriend is made of 80% of shit instead of water. You turn on your sofa, cover following your movement, curling as much as possible and try to sleep off both your irritation and fever. You don't know how long you napped, but the sound of your door opening woke you up. You rub your eyes, lifting you up on your elbows and what a sight, Michael with his blonde hair framing his face perfectly, the shade of blue in them making his eyes stand out even more. He is wearing a white linen shirt with Mandarin collar, his beige pants fitting perfectly around his legs, but the most beautiful aspect is his smile, a sight for sore eyes, literally. "Liebe, I'm here with hot soup, bought don't worry I don't want to kill you, also put the mask on I don't wanna get ill too-" In a second he is next to you, kneeled on the ground soup in one hand and a filled spoon toward your mouth while he keeps babbling something your mind can't process. "Micha, less forceful" you whisper, voice groggy. Your boyfriend's head tilting on the right, looking at you puzzled but he follows your request, for once, and so you can finally eat at your own pace. You soon finish the soup, feeling sleepy again. "Liebe, can I take you to your bed?" Michael is now sitting on the edge of the sofa, his colder tattoed hand brushing away some hair sticking on your forehead. You don't reply with voice, throat hurting too much, you just nod, sticking your arms out waiting to be picked up. Michael smirks, his eyes looking at you with fondness, picking you up as carefully as he can, while he brings you on your bed. Your soft breath under the mask also lull him to sleep, your head laying on his chest, near his heart, while his arm keep you close as possible to his body.

Smooch. What's this sound? Smooch. You open slightly your eyes and what you see? Michael giving you light kisses on your face, he has his eyes closed so he doesn't notice you waking up. "Why so nice all of sudden?" You say as jokingly as you can. Your boyfriend's eyes get wide open in a second, but he doesn't reply with his usual arrogance, as you expected, he just keep kissing your face softly. "I'm so sorry you are sick." "You shouldn't worry, it won't last long." "I'm not worried about that." His expression serious, feline eyes sparkling, a shine it's not the first time you've seen. "Mh? Then what?" "I'm so sorry you won't be able to enjoy fully my cock into your tight pussy." "Mh???" This time you're the one to open your eyes wide. "Please, can I go further?" His voice is whiny, you can feel the lust dripping from his voice, his lips softly kissing up and down your neck but he doesn't move a finger on your body, waiting for your permission. "Go, but be gentle" Michael looks up from your neck, a boyish grin adorning his face. "Thanks liebe" He kisses your sweaty forehead, his hand pushing away your hair while the other wanders lower, towards your chest where he gives a soft squeeze. "I'm already so hard" He gasps into your ear, his warm breath prompting delightful shivers down your spine. "If you weren't so frail right now I'd make you suck me dry, I'm sure my cum will heal everything." Now, if you were in your mind you would have just slapped him behind his neck, but you are not, so you can only nod along as your shivers get more intense when his forefinger circle around your clit. "Liebe you are impossibly tight, you have to loosen up a little." The blonde bite his lower lips; he would love so much to have his way on you being his rougher self. You can tell he is trying to keep his composure as much as possible, his forefinger and index curl and penetrate your cunt, but not fast, almost soothing while the other hand that previously kept you close to his body is now massaging your breast, never pinching, just softly groping. "You are getting so wet, liebe. Do you think you're ready?" "Yes darling" Michael gasps at your answer, he always had a thing for your voice. Incredible how fast he throw away his pants, shirt still on but full of creases. He gives himself a few pumps, not really needed since his cock was already standing proudly on his abdomen, precum drooling down his shaft. The blonde position himself in between your legs, his tip kissing your outer lips but never going in. "Michael" You whine, but your reaction reward you with a slap on your clit, the gesture making you shiver more in pleasure than pain before he finally putting his tip in. "Always so eager for me, mh?" He grabs your thighs, lifting them up a little from the covers while he slowly sink in, every muscle of his body tense. "Are you good?" You nod. His movements are slow but intense, Michael's hands on your thighs keep twitching, in normal circumstances you would be already folded like a origami, but not today, you can feel all the restrain in his fingers that will however make nasty marks the next day. "I-I'm gonna fuck the sickness out of you-" Michael keeps going with his slow grinds, his balls slapping against your bum the sound arousing you both. "Micha-" "Fuck!" He kisses you through your mask, but you soon feel a growl, his lips form a nasty scowl "Fuck this fucking-" his hips increase the speed "Mask! Wanna feel your tongue!" his hand leave your thigh to pull off roughly the mask covering your mouth. He is so fast you don't have the time to register his movements, you can only feel his tongue dancing with yours and the softness of his hair that you're grabbing to push his face impossibly close to yours. It takes a few more arhythmic trust and you both reach your apex. "How do you feel liebe?" He breathes out, his head in between your head and shoulder. "All good Micha, thank you." "My pleasure darling." Michael lays on top of you for a few minutes before pulling the both of you up to clean you both.

--------

"Michael you should have imagined this." It is the next day, you are fresh as a rose, any sign of sickness erased from your body. But now the feverish one is your boyfriend. "You wanna fuck the sickness out of my body?" He coughs in between, but the grin and spark behind his eyes never leave his face. You look at him, then at the wall in front of you, then at Michael again. "Pull off your cover, you had a wonderful idea" You run to him, legs at each side of his lap, cover already on the ground and hands gripping your ass. "Fuck yeah."

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #blue lock imagines #bllk smut #blue lock smut #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #blue lock x you

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howdoesagrapewrites · 10 months

Note

You should do one where reader just wants to spend time alone by themselves(whether it be the afternoon or morning) but hobie and pavitr won’t let them

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙨

Cw: reader x lovesick!Hobie Brown x lovesick!Pavitr Prabhakar, overlooking toxic behavior, touching with dubious consent, oblivious reader, anxious attachment (Pavitr), suggestive, aged-up characters, reader's gender neutral but it is kinda fem aligned, reader knows about the multiverse but it's not clarified if they're a spider person, I already warned this but just want to say that just because the toxic behavior here isn't portrayed as negatively as my others fics doesn't mean I condone it.

Notes: while I was writing the first paragraph I was like "damn I should do this too" and started deep cleaning around my house. This triggered an episode and that's the reason I haven't been posting as much, I was cleaning. I'm actually on a break from cleaning /srs

You prepared everything to have some alone time this afternoon, you cooked your favorite meal, did an everything shower with your favorite products, you cleaned up everything yesterday so you didn't have to do anything today, and after putting on comfy pajamas, you sat on the couch with snacks and a face mask to watch a comfort show.

It was halfway through the fourth episode when you heard noise coming from your room, and see your boyfriends appearing into your living room, even though you told them you wanted to be alone today. You try and give them the benefit of the doubt, and imagine maybe the mission today was extra rough and they needed comfort, or they forgot about your petition, Pavitr had university, being spiderman, reporting to the spider society, Hobie was, well, trying to bash the president's head with a guitar plus the spider society stuff, so yeah, they had busy lives.

"Hello there, looking lovely" Hobie chuckled with his hands on his pockets, probably laughing at your face mask, Pavitr came in for a hug, you accepted, "ohh, self care day? Do you have any extra masks, I can buy us snacks? Wait- mumbattan currency doesn't work here, I forgot, anyways, is there any room left for us?" You moved quietly and smiled to let your boyfriends sit beside you.

It's not like you want them to go, but they do take too much space. Talking about the couch, of course... And maybe about your life a little bit, you loved them, but when you started your long distance relationship (between universes) you thought you'd have just a tad more time to yourself.

You can't concentrate in the show quite as well, thinking about what could make them forget about your you-day and still want to come, why did they always forget? They both seem to have pretty good memory, the zone off for a minutes, fortunately for you, it's the fifth time you watch this episode. Your phone rings and before you can grab it, Hobie picks it up, notices is not a call and hands it to you, it's the timer for your face mask, how kind of him to even set off the alarm to you since it's your day off.

You take the sticky sheet off your face and massage the serum into your skin as you start to walk to the living room, wanting to scratch the itch and address the subject you've had in your mind, you decide to soft launch it.

"Did any of you, read the chat yesterday?"

"Yes, I always do, Hobie does too, why?" Pavitr lies on Hobie's chest and mindlessly scroll through his phone while he answers you

"Then maybe you forgot that today I kinda wanted to be alone, you know, me-time? You also forgot last week, and the week before that..."

Hobie spoke "Sorry 'bout that, 'have bad memory, a flaw of mine, we can leave if we're a bother" it saddened you he saw himself as a bother, he just forgot, we all make mistakes

"Oh, I didn't forget, I just don't want to leave you alone" Pavitr responded with normality, he didn't like having Hobie speak for him, he regularly contradicted him in stuff like this. Hobie laughs and pata his shoulder, he laughed like a joke, so then it was probably a joke, even though you three were dating, they had their own things, so this must be one of them.

You sat down, you were on the right arm of the couch, and Hobie was in the left one, Pavitr was between you both, he didn't seem at all displeased.

You laughed at the show a few times, and a couple minutes in, you feel Pav's hair ticking you, he's sniffing around your neck.

"You smell good, like your regular scent but better, did you tried the body wash I gave you?" You nod and smile at his sweet antics "And your skin, you look radiant, jaanu" he kisses you cheek, then makes a face, scrunching up his nose at the taste, you giggle. "It's supposed to be good for my skin, not be tasty" you say in airy laugh, he pouts, "But I wanted to kiss you", "my lips have no serum" he looks like a kid on Christmas morning and puts dives right into your lips, you expect a quick kiss before going back to your binge-watching (that you'd been looking forward to all week) but he crashes his lips into yours with need, you try to pull away two times before patting his shoulder, Hobie sees this, and now manspreading on the coffee table instead of the couch, he grabs Pavitr's hair and lightly pulls, "give 'em a break, sweetheart" he obediently looks at him, dilated pupils and breath hitched, Hobie's hands traveled to Pavitr's cheek and he nuzzled on it like a cat, "We don't want them to pass out, now, do we?" Hobie's tone is firm, but still has that certain rogueness he always speaks with. Even though Pavitr's mouth isn't on you, he's still mostly on top of you, and his hands don't stop wandering in your sides, pinching playfully at the fat, kneading on your waist, you really wishes you could keep watching your show and then read the book you always say you should read, or organize that messy shelf that keeps stressing you out, but hey, is not like you dislike this, right? "You won't-?" Pavitr asks in a whisper, when Hobie takes his fingers off his mouth "I'll watch for now" his smile makes you bite your lip in excitement, it seems to have a similar effect on Pavitr, who grips your waist harder, and slowly goes to grab your hips, "Keep going?" Hobie asks, deep black eyes set on yours, it makes you flustered. He's asking for consent, he's very nice, and Pavitr did have your consent earlier, it's just he was a little... Excited, it's okay, because he's nice.

You have two very nice boyfriends, even though they're forgetful.

#atsv x reader #atsv pavitr #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr x reader #pavitr prabhakar x reader #spiderverse pavitr #hobie brown #yandere spiderverse #yandere pavitr #yandere pavitr prabhakar #yandere hobie brown #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x reader #Hobie Brown x Pavitr Prabhakar #punkchai

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