#the burden of knowing that movie is coming out and people will praise it because it’s an mcu film no matter how mediocre and bad it is

[ebaylee422]

Decking the Halls

Steve Harrington X Girlfriend!reader

Author’s Note:  Angst to cute sex, I’m not sorry. This is post Season 3, pre Season 4. I just love being angsty. I also really needed to clear my drafts soooo X-mas in March everyone!

Summary: Stockings aren’t the only things being stuffed this Christmas season. Steve has never decorated for Christmas, he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to ruin your sprit by avoiding you. Don’t worry though, he shows you just how appreciative he is after. 

Characters: Steve Harrington, Girlfriend reader, mentions of shitty parents and the rest of the ST nuggets. Best Friend Robin Buckley!!

Warnings/Tags: Smut (Minors DNI!!!) abandonment issues? as an intro, p in v sex, marking kink, praise kink, fem oral (receiving). breeding?

Word Count: 3k

Part One/?

You had tried everything to get Steve into the Christmas spirit: buying decorations for your apartment, getting matching pj’s, going to watch the lights in Indianapolis,  watching Christmas movies, the Ice-Skating was most regrettable because you fell forward and knocked your teeth hard enough to bleed. Even planning a white elephant with him and his friends, sharing hot cocoa and warmth of your space heater. What you didn’t know is as soon as he left your place he was greeted by his parents' empty house. Decorated from some stupid trendy catalog his mother only glanced at before swiping a credit card. His father, not even home long enough to realize the tinsel monstrosity within the living room. The presents underneath were fake, they stopped being real when his father told him to grow up. That Santa wasn’t real, saying he needed to start giving instead of hoping for some joy from a fat man each holiday season. So that’s exactly what he did, the first Christmas he’d enjoyed in a long time was on Christmas of 83’, when he was with Nancy. They’d gotten each other meaningful gifts, it was the happiest Christmas he thought he’d ever had. Even if he went home unable to look at his pool outside for too long knowing his friend had died. Even if there were disgusting monsters trying to eat his friends when they had the chance. How horrible humans were in comparison, like the Russians nearly beating him to death at Starcourt. Instead of celebrating what he was thankful for, he felt immense guilt every holiday. He’d confided in you once about his survivor's guilt, as you had called it a couple months ago during an intense flashback. You’d comfort him, make sure he wasn’t alone. He didn’t want to be anyone’s burden, Steve knew you were worried about him it would show whenever he ‘had’ to leave for work or Robin’s, or get clothes from his place.

It all came to a standstill when you’d asked him if he would come pick a Christmas Tree with you. Wanting to have it up before the kids came over, finish decking-the-halls you’d told him. Only Steve didn’t know what picking out a Christmas Tree was, sure it’s self explanatory but what if he made a fool of himself. With his pretty rich boy ‘I’ve never had to pick one out’, it seemed too intimate. Sure you’d bared your body-mind-and-soul to him, but wanting to do something so domestic together like picking out a Christmas Tree. For your first Christmas together as a couple, it was scary for him. So instead of being a Scrooge so he could work on his feelings, he faked an illness even going as far as calling out sick today. Keith hadn’t been too happy but chopped it up to Steve sucking too much face on the job and gave him the day anyway. And he was back to square one, an empty ugly house with none of your warmth. People would think his middle name was self-sabotage, especially when that door-bell rang. He got up from his cocoon from the coach with a groan, an aching shooting up to his spine when his socked feet hit the freezing hardwood. Shined and renewed for the inevitable party his parents would throw this Christmas Eve for work friends, where they forgot they even had a son. He stopped dead in his tracks shaking the sleep from his eyes when they were met with yours, holding a tote bag while shaking the light dusty of snow off your figure. It melted into your skin leaving you shiny with the dew, nose and ears kissed pink while your chin and neck were tucked tightly with the collar of your coat and scarf. You smiled at him as he studied your form, like an angel sent just for him. He was bundled up in simple joggers, thick wool socks and heavy blanket around his shoulders worn like a cape tucked around his body, but shirtless still despite it being nearly as cold inside as it is outside. Shaking your body of the remaining snow, laying the tote bag of groceries and sick necessities you’d brought over on the stairs so you could slide out of your heavy snow covered boots.

“Hi baby, how r’ you feeling?” you asked him with a voice full of sticky sweetness and adoration. His face changed in that moment from shock to guilty, you felt the change floating in the air like oil through water.

“What are you doing here?” He asked louder than either of you had expected, causing you to turn his way fully as you began to undo the ties of your coat. 

“I came to check on you, bring you some-”

“Why?” He scoffed, tucking the blanket to cover himself from the breezing air flow of the open hall. You were wearing a red corduroy skirt, with black stocking underneath and a cream sweater that didn’t even compare to how soft your hair was laid across your shoulders. You looked at him like he hung up the stars, even though you were the brightest thing about his life.

“Robin called me worried about you saying you called out because you were sick. So I canceled the tree plans to come check on you because you didn’t call me. I even whipped up some Chicken and Rice soup and scrunched up a couple medicines.”

“You shouldn’t have done that, I’m fine Y/N. You should go get your tree and I’ll see you on Friday like you planned.” he brushed off your kindness,

“Well I wanted to take care of you.” you told him shyly, "You haven't been around as often."

“Okay thanks.” he shook his head, body and tone still uncomfortable and unmatched of your own tenderness.

“Do you not want me here or something?” You scoffed with affection grabbing the bag from the stairs, stepping in front of him giddy with untamable affection.

“No.” He answered quickly and when your face dropped, his own heart went with it when you backed away from him. “No, I mean yes but not right now. I’m just-”

“It’s fine, Steve." You cut him off, turning away and grabbing your stuff. "I get it, I’m sorry I could’ve called.” he stopped you putting out his hand as an olive branch. You took it without hesitation, sniffling away the tears that built up for weeks of you arguing and avoiding each other. 

“Don’t you dare apologize, especially to me.” He took your reddened cheeks in his hands as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “I’m just being an idiot, I’m sorry but I’m not even sick so you doing all this nice shit over-” 

“I know you’re not sick, Steve. You’re a terrible faker.” You said factually, with a teasing tone. Still not looking at him but rather at your wiggling toes against the shiny floor.

“Oh really now? Robin didn’t tell you anything.”

“Well the strange, ‘Steve wanted my shift the same day he always has off’ the one day I could go tree picking with you. Then calling out and claiming illness, and not calling me is pretty obvious.” You let the bag fall again, his shoulders relaxed as you tugged on the length of his blanket. “Are you breaking up with me?” you asked with furrowed brows and a whimper to your voice.

“No!” Steve yelled, “No never no, I-I love you so much. You are my favorite everything Y/N.” He wrapped you both in the blanket tugging you flush against him. “I just have a hard time with the holidays, I don’t really know what to do with myself. I didn’t want to be embarrassed, it was a lot of pressure.” You both held each other silently letting the fear wash over both of you, until you giggled into his neck.

“I love you, Steve. Honestly, just talking to me would’ve saved us both a headache.” He sighed heavy as he wrapped his arms tighter around you, head resting on your chin.

“Jeez, what are we gonna do with me?” he whispered into your scalp, the fluffy hair on his chest tickling your cheek as you were held by his heart.

“I can think of one.” You pursed your lips, closing your eyes with your chin held high awaiting a kiss. He obliged you immediately, cupping your cheeks in his hands to accurately press his lips to yours. His hands were freezing, sending a shiver and gasp involuntarily out of you. Steve took the opportunity to lick into your mouth, tasting-ly. Pulling back before you could reciprocate, you whined gripping his biceps accidentally pushing off his blanket.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, nose brushing against yours.

"I didn't mean to pressure you, you just seem so sad."

"You make me happy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you could meet me in an ice cream shop above a secret Russian base. While enjoying strawberry more than chocolate ice cream and you'll still make me happy." 

"Well, if our circumstances of meeting are the worst part of the relationship, I think that's a pretty good incentive to making better more normal memories, yeah?"

"Maybe." He kissed the tip of your still pink nose.

"Maybe, we could go back to my place? It's always freezing here." You added with a shiver making the hairs on your arms stand up.

"Not when you're here. Just stay here a second longer." His lips moved with their own incentive. It didn't take much convincing on either of your parts before you were upstairs in his room. A path of clothes thrown haphazardly off of each other through broken giggles and soft kisses, until your just in under clothes. He holds you to him as he opens the door to his room, and your feet barely touch the floor as he twirls the two of you around. Bringing you down with him as he falls backward on the bed with a thud. Kissing you with fondness, sweet like the honey color of his eyes. You loved him so much it hurt like the side pains after laughing so hard you teared up. Like when you realize that magic might not be real but people were and kindness. Kindness and compassion were the real magic. People found a reason to be with each other, even if it was once a year. Steve never had that. Everything in his life was transactional, Christmas, school, his parents, most other relationships. Those few closet to him probably haven't ever seen this side either. The checkered boy room with little to no traces of living aside from Steve's nightstand with Polaroids of everyone scattered about. A bin in his closet kept hidden away where he'd kept his Scoops Ahoy name tag, a letter from a pen-pal in sixth grade, ticket stubs of every drive in movie. Some more Polaroids for his eyes only you'd given him after you first started dating, and he'd left his shirt in your room. Even as you lay on top of him now, kisses sucked into your neck, his strong hands massaging your sides in worship. You couldn't help what words came out next.

"Come with me." You begged him breathlessly opening your eyes to see his lips swollen and slick, hair haloed and shaggy around his face and sheets. Like melting caramel against the ugly grey and navy bedding.

"Already babe, I haven't even touched you." He mumbled rocking his pelvis into yours, forcing your legs to accommodate him more with a thigh on either side of his hips. You sat up taller straddling him, a pout etched into your face.

"No, I mean. Come home with me, lets live together. I'll get rid of things you can bring whatever you want, I can dip into my tuition nest egg and buy whatever we need for the apartment. Make it yours too, or we can find another one that you like better. I just want you all to myself." He sat up holding onto your waist so you didn't fall, making you squeak with the shift in position. Your heart sank as his eyes were so wide they could've jumped out of his skull.

“What?” he asked as his breath caught in his throat, a pure swell of undoubtable happiness warming him from the tip of his nose down to his sock covered feet.

“It’s just, I wasn’t lying Stevie. I wanna take care of you, you give so much to every-” He kissed you, desperately. Teeth clashing and tongues forming together making you dizzy enough to loose balance upright on your knees. Pulling back to gasp for air, a string of spit connecting you to him. He wiped it away, tucking his head into your chest.

“You’re perfect. I’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“Even picking out a Christmas Tree with me?”

“I will grow you a damn Christmas Tree, even better I’ll get the kids to help me chop down one in my backyard!”

“Stevie! That’s dangerous.”

“Well, sweets. 

Danger.

Is.

My middle name.” He trailed four kisses down your body, stopping just shy of your covered mound. Hooking his fingers under the band of your underwear, biting your hip making you buck up long enough for him to shimmy them off your legs.

“I thought your middle name was Alexander?”

“You won’t your own name once I’m done with you.” He said sultry, kneeling at the foot of the bed. Yanking your ankles to bring you closer to his mouth, spreading your legs wide and over his shoulders. You were beautiful, regardless what you were doing but letting him take care of you. Make you feel good and be vulnerable, made his head spin. Your lips were sticky with arousal, he could smell your sweet nectar begging for him to taste you. Marks still slightly visible from last time, he started there sucking and biting the mailable flesh. 

“Stevie, please-” You cried out, hands trying to find purchase with his. He stopped sucking a bruise, eyes blown wide when he found yours. Locking your hands to your sides,

“Your so sweet, baby. Asking so nicely.” He chastely kissed on your hood, tongue licking underneath to wet and flick at your clit. You groaned and threw you head back, “So sweet, baby. Keep your legs open for me. I have a lot of apologizing to do down here.”

“Stevie, no I want you. Please.” You writhed on the bed trying to keep your legs spread for him, he blew cool air at your entrance causing you to clench around nothing. You body craved to be filled, senses overwhelmed of one thing: Steve, Steve, Steve!

“Just wanna warm you up, we have all the time in the world sweets. Wanna wreck this bed before leaving.” He was antagonizing you, teasing with his pretty words and slightly movements you couldn’t even respond him. He licked a line from your entrance to your clit, groaning at your taste. Hips colliding with the end of his bed to relieve pressure as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Rolling the bud with his tongue, your nail dug into his knuckles as you shook with ecstasy.

“ ‘S so good, Stevie. Don’t stop-” You were so pent up from earlier all it took was a few more rolls of his tongue against you and for you to fall apart. Concentrating on keeping your legs open for him, as he licked you clean. Nudging his nose against your sensitive clit, he let go of one of your hands tangling it in his hair.

“Hold it out of my face, baby. I want one more before I cum inside you.” He coated his fingers with your release, slowly sliding in one as his tongue still fucked into you. You couldn’t help rocking your hips against his face when he added another finger inside you. Scissoring, stretching you and rubbing against your spongy spot. You tugged at his locks when he came back up to suck at your clit again, you didn’t even notice the heat break in your belly until you gushed and clenched around his fingers. You pushed at his forehead from sensitivity, barely able to catch your breath when you pulled him up to kiss you. lips and chins dripping of you. Trailing your nails down his soft tummy following the happy trail underneath his boxers, you met him halfway stroking his thick cock with your slick. Still coating his hand, pre-cum dripping from his tip making the sounds completely pornographic.

“ ‘m not gonna last baby, want you so bad.” He whispered against your lips, breathing heavy with a sheen of sweat layering you both in the smell of sex.

“Need you too, wanted you ages ago.” You sassed, making him laugh against your cheek as he stood. You wrapped your legs around his waist, his cock twitched when it brushed against the inside of your thigh.

“You gotta big mouth on you, sweet girl.”

“You better do something about it, Harrington.” With a roguish grin he ran his length over your clit once before pushing ever so slightly inside. Taking your breaths away, you were the girl and only girl who could take Steve’s fat cock completely. He just has to ease you into it, inch by inch until his hip bone grazed the back of your thighs. Steve stood tall and far enough away you couldn’t kiss him from where you were sprawled out under him. You pulled and squeezed at your breasts still contained by your bra. His cock glistening with your slick as he pulled his hips back, then pushing deeper inside his sack pressed tight against your ass. Steve nearly loss his balance when you clenched around him, putting his hands under your knees. Folding you in half made it feel like he was in your throat, he leaned over you the pressure of his body as he set a ruthless pace set flames in your abdomen. Pounding his cock into you over and over again moaning out praises as he bullied all the way to your cervix. Punching breaths out of you watching as your tits bounced, you had enough pulling him fully on top you. Hands indenting his shoulders as your hips met his, clit pulsing and with need. 

“You feel so good. Shit, shit- I’m cumming, cumming inside.” Steve’s core tighten as he ran two finger over your clit, heat erupted across your body. You milked Steve dry, his warm seed and your three orgasms dripping from each others groin. You pulled him on top of you, comforted by his weight on you as his cock softened inside you. 

“Do you really want too?” You asked in the post orgasm bliss, running a hair through his now tangled locks. “I don’t want to trap you with amazing sex and joy but it’s definitely a perk.” Steve rose onto his elbows, still seated inside you. Brushing the hair out of your face, with softness.

“I’m sure we can wreck this bed a lot more than just cum stains.” Pushing at his chest, he pulled out of you gently. Scurrying to his bathroom where you listened as he turned on the faucet in the shower. Sitting up, he came back with all his glory. Hand raised for you to take, the same olive branch you’d given him at Starcourt. All this time. “I can’t wait to spend Christmas in our home, together.”

You’d never been so excited to spend the holidays with anyone else.

Masterlist 

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things season 3 #oneshot #no minors allowed #reader insert #tis the season #holiday themed

[jungkookslipring]

darling I’ll cry with you

Pairings: jeongin x reader

relationship: platonic

genre: hurt/comfort , AU

Summary: Filled with uncertainty and doubt with your job and your mental health tanking, you finally break, but there is a lovely human who is there to share the burden.

TW: mentions of SI (not graphic but implied), depression, crying. Plz read at your own risk.

You have been down in the dumps for last few weeks. Your boss was an ass, your brain wasn't being kind to you, and you have been unsure of what the future holds for you. It weighed heavy on your heart for a while, and you didn't want to burden anyone else with your troubles. Your best friend Jeongin had noticed this, and he knew you liked your space when you were sad but he couldn't go another week without seeing you. You agreed to hanging out, even if that meant watching movies and just simply coexisting. He came over with blankets and boba, and you two laid in your bed sipping your drinks quietly. After maybe half an hour of no conversation, Jeongin swallowed.

“Y/n?” Jeongin asked. You looked over at him and hummed.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” he said suddenly. You looked at him questionably. Where’s this coming from?

“What do you mean?” you asked. You haven’t done anything recently, more like you feel like you haven’t achieved anything recently.

“For everything,” he started. He turned to you so you knew he was focused on you and not the TV. “I know you’ve been watching from the sidelines and kicking yourself for not being where you want to be in life. But I’m still so proud of you. You wake up everyday and even if you don’t have the job you want and you sometimes have bad brain days, I’m still so proud of you for choosing to live another day. I am so so proud of you, y/n,” he said with a sad smile. You don’t know what type of crack was laced in this guy’s words but his speech snapped the rope that was keeping the floodgates from opening.

“Jeongin…” you whisper tearfully before you buried your face into your hand and let out a sob that you’ve been holding in for weeks. You had been too sad to cry, too sad to give yourself grace for just simply breathing, too focused on being happy for everyone else who seemed to have it together. You didn’t know Jeongin noticed these things. He was very observant and normally watched from the sidelines too, but he saw you. He scooted over and pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin. He rocked you gently and whispered praises in your ear, because you needed to hear them. You couldn’t even get any words out your brain hurt but your heart was filled with so much love. In the midst of your mental break down, you felt a couple droplets plop on your cheek that weren't your own. You briefly pull away and see the sweet boy holding you was shedding his own silent tears.

"Oh no Jeonginnie please don't cry baby," you whisper as more tears gather just from seeing him cry. He let out a small chuckle as you wipe another fallen tear.

“I’m sorry, it’s just hard seeing you like this,” he whispered while his lip quivered. He loved his friends deeply so seeing you hurt broke his heart. You two held each other for a while until your stomach rumbled. Jeongin giggled.

“Want me to order food?” he asked. You smiled and nodded. That night he stayed with you, watching anime and eating takeout in the comfort of your home. You two ended up falling asleep in each other’s embrace, and you remembered that while the world wasn’t kind to you, you had good people who were.

taglist: @felixmainacc @felixburneracc @myforevermelody143 @dunno-wut-to-do @itzsana-kiddingmenow @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae

#stray kids #stray kids x stay #stray kids fluff #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz #skzoo #skz x reader #skz x y/n #jeongin #stray kids au #skz au #skz angst #skz hurt/comfort

[bimtheory]

Trying to watch Marilyn Monroe films again because I feel like it's impossible to write a book about bimbos and not mention Marilyn, but it's proving to be difficult.

I'm trying my best, but I just can't figure out what people find special about her. And it's so hard to find any sort of truth. There are so many made up quotes and misconceptions just to further this narrative of Marilyn as the ultimate victim, people treat her like a martyr. If she's not being discussed and treated as a sex symbol she's being used as a symbol for tragedy, and would Marilyn even want that?

In a 1962 interview published by Life Magazine a day before her death, she had this to say:

"I don’t mind being burdened with being glamorous and sexual. But what goes with it can be a burden. Like the man was going to show me around but the woman said, “Off the premises.” I feel that beauty and femininity are ageless and can’t be contrived, and glamour, although the manufacturers won’t like this, cannot be manufactured. Not real glamour, it’s based on femininity. I think that sexuality is only attractive when it’s natural and spontaneous. This is where alot of them miss the boat. And then something I’d just like to spout off on. We are all born sexual creatures, thank God, but it’s a pity so many people despise and crush this natural gift. Art, real art, comes from it, everything. I never quite understood it, this sex symbol. I always thought symbols were those things you clash together! That’s the trouble, a sex symbol becomes a thing. I just hate to be a thing. But if I’m going to be a symbol of something I’d rather have it sex than some other things they’ve got symbols of! These girls who try to be me, I guess the studios put them up to it, or they get the ideas themselves. But gee, they haven’t got it. You can make alot of gags about it like they haven’t got the foreground or else they haven’t the background. But I mean the middle, where you live."

And, later in the interview:

"It might be a kind of relief to be finished. It’s sort of like, I don’t know, what kind of a yard dash you’re running, but then you’re at the finish line and you sort of see you’ve made it! But you never have. You have to start all over again. But I believe you’re always as good as your potential. I now live in my work and in a few relationships with the few people I can really count on. Fame will go by and, so long, I’ve had you fame. If it goes by, I’ve always known it was fickle. So at least it’s something I experienced, but that’s not where I live."

None of this is paraphrased. And, personally, it sounds to me like she rather be remembered for being a sexy actress than whatever this is:

But a lot of people who claim to be Marilyn Monroe fans or even just mention her don't seem to care about or have any actual interest in her. Unfortunately, I think Andrew Dominik may have been right in that (most) people are not watching her films. I have friends that won't even touch movies from before 1980, let alone the 50s. And watching the clip of her performing Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend on YouTube is not watching one of her movies.

Marilyn is invoked when people want to a sort of classy sexuality, or beautiful "feminine" tragedy, which is bullshit.

But anyway, like I was saying, I don't get the appeal. And it's hard to find any writing approaching her honestly and critically instead of constant "she was a perfect angel that could do no wrong"-tier glazing. I don't mean to be rude; I have nothing against her, and her life did seem tragic in some respects, but it always feels like the praise outweighs the reality of the material. Like people felt bad having been so judgmental about her after the circumstances of her death that they overshot trying to make up for it and Marilyn became indicative of the tragedy and mistreatment of every woman, a myth that has been passed down for generations at this point.

I don't know. That's just how it seems to me. I read people talk about how great of an actress she really was, but I don't see it, and people conveniently always forget to explain how she was a good actress or what made her so great, just "she trained at The Actor's Studio!", a lot of actors did.

#bimtheory #bimbo theory #marilyn monroe

[celestialsyndicate]

This will be sort of a long post but I need to talk.. It's pretty deep. If anything else should be warned, please always feel free to let me know. We sometimes have difficulty remembering what all something contains outside of the warning themselves. This has seemingly a lot of mentions of programming.

TW: overall blanket RAMCOA, specifically RA (magyk,halloween), day time/night time, C/SA

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The ritualistic behavioral patterns we displayed never seemed apparent because it was normal to us. Our spiritualism seemed natural because it was all we had known since birth.

*All we had known since birth.*

It's difficult because our magyk is something sacred to us. It keeps us going. It's how we've made strong connections. We've taught it. Practiced in every day life. Our youngest friends we made by teaching them magyk. Nothing harmful, thank fuck....but we've always been inclined. It was something we were praised for when we were young. Something we vaguely remember like echoes through a tunnel.

It's so complicated because they created this divide in us as well. Christianity and...I would say more so Luciferianism. We viewed both sides of things. It was so deeply ingrained. Then our grandmother who taught us our native culture and roots. I very much understand why we are omnistic.

But the thing that always stuck is....we never knew how we knew things. We never remembered the night time. I could tell you how to and why you should use a pendulum as early as I can remember. Summoning spells for angels and demons, precautions. I knew sigils. I never questioned.

I'm learning now I have my own subsystem. I've always known there were other "me's" sometimes I would feel like a different version of myself. Didn't quite feel the same. Remember other things. I'm the keeper to the knowledge. I'm the teacher. I'm the one who asks questions. Unfortunately it gave me my answers after long enough of connecting puzzle pieces. Just how everything connected so perfectly without even me realizing. My mind keeps wanting to ask more but now I have this answer and I've seen the catastrophic results. I'm satisfied to go with what comes.

I guess. Sometimes even gatekeepers need to fragment to withstand the memories you have to hold. I know I have several libraries. There are books that I dare not touch because of the feelings they give me. They are dark and black billowing things. They turn my stomach sideways. I'm satisfied to wait until they call to me, I guess I will know the time. Things always happen in synchronized timing somehow. All as it is meant to be. I asked the universe to tell me the truth. I asked the universe to help me live authentically. I said I would reach in to the shadows of who I am and I'm not one to back down from the fear.

I understand the weight that weighs behind my mind and I am willing to proceed with that understanding.

It's easy. For people to watch true crime. To watch horror movies and distance themselves from it. I have been conditioned to watch in abject horror but it stopped working. We stopped feeling it. Some of us are desperate to feel it again. Watching it to regain a sense of humanity that feels stolen from us.

The weight. Is easy to forget, when it is not you. The weight is a game. A fun little fright. On halloween you go trick or treat.

Blood. Is shed.

I feel the weight. I want to feel that weight. I want to carry that burden. Someone has to feel it. It has to be felt. Sometimes I grow tired of the people who close their eyes to it. I wish I could shake them and tell them they can't just ignore it out of existence. Sometimes it feels like I'm in a nightmare every day I know it's ongoing. Like I feel the weight of all the sins. Like I can feel their pain. Their torment. I feel them when I cry. I feel them when I see true crime. I remember the survivors and feel that weight. Praise the strength they forced to survive and will them comfort when they can come to put that weight down with tired, shaking, muscles.

Terror is real. It's a real thing. It's happening all over in the world around us. It's *why* you _must_ appreciate love and breath and warmth and comfort. You have to. You have to. It's not promised. There are those of us who have had to find it in the darkest of places. Some eyes snap shut like bunker doors to stories like that, refusing any of it to be truth. It leaves the rest of us out in the nuclear winter of this terror.

IT EXISTS. IT EXISTS. IT EXISTS.

Children are hurt. Children are dying. There are terrible, awful people who do awful things. You have to love, and be kind, and be compassionate. How can you not? How can you not? How can you stand in the face of a nuclear winter and tell it it doesn't exist just because your eyes are cemented closed.

I live becauae there is torture. Not to rage. Out of spite and from love. I love green. I love sky. I love thunder and rain. I love smiles and holding someone when they need it most. There is suffering. It's why there has to be love. Balance right? That's what they taught us?

Well if there was truth in ancient wisdoms slammed in to my fucking head. It means there's some goddamn balance. I have to live. I have to speak. I have to love. For all the hell there is. For all the ones who don't make it. For all the one's who try and fail. For all the one's who aren't believed. For myself. For my family member who begged us to never speak of it and forget.

Because my abuser died and I lived. And that means something. Happy anniversary month to your death. Fuck you very much.

And to the dismay of some in my system, I will continue to speak our truth and stand in that. He was not a good man.

It feels good to be able to come on to here and let the pain out. It's not all I am, like I said, there's more to life; but it's empowering. To stand in the shadow of truth.

They told me power comes from pain. I've found it's one of many ways to become wise. That's what they always said, I was wise, for my age. Wise beyond my years. The older we get the more I remember things and research to find it's yet again, some anciet magyk. The rituals are at the core of who I am.

From what I know it's very likely it started before birth. We know our mother had been abused during the pregnancy, aimed at us in utero.

Pandora's box has opened. It feels like falling down the rabbit hole. Even hearing us talk now I can hear it all echoing.

I just want to know how many people were implicit in it. Who can I even trust? How deep does it go? I thought I knew what our trauma was. But this...the floor fell out from under me. The lingering dark took me whole.

.

.

.

Tw: Symbology, selfharm, electrocution, survival, christianity

.

.

.

.

.

We always had nightmares of our first known alter being tortured on black and white tile. She would be chained with black chains and electrocuted. Later in life she took to wearing a long black chain wrapped around a belt loop, she would use it as a whip. She used to keep a knife in her boot too. We always did. Always did weird things with knives. Never thought about it. How we would black out and start cutting in precise precision strokes over and over the same one with an exacto blade. As deep as those were and still those scars are barely visible. We used to come home with scratches on our back and all over our body. Our mom saw one time. Just the once? What other scars might be hidden? Why did we mxstxrbate with a knife?

There was a scab on our head that never went away. Another in our belly button.

We had digestive issues as long as we could remember. But when the nightmares started coming back during our puberty it got so much worse.

The constipation...we've found it's often caused by clenching so tightly in expectation to be hurt.

We were the first one in our class we knew to get our period.

We always used to feel detached from others. Used to play "survival" in our free time. See how long we could run away from home and if we could live in the woods.

.

.

.

Why did we get the desire all the time to stand on specific streets with a rxpe me sign? Why could we feel such an intense struggle back and forth over that? Why was it such a need? Why do we get triggered and flee and run and get the desire to do this? Is this a punishment?

.

.

You can't tell me it didn't happen. That the oldest one of us called your symbol her sigil for as long as we know. She said her name meant star. She was an angel. She took the beatings for us. She took the pain. And she fractured for it. She cried to a god that did not respond. She cried to a god she was forced to put faith in. And yet, it's as if he punished her for existing. Punished us.

Created us for their own gain. It's still difficult to interpret. The information as it unfolds is dark and it leads me to deeper places. I feel like I learn more about the world the more I learn about the burning Why's. I have to love. I have to love. I have to live. Until there's nothing more. I have to. To survive all this not to love? Not to smile? To laugh? To cry? To mourn it all?

It exists. It happened. It happens. There are scary monsters who lurk in the dark.

Once you learn to hunt in the dark and expect to see them, it gets easier. A good hunter learns what it's hunting. Know thy enemy right? Right?

Pull them from the shadows.

I am not afraid.

-⚜

To those in system overseeing my posts, please don't delete it. I beg you stop silencing us. I beg you to allow us to let our pain free. I don't want to be chained to it, or ashamed of it. I said I wanted to live my truth. Trust I will do my best to support all of us in this. We will find our way through. They don't deserve our voice.

#ramcoa vent #ramcoa system #ramcoa

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Now that Greta Gerwig and her standom are shoved on my face once again because of the Barbie movie, I'm starting to realize that what grates me about her is mainly her "fuck you, got mine" attitude as a person and a professional (of course, as always, as much as one can know a public figure).

The redeeming grace of Ladybird, was that the movie was aware of ladybird being a whiny, self absorbed, stubborn, ungrateful teenager, who learns, after a frontal collision with reality, that she had it relatively easy, and that she was loved unconditionally by her mom who was trying her best all along, even if she didn't always succeed. It showed an awareness that people around you are the main characters of their own stories, with their own feelings and dreams. Well, to a certain extent. Ladybird's brother is mostly a non-entity in a story where he could have been an interesting character creating interesting dynamics. But I digress.

Little Women, however, took Jo March, a character who, despite her faults of a bad temper, fear of change, and difficulty achieving full emotional maturity, was at her core generous, hard working, cheerful and very affectionate, into a whiny, self absorbed, stubborn, ungrateful womanchild. She went from the character that cheers up Meg and tries to make her burdens lighter, to the person telling her to run off the day of her wedding because her fiance is boring and Meg's joy and day are not as important as her own sadness and pain. This time, however, the arc of the character doesn't end in realization of her privileges and blessings, it just doesn't end. The feminism of Jo March in 2019 is about being the most specialest creature in the world, whom everybody else exist to enable, praise and envy, and who is also, at the same time, a poor struggling victim.

And if Ladybird had not told me that GG is capable of self awareness, I wouldn't hesitate to say her Jo March is an unaware self portrait, an image of how she sees herself. Feminism exists only when it comes to cry foul play wherever she doesn't get recognition or awards; when it comes to her giving recognition to other women creators, she's happy to throw them under the bus. And the "oh, but sure it is Sony/Mattel demanding that she endorses the "Little Women, finally done right and written and directed by a woman, unlike every other adaptation since 1994 which were also written and directed by women" and the "Barbie was the first adult woman doll" argument doesn't work... because then she's not a feminist and not a leader activist but a commercial sell out. The "poor underdog has to submit to corporate demands to be allowed to make her art" narrative doesn't work for a person as connected as she is. And, honestly, I wouldn't take much issue if she was just a commercial director. Chris Columbus is a transparent commercial director, that does a decent job with what he's asked to do. The difference is that he doesn't weaponize and trade with social causes to prop his own image as a creator. It's the intellectual duplicity that irritates me.

#anti Greta Gerwig

[darknetneopets]

Twisted Wonderland Oc/Mc

Eden H. Grey (He/They) 

My Twisted Wonderland MC aka the Ramshackle Dorm prefect! (Oouughh my little scrunkly!! My gay little blorbo!!!) 

He's very loosely based on Chernabog from Fantasia! 

At first glance Eden is, well, a little plain. At most he might come off a bit ‘quirky’ (read: nurodivergent) and he’s just not what you would call flashy or charismatic. He’s also queer and has only recently come to terms with being nonbinary so he’s still working on how he wants to present himself.

Mostly he's just kind of a nerd. His interests include computer games, fantasy books, and obscure discontinued toys. He likes scary movies and spooky music and prefers to dress in all black. He likes drawing, used to go ghost hunting, and if you call something a ‘dragon’ when it is CLEARLY a wyvern or worse yet a wyrm you're never going to hear the end of it. 

Eden is pretty friendly and approachable and others often come to him for help and advice. He's always happy to help, even if he’s not particularly well suited for the job. Eden is a chronic people-pleaser and if you make him feel useful (or suggest he’s somehow been a burden) he’s guaranteed to give your request his absolute best (even if it means compromising his own well-being.) 

He does his best to appear calm and easygoing even when terribly overwhelmed and prefers to keep the focus off himself in social situations. A bit awkward and bad at small talk, he would much rather jump straight into talking about things he and others have a genuine interest in.

If he finds himself in the spotlight for too long he ends up extremely flustered and the reaction is doubled when it comes to praise or romantic affection. The fact that NRC is full of cute guys with cool magic powers really doesn't do him any favors as a shy stumbling mess or as a bit of a pushover. 

Occasionally Eden’s pleasant aura will give way to a sarcastic edge and he has an impressive knack for cutting someone down to size once they’ve agitated him (usually some hard truth the person needs to confront for their own good. Well, mostly anyway…) 

Despite being a pretty good judge of character Eden tries his hardest to see the best in people and give them the benefit of the doubt (this unsurprisingly backfires on him frequently while at NRC.) 

While Eden might have “all the magical talent of a box of crayons” (thanks, Ace) he’s clearly a pretty good mediator and he seems to have a curious effect on ‘otherworldly’ creatures (such as ghosts and monsters like Grim) that makes them a little more agreeable than normal. 

Although obviously shaken, Eden seemed to take his arrival to Twisted Wonderland in stride (once he realized it was all really happening and not just a particularly wild dream, that is.) His life hadn’t exactly been in a great place and if he was going to have to go around feeling lost or out of place somewhere, at least things in TW were…different? Interesting? Look, there was suddenly a whole weird new world to discover where magic is real, ghosts are commonplace and dragons might exist?!

Sure, his first instinct was to want to get home- the devil you know etc etc, but as his stay keeps extending the idea of leaving TW seems to grow a little less attractive everyday… Not that he’s ready to admit that of course, not even to himself. Still, maybe if he learned enough, stayed useful enough, got comfortable enough… Maybe he could convince himself to leave his old life behind. 

Oh and I ship him with Malleus because of coarse I do ashdkagdj

#Twisted Wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twisted wonderland mc #twist oc #twist mc #twist #twist hell #twist art #my artwrok #my ocs #my twist ocs

[ahdriking]

sincerely I don’t wanna be a bitch to you, I love your posts and enjoy your writing, but the whole separation of artist and art for me doesn’t really work in some cases, because the “artist’s” life and personality DOES affect their art. And more often than not supporting the art does validate the artist. Look at Woody Allen. Is the fact that he’s a pedophile who also married his adoptive daughter not informing his art? Then why are most of his movies about mature men falling for underage and barely legal girls? Art critics and movie aficionados have been repeating this same line over and over for decades, and the only thing it has accomplished has been shrouding him in impunity and a veneer of mythical untouchability. Crass example maybe, but I think it gets my point across. Is Poi from Daemi “training Barcode (a minor) as an actor” by having him massage her separate from what she writes? Is her telling Bible to call her mommy and forcefully unbuttoning Apo’s shirt amidst increasingly vocal refusals unrelated? Is Yok molesting Mile, pulling him and Bible forcibly onto his lap, posting Mile’s private pictures completely removed from the rape and sexual violence they write about and enjoy? What do you think buying their books and merch and ~enjoying their art will accomplish besides ensuring they can keep doing this? I’m not telling you to stop liking KinnPorsche the series, I am just saying that when it comes to directly financially supporting the authors and praising their novels you might want to reflect.

Ok, so there's a lot to unpack here. Imma try and do it justice, bear with me.

FIRSTLY, anon, I do appreciate how you've approached me considering your feelings on the subject matter. I understand its a topic that really affects some people, as it affects you, so thank you for not coming straight out the gates with a vengeance!

So, I understand the point that you're making because on the very surface of it it seems to make sense, right? If someone is a morally reprehensible person in real life, just like your Woody Allen example, then of course it makes sense to see some of that reprehensible-ness reflected in their art, right? It would just accidentally seep in, right? Well, sure. Maybe. But life, just like this example, is a little more complicated than that. Cos Woody Allen isn't the only person making his movies. He actually has a team of dozens of people helping him craft his story, his visuals, his scenes, his characters, dozens of people you could argue are just as equally responsible as him for what makes it into the final film. So even if the problematic content started with Woody, well, it definitely didn't stay only with him, and if that's true, then how can we blame the moral ambiguity of his films solely on him? Well, we can't. Because it doesn't belong solely to him. Not anymore. Just like a piece of fiction doesn't belong solely to you or me or even the author who wrote it once it's made and released. Because once it's out there, once it interacts with the world, it morphs and changes and warps into any kind of unrecognizable shape, especially as time changes, and this is entirely unpredictable. And, most importantly,

THIS IS NOT THE BURDEN OF THE CREATOR.

What that means, basically, is that when a piece of media exists, it is a piece of media unto its own sake. It does not have to exist with any more context than whatever is a direct part of it, because it has to be assumed that one day, no more context, or different context, may exist for it. Do you think we know everything shakespeare was thinking when he wrote his plays? Do you think we understand all the jokes and nuances? Of course not. Do you think 19th century victorians did? Nope. The edwardians? Also nope! They all had their own completely different contexts, and enjoyed Shakespeare through them. Because the context is gone, it's dust now. But we have still always been able to enjoy his plays for what they are. Because media and art must be able to be consumed completely independently of the artist or any contingent context. If it isn't, well then it's just broken and wont survive the test of time.

That's probably one of the biggest reasons why the most long lasting and compelling fiction tends to contain at least a few problematic themes, like race or religion or class or sex or sexuality. Because different generations will have wildly different perspectives, but a lot of shared problems and experiences. The problems and experiences are what survives, they're what endures, and the way we interact with them, not the personal opinions of the people who conjured the problem in the first place, because that perspective changes generation to generation, even person to person. If I read Pride and Prejudice, for example, and related deeply to the main characters, do you think I'm doing that based on the author's exact intentions? No! That would be ludicrous! Because bronte had no fucking clue a little gremlin like me would ever exist, and that, quite frankly, is none of her business.

But there's also something else here I want to touch on here: the fact of cognitive dissonance. Human beings have a remarkable ability to exist in a state of multiple truths, and this is something we take full advantage of to enjoy art. We know what we're consuming isn't real, but we can apply suspension of disbelief and turn off our logical brains to enjoy it anyway. If we can do that, then who's to say we can't consume something and walk away with differing opinions about it? I guarantee you if you ask an film school student they will have something positive to say about Woody Allen's filmmaking, even knowing the kind of man he is. Because they're capable of taking the art in as one thing and the man in as another. They're capable of enjoying the art, knowing the problematic aspects behind it, because they're taking something specific away from it-- maybe the way a shot was lined up, or colouring, or scene direction. They're taking away something meaningful to them, something entirely unique to them. That is what makes the experience of art so valuable and important, and it has nothing to do with Woody Allen or any other problematic content creator. Because they don't get to choose what you take away.

Now, if we could stop all problematic people from making things, like Woody Allen, obviously that would be preferrable to negotiating the complicated reality of their legacy. Look at Michael Jackson! People still don't know what the fuck to do with all of that, so a lot of people just kind of exist in the reality of both the rumours being true and him being a legendary artist. It's comfortable, despite how dissonant it is, because it actually requires the least amount of effort.

BUT all that aside, I do want to point out that your example is innately flawed, because there are two million examples of problematic fiction written by entirely mundane, average people for every one written by a cunt. This was what I was trying to convey with my 'pick a redhead, call all humans gingers' analogy-- you cannot take one example, woody allen or daemi, and paint the entire picture. It just doesn't work that way.

"What do you think buying their books and merch and ~enjoying their art will accomplish besides ensuring they can keep doing this?"

Now this is something I wanna highlight, because I have at no point brought up the idea of monetarily supporting anyone. I actually, personally, wouldn't monetarily support Daemi, because of what I've seen and heard about them, and I certainly wouldn't promote others doing it. But i'm not gonna stop them, either. Because I don't have that kind of power. People will make their choices.

Crucially though, me reading and enjoying Kinnporsche, or anyone else for that matter, does not enable Daemi. That is an incredibly harmful mindset to harbour, if you do. If Daemi are committing legitimate crimes they will hopefully be dealt with accordingly by law enforcement, but I have absolutely no say in this whatsoever. And me consuming more Kinnporsche won't change this in either direction. It doesn't work that way. I dont have the power to stop them or punish them, you don't either, but neither do i have the power to enable them and encourage them directly? It doesn't work like that. If they profit off of kinnporsche then so be it until the moment that they're stopped, because they made it and i love it despite that and them. Because of what I love about it, not what they do. And I'm going to continue to feel that way, as are many others.

Basically, anon, I want to really stress that consuming media made my problematic people that is problematic, is a very complicated subject. I haven't done it justice, and I've been slaving over this for ages trying to get it worded just right. It's an entire field of analysis that people spend entire lifetimes on, I'm little more than a cliffnotes. But that's the thing-- it's so much more complicated than you or I make it seem. Legally its complicated, ethically its complicated, morally its complicated, and thats fucking ok. It really is ok. Humans aren't perfect, we're actually really messy and all of us are problematic, so we have to have some kind of ability to navigate it. That's what separating fiction from reality is about, to me. Allowing the nuances to exist in their own space, allowing the art to exist in its own space, allowing the context to exist in its own space, and choosing how to engage with any or none of it.

Art will continue to exist long after you and I are dust, and our intentions and opinions cease to matter. Kinnporsche will live longer than any member of the cast or writing team. And that's ok. Because Kinnporsche isn't Daemi. Kinnporsche is Kinnporsche. And that's ok.

#fuck i hope this isnt nonsense #i tried to do it justice anon i really did #i hope you take something away from it even if you disagree! #i have no problem with people disagreeing with me just dont be a dick about it #discourse

[cassandrajoybellbittner]

*Warning Adult Content*

WANTING A FAMILY- Chapter 19

Adyen

I had never thought about what having a proper older sibling would be like.

Sure, when I had been passed around from family to family, a lot of my foster parents had older children of their own or other foster kids a few years older than me but I had been on my own mostly.

A lot of them also didn't seem to have any want for a family-like dynamic with someone they weren't related to. 

Now I knew my brother and all those things I had told myself I didn't need... all those sibling friendship scenes on T.V.

I had rolled my eyes at... I realized that I had a deep-seated want for them that had only showed itself when Naylan and I started talking a lot. 

He was only a year and some change older than me,but I felt like I was talking to someone much older when he gave me advice and listened to my rambling about school and my relationship with Len. 

He had been the one to encourage me not to think about what my track mates would think if I was a little more open about being gay.

I had told Naylan that a lot of their jokes made me uncomfortable and he suggested that nothing would change until I stood up to that, so I did.

I took a stance, told them blankly that I was seeing Len and since then I've been conscious about being more open about that fact in public.

If people asked, I stammered but managed to admit that yes, I was with him and I was gay. 

There was something freeing about taking agency and openly stating a fact that I kept to myself.

Being a foster kid had made me hide things instinctively.

I wasn't sure which adults would be supportive and which ones wouldn't be and there's a memory of one of my foster siblings from years back simply saying 'ew' when I mentioned that a boy on television was sort of cute.     

My thoughts drifted back to Len.

There was so much I wanted to tell him but I had to be a bit careful about that.

It was a good thing that Naylan and his pack had settled in an abandoned building complex close to a factory site.

They were bordering territories that weren't there own but remained distant enough to not be a problem.

My stomach knotted a bit.

I knew a part of me was just making excuses not to tell him yet because I was a bit worried that he would panic or get sad about me keeping this from him for so long.

He was supposed to be teaching me stuff but I've carried those burdens to Naylan since there was less of an emotional factor to it.   

"When are you going to tell him?" Naylan asked me, making me sit up on the sofa before looking in the direction of his voice.

It was a bit dark but the light from the muffled television was enough to make out his face.

I was in Naylan's place in the abandoned apartment complex.

It being abandoned meant there was no running water or electricity.

A few of the pack members were handy, so getting a few stolen car batteries to power everything from fridges, televisions, to lamps made it possible to live there.     

My brother gave me a small smile before coming to sit beside me and handing me one of the bowls of cereal he had in his hands.   

"You were having a little conversation with yourself back there," he said, looking at the television as he took a spoonful of cereal.

"You know, you'll have to tell him when you go and visit mum in the summer."     

"I know that," I sighed, nodding my head in agreement.

Naylan did that mind-reading thing a lot, but I had gotten used to it.   

Talking to Naylan had also meant contact with my mother.

The first call was scary.

I had shaken and stammered all the way through it but her voice was soft and I could hear the clear affection in the way she said my name. 

We talked about dumb things like books and movies and what she had been up to all these years.

She had audibly gasped when I mentioned I was in university for architecture and was in the track team.

She was very proud of me and it was weird... that warm feeling that came from a parental figure praising you. 

"I'm glad they didn't change your name," she had said, explaining that it had been my father who had named me.     

"How about telling him on that date you two have planned together..." Naylan trailed and I felt my face warm up.

A new ice castle place had opened and Len kept talking about it in a way that made it obvious he wanted to go, so I suggested we did. 

"Maybe that's a good idea," I muttered, looking down at my feet in the darkness of the room.

The blue light from the television illuminated Naylan's figure as he leaned forward.     

There was a tooth smacking sound.

"You really like him, yeah?"     

I shrugged, trying to play it cool even though my chest was fluttering.

"Yeah," I croaked and he laughed, making my chest flutter even more.   

I stuffed my mouth with a spoon of cereal and let myself watch the car battery next to the television as Naylan's free tangle guinea pig hopped by.   

"I don't think he'll take it badly at all," Naylan said, dropping his empty bowl on the floor before leading back on the sofa.     

"Hey," he started, after a period of silence passed by.

"You know the only reason mum had to give you up was that..." 

"I couldn't survive, I get it," I said, cutting my brother off.

He stared at me with eyes that had gone yellow, something that happened to Len's sometimes. 

"I just..." he started saying, opening his mouth then closing it.

He hummed to himself and I brought up my legs before hugging them to myself.

"The streets are hard and mum didn't know what to do. She thought that she had found her person, you know?"     

My ears perked up in interest.

I had heard Naylan go on about my mother's ex but I learned new things about him every time he was brought up.

My dad... our dad had made my mum happy,or so Naylan said.

He didn't talk about his biological father much.

I got a sense that he wasn't a real person in Naylan's head.     

"We were really young but I remember a bit about him... how sick he was. We couldn't afford any of that so..." Naylan paused and I swallowed, knowing that my father had died. 

Naylan's guinea pig made a squeaking noise, distracting both of us.

Naylan let out a sigh, getting up from his seat on the sofa before helping the poor thing get untangled from the wires.     

"He always does this," Naylan said and I grinned, watching him pet the rodent.

He looked dumb in his pajama pants and the hoodie that was too small for him as he smiled down at his pet.

The imagery was a big contrast from when I had first seen him.   

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I asked, feeling my stomach tighten up.   

Naylan raised a brow at me.

"Sure," he agreed but he still looked a bit unsure.   

I swallowed the anxiety building up at the back of my throat.

"Was your dad mum's mate?" I asked.

It was something that had been in my mind for a while.

I looked up, noticing that Naylan had gone a bit frigid.     

His lips twitched after a while and he let out a sigh.

"No," he said.

"Just some douche mum had a fling with. I still see him around when I go home," he said, and the last part shook me a bit.     

"Mum's mate isn't in Canada," he said, humming to himself.

"She's a Caribbean immigrant. She still has the mate bond but it's very weak. They're never going to meet each other..."   

"Then what's the point of mates?" I asked, feeling confused.

Mum's love of her life was out there somewhere and she let her heart get broken twice.     

Naylan sighed.

"You're still new to all of this. Mate bonds aren't binding, they're suggestions. Lots of wolves don't end up with their mates, especially city wolves like us..." he paused.

"Well, like me. You got yourself some rural pure-blooded mate. We're all just mutts here," he corrected himself. 

I froze up for a bit, not knowing what to say.     

"I have a mate. I can feel the bond," Naylan said, walking over to the sofa before sitting beside me.

The furniture creaked and the foam sunk under his weight.

"But I don't know, it's not like I'm invested in looking for them. I'd much rather stay here... with my pack."

There was fondness in his voice at the last part.

Something I had come to realize was that Naylan really wanted a family... a community.

It was something he craved and went on about.     

Where Alpha Georgiou saw a bunch of annoying thieving teenagers, Alpha Naylan saw the potential for a family.

I smiled, thinking that he was a good leader so far and would get better with time.

But what did I want? I wanted very small things... a family, a boyfriend, a chance to feel like I wasn't being drowned by my life.     

The whole thing with Len had started out in a confusing nerve-racking chain of events.

It had felt like puberty all over again but things were stable now and we were getting along fine... it almost felt like we were normal university kids who were dating and figure if things out together.

We were... Studying together in the library... Grabbing Pizza at Georgiou's... Playing video games with his roommates... those were all the basic things I dreamed of doing with a boyfriend.

I craved that mundane normalcy and I wanted to keep having it with Len as I grew in my understanding of myself.   

"I'm going to tell Len everything when we go on our date on Saturday," I announced under my breath but I knew my brother heard me because he reached out to comb his fingers through my curls.

He didn't say anything but his gesture was enough of an acknowledgment.

[iztarshi]

Loved your post about Leo! Yeah, it's a bummer the show got cut in half, because I really think they were gearing to delve into Leo's whole deal in season 2, and the arc was gonna be SO cool Many Unhappy Returns is such an interesting ep to me, because it's such an interesting insight into how Leo views trust. Like, throughout the whole ep, he keeps asking people to trust him ("we got this, trust me." "trust me, you guys got this" "trust me, pops, I've got this") and it seems like he's being so careless throughout the whole ep, before you get to the end and realizing he's been playing his cards so carefully the whole time. When he returns to the group he's able to predict EXACTLY how they were dealing with Shredder when he was gone--when he said "trust me, you guys got this" he genuinely MEANT it, and wasn't just saying that carelessly (even if his trust in the team does sometimes border on carelessness).

Leo trusts his family so wholeheartedly, and knows them so well, that I think it doesn't occur to him that like... not everyone is the same way? So he's hurt when his family doesn't just trust him, because that's how he trusts them. But like the team doesn't KNOW Leo is taking thing seriously, because he acts like a goof. He's just so interesting and complex, I adore him.

That being said, I think Many Unhappy Returns was when Splinter realizes Leo would be a good leader, but that he just needed more responsibility to ground him (after all, if he's in charge of the team, he can't just run off without talking to people... haha.......). And I love Raph with my whole heart (he and Leo share my spot for fave) but I genuinely think that by the end of the series, he had pretty much given up his position as leader. He wasn't really leading them by the finale, he was protecting them. When it came time to make a plan, he couldn't come up with one until Leo mentioned that they should work on their ninpo.

I always saw that scene of him throwing himself off the tree as him finally letting go of that responsibility and letting his brothers take that burden off his shoulders, which is why Leo transitioning to leader after that moment made sense. I don't really think it was unfair to Raph--there was a cut scene in the movie where he admitted he was only leader because no one else was stepping up. By the end, he clearly wasn't having a good time

Yeah, I think Leo needed to be the leader eventually. But Splinter doing it THEN and LIKE THAT was so strange.

Leo and trust is interesting! But he also says "trust me" in Minotaur Maze where they really really shouldn't and he has no idea what he's doing. So you can see why they don't take his word on this!

But, yeah, Leo has so much faith in them, always. Even his issues with proving himself are often because he thinks his brothers are so cool and capable. He can be kind of blithely irresponsible sometimes because Raph's always protected him from consequences and Donnie's always fixed the things he breaks, but it also means he knows exactly what they can do and how much he can rely on them. So when he does step up he can make decisions Raph wouldn't because Raph's afraid to split them up and not personally be there for all of them.

That deleted scene confused me a bit. On the one hand, it would have been interesting to have out loud acknowledgement of the leadership position in the movie instead of it all being subtext. On the other hand I watched Raph go "I never wanted to be the leader" and went "like hell you didn't! I watched Newsworthy. I saw you making a fuss about being the leader."

By the end of season 2 it's definitely getting too much for him, though. Taking the position away from him so abruptly after a major victory just feels like a rebuke where praise was warranted.

Thank you for your ask! I really enjoyed your take on this.

#rise turtles

[a-place-to-put-my-thoughts]

8/3/2022 9:39 PM

talking with mom nowadays is just plain awkward at best. went on a walk with [🐕] today, and I was kinda happy to go on a walk. that is, until mom mentioned getting a job or going to school. my attitude went out the window of that speeding car and into the gutters of [town]. I brought up potentially streaming my art as an income source, and she didn't say it out loud but i could tell she wanted to shoot that idea out of my desperate grasp. I mentioned that no minimum wage worker working full-time couldn't sustain themselves, and she said "I know people who do that and they're fine". probably thinking about some random person she knew from high-school because that sure as hell isn't the case nowadays. I remained mostly silent during the walk, knowing that heaven forbid I started to talk about my own crap she'd turn on me. I don't feel safe talking to her anymore. I always fear she's going to try and shit on everything i say or do. it's fine when I'm actually doing nothing and need to do something, but still. if she sees this that'd be a whole different story. she would probably cry or something and try to ask me why i feel like this and that she sees she did nothing wrong or something similar. i don't want to talk to her about this shit. i cry too much, think too fast and never say what i actually mean. I never have time to organize my thoughts into what I want to say before something happens. "I'm always here if you need to talk" I feel like if I do she'll see me as a nuisance since I only feel this way late at night and she needs to go to work or just get up early. I hate how I can talk more easily and openly with [🏈], my father figure of which I only see every once and a while nowadays. Why can't she be as supportive as him? he didn't try to knock me down when I mentioned streaming, hell he encouraged me and wants to help me set all of that up. why do i feel closer to him than my mom? Maybe it's because we have more things in common to talk about, like games and movies and technology and such. mom only talks highly of me when it comes to my art, and even today she phrased my art on the gift for [🥔] like "making [hers] seem like kids drawings". like yeah but come on, it feels like she's fishing for sympathy from me like "oh no your art is good too" or something like that. When I ran on the walk with [🐕] and made it to the bench, she didn't seem impressed. isn't that what you wanted? for me to get exercise? I feel vaguely unloved in this house. I know it's probably because I don't spend time downstairs and that I'm not taking my meds regularly, but gods this hurts so bad to write about. part of me wishes she sees this and gives me a hug and tells me everything will be alright, but i know those words are hollow. maybe this childhood trauma makes me want a more motherly figure comfort me in life. I want hugs, I want kisses, I want to feel loved. but i just don't. not here. i feel like those I've met online love me more. I feel like [🌌] loves me more. Hell, I feel like [🪴] loves me more.

i fucking need therapy but gods know how long it's gonna take for me to actually pick up the phone and make it happen. for now, this notes app is my therapist. a shitty one, but it still feels more welcoming than the woman downstairs. I want to feel loved. I want to feel loved so fuckign bad. does she love me? she will immediately say yes, but does she really? I've been nothing but a burden for the past ⅔ of a year basically, and she's shown me nothing but resentment and disappointment. i probably don't deserve her love right now but gods do i crave it. i want encouragement, i want love, i want sympathy, i want praise, but I know I don't deserve that last one for sitting on my ass all day. i just want to be held right now. no words, no Judgement, i just want to be held and comforted without any questions about it. please. that's all i want right now. maybe i should go downstairs. if i go down crying it'll be the first legitimate concern I've gotten from her in a long time. it feels like emotional manipulation but i just want care. i want to be a kid again. no crippling responsibilities or decisions for the future, just having fun and making friends and getting hugs and being praised for my good work. but i can't. those days are over and i need to grow up. but it's scary and hard to understand and i don't feel like an adult. i don't feel ready. it's all so scary. i want my mom but i fear her reaction to me.

I'm only 19 but the world expects me to be 30 and experienced in my field of work. the world's going to end before then. my rights are being stripped away, as a fem-aligned person and as a queer. war is on the horizon. if i make it to 50 I'll be surprised. hell, I'd be lucky if i make it to 40, or 35, or even 30.

#hgca.

[a-walking-fandom-reference]

i hope the wonderful 616 romani jewish wanda is having a lovely week and never has to know that wendy exists..

#she deserves that #the burden of knowing that movie is coming out and people will praise it because it’s an mcu film no matter how mediocre and bad it is #rey actually speaks #anti mcu #anti mcu wanda #wendy mayomoff

[heartoftheserpent]

Same Dumbledore Bros person - Give me the HC's, the more angsty the better!

To me they never really got a chance to be brothers because by the time Albus was eleven, he'd had to take over his dads role and be the second parent to his siblings. The mum seems a bit checked out as well.

OKAY THANK YOU FOR WAITING i had to finish work so now i can answer this properly

okay so. I love Albus. I wish he had a great relationship with his brother. I tooootally see the appeal.

It's just not how I read things. So. Let me break down my feelings about their relationship and how I read it.

Aberforth never forgave Albus.

By the time of the FB movies, the two are certainly in contact, enough that Albus comes over often, tries to talk to him, tries to spend time with him. He's often rebuffed, but not sent away.

Frankly, in FB, they seem closer than they do in the canon books. Moody mentions in OotP that he's only met Aberforth once, and he and Albus have been friends for decades. While he's obviously doing important work for the Order in spying in the Hog's Head, Aberforth seems to do it begrudgingly. He doesn't go on missions, and he talks a lot of smack against Albus to Harry, Ron, & Hermione.

(Side note - the bit where he says that "Albus learned secrets and lies at our mother's knee" feels...very weird to me. Aberforth knows full well that the reason they kept secret was so Ariana wouldn't be taken away. Why be upset about that? Idk. It's just weird.)

Aberforth's words to Harry make it very clear that he expects Albus to have burdened Harry with something he couldn't possibly carry, that he faults Albus for expecting too much of people, that he thinks people would be better off if they forgot Albus. He literally says, "Forget my brother and his clever schemes," and tells them that they'll live longer if they do. He still clearly blames Albus for Ariana's death, and holds it against him even after ninety-nine years have passed.

And the thing is, that means that from the time of FB to the 1990s, they have literally decades to talk and to try to heal, especially if they're bonding over Credence/Aurelius or losing him or whatever's going on with Albus and Gellert, and obviously they do not, because they're even farther apart then than they are in the films.

Albus has complicated feelings towards Aberforth.

Albus is one of the gentlest, kindest people in the series, except towards those he thinks are behaving badly. He's famous for it - he's even mannerly to the Death Eaters in HBP who've come to kill him, and Harry notes how frustrating it is that he refuses to ever speak ill of Snape or Draco Malfoy. He is occasionally a bit snarky towards some of the teachers (Trelawney comes to mind), but never verging on slander.

But the first time we hear about Aberforth, Albus cheerfully tells Hagrid that his brother was arrested for The Goat Business, then claims that he's probably illiterate. This seems uncharacteristically biting for him. Then over books five and six, he mentions the barman at the Hog's Head as an informant a few times, but never mentions that the barman is in fact his own brother. He does claim in DH when he's deep in his feelings that Aberforth is "infinitely more admirable" than himself, but frankly that seems less like praise of Aberforth and more like that classic Albus Brand Self-Loathing (now even stronger!!).

The Gay Thing

It's difficult to judge Aberforth's reaction to Albus's sexuality as a thing in and of itself, because he is only reacting to Albus's one (1) boyfriend, who happens to be. Well. Grindelwald. But I'd argue he doesn't seem entirely comfortable with it.

He doesn't tell Albus, "I'm going to stay home from school no matter what you say and take care of Ariana." He says, in his own words, "You'd better give it up now."

Here we leave, to paraphrase Albus, the firm foundation of fact, and we shall be journeying together through the murky marshes and thickets of wildest headcanon.

Aberforth's version of the start of the duel is that he confronted Albus and Gellert and told them they had to stop seeing each other. Then "there was an argument." Gellert then used the Cruciatus curse on him, and they all started three-way dueling.

Albus's version in DH says that Aberforth was "shouting" truths at him, and then "the argument became a fight. Grindelwald lost control."

(I can't remember the exact wording of Albus's version in SoD, I just remember that he said Aberforth drew his wand first, "which was foolish.")

So...if Aberforth was already saying "You can't take Ariana, stop seeing each other now, you have to stay here," and Gellert was already calling him a stupid little boy who didn't understand anything, I think what escalated it from an argument into a fight is that Aberforth started tossing slurs around.

And I specifically think that because -

We've seen Aberforth use at least one slur.

When Minerva knocks on the door during the brothers having a meal, he shouts to "Read the sign, you stupid sod!"

Yep, pretty common insult. But don't forget, this is a kid who came of age when Oscar Wilde was imprisoned for Gross Indecency, for the crime of being a sodomite. We've seen tons of other insults hurled around in the books - prat, wanker, git, etc. But never this one before. I don't think it's a concidence.

Really, if he was just being rude, he could have said anything. But his instinct was to use a slur that he knows full well is entirely applicable to his brother, who is sitting across from him at the table.

He apologizes to Minerva for calling her that. But he doesn't apologize to Albus for using it as an insult. Again - yes, this is a very common insult at the time, but so was f*g in the 90s. It still means more if you're hurling it around next to your openly gay brother.

okay whew this got long, I have an entirely different set of headcanons about Percival and Kendra but this is frankly long enough.

#Dumbledore brothers #Dumbledore family #Albus Dumbledore #Aberforth Dumbledore #Grindeldore #asks

[wandaromanova]

Little Sister

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: one cuss word, minor BW spoilers

A/N: hello! i’d like to note that this takes place sometime before the events in the Black Widow movie! if you haven’t seen the movie yet, please skip over this story and come back later if you’d like! happy reading <3

anon requested: hiii i have a fluff request after seeing bw haha: could you do nat x fem reader where they're laying in bed snuggling, and r asks her about her family and nat tells her and r notices how cute she looks when she's talking about yelena and it's so soft and ahhhh

Summary: Natasha tells her girlfriend about a piece of her past that she never talks about; her sister.

Word Count: 2K

| masterlist | request rules/guidelines | wips |

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

Natasha Romanoff has lived a lot of lives. She has been through more than most.

Nat had been taken as an infant by an organization that trained little girls to become lethal assassins.

She was psychologically conditioned to become a killer, having taken more lives than she could count.

Eventually, Natasha had managed to break free from the cage she was forced into and was recruited as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent; it was a new start for her, an opportunity to compensate for the red in her ledger.

So, Natasha took her job seriously, saving as many people as she could, even more so when she became an Avenger; one of earth’s mightiest heroes.

Natasha found something in the team that she never really had before; a family. She found a home within the dysfunctional team she had been recruited into.

Not only did Natasha find a family within the Avengers; she also found the love of her life.

Natasha hadn’t even considered the possibility of ever finding love.

For starters, the Red Room had instilled the concept that love was nothing but a distraction; a liability.

She had been taught that love was for children and it was nothing but a weakness that needed to be avoided at all costs.

She was quite literally programmed to be emotionally closed off and to always have her guard up. Letting someone into her heart was a risk she didn’t want to take.

When Natasha gained her independence from the organization, she had to do a lot of self-discovering. She had never been able to be her own person, but now that she could, she quickly learned that she didn’t even know herself.

However, it was Natasha’s insecurities that truly turned her off from the entire idea of love.

How could any ever possibly love her? She thought she was a monster for the things she’d done. She has done the unspeakable since ever she was a child.

What if she wasn’t enough? What if her baggage was too much for someone else to carry? She didn’t want to be a burden. She didn’t want to have to protect someone, just to fail them like she had failed so many others.

Natasha was positive that no one would ever be crazy enough to love her.

Little did she know, she would end up finding someone crazy enough to do so; you.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

When the Avengers were formed, you were extremely nervous about it.

All of the files that you’ve read on your new teammates were unbelievable; they were all phenomenal in their own rights. A super-soldier, a god, a genius, a trained-spy.

You were a spy yourself, so you knew exactly who Natasha Romanoff was. She was a S.H.I.E.L.D legend, the best of the best.

You were more nervous about meeting her than anyone else. What if she judged you? What if she didn’t think you were good enough to be an agent, let alone an Avenger?

Not only was she your superior, but she was also your crush. Yeah, you’d never even met the woman before, but you were crushing on her hard.

She was drop-dead gorgeous, but also quite literally a deadly force. Natasha could easily take down anyone she wanted to, and honestly, you wanted to be one of those lucky people.

When you met Natasha for the first time, you were a flustered mess. The redhead found it amusing, how your cheeks turned a bright shade of red and you stumbled over your words as you praised her work.

Natasha never told you this, but she was immediately smitten the moment she laid eyes on you.

There was a kindness and positivity that just radiated off of you and it was extremely contagious.

You were this beaming ball of light that lit up the darkest parts of her soul.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

You got to know Natasha extremely well while being on the team. From observing her closely and paying very close attention to her actions, you had managed to pick up on little things.

She didn’t put any creamer or sugar in her sugar; opting for strong, black coffee.

She was kind of a clean freak. If she saw something out of place, she would be quick to put it in the correct place or position.

When she was happy, she would let a small smirk cross her features. When she was annoyed, she would raise her eyebrows.

When she was stressed out or angry, three little creases would appear on her forehead as her eyebrows would knit together tightly; a subtle frown on her face.

Of course, when you began dating the redhead, you didn’t really have to survey her so closely anymore because she’d tell you things herself.

No matter the circumstances, Natasha would always come to you and rant about it. Whether it was about how shitty a mission went or how she beat Clint’s ass during training; you were the only person she wanted to tell.

Natasha had opened up to you, something she never did with anyone. She told you all about her past.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

You had some knowledge of Natasha’s previous life, considering it was in her files, but you didn’t realize just how horrible her childhood truly was.

The Red Room, the heavy weight of guilt that rests on her shoulders, the nightmares that forced her to relive the murders she committed, her time as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, and becoming an Avenger.

She’d go on and on about her road to redemption or ‘clearing the red out of her ledger.’

Natasha was terrified when she told you about her demons. She figured you were going to leave her the second she finished talking, waiting for you to get up and walk out the door, but you didn’t.

So, you completely caught her off guard when you pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, placing a soft kiss onto her temple, the redhead relaxing in your embrace.

“You’re the strongest person I know. It’s not your fault, you were forced and conditioned to do the things you did.”

Natasha focused on the sound of your voice and took in your words as you softly caressed her red locks with one hand.

“Baby, the amount of respect I have for you is immeasurable. I applaud you for turning your life around for the better. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Your words had brought tears to Natasha’s eyes, which was a rare occurrence.

She was expecting you to run for the hills, but you chose to pull her closer instead.

In that moment, Natasha knew she never had to be afraid of love again.

You were the most understanding and accepting person she’d ever met.

You would never judge her for her worst mistakes; Natasha had found the one for her and she wasn’t ever going to let go.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

Now, a few months later and a year into your relationship with the Russian, you were both lying in bed and cuddling.

You were both watching a movie when a particular scene came on. It was of a family gathering around a Christmas tree, children excitedly opening up presents with gleeful smiles across their faces.

“You know, my sister and I got to take pictures with a Christmas tree once.” Natasha spoke, her eyes fixated on the screen.

You looked up at her in shock. You didn’t know that Natasha had a sister. She told you that she didn’t even so much as know her parent’s names.

Natasha looked down and noticed your confused expression. She reached for the remote on the bedside table and paused the movie before returning her gaze to you.

“There was a mission I was assigned to in Ohio, as a kid. I was assigned to play the daughter of two other Russian spies, Alexei and Melina. It wasn’t just me though, there was a little girl who was assigned as my younger sister. Her name is Yelena.”

Natasha had a reminiscent, happy smile on her face as she recalled the brief period time of her childhood. She looked absolutely adorable as she rambled on about this part of her childhood.

“We took photoshoots of various holidays to make our family look more realistic. My favorite one was Christmas. Even though I knew they were just empty boxes, I wanted to rip open every single one.”

Natasha let out a small giggle at the thought. Even though she had a smile on her face, you could feel and hear the underlying tone of sadness in her voice.

“Yelena and I would spend hours outside, just playing together. Swinging on the swing-sets, looking up at the stars, bending over backward, and getting into a ridiculous competition to see who could hold the position the longest… I always let her win.”

You could see the fondness in her eyes, the longing. It warmed your heart that there was a small glimmer of light in Natasha’s past. There was at least a sliver of hope that she clung tightly onto throughout her time in the Red Room.

“After 3 years, the mission ended. Yelena and I were sent back to the Red Room and were torn apart from one another.

Natasha’s breathing grew heavier as she recalled the unfaithful day. The sight of her sister being taken, and not being able to do anything to help her; still haunted the redhead to this day.

“There were so many men with guns and armor, they literally ripped us away from each other. I was eleven and she was only six.”

Your heart sunk at your girlfriend’s words as her smile dropped. She tore her eyes away from yours as she blinked rapidly, fighting back tears, but failed. You reached your hand up to her cheek and wiped away the fallen droplets.

“I haven’t seen her since. I’d like to think that she found a way out and got a life of her own; a nice, happy life.”

Natasha placed her hand on top of yours before looking down at you once more. You sent her a soft smile when she let out a shaky breath.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I knew that the it was all fake, but it was still the best part of my childhood. It was real to me.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You nodded your head at her words. She took a brief pause, trying to regain her composure, before continuing.

“Even if we have no true relation to one another, and even if I haven’t seen her in years, she is still my little sister.”

Natasha finished off with a big gasp as sobs wracked her body. You sat up from her embrace and pulled her into your arms, just like you had many times before.

You rubbed her back soothingly as she cried into your shoulder, her tears hitting the exposed skin.

“She sounds amazing, baby. I’m really happy that you had some sort of happiness back then and I hope one day you get to see her again.”

You whispered and Natasha pulled away from the hug, still in your arms as her emerald eyes surrounded by a sea of red, a result of her crying.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I doubt she’d even want to see me. I didn’t even try to find her. I’m a horrible sister! I-“

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You immediately pressed your lips against hers, effectively getting the Russian to calm down. You broke the kiss when her breathing slowed.

“Honey, of course, she’d want to see you again. Like you said, you guys are sisters. I’m positive that it was just as real to her as it was to you.”

You reassured your girlfriend, her eyes a pool of worry and guilt. You rubbed your thumb against her waist, the material of your her hoodie beneath your touch.

“From what you’ve told me about the Red Room, it would’ve been impossible to find her. Stop beating yourself up over it. You’re the best, and I’m totally not biased or anything.”

Natasha let out a small chuckle at that and you smiled at her, wiping away the last of her tears. She collapsed into your hold further, shoving her face into the crook of your neck.

“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you so much.”

Natasha’s words came out muffled as her face pressed further into your skin.

“You never need to thank me for anything. I’ll always be here for you, Natty.”

You hugged her as tight as you possibly could, her cold skin meeting your warmth. Natasha let out a small sigh at the feeling.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Wherever you go, I go.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x reader #black widow #request done

[xandria]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 : ᴄᴏᴄᴋᴡᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ

   — includes : Bokuto, Hinata, Tendou

𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 : 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘥𝘶𝘣𝘤𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘢 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘵

♡ this man is too pure, does it just to be close to you ♡ innocent and wholesome, that’s how it always starts anyways ♡ he promises he only has pure intentions when he approaches you ♡ “wanna be as close as we can” 🥺 ♡ he whines it out like a justifiable reason as he slides your panties to the side ♡ you want to believe him, you want to trust he'll behave ♡ 100% does not behave though, honestly, this is your fault, you know better ♡ you know how quickly he comes undone buried in your tight, wet heat ♡ not that he cares though, he's positively shameless ♡ he definitely wants to do it in a dark room with friends because he can   ♡ gets off on the idea that he’s balls deep in you and no one in the room knows ♡ but you know better, so why the hell did you agree to this? ♡ oh, that's right

- ♥ -

   His strained gasp sounds off in your ear, shaky and stifled, caught in his throat as you clench around him. With his lips pressed to your ear, you are going absolutely insane with each subtle noise he makes, each stuttering breath from the way you affect him going straight to your cunt and making you soak around him.

Your muscles ache from the tension of trying to stay still, and the way his breath comes out ragged and unsteady let's you know he's in the same shape. Luckily, his labored breathing can't be heard over the movie playing in front of you, and no one can see underneath the blanket, where your dress is hiked up to your waist, Bokuto's shorts pushed down slightly, and every inch of his cock stuffed inside you. His hot breath on the back of your neck, the way his lips graze the shell of your ear, his taught chest and chiseled arms embracing you tightly, it is taking everything within you not to jerk your hips violently. You can tell by the way his heavy pants in your ear get louder, and his roaming hands become more grabby that your little 'cuddling season' is getting very dangerous very quickly. 

You freeze when Bokuto moves slightly to adjust his position laying on the couch. At least, that's what you hope it looked like from above the blanket, because beneath it, he just angled his hips to pull back an inch and then push forward, sighing deeply through his nose as he presses the head of his cock as far as it will go. You inhale sharply, wincing when it makes a louder noise than you wished for, then relaxing after a few moments of no one noticing. Only when his tip is hugged tightly to your cervix does he settle back into stillness. You want to turn and glare at him, but the lethal grip his biceps have around your waist keeps you stationary in his arms as his large palms roam your sides.

"Kou," you whisper in a warning tone that he doesn't register. He simply buries his face in your hair and hums happily in response, pleased that you are calling out to him. You look up to assess the potential risk around you. Atsumu is the most likely to notice first, as he is sitting on the couch right beside you, but he also seems the most distracted, idly chatting with Hinata during the movie. Ok, you figure, if you can just keep Bokuto in check, maybe you can keep from-

Your breath catches in your throat, thoughts interrupted, when bokuto's hands suddenly slide underneath your shirt, palming your breasts. Teasing your nipples with his fingers, he pinches your sensitive buds, and whether it be involuntary or as revenge for his teasing, your hips jerk back into him, and your walls squeeze his cock tightly, something you immediately regret.

His head falls back and he sighs in pleasure a little too loudly.

A few of your friend's eyes are now on you, specifically Atsumu's, who's staring hard at the two of you with rightful suspicion, before he says a phrase that you and Bokuto, unfortunately, know all too well.

"Hands check!" At the order of the blonde, you and Bokuto raise your hands from under the blanket to show that they aren't up to anything nefarious, and your friends, satisfied, return their attention to the movie.

Thank god they didn’t ask y'all to stand up.

Some time passes and you start to get hopeful, Bokuto seemingly behaving himself as he lays still on the couch behind you. Your friends start to leave one by one, and you actually think for a moment that you'll get out of this scandalous situation with the entirety of your dignity intact. That is, until another guest exits, leaving only Atsumu and Sakusa left, and you feel sudden suspicion and dread at how your boyfriend starts glancing between them and the door. You are moments away from giving Bo a small reminder of patience when he opens his mouth to address the remaining guests.

“Okay guys, I’ll be completely honest, I’m balls deep in y/n right now and getting pretty into it, so, if you wouldn’t mind heading out!”

The small, lingering moment of silence after your boyfriend's announcement rings loudly in your head, and you will yourself to be less aware of your friend's deadpan stares.

“...Really, Bokuto? Really?” Atsumu’s jeers, and then starts laughing. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” Sakusa regards you, apologizing on behalf of the two fools in the room. 

“...It’s fine...“ You mumble from behind your hands, burning red with embarrassment. 

You can just feel the beefy man behind you beam with excitement as he watches your friends stand and leave. He’s on you the second the door is closed, moaning lowly in your ear,

“M’fucking dying to finish what I started,”

♡ needs it for naps 🥺 ♡ this pretty boy isn’t often tuckered out, but when he is ♡ he still wants to be close to you sooo bad  ♡ just needs to hold you and feel you wrapped around him  ♡ so he’ll crawl into bed, pulling you into his grip ♡ burying his face in your hair and his cock in your cunt <3 ♡ and just, pass out like that ♡ heaven for him, sometimes inconvenient for you. ♡ don’t even think of trying to move though, this is his sacred time  ♡ even if you could escape his beefy grip, ♡ he’s a light sleeper :) and grumpy when waken from naps :) ♡ oh, and he takes it real personally if you ruin his precious cockwarming naps

- ♥ -

   You knew you should’ve said no… you’ve got groceries to get and a meeting to catch, but, when your tanned, beefy, exhausted-looking boyfriend walked through the door with heavy steps and spotted you on the couch with those tired hooded eyes, you just couldn’t resist what came next. 

When he crawled over to you with that lazy smile, a husky “hey there, pretty puppy” falling from his lips, when he wraps his strong arms around your torso and pulls you in, and especially when he grinds lazily against your ass, moaning a few praises before pulling your panties to the side and stuffing himself inside. Every single time, he hums happily at the way you have to adjust, twitching and whimpering in his grip, before relaxing into his form, and every single time, he is asleep within moments.

A while later, you try to glance at the clock, your movements limited by the big spoon embrace he has you trapped in, and you just know it’s probably time to get up. 

But… the soft hum of your boyfriend’s warm breath is on your neck, coming out in steady huffs, his nose nuzzled up to the skin behind your ear, and fuck. You thought you had stronger will power than this. 

With his warm embrace, the way his heartbeat thuds rhythmically against your back, his taught chest rising and falling with his peaceful sleep… Honestly, nothing would have made you get out of this heavenly embrace, except maybe, the burden of responsibilities, or maybe the ache of your hips from being wrapped up with your knees toward your chest for so long. You try to shift your hips to a more comfortable angle, and he twitches inside of you, reminding you of how positively filled you are right now. 

You huff, from sensation and frustration, and when the wall of muscle behind you doesn’t wake, you try your luck again. You push your legs against his thighs, trying to break free from the curled position his legs had pushed you in. You manage to free yourself some wiggle room, and you hopefully start to squirm your way out of his arms, when a sudden grip on your wrist catches your attention. 

“What’re you doing?” His tired voice grumbles out, almost innocently, but you know better, you’ve been caught. 

“I was… I have-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp when he thrusts forward suddenly, pushing his now hardening cock deeper into you.

“You were what, baby? I thought you were being my cocksleeve,” he coos out the degradation with such dripping affection you almost feel guilty for waking him up from his nap. He leans in with a sigh, placing soft and sweet kisses on the skin of your neck, right below your jaw. “You’re so perfect as my little cocksleeve…”

“Shoyo,” You sigh in pleasure and relief, your eyes fluttering closed at his soft touches and warm praises, mistakenly taking his kind demeanor as a sign you were in the clear. You gasp in shock when he flips you over on your stomach in a mere moment.

“But, you woke me, so” He says, his sudden tone almost alarmingly dismissive as he sits up from you, leaving you whining at the loss of his warm chest on your back. He grips your hips in his large hands with vigor, “Now I have to punish you, okay?”

“S-Sho! Wait!” Your fingers grasp at the sheets as you tense. “Can’t,” is all he gives you, running a rough palm down your spine to squeeze your ass harshly.

“You’re my puppy, aren’t you? That means you’ll let me use you when I need you, right?”

♡ he does it to tease himself, and you ♡ can you tell this man is a masochist AND a sadist? ♡ can you tell this man has an orgasm denial kink AND an edging kink? ♡ ok anyways ♡ he’s fucking wild so he finds it hottest in really risky situations  ♡ catch him pushing your skirt up and telling you to be quiet in the corner of a crowed train <3 ♡ or how about on the balcony of a crowded party? ♡ a sea of dancing people behind him, a night sky of city lights and passing cars in front of you ♡ he’ll hold you in place while spilling filth into your ears ♡ after all, as long as you stay still ♡ he just looks like a good caring boyfriend, hugging his girlfriend on the balcony <3

- ♥ -

   Music and muffled voices pound dully through the glass of the closed balcony doors, colored lights flash in your periphery, mostly blocked by Tendou’s looming frame behind you as the cold wall of the balcony is pressed tight against your chest. Your fingers white-knuckle the railing in tight fists, attempting to ground yourself, as the painful stretch of your boyfriend's cock threatens to do you in. He's only halfway in you, and your head is spinning as he barely pushes more of himself inside.

Your hips jerk forward to escape the harsh stretch of his cock, but the tense tightness of your cunt won't allow you any reprieve, only succeeding to suction him in tighter as you pull forward. 

“S-Shit, you better stop fucking doing that, sweet girl.” His long fingers have a mean grip on your hips, your skirt bunched in his knuckles, and you can practically feel purple forming beneath his fingertips. 

He waits for you to still and then sinks farther into you. You twitch again, and he reprimands you with a harsh warning squeeze to your thigh, leaving the flesh tender and aching.

“Better listen to me pretty thing, or I’ll have to pull out and leave you an empty mess on this balcony.”

“No! Satori, please,” you pant, the muscles of your thighs and ass trembling from trying not to push back into his agonizingly still hips. 

His long, curved, perfect cock is slowly driving inch by inch into your wet heat, dragging his pronounced head against your sweet spot at a speed so slow you could choke. 

You whine and grab desperately at his hands, the one on the railing and the one digging painfully into your hip.

“I said, stay still angel, or this whole party will see how fucking desperate you are for me," he moans lowly, voice deep and taunting, a stark contrast to the soft kiss he plants on your cheek. He fists the flesh of your hip harder, despite you keeping yours just as still as his, and you whimper.

"Don't get us caught, and maybe I’ll give you what you want,” he practically growls in your ear, his killer grip on the balcony making the veins in his hands protrude. The throbbing of your bruised hip under his large grip and the dripping lust from his voice is too much, your knees shake and a deep, broken whine leaves your throat. Tendou shivers, releasing his hand on your side to wrap his strong arm across your waist, trapping you against him. He moans into your hair, deeply inhaling your scent.

“Fuck, unless, that's what you want, huh? You just tightened around me, does getting caught stuffed full of my cock turn you on, slut?” He's growling in your ear and you whimper, your head falling back to his shoulder, tender walls fluttering around his cock. He leans down and groans against the skin of your neck, taking the opportunity to trap you in a tighter hug against the balcony and finally push his cock into you to the hilt. His lips smile against the side of your throat as you gasp.

“That is what you want, isn’t it? You’re just a filthy fucking slut for me, aren’t you? My dirty little whore,” You quiver around him as he grunts in your ear, his aching cock twitching against your cervix. 

You can tell by the way his voice shakes and grows huskier, and the way he tightens his arm around your waist, fingertips digging forcefully into your soft flesh, that he is just as weak and trembling with pleasure as you are.

“I should just fuck you right here on this balcony, shouldn’t I? Let everyone below us, everyone at this party see how good I fuck you, show them how hard I make you cum, yeah?” He’s practically panting in your ear, his cock painfully still, and painfully hard, straining in your tight, gummy walls.

“I’ll spread you open and show the whole world you’re mine, you want that?” His iron restraint has held up until now, his hips jutting forward in a moment of weakness, jolting you into the cold balcony and making you cry out his name.

“Yes, please! Tori! I’m yours!”

The pleased, sadistic chuckle that tumbles from his throat is low and vibrates you to your soaking core.

“That’s my fucking girl,”

#got a lil excited with hard dom hinata <3 #this took me forever because I wrote bo and hinata's and then they both got deleted :) so #bokuto x reader #hinata x reader #tendou x reader #bokuto smut #hinata smut #tendou smut #bokuto headcanons #bokuto koutarou #hinata headcanons #hinata shoyo #tendou headcanons #tendou satori #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #tendou imagines #hinata imagines #bokuto imagines #hq #hq smut #hq headcanons #tw.exhibitionism #tw.degradation #tw.dubcon #haikyuu smut #xans!headcanons #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you

[certified-sloth]

Apparently, I was feeling down in the dumps just like any other day, but i'm really trying.

To anyone who's feeling the same as me, here's a bit from your comfort characters.

The brothers + Dateables & (platonic) Luke comforting you in their own way

TW! Please read at your own risk!

How they comfort you

Lucifer

He places his papers down, he'll look up at you for a moment

He'll stand up and would go to hug you in a comforting way

He's the eldest, he's not the best at consoling, but he carries a huge burden with his responsibilities

Even that and his past regrets hurt him, and he keeps it to himself

He'll let out a shaky breath and kiss the top of your head lovingly

"One day... it would stop raining, I promise you."

Mammon

He smiled sadly as he held you closer, the both of you were watching a movie together

As the family's punching bag, even he has these thoughts from time-to-time

He's the go-to if you want to be comforted

He'll put off his tsundere act, he's the second eldest

If the first-born can't be the nurturing type of the elder brothers, he has to step in and have them tell him their problems

Even Lucifer would admit things to him sometimes

"I can't tell ya when, but i'm always here whenever ya need me. I'm your first man, remember?"

Leviathan

He wouldn't know how to react to that

He feels the same, he has very negative thoughts

So both of you would end up becoming a pile of pain

But he'll silently pull you to his lap, shyness be damned

The both of you need an escape

So you ended up having an anime marathon, watching in silence as he held you close

"Normie... even I don't know how to answer that."

Satan

He'll put his book down, he'll immediately pull you into an embrace

Resting his chin on your head as he gently stroked your hair

He comforts Asmo at times, so he'd know a bit more about consoling others

He'll pull away and tell you so many things that would distract you from how you felt

If it could help you feel better, he would whisper everything you wanted to hear

He'll kiss every inch of your face lovingly, as means to say you aren't alone

"It would get better someday, maybe not today, but you're never alone."

Asmodeus

You couldn't exactly push yourself to tell him, so he had to assure you so many times he wouldn't judge

When you tell him, he'll smile at you softly

He'll place a soft kiss on your lips and tell you how amazing you are for being this strong

He'll smother you with kisses so long as you allow it

He would praise you, he would remind you that you're loved

He'll smile softly at you whenever he sees you, he would take extra care of you than just flirt, because you mean just as much

"Darling, anyone could feel this way, you shouldn't be ashamed of it... I'll always be here for you."

Beelzebub

He was the older twin between him and Belphie

He knows how to comfort his brothers just as Mammon

He'll sit beside you silently, having you eat snacks with him

As you tell him every single troubles you have, he would silently listen

He'll smile a little at you to brighten the mood

He'll lay on his back and let you lay on his chest as he plays with your hair

"You're doing great right now, i'll always be by your side."

Belphegor

He'll nuzzle closer to you as you were both cuddling

His face nestled onto your neck as he breathes softly

He wasn't the best in comforting people other than Beel

He was the type to be comforted more often than the one to comfort

He was upset that he couldn't assure you like his brothers

One hand would rub comforting circles on the back of your hand while the other pulled you as close as he could

"I'm... not the best with comfort, but i'll be honest with you. It won't get better, we'll just have to find a way to cope with it... keep staying strong for me, please."

Diavolo

He'll frown in worry as this was new to him

He wasn't sure how to comfort others as the rest tend to walk on eggshells when around him

He'll likely ask for advice from Barbatos

Would come back to you and give you a big bear hug

He doesn't like seeing you like this

But if it's your way to open up more to him, he doesn't mind

"This is new to me, but you can always tell me everything."

Barbatos

He'll pause with his work first

He'd make you take a seat as he sets a piece of cake and tea in front of you

He would smile gently at you as he lets you tell him everything

This wasn't new to him, Diavolo had these moments as well

He'll take you to walk with him as means to distract you

He'll tell you words of phrase

"I'll always be right by your side, confide in me if it gets hard for you."

Solomon

He'll hum understandingly

He wasn't one for physical contact much, neither was he one for comfort

But he'll try his best to help you in every step of the way

Sometimes, he would come to you with a few experiments

He'd like to have you escape from your thoughts as much as possible

"I don't mind you like this, we're the same, we can always lean on each other."

Simeon

He'll scoop you in his arms and shower you with love

He'd tell you lots of things

He'd call for you to bake with him and Luke so you could get your mind off it

But if you'd want to talk about it, he wouldn't mind either

He'll give you bunny kisses as means of comfort

"You're strong, little lamb... never forget that."

Luke

He'd want to help you

But he'll likely ask guidance from Simeon to help you better

He would bake for you

He would compliment you

He would hug you tightly to push his point across

"I know you're having a hard time, but i'll always be here for you!"

#obey me shall we date #om! #obey me headcanons #obey me comfort #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #levi obey me #satan obey me #asmo obey me #beel obey me #belphie obey me #diavolo obey me #barbatos obey me #solomon obey me #simeon obey me #luke obey me

[the-insomniac-emporium]

RE8 Ladies + S/o with chronic pain HCs

Type/cause of chronic pain is kept ambiguous, but some of the hcs might seem geared towards migraines, since that's the main thing that I personally struggle with (and these are very definitely comfort hcs). Features Alcina, Bela, Cassandra, Daniela, Donna, Mother Miranda, and as a 'lil bonus Ava. Not particularly long, but the combined length of every character is enough to be put under a read-more (About 2,500 words in total).

Alcina:

It’s difficult for her to know that you are suffering, but be unable to deal directly with the source of the problem. Chasing off unwanted nuisances or hunting down threats to the castle was one thing, trying to solve complicated medical issues was another thing entirely. If only she could tear your condition asunder without tearing you asunder.

That being said, she’ll still support you endlessly, however she can. It doesn’t matter how expensive or hard-to-access possible treatments are. If there’s something you haven’t tried, and are interested in trying, she’ll find a way for you to get it.

The biggest, and arguably most helpful, thing that she does is set up a space for you within her office. She spends quite a lot of time there for her family’s business, but doesn’t want to leave you alone on bad days. So this was her idea of a nice compromise.

There’s a very comfortable sofa that folds out, a cabinet filled with the softest blankets, and several pillows of a few different sizes. Servants are instructed not to interrupt Alcina’s work without good reason, but she has a couple who ensure your snack cabinet is always well stocked.

If there are certain environmental factors to your condition, such as sensitivity to light and sound, she does her best to reduce their effects. Lights remain dimmed (or she’ll rely on candlelight), her music will be kept quiet enough to be soothing, and she’ll refrain from taking any calls while you are with her.

Bela:

To think that Daniela once tried to claim that Bela would “never need to know any of that (medical) stuff”! Sure, there haven’t been many people who have needed (and received) treatment from her, but that didn’t mean the skill was useless. Admittedly, she doesn’t know enough to replace one of your doctors, or try to create her own version of a cure, though no one really expected that much from her.

Still, she knows enough to help soothe your pain. Obviously there are different techniques for different kinds of pain, and she does research before trying anything specific. Bela’s also aware that you’ve been dealing with this for far longer than she has, meaning that you probably wouldn’t be pleased if she came in, acted like an expert, or assumed that you hadn’t really thought about the most popular remedies. So she’s tactful with how she approaches things, always checking if you’re familiar with a subject before she tries to explain anything.

Bela ends up surprising you with a lesser-known skill of hers: Massage. Studying anatomy has given her a decent idea of the body’s more sensitive spots, and the rest she’s figured out through her own, ahem, experiences. Regardless of where you’re in pain, your girlfriend can help reduce your suffering. Okay, well, if your pain is more internal than external, it’s a bit harder for her, but she can still help you relax.

One of her favorite things to do after giving you a massage is to just pull you in close for some cuddling. Preferably you’ll be in her lap, with her arms around your waist, her chin tucked on top of your shoulder. Then she’ll do her best to whisper you praises, reminding you how strong you are, and that she’s incredibly proud of you.

Cassandra:

She’s, uh, not great at this. At least not at first. Maybe she’ll never be more than good at it, though. But she’s definitely trying! And learning! By Jove, that’s something, right?

First things first, she’s always ready to try to distract you, primarily through kisses and gentle touches. Fingers softly trailing over your skin, lips tickling your neck, featherlight in all the right places… It’s not inherently sexual (though it can quickly go that route if you ask), just intimate. It’s harder for your brain to process pain when you’re also processing pleasure, so there is some science behind Cassandra’s methods, even if she herself isn’t entirely aware of that.

While she’s not great with words, there are certain things that she manages to articulate well enough. For one, she makes sure you know that you aren’t a burden. Taking care of you- no, helping you take care of yourself- is a labor of love, if a labor at all. More than that, she knows full well that you probably don’t like feeling pitied, or coddled. That, over time, being sick ends up being beyond frustrating. She never wants you to feel like your condition defines you, or like it puts any strain on your relationship.

That said, she’ll avoid telling her family any specifics unless you do first, and ensures that the staff know how to accommodate you (without telling them why, because it’s none of their fucking business, and she’s their boss, and for fuck’s sake it’s their job to do what she tells them. Maybe she gets a lil bit overzealous with it). At no point will she ever complain about helping you, or otherwise indicate that your needs are “troublesome”.

At the end of the day, the best comfort she brings you is her presence, simply being near you, endlessly loyal, tireless in her affections. Especially considering she gets clingier the worse your symptoms get.

Daniela:

Hope you enjoy cuddling. Seriously. There’s nothing Daniela loves more than curling up with you, and that goes double for bad pain days. Some adjustments will be made position-wise if you need, but she’ll still hold you as close as possible, for as long as you need. Although she might eventually fall asleep (because damn are you comfy), she’ll play with your hair or run her fingers along your scalp until she eventually dozes off.

If you want a little more from her than light snoring, or if she feels like going above and beyond, or honestly just if she’s thinking about how much she loves you (so all the effing time), she’ll do something she’s always loved in movies/books: Reading to you! She’ll pick special books that neither of you have read before, so you can experience them together on your sick(er) days. Which does, of course, mean that it might take months to finish even a single one. Surprisingly, Daniela won’t even briefly consider reading any without you. Even if the plot is really good.

But, uh, if you wanted her to read to you on a day where you aren’t bedridden? Hell yes, my friend, she’s absolutely down for that!

On days where she’s too busy to spend hours upon hours in bed with you, or days where her ADHD is just particularly bad, she tries her best to leave you with a “substitute”. AKA a massive fucking teddy bear, in a reddish brown color, with a green bowtie. Custom ordered (The Duke did not dare tease her for it). There’s a heart stitched onto the stuffed animal’s chest, which features your first initial alongside a D for Daniela.

Additionally, she has a blanket she only brings out for you, which she periodically sprays with her favorite perfume. That way you can hold it close when she’s not around, as if you were cuddling her. For her sake, though, don’t hold the teddy bear or blanket too tightly when she is around. Homegirl here will get jealous of inanimate objects, even ones that she gave you.

Donna:

“I think I have a tea for this…” Damn right she has a tea for this. Donna has a massive garden, with dozens if not hundreds of different plants, including a variety of herbs/spices. At least one of them has to be a little helpful for you. Whether it relieves pain, helps you nap off some of your misery, or just distracts you by tasting bloody-well delicious! Besides, few things make you feel quite as loved as holding a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hands, knowing your lover made it just for you. Like a hug in a mug, it is!

Similarly to Alcina, Donna will also try to create a comfortable space for you, but isn’t likely to put it downstairs with her workshop. Instead she’ll let you take over one of the larger guest rooms, customizing it to suit your specific needs. There will be some easy to care for plants for decoration (ones that won’t mind potentially missing out on natural sunlight), a couple relaxing paintings, and a shelf near the bed with things to help you pass the time, mainly books.

Furthermore, she’ll do her best to keep you company as often as possible. She’s naturally a fairly quiet person, so you won’t have to worry about sound if that’s something you’re sensitive to. While she prefers using a sewing machine, she’ll do things by hand while you’re in pain, just to reduce the chances of you getting irritated by the sound.

Speaking of potentially irritating sounds… by god can Angie be difficult to be around when you’re ill. Thankfully, Donna is perfectly understanding of this, and, as the only person Angie ever listens to, makes sure to give the doll a stern talking to about your health. To your immense surprise, it actually works. You’re not exactly sure what was said, but Angie certainly becomes a lot more compensating afterwards. She’ll keep her antics to herself, and usually even on another side of the house from where you rest, but only for as long as you’re tucked away in your room. As soon as you set foot outside, her restraints are metaphorically removed. All hell breaks loose (as is her universe-given right as the physical embodiment of both Chaos and Entropy).

Mother Miranda:

If the two of you weren’t lovers, there’s a decent chance you would completely misinterpret her actions. She might come off as irritated, like she has bigger concerns than your health, you fragile little human. After all, she is a goddess (well, practically). But the truth is that she’s aching inside every time you have a bad pain day, knowing that (for once) she cannot cure your ailment. Maybe if she had infinite subjects with the same condition as you…

But, at the end of the day, that’s the problem. There’s only one of you. One of her beloved, her little human darling, so dangerously fragile in comparison to the scale she works on. Even with all the time in the world, which she most certainly has, she cannot cure you without taking incredible risks. With your life at stake… It is a gamble she refuses to take. You are hers, and while she hates to see you suffer, the truth is that she’ll always be selfish enough to let you endure on your own.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t help, though, just that she doesn't do a full-out experiment on you. Instead, she keeps notes. She’ll track your activities, bedtimes/when you get up, dietary habits, when you have pain, what you do to treat said pain, how effective the treatments are, etc, etc. All of this can be very useful in establishing patterns (a skill she’s gotten very good at, in her many decades of being a scientist), which can in turn lead to less pain days.

(For example, many people with migraines find that certain foods seem to trigger a migraine, or at least increase the chances of getting one. Though admittedly they don’t always end up cutting the food out of their diet. I mean, come on, you want me to give up chocolate? You want me to drink normal milk, like an adult? Kidding, kidding, I don’t have any food triggers. Nor do I particularly enjoy chocolate milk, nor do I dislike it.)

Moving on! While her work seemingly takes precedence over your condition, Miranda is not heartless, and she does do some things to lend you more direct comfort. Specifically, she tries to work in the same room as you when she can, normally while making electronic copies of physical documents, or while looking over the details of a finished experiment. She’s not always one for cuddling, so she won’t often get in bed with you during the daytime. But at night? Yes, fine, she will wrap her arms around you, maybe one of her wings too if you like how soft they are.

Just don’t think that she secretly loves every second. It’s not like she’ll spend half an hour whispering about how sweet and adorable you are as soon as you fall asleep, or anything like that. It’s twenty minutes at the most.

Bonus!Avaskian Caldwell:

“Oh, fuckin’ mood!” Followed by a solid thirty seconds of pure regret. Seriously, though, Ava has spent xer entire life (starting at age 10) dealing with chronic migraines. For a while xe also dealt with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), which meant lots of chest pain, but that (thankfully) faded as xe grew into an adult, as is fairly common with the condition. If anyone in Castle Dimitrescu understands unrelenting, unexplainable pain, it’s xer.

That being said… Ava never really managed xer chronic pain, at least not when xe was at xer worst. Xe had to drop out of school because of it. Hell, xe didn’t have a “real” job until xe was almost 23! Didn’t have a chance until things just calmed down for xer. So xe gets anxious whenever you talk about your health, worried that things are (or will at some point be) as bad for you as they were for xer. Other than that, though, you might initially think that xe doesn’t care, or didn’t understand the conversation.

Truth is, xe knows how absolutely fucking ANNOYING it can be to have to explain your health to every new person you meet (like the dozen different doctors you’ve met over the years, possibly every nurse who takes your pulse and thinks it’s a little bit high). So xe did a shit ton of research on your condition, in order to reduce how much you need to explain. Sure, xe will still have questions, and there are always aspects that only you can tell xer, but it’s a nice gesture.

As for helping you destress, xe’s pretty much a mix of Bela and Miranda. You’ll get plenty of massages (because Ava has learned from personal experience what sort of touches help with which sorts of pain), but also some scientific insight on any noticeable patterns. Lots of holding you close and telling you that you’re the coolest person in the world, and that Ava feels beyond lucky to have you.

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #mother miranda x reader #oc x reader #avaskian caldwell #j has ocs #re8 village #resident evil: village #hcs