#the other thing is that at some point or another you have to realise that you cannot See the way everyone interacts with your work

[penguinbuttcheeks]

Three's a Crowd - ghost x reader

summary: you’re the latest addition to the 141. price and gaz have each other, ghost and soap vice versa. you start to realise that you’ll never be able to gain the attention of your comrades - let alone your lieutenant - the way you so desperately crave.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

cw: angst, typical cod violence, character death, mw3 spoilers

word count: 2,318

A/N: feeling angsty so have this :D (FURTHER PROOFREADING IS NEEDED !!! but im eepy and impatient its 2am)

also i genuinely can't live without music, so i always end up adding a song that kinda reminds me of my fic. its not something that needs to be listened to - simply any song i find that kinda suits the vibe of the story and also just sharing some good music for others to enjoy !! idk, just something i enjoy doing (im rambling)

Being the latest addition to the TaskForce 141's ensemble had its downfalls.

While you were immensely grateful for the opportunity to have been recruited by John Price himself, there was still the lingering discomfort of trying to fit in with a new group.

It was childish really. Such a minuscule concern whilst in the midst of fighting a war.

It had been several months since you were enlisted, yet your relationship amongst the four members seemed to lag in comparison to the camaraderie they each shared between one another. Years of companionship amidst the terrors of combat had strengthened the bindings of their connections, forcing them to rely on one another when faced with life and death. It was something that you had yet to experience with them.

You know that these things take time - especially given that fact that it was so common to lose comrades in this field of work. Everyone was terrified of getting attached. 

Over the coming days, the five of you had been preparing for an upcoming mission. It was crucial that everything panned out perfectly. Price wasn't leaving any room for fault, not when the safety of thousands were at stake. thousands of civilian lives. Men, women and children.

While Price and Gaz - with the assistance of Farah - had set out to Urzikstan to lead an infiltration on a Konni base they believed Makarov was operating at, you were assigned to Verdansk with Soap and Ghost. 

The task; stop Konni from destroying the Gora dam.

The three of you were currently grouped at the meeting point, scoping the area before setting off to defuse the bombs scattered across the site. With the little numbers you had, you were going to have to rely on stealth. You hated stealth.

Stealth required trust. Trust in your comrades to complete their designated tasks without fault, trust in your comrades to stay alert. 

You had none. 

You were determined to change that succeeding this mission.

"Be advised, Konni personnel are grouping near multiple locations below you." Laswell's voice snaps you from your thoughts, her voice ringing through the comms. 

Ghost and Soap look up at where you were perched. You were their sniper for this mission. They were relying on you to keep them covered and you were not going to let them down.

You raise your hand in the air, giving them a thumbs up to alert you were ready and in position. The two men send a curt nod in return before setting off to track down and defuse the explosives.

With Laswell over-watching the operation, and you giving the duo support from a higher vantage point, the low numbers were of little concern. The four of you knew that you would be able to carry out the mission smoothly. Besides, 

Failure wasn't an option.

You watch as Ghost silently takes out several guards, advancing his way through the facility as he tries to locate the bombs.

"Bagged 'em" Laswell confirms another kill for Ghost.

“Two guards, on your three by the barrels” you alert Ghost, watching as he stealthily approaches the guards. “I’m lined up, I can get them in one”.

They’re on the ground before Ghost can even blink.

You grin as you peer through the scope of your sniper. This was going to be cake.

“Good to see you in one piece, Johnny” Ghost huffs, splayed on the floor of the heli alongside you and Soap.

“Haven’t felt better, LT.”

It was a scramble trying to meet with Nikolai and board the aircraft, lifting off amidst the enemy's gunfire. You ensured there were no men left standing by the time you all were long out of sight. 

Price would be pleased. 

“Yeah, I’m okay too. Thanks for asking” you huff out in annoyance, watching as Ghost lends Soap a hand, lifting him to his feet with a small grunt. 

You get up by yourself, a simple side glance sent your way from Ghost before both the men turn to Nikolai. At least Soap had the decency to return a relieved smile.

“Mission accomplished, Bravo. You three took down an army and saved lives tonight” Laswell congratulates through the comms, her usual monotonous voice doing little to praise the successful operation that the three of you had completed. “Makarov will not take this well.”

“He’s a big boy,” you respond with an amused grin. “He can handle it.”

“Don’t underestimate the rage of the Russian’s” Nikolai chuckles back in response, looking back at you momentarily to ensure all three of you weren’t seriously injured.

“Speakin’ from experience, Nikolai?” You smirk back, walking over towards the front of the heli where both Ghost and Soap stand, your sniper left discarded on the metal floor of the military carrier.

“Firsthand” Nikolai simply snorts back.

The rest of the ride back is silent, Ghost and Soap sat beside each other, a singular empty seat distancing their proximity. You? You sit across from them, alone on the empty bench. 

You don’t mean to let your guard down. You were simply exhausted and finally allowing yourself to stare aimlessly into space as the adrenaline in your system slowly drained from your veins.

“Don’t.”

The harsh voice has you crashing back to reality, eyes focusing in place to meet dark hazel ones, narrowed and directed at you. You hadn’t realised you were staring at Ghost while you silently decompressed. It was a rude startle from your meaningless thoughts.

“Sorry, I zoned out. My eyes were just comfortable” you respond awkwardly, adjusting your seating position and clearing your throat. “Didn’t realise I was staring”

Ghost simply glares back at you, his usual cold and emotionless stare making your hands clammy and stomach flutter. You quickly avert your gaze, turning your head away to stare at the metal tread plate flooring, instead focusing on the loud hum of the aircraft you were all seated in.

It suddenly grew too hot, too cramped in the helicopter. It was claustrophobic - suffocating almost.

You’re the first to scramble off the heli, exhaling in relief when you’re no longer boxed into the hunk of metal you had just spent the last hour travelling in. With your sniper draped loosely over your shoulder, you make your way inside the small safe house nestled on the outskirts of Verdansk. You don’t bother to wait for Soap and Ghost.

It’s late at night. Your body is near spent. Your only goal in mind was getting the heavy military gear off your body to finally allow yourself the comfort you crave. 

It’s a small shack, only the bare minimum provided. An old, tattered couch and rickety square dining table with four chairs on each side, each varying in design and wood finishes. They evidently didn’t come as a set. There is a small room off to the side, various camping cots packed and stacked against the furthest wall, at our disposal for when we choose to retire for the night.

Ghost, Soap and Nikolai soon enter after you, Nikolai retreating into the small room to set up the cots and get some much needed rest.

You keep to yourself while Soap settles on the small couch, Ghost taking a seat at the dining table to clean and check over his equipment. 

You hastily peel the stiff fabric from your body, vest and outerwear folded on the floor in the corner of the living room, your sniper. Resting atop of them. Your aching body can finally breathe now that the extra layers were finally discarded

“Ye did good today” Soap finally speaks up after a beat of tense silence. You turn to him in slight surprise, not expecting him to initiate any sort of conversation with you. “We’d have been fucked without ye” he continues, Scottish accent thick as ever.

You can’t help the small smile that creeps on to your face.

“You guys did the dirty work. I simply scoped the area from above” you assure modestly, not wanting to come across arrogant.

“Aye. Saved our asses several times. We owe you.”

Ghost simply scoffs quietly, standing to move outside where there would be less chatter. He was tired and didn’t want to indulge. 

Your smile is wiped from your lips, replaced by a slight frown at Ghost’s exit. It doesn’t go unnoticed by the Scot.

“He’s a crabbit old man. Pay him no mind” Soap assures you, voice low and seemingly unaffected by the Lieutenant’s departure. “The lad’s not one for meaningless blether.”

You nod, evidently disappointed

Soap observes you silently, taking in your defeated expression, a low hum of acknowledgment absentmindedly leaving his tight lips.

"Ye like the Lieutenant" he voices aloud. There was no room for argument in his statement.

Your head darts to Soap in stunned horror, mouth parted in shock. You're unable to respond, Soap speaking up before you're able to form your words.

"Keen een."

You immediately shut your mouth. There was no point in arguing. He knew.

Soap chuckles, a bitter and amused sound that leaves you feeling uneasy.

"Foolhardy choice"

You watch as Soap leaves to the makeshift bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone with your thoughts and anxieties. You don't get much sleep that night.

Returning to the 141 base was a relief in itself.

Touching down on British soil allowed you to finally relax. You were finally familiar with your surroundings once again.

You sigh happily upon entering your private quarters, throwing your bag carelessly to the ground. A shower was in order. You waste no time in stripping down bare to prepare yourself for the best shower of your life.

When you emerge from the shower, hair still damp and leaving small patches of dampness along the fabric of your fresh shirt you immediately make your way to the rec room. Some caffeine was in order if you were going to set your sleep schedule back to its usual.

You inhale sharply when you see Ghost sat alone, immediately on edge.

He turns his attention to you momentarily before wordlessly resuming back to the reports in his hands.

Message received.

You quietly walk over to the coffee machine, pulling out a mug as you put the kettle on.

You keep your eyes trained on anything but Ghost, not wanting to anger him again. You can't help but lose yourself in your thoughts once again as you wait for the water to finish boiling.

It wasn't anything more than a physical attraction that you had towards the aloof man. You didn't know the slightest thing about him. You did know however, that he was loyal. Just from your observations alone - it was obvious just how passionate he was about the 141. He would lay his life down without a second thought to ensure a mission was successful, to ensure his teammates were safe.

All of his teammates, save for you.

He was a machine during training, a monster on the field. Rippling muscle and deadly speed, accuracy that rivals even Captain Price himself.

So many times you've caught yourself staring, admiring from the peripherals of your vision with your lip caught between your teeth. You felt like a lovesick teen in high school. It was absolutely infuriating.

"It won't make itself"

You jolt in alarm, head whipping towards the voice. Ghost simply stares at you, eyebrow raised. His skull mask was replaced by his usual black balaclava he wore around base, the prominent shape of his brow bones underneath the knit fabric the only giveaway of his expression. His thick thighs are spread lazily in front of him, large feet planted on the floor as he leans back against the dark leather couch, papers still in hand.

You quickly tear your eyes away from him once again.

"I know." You internally grimace at your response. Stupid. So stupid.

Ghost chuckles, still eyeing you as you stare dumbly down at the now finished boiling kettle and empty mug.

"You're an open book" he speaks up, shaking his head slightly in disapproval, lowering his eyes back down to his reports. "You need to keep your head in the game, sergeant. This is a war, not a dating reality."

You glimpse over at him from the corner of your eye, fighting down the heat that tries to spread across your face.

"I'm well aware of that" you respond sternly, hastily making your coffee.

Fucking. Soap.

"Start acting like it, soldier"

You swiftly leave, coffee rushed and head lowered in shame. You didn't bother drinking the sloppy coffee, instead tipping it down the bathroom sink and watching as it swirls down the drain.

Makarov was defeated - the 141 finally accomplishing what they had chased like hell hounds for months - finally at its end.

Ghost stares down at your lifeless eyes.

What should have been Soap’s life was instead replaced with your own.

It was a selfless act of bravery.

No one was fast enough to respond. One minute you were here, yelling out to Soap in alarm, the next you were motionless. An instant death after Makarov lodged his final bullet in your skull.

Ghost knows that he should feel something - anything for the life lost. His teammate stolen from life too soon, but he can't find it in himself to care.

Price places a large hand on Ghost's shoulder, pulling him away from the scene.

The Taskforce retreats. They would send reinforcements to retrieve your body, to be able to send something back to your loved ones waiting anxiously on your return.

It was a shame really. The potential you had was evident, destined to continue fighting for your country alongside Ghost, Price and Gaz.

Ghost turns on his heel, following after his comrades and boarding the heli, your empty seat bringing a deep sense of impending doom, the reality finally setting in for the four men.

Ghost scoffs, shaking his head.

Three was always a crowd

#cod modern warfare #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost mw3 #mw3 spoilers #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soapghost #tf 141 #task force 141 #141 x reader #cod 141 #captain john price #john price #captain price #kyle garrick #call of duty x reader

[novlr]

I once saw a piece of writing advice that spoke to the idea that you should start and end a chapter differently. I suppose the idea was that it helps keep the story moving along. I thought it was good advice but didn't like the post and therefore cannot find the full explanation of this point. Do you have any advice like this? For starting and ending a chapter?

As a creative writer, you’re always looking for ways to improve your craft and keep your readers engaged. One piece of advice that can help you achieve this is by starting and ending chapters differently.

This technique can help keep your story moving forward and maintain your reader’s interest, but it is not the only technique you should employ. Like any other part of your writing, it’s all about variation, and knowing what serves your story best is the most fundamental part of improving your writing’s craft.

Starting a chapter

When it comes to starting a chapter, there are several techniques you can employ to grab your reader’s attention and propel your story forward. One effective method is to begin with action, throwing your character into the middle of a scene and immediately drawing the reader in. Alternatively, you can introduce a new character to shake up the story’s dynamics or change the setting to signal a shift in the narrative.

Opening with dialogue is another great way to quickly establish the scene and provide context for the reader. You might also consider posing a question that piques their curiosity or describing a vivid sensory experience to immerse them in the moment. Ultimately, the key is to experiment with different approaches and find what works best for the chapter you’re writing.

Ending a chapter

When it comes to ending a chapter, there are several effective techniques you can use to keep your readers engaged and eager to turn the page. One popular method is to end with a cliffhanger. You can then open the next chapter with something mundane. An example of this would be the shocking entrance of someone unexpected at the end of one chapter, then opening the next chapter with the revelation that is just the goofy uncle the character hasn’t seen in a while. Alternatively, you can resolve a minor conflict, giving the reader a sense of satisfaction while still leaving larger issues unresolved to continue into the next chapter.

Another option is to introduce a new complication, presenting an obstacle or twist that raises the stakes and propels the story forward. You might also consider ending with a revelation, where a character discovers something important or experiences a significant realisation that shifts their perspective.

Creating a sense of anticipation by hinting at what’s to come in the next chapter is another effective way to keep readers engaged, or you can end with a strong image or emotion that leaves a lasting impression on the reader. Experiment using these endings with the opening examples above, and you’ll soon find that there’s a rhythm you develop that suits your writing style.

Variation is key

The key to effectively starting and ending chapters is to mix things up and keep your readers on their toes. Don’t rely on the same techniques every time; instead, experiment with different approaches to find what works best for your story. By varying your chapter beginnings and endings, you’ll create a more engaging and dynamic reading experience that will resonate with readers.

For some chapters, a clear break will work really well, like the example of a cliffhanger that opens the next chapter with something far more ordinary than the reader was expecting. But other chapters will be well served by a simple continuation of the scene. Pacing isn’t dictated on a chapter-by-chapter basis alone; it’s all about the overall arc of the story and how everything fits together. There are no hard and fast rules for how to begin and end a chapter, so in the end, it all comes down to trial and error and seeing what feels right in service of the story you want to tell.

Additional tips

In addition to the techniques mentioned above, there are a few more tips to keep in mind when starting and ending chapters. Varying your chapter lengths can help keep the pacing dynamic and prevent the story from feeling predictable (although some stories are served by consistent length, so do follow your intuition here). Using transitions, like transitional phrases or imagery, can smoothly connect the end of one chapter to the beginning of the next.

Experimenting with different techniques and reading widely to study how other authors begin and end their chapters can provide valuable inspiration and insight. And don’t be afraid to rewrite your chapter openings and endings in as many versions as you like to see what works for you.

Ultimately, trust your instincts; if a particular starting or ending technique feels right for your chapter and serves your story well, then that’s the one you should go with.

#starting a chapter #ending a chapter #writing tips #quick writing tips #writers #creative writing #writing #writing community #writers of tumblr #creative writers #writing inspiration #writeblr #writerblr #writing advice #writing resources #writing help #how to write #let's write #help for writers #helping writers #resources for writers #writing blog #writer #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writing stuff #on writing #writer stuff #writers corner #writers community

[miscling]

Edgeslut Loop

‘So if I cum, the day resets.’

‘And everyone forgets?’

‘Everyone except me and the person who made me… but only if they know about my ability…’

‘That explains… so much, actually…’

You were popular, successful, and religiously into denial. If all it took to have another go was to have a wank and orgasm, then you could go back and try again…

‘I’m… This is why you wouldn’t let me make you cum? But… Wait…?’ a thought occurred to me, as I glanced at the clock. It was early in the day, nothing lost if I reacted badly and you had to start over. ‘Have you told me about this before?’

‘Once,’ you admitted. ‘It didn’t go well, it was… too soon.’

‘Thank you for being honest, but why now?’

‘There’s something I really want to try…’ you said.

The first step was easy: lock you in chastity for the rest of the day. No chance of backing out, no chance of changing your mind. No chance of you cumming and resetting the day so that I wouldn’t remember.

When we came back together that evening, the second step could be put into action. Your reset point was 8am, and if you started the day gagged, blindfolded, and in bondage…

Just before midnight, the fun began. I tied you down and let you sleep tied up, though neither of us slept particularly well for the excitement planned for the day ahead.

I woke up at 8am, and watched you, still asleep. It was perfect. Moving as quietly as I could, I reached for your magic wand. I’d start your day with a bang, literally. Did you really think I’d believe such a far-fetched story just like that? I pushed the wand into your sweet spot and put it on maximum.

It didn’t take you long to wake up, or much longer to realise what I was going to do. Your body thrashed, forcing me to hold you down with my other hand so I could pull the hardest orgasm out of you I could. You exploded with pleasure, shaking with the vibrator until you collapsed.

I blinked. ‘So when does it h–’

My eyes opened, 8am. ‘–appen?’ I sat up in bed. You were asleep, bound. ‘Huh! It works!’

My exclamation woke you up.

‘Okay, let me try again…’ I said, and made you cum again in five minutes. You tried to resist, but I didn’t let you win. On the next loop, I waited to see when you would wake up naturally. That became my target.

After that, I started stimulating you before you woke up again, seeing how long I could stimulate you for before you woke up. When you did, I made you cum and started over. For at least a week, you knew nothing but constant stimulation.

When that grew old, I started testing things. We didn’t reset if I ruined your orgasm, so I started seeing how many ruins I could get out of you in a day. I’m certain you would have killed me if you hadn’t been tied up, but you didn’t give the safeword signal.

You didn’t give the safeword signal for a month, and I kept going. I could take breaks, some days setting up a vibe on you and going for a walk, calling a friend, or trying every take-out place in the area. I considered taking off your gag for a day or two just to check in, but I figured your mind is probably utterly gone, all in the space of a single endlessly looping day.

So I kept going. It has been… about a year now. I am still finding new ways to torment you, and like you asked, I'm not letting you go until 8am tomorrow.

Now, time for your next orgasm…

~~~

Inspired by this ask from @themiracleengine to write a smut story based in a time-loop.

Reblog if you enjoyed this story, and check out my others under the Miscling Writes tag!

#miscling writes #edgeslut #timeloop smut #fantasy smut

[sflow-er]

I heard people are mad because they feel like August should be apologizing to Simon also, and I think that’s like, a no-brainer because of course he will – – he’s changed now. He’s not the same person who did that thing so – – we saw him suffer and now he apologized to Wille whom he knows and then – – I’m sure when [August and Simon] meet, he’s going to talk to [Simon] about it too. Linnéa Roxeheim, director of S3 eps 5& 6, PRP interview 59:00-59:22 (– – used for legibility, the redacted phrase is 'you know')

So...this kind of seems to confirm something I've been thinking since I watched the season: the lack of apology from August to Simon feels less like an intentional, character-defining writing choice and more like a mishap overlooking or even retconning the August-Simon conflict.

Some thoughts under the cut.

That conflict was one of the central building blocks and driving forces back in S1. Simon wouldn't have ended up selling drugs if it wasn't for August looking to buy, Wille wouldn't have found out about August's finances and been able to use them against him, and Alexander would not have been framed to save Simon. And for that matter, August's eagerness to pin the blame on Simon was likely fuelled by the fact that he wasn't just a sosse sleeping with Wille, but also a constant thorn in August's side. Someone who had even physically roughed August up at one point.

Still, I do believe August's decision to post the video mainly concerned Wille. I've written about that too many times to rehash it again; let's just take his dismissive reaction when Sara says Simon is distraught in S1E6 at face value. And that made perfect sense for his character, considering his only moral code at the time was (elite) loyalty.

However. From S2 on, the history between August and Simon has been sidelined, and the focus has been on the conflict between August and Wille.

We didn't see Simon suffer any more daily consequences from the video in S2. He could already sing karaoke in Bjärstad without people giving him dirty looks, and both the rumour mill at Hillerska and the hate comments online had stopped. Not being allowed to sing his song at the Jubilee was a concrete consequence, but even that felt more like an obstacle for Wilmon and an opportunity for Wille to stand up for them. Simon and August barely even interacted over the season - but at least Simon did refer to Sara knowing everything August had done to him in the gun range scene, so that was something.

I had hoped for the August-Simon conflict to be picked up again in S3. Even if the writers wanted to focus on other relationships and tensions, to me, it felt too essential to pass up. It would have been a clear sign of August learning the accountability and empathy that he needed to grow, and it would have also provided some much-needed closure for Simon (and tied the series together as a whole). I guess the writers felt differently.

Even though the focus on Simon getting hate on social media again could have provided an easy tie-in, the vile hate messages focused on his and Wille's relationship, as well as him being a POC. Apart from Linda's comment in the settlement negotiation, I don't think the video was even mentioned once in all the hate comments we saw. There was no indication of the media or the public having dragged it back up either (or asked who filmed and leaked it, but that's another matter entirely). Nor were there any references to Simon having already received some hate after the leak - on the contrary, it seemed like he was completely blindsided by all the vitriol. I do realise that the scale was much bigger this time around, but still.

Circling back to the August-Simon conflict, there's also another aspect that is easily overlooked. Namely, that Simon himself actually seemed pretty content to just put all his dealings with August to rest after the settlement was finalised. The only time the two of them even interacted after that was all about Sara. It could have also been an opportunity to show Simon's own feelings, but that didn't materialise.

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure Simon could still use that apology, but I never got the impression that he needed it the way we fans needed to see it. Based on S3, you might even think their only source of conflict was Simon coincidentally being on the video, and when that was settled, Simon was okay just moving on with his life.

Which brings me back to the ending.

I always figured that August was portrayed as genuinely remorseful towards the end. Yes, I would have liked to see more of his growth and development (even just showing his reaction to the sale of Årnäs instead of having Simon say that Wille said it was a fitting punishment would've worked wonders)... But the authorial intent seemed to be that he had already taken enough steps. His and Wille's reconciliation was as sincere as anything could get, with Wille not forgiving him as such but agreeing to move on, start healing, and even wish each other well. Wille was sincere when he congratulated August upon graduation and tapped him as the next king, thinking he was well suited for the job (it's the narrative that frames it as a sort of punishment, not Wille).

Crucially, Simon doesn't seem bothered by this. If both Wille and August had truly just ignored the harm caused to Simon and reconciled amongst themselves, with Wille essentially giving August the position that everyone but August still thought was all August ever wanted...while Simon was still hurting and needing the closure of an apology...well. That would actually make Wille look like kind of a terrible partner even right at the end, which clearly wasn't the intention.

We can't be sure if Wille told Simon about the reconciliation when they talked at the lake, but Simon will still know that Wille stepping down means August stepping up, and he is happy about it. Wilmon are off to start a new chapter in their lives, and we don't get the feeling that the lack of an apology to Simon is left as an unresolved issue between them (or between them and August).

So...yeah. I guess I'm just trying to point out that this seems to be another example of a previously important plot line being dropped from S3, and to a lesser degree, also another example of execution vs. authorial intent.

#young royals #young royals season 3 #young royals analysis #linnea roxeheim

[styrofauxm]

On aroace flags...

I want to be very clear, I am not criticizing anyone specific, but rather the current ways of combining the asexual and aromantic flags into a cohesive flag.

But I've had this floating around my head for a while, and I saw a post similar to it today, so I thought I'd throw in my two cents.

Cut because it got long.

In the ace flag, black means asexuality, gray means gray/demi sexual, white is for allosexual allies of asexual people, and purple means community. (I lost the link to the AVEN post, but someone dedicated can find it. Otherwise you can just look up the meanings on the internet to verify).

In the aro flag, the green and light green stripes are for the aromantic spectrum, white is for non-romantic attraction, and black and grey are for the sexuality spectrum. (Post by the creator saying this here: https://www.tumblr.com/cameronwhimsy/102698477928/whoops-yeah-i-just-realised-i-never-actually-made?source=share).

So black, grey, and white all mean different things for each flag, yet in most combination flags, they only appear once. Do they mean what they mean on the aromantic flag or what they mean on the asexual flag?

The light green and green don't have any arbitrary separations for people who do and don't feel romantic attraction, and the grey and black of the aro flag don't have that for sexual attraction either, while the asexual flag does. Cutting out one of the green stripes or moving the black and grey away from each other don't make sense in the context of the aromantic flag.

I've also seen some that add an extra purple stripe. It doesn't mean anything, it's just aesthetic.

Whether or not you like the sunset aroace flag, it is a good example to look at when trying to create a flag to represent aroace people. It keeps the association with asexuality and aromanticism, without using the original colors in ways that don't quite fit. (Color meaning breakdown by the creator here: https://aroaesflags.tumblr.com/post/181034758671/revised-aroace-flag-after-some-conversation-among).

The whole point of having pride flags is to have a meaningful symbol to represent our communities. For aroace people, mashing two together keeps the association with asexuality and aromanticism, but loses the deeper meaning behind each flag.

Honestly, as an aroace person, I think the only way to really design an aroace flag is to depart from the imagery of either flag. That ensures the meanings are solid, and it ensures no one in accidentally excluded (which is, to my understanding, why the sunset flag was created originally - to have a community symbol that included the whole community inherently). But I understand not everyone shares the sentiment.

So, from one aroace person to another, if you are going to design an aroace flag that's based on the ace and aro flags, please keep in mind what those colors mean in the context of each flag, and don't put them in just to have them. And be sure that your design properly includes everyone you are trying to represent.

#neon's void #asexual #aromantic #aroace #aspec #I just dislike that the community symbol supposedly for aroace people who split their attraction doesn't really take into consideration #the symbology of either community #I am a sunset flag defender (just bc it was made w non-sam aroaces in mind doesn't mean it excludes sam aroaces #it even says that it's meant for all aroaces in the original post) #i get that not everyone's comfy with that and that's their right #but more thought needs to go into these designs #posting this so that I stop editing it ......... NOW

[eluxcastar]

number 13 with pierro im BEGGING on my knees

Number 13 with Pierro because eiscoathanger begged on their knees

── ୨୧：pierro x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: another number thirteen from the prompts

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 1.2k

"I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I’ve met."

yk I got stuck cause I didn't wanna repeat every other thirteen request and then suddenly LIGHTBULB 🫵 I thought of how to make this apply to reader in a different context than just insecurity. I think that worked well with the ones I did it for but as I said I didn't wanna do that for everyone we need some fresh homegrown v a r i e t y🤞 that lightbulb unfortunately did not come through on the title

Pierro is a gentleman who once had a kinder heart. Time has weathered that man away into a colder shell, the remnants of a homeland once prosperous torn apart by the gods. It's never a pretty sight to see a traveller who appears weary and lost.

There is light in his life, a child born in the lands under the rule of gods, ironically.

You barreled into his world, elven-born and undying, to wreak havoc on his life and destroy any semblance of carefully crafted peace. You refuse to be tamed, can't settle in one place for too long, and have a hard time with authority. He hates it, though it is admittedly quite endearing. The commitment to never tying yourself down is admirable, yet irritating, as you showed up once every few years for a decade or two before he managed to convince you to stay for a little while longer and indulge him.

It is certainly not easy to calm your free spirit, but he manages. He bends to your whims and wants and finds any number of reasons to keep you put. You humour him because he's working so hard just for the little attention you will spare him.

Pulcinella told him to cut you loose while he could, but he wouldn't— couldn't, by some accounts. You're too overwhelming to simply give up on, bursting in with the destructive power of a natural disaster to spend your time pleasantly at ease with him. Though you destroy every semblance of peace in your path, you offer respite in return, the open arms to greet him when the world is too much. Responsibility falls away into the background of his mind so easily in your arms. It's as if your carelessness rubs off on him with every night you let him settle into your embrace.

You are made for the long flow of time, and each year builds you up. With each passing year, Pierro feels his humanity slip away, like the sands of time seeking to grind him down to nothing but reputation.

None of his inhibitors stop you, unchained by duty and with practically no responsibility to speak of. In a perfect world, he may have adapted even half as well to his sudden lack of home, but barely decades past, the thought of abandoning everything he has worked for sickens him like the highest betrayal. He cannot help but envy your careless disposition.

A home existed for you at one point— probably still does— but you grew bored with it like many things in your life and left it. The world is bigger than one town, area or nation, you reasoned. He can't argue with that outlook.

It is not wrong, but it is flawed, a fact that you are aware of. Staying in one place starts to make you go batty—Pierro can't argue with that either. The less excitement you find naturally in your life, the more you seek to create the excitement you find yourself lacking. That habit is responsible for how much you manage to disrupt him.

The first few times, it was dismissed as a lack of self-awareness. You hadn't yet picked up on his schedule or when he's most busy, so showing up at those times was a coincidence. That is until he realises you do it intentionally. The coincidence is far too convenient to ignore after the first few times.

Your stay as Snezhnaya—a favour to him—is beginning to irk you, and you search for any way you can to make him send you away.

You can't take back your eager agreement, but you can drive Pierro up the wall until he regrets asking it of you. He figures that out within practically seconds of realising that you're doing it on purpose. With that confirmed, his first question was naturally why and while he could have jumped to you simply stirring trouble, it makes more sense for you to be trying to worm your way out of your commitment without losing the opportunity to have him owe you.

It is conniving, and maybe he could fault you for it if only owing you didn't inadvertently work in his favour.

It means someday you'll come knocking when you need him to help you.

You'll come back of your own volition.

There are many nights he thinks of you, your many charms some would call flaws. More than anything, you are interesting, a seeker of adventure with more knowledge to offer than any mere book could hold. You have stories from eras he never lived in and advice you stole from the elderly across the continent for him, returning to greet him with a cheeky smile and some outrageous demand.

Perhaps Pierro should've expected that much, but the trouble you put him through is worth it when he's faced with your smile. Anything to hear you say, "I knew the moment I thought of it exactly who to ask," as if you believe he should have any idea how to make the impossible possible and grant your ridiculous wishes. 

All of it is enough to bring you back to Snezhnaya, back to him where he can see your eccentricities unfold before him. Pierro will wonder endlessly why he's dealing with this, then remind himself of why when he looks at you.

He is dealing with this because you asked it of him.

"Though maybe I did ask too much of you," you add. Pierro likes the way your hand runs through his hair when you say that, perhaps the gentlest thing you're capable of.

You do that to everyone, he wants to say, but only musters a "For you, nothing is too much," in response.

"You'll regret saying that," you warn him. He knows he will.

He likes the way you lean on his shoulder without even asking him first, like you own it, and he's just minding it for you. Maybe he is.

Something happened between now and the first day you met for him to be so utterly taken with you, whether because you did something to him or he was struck by one last curse to love someone whose life is so tumultuous. You should be everything that infuriates him.

A chuckle slips past his defences, the kind only you manage to pull from him, the source of fiery passion somehow able to melt his heart. "Perhaps," he says, "but I could see the worst parts of you and still think you are the most beautiful person I've met."

It is not lost on him how your head briefly lifts as you try to gauge how serious that way, only to return to his side as you lay your head back against his shoulder and resign yourself to simply accepting he's being overly sentimental as you frequently claim he is.

Sentimental or not, he wouldn't mind you showing up to ruin more of his carefully planned days.

#✦ — headcanons. #✦ — fluff. #pierro #pierro x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

[cybotgalactica]

tumblr like vs reblog discourse is hell because people will write entire paragraphs about how "well actually likes don't really support artists because it doesn't feed anything into an algorithm" like that's all there is.

like one human being reaching out to another through the framework of a social media site to be like "hey, i saw this thing you made and it meant something to me" means nothing to anyone. like that's less important than feeding your opinion of someone's work into an algorithm designed with the primary function of keeping you on their site so you can make them more money.

i appreciate reblogs and retweets and new follows and comments just like anyone else. but i'm not going to sit here and resent the people that only like. and i'm especially not going to let myself get so poisoned by social media i convince myself the human behind them doesn't matter.

calling art and writing "content", viewing the concept of support through the lens of algorithms and exposure and statistics. there's nothing more human than Making Things but all we do is try to take all the human out of it.

#maybe i've spent too much time on AO3 #there's no need to share or rely on others for ~exposure~. my writing is just there forever whenever anyone wants to go looking for it #sure a comment is nice but kudos are the only real currency there so there is nothing to devalue them like there is on twitter and tumblr #the other thing is that at some point or another you have to realise that you cannot See the way everyone interacts with your work #it's nice to see reblogs and see what tags they leave etc. but some people will keep to themselves and adore your work in secret #do the artists whose work i've had as pc/mobile backgrounds know about that? know they have inspired me? know they have changed me? #you have to be content with not knowing the inner thoughts of everyone who sees your work #you can't assume anything about yourself or others based on which button someone presses under your art #txt

[flustersluts]

Ah, original anon here, I just needed to get this out there bc I saw I upset you, so I don’t mind if you don’t publish this or if you even don’t believe me that I’m the OG anon but um. I was in a bad headspace when I sent that ask, I had gotten 3 of your posts recommended underneath a post I liked about biting (playful) and I just kinda saw red because a couple of the things posted reminded me heavily of my abuser. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I shouldn’t have sent it, I should (1/2)

(2/2) should have kept it to myself and like, vented in private, not on anon in a stranger’s askbox. That was weird as hell. While I still don’t like, agree with BDSM (triggering) I don’t. Like that people are calling it “puritanical” because puritanical beliefs aren’t just ‘sex bad’ they’re incredibly misogynistic, racist, horrific beliefs. Somebody not liking a particular kink isn’t being a puritan and that minimizes religious abuse. Anyways um I’m sorry for upsetting you. It was shitty.

hey anon, i rlly appreciate u sending another ask(s) to clarify, u didn't have to do that so yeah thank u. anon hate obviously sucks almost always but i did initially get the sense that it was coming from a personal / emotional place and. the notion that some of my posts cld be used to enable or normalise abusive behaviours is genuinely n rightfully rlly upsetting to me and so im glad u told me directly.

like yes maybe u cld have done it in a better way but thank u for sending me the og ask and. yes triggers work in weird ways but posting content that reminds ppl of abusive dynamics (esp when i don't tag my content precisely bc i honestly didn't consider it wld require trigger warnings) is not smthn i ever wanted to happen and i'm going to watch out for that a lot more closely in future posts like. ignorance is not an excuse n im gna be better

on the use of puritan as a descriptor: i know v little abt religious abuse but what ur saying seems accurate and i disagree w/ the general approach of responding to a criticsm by just attacking someone back anyway

(ok i just wrote a bunch of shit in the tags bc i got carried away but i cba to move them to the actual post so yeah read those too if u want)

like yes u cld have done it in a different way but srsly thank u for sending me the og ask and like, im gna be better in future

#my answer to this is a lot messier than last time i hope that's okay #im less tryna present information clearly than talk to u genuinely and #again ur just gna have to believe me but i care a LOT abt ppl not being pressured into abusive dynamics thru kink #i do NOT want to be a part of that not now or ever #and if u wanna send another ask (or a dm) pointing to specific posts ill happily take them down for u #i hadn't rlly realised until today but some of my recent posts have focused on like themes of obsession etc #which i am into mostly bc i like attention lol #but i honestly hadn't considered that they cld be misconstrued as unhealthy bc in my head this shit is all like #within the context of a partnership that has mutual respect and crucially where neither partner controls or limits the others independence #so yeah from the bottom of my heart point taken anon and im so so sorry i reminded u of ur abuser #esp in those stupid fucking recommended posts that u can't control ur exposure to #that was a shitty thing to happen to you and i hope you're okay #flusterasks

[featherymainffins]

Sometimes I think I must be a weird author because everyone keeps making "haha writing the middle part of the story is so hard haha the start and the ending are so easy baba" jokes but I never know how a story will end.

I start and then I write the middle, and then a logical conclusion happens.

#idk it's just so weird to me. #like how would i know how it ends when i don't know what these characters go through. i sometimes have like 10 vague ideas #for how it could potentially end but i never know and i never write the ending before the rest #maybe it's because when i write I'm usually sorting something out through it? so logically I can't know the ending because #I don't know the answer to my problems. im trying to find that. sometimes I don't find it #my first 'book' was written when i was just 8 so obviously it sucked and it was too simple but I'm using it as an example because #back then i struggled with abusive parents and peers who sexually harassed each other and the environment was full of bullying #to the point of some kids bashing another kid's head in #and the book reflected that. i felt confused and didn't understand. it was like my father was two different people #and all the adults encouraged that line of thinking. they kept saying that my father is a good person who loves me and that #only bad people do bad things. that family is always good. i liked my friends. i had good memories of times with them. #they were also cruel children who would relentlessly harass and bully anyone who was poorer than them or uglier or smarter or #who simply didn't agree with them. everyone seemed to want me to view people as either good or bad. #i was trying to think about it in the book. and you know I arrived at the conclusion that there are no such things at all #i realised that people are just people. that unfortunately the father who was nice to me was the same one who beat my mother and #yelled slurs at us. the people who were mean to me and others and who spread lies and convinced boys to beat people up for them #were also the people who were my friends. i found that everyone was capable of everything and that it's all just socialisation #the book ended in a way that reflected this. #this is the way i write most of my longer stuff. there is a question. there is a problem. i try to find an answer to it #sometimes there isn't an answer. sometimes there is. but the course of the story will reflect it either way

[sttoru]

Trueform sukuna who never kisses his concubines. EXCEPT he only kisses his favorite concubine aka reader 😞🎀

𝝑𝑒 synopsis. you’re the only one deserving of lord sukuna’s.. direct affection.

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!reader. fluff, suggestive at most. uhh exhibitionism ? kinda but nothing crazy sexual happens, so pda. size difference. reader gets called ‘doll.’

you’re standing at the entrance of the estate, along with some other concubines. four of them. uraume is there with you as well. you’re all awaiting the one person you’re serving; ryomen sukuna.

it’s silent. the women don’t dare to speak up nor do they dare address you in a menacing manner because of uraume’s presence. you’re thankful for them. you really don’t want to have another petty fight with the concubines. not before your little trip to the village nearby.

you’re all accompanying sukuna to meet up with an infamous clan leader. it’s official business, but you’re needed as a sign of your lord’s high status. you’re basically his trophies that he likes to show off.

“interesting choice of clothing,” sukuna finally shows up. you all bow, showing respect. you look up and only then realise that he’s addressing you. his eyes wander over your figure, “who’s chosen that for you?”

you glance down at your kimono. it’s a beautiful red—suiting the color of sukuna’s eyes. your hair is put up in a neat bun, with a matching crimson hairpin that represented who you belong to.

him.

“my lady-in-waiting, my lord,” you say quietly. you cannot see it, yet can easily feel it; the jealous glares from the four women. they’re dressed in the exact same color red, yet their lord hasn’t paid them any mind. not even a glance.

sukuna just hums in response and makes a mental note of your answer. at least his human servants are good for something. he continues to shamelessly check you out.

“lord sukuna,” uraume interrupts carefully. they bow their head once the king of curses looks their way with a stoic expression, “we’ll have to leave now if we wish to make it there at dawn.”

it’s a gentle reminder, but there’s some urgency in their voice. sukuna rolls his eyes—he may have some official business, but he’s not attending that. not before taking care of other more important stuff first. “silence,” he comments to uraume, heavy steps heading your way afterwards.

your eyes meet his. you blink in confusion, eyelashes fluttering. the sight makes sukuna’s hands twitch at his sides. the way you stare up at him with such naïveté is making him want to destroy it.

you’re unsure what sukuna wants from you. as he orders, everyone stays quiet. you watch as his big hands wrap around your body—your waist engulfed by his warm palms. your eyes widen, but before you can question his actions, your lips are sealed by his.

it’s rare that he does this. kissing sukuna is a privilege. one that no one has ever gotten the honour of having, except for you.

you’ve tasted him. you’ve felt his tongue slither against yours. you’ve had his saliva mix with yours. you’ve had him grunting in your mouth.

you’ve had it all.

no one says a thing. even as your feet are lifted from the ground by the sheer strength of sukuna’s grip on your small body. to reach his lips properly, he has to pick you up and hold you against his chest. it’s his favorite thing to do.

“pretty thing,” sukuna coos with a grin. you can feel his lips curling up menacingly against your mouth. it makes you whine. you instantly shut up once you realise that you’re still outside and surrounded by others—who are basically waiting on you two to be done.

you’re embarrassed to the point that you want nothing more than to hide your face against sukuna’s chest. but he will not let you until he’s had his fill. your tongues swirl around each other passionately, followed by him sucking on your bottom lip and biting it with his sharp fangs.

“my lord,” you whine quietly. you know this’ll end up like that one time in the garden. where he shamelessly took you in front of his servants. you’re unsure if it’s a smart thing to do right now. sukuna has an appointment to go to after all.

his mouth doesn’t stop interlocking with yours. his thick fingers tug at the hairs on the back of your neck, causing you to part your lips in surprise. the king of curses takes his chance and explores your warm little mouth. the one that he’s claimed as his the moment you became his concubine.

you tug at his sleeve as a reminder. sukuna grumbles in annoyance, but he knows you’re right; he should let go. his bottom set of eyes dart over to uraume for a second and upon seeing their expressionless yet determined face, he sighs.

all that official business can suck his dick.

sukuna finally detaches his lips from your now wet and swollen ones. you’re breathing hard, trying to catch your breath. you’re flustered to the point you actually bury your face into sukuna’s chiseled chest. you’re sure this’ll be the only talk around the estate for the upcoming week. you’ll become the victim of some more. . . bullying.

the king of curses notices that you don’t let go of him at all. he grins at the sight of you so desperately clinging onto him. he tries to undo the little mess he made of your once neat hair in the meantime.

“what? want me to carry you all the way there, doll?” sukuna raises an eyebrow, teasing you as per usual. you don’t let go of him since you’re still cooling off. you’ve never really kissed outside of the bedroom. it always happens behind closed doors, so this one time took you by surprise.

you shake your head and plop down on your feet again. “no, my apologies, my lord,” you straighten the material of your kimono and don’t even dare to look at the others. uraume would understand, since they’re used to their lord’s antics, but the concubines will cause big trouble once you’re back home.

sukuna nods in acknowledgment. he still got that evil smirk on his face. his thumb brushes the smudged lipstick from the corner of your mouth, cleaning up his mess once again. he’s nice enough to do so today.

“heh.” sukuna lets out an amused chuckle before walking away and ahead of you—the others silently following, as do you. you’re right behind him, on his right side, as he turns his head to yours, “just so y’know, i’m not done with you.”

you know sukuna isn’t. you can easily tell by the way that he didn’t even bother to wipe the lipstick from his own lips. he’s wearing that stain like it’s a medal of sorts. evidence that you’re the only one he’s ever going to show such affection to.

either way; you’re in for one hell of a ride once you’re back from your little business trip.

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x y/n #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff

[k9wa]

𑣲 RILE HIM UP ! ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — your least favourite cyborg is brought back to you a mangled mess.

⠀ OR

⠀ — being boothill’s mechanic when you lowkey can’t stand each other.

⚠︎ sweet sweet tension, a little suggestive towards the end, gn reader (no referring pronouns), can they fuck already, this was ib by his lightcone, wc 1.9k

boothill's eyes flickered to life, emitting a faint glow of red as his systems began to reboot.

a pair of familiar red pupils met yours, two crosshairs fading into sight as boothill regained his sight and— to your dismay— consciousness.

as the cyborg regained his motion he attempted a step forward, only to realise he didn’t have the feet or legs to do so. the only thing keeping him powered on were some metal claws screwed into his back and a few loose cables connecting to your terminals.

“sugar plum,” boothill's scruffy voice cut through the silence. “do y'care to explain where my legs might’a run off to?”

you actually cocked an eyebrow. how the hell were you supposed to know? boothill was brought back to you in a mess of scraps and wiring— the damn hunk of metal was lucky you made him as blast proof as possible and he was left salvageable. 

“care to tell me how the hell you got this roughed up?”

you asked in turn, crouching down to look at the detached and ruined internals of boothill's torso where the stand-in wires were connected. you ran a finger carefully along the edge of his shredded metallic stomach.

“guess i didn't make you as smart as i thought. time for a newer model, maybe?”

boothill's eyes flickered down to his missing lower half, then to your hand that was more or less caressing him. it was amazing how much annoyance they could show in all their artificial glory.

“look who’s talkin.” the cowboy grumbled, pointy fangs poking out in an irritated grin. 

“how ‘bout, ‘gee, boothill! i’m real glad y’ain’t get blown to smithereens beyond repair!’” 

“it would've been less work for me if whoever blew you up finished the job.”

you sighed as you stood up, putting a hand lazily on your hip.

“how’d it happen?”

boothill bit back another argument with a gruff chuckle.

“some real cutie-pies i was huntin’ down had a lil’ more firepower than i expected. guess they didn’t appreciate me spoilin’ their party.”

boothill visibly cringed as his insult was substituted with some cutesy nickname mid explanation.

“and can you fix my beautiful synesthesia beacon already? this thing is drivin’ me up the wall.”

the request fell on deaf ears as your fingers typed something on your laptop, likely another string of code.

“you’re more concerned about your censor than how long it’s gonna take me to put your legs back on…” you sighed to yourself, still leaned over your workbench, eyes focused on your screen.

“i'm not touching it right now. you’re lucky i’m even letting you stay sentient after this.”

boothill snorted at the remark, brows furrowing in a steady grimace.

“well, ‘scuse me for wantin’ to speak freely–  i’m a grown man!” his pointy teeth shone as they peeked out again in a grin.

“y’know what? just leave yer lil’ tools and all the pieces there— i’ll get my legs back on myself. don’t need no charity work from the likes’a you.” he laughed. “heck, may even give myself a new pecker while i'm at it!”

the mechanic had half a mind to listen, sit back and watch boothill struggle to reassemble himself just to prove a point and simultaneously bask in his embarrassment when the former realised it wasn’t possible.

(not that he would’ve admitted defeat– you would have begrudgingly stepped in and helped before he inevitably messed up his wiring more.)

you stepped back over to boothill, hands moving to hold his cheeks so you could tilt his face side to side to check for any more damage.

“cool it, cowboy.” your eyes squinted in focus as they looked at boothill's, lightly tugging up on his eyelid to check for scratches or cracks.

“i'll get you back up and running, just lose the attitude already.”

boothill's eyes narrowed as he felt your touch on his face. the temperature difference of warm fingers on his cold, mechanical body stirring an oddity where his gut should have been. though he tried to ignore it, the sensation was there, clear as day against all his artificial nerve endings. 

“real easy for you to say,” he huffed, avoiding your eyes as he was examined like a broken toy. “let’s see how peachy you are when yer all strung up and legless, love muffin.”

that censor really was gonna drive him insane.

“just get it over with.'' boothill muttered in annoyance. “and try not t’fuss anythin’ up.”

it took quite some time, as expected, for you to successfully reattach boothill’s legs and fix his mangled midsection. when you were finally finished, you tugged out any leftover wires that connected boothill to your terminals and pushed back in your wheelie chair to beckon the cowboy forward. you pushed your glasses up to your forehead, some hair getting swept out of your eyes with them.

“feel fine?”

boothill rolled his ankles and bent his knees, giving his legs a good stretch to test their mobility.

“mighty fine,” he responded, satisfied to feel they were weighted and moved the same as before. “though i can’t say i’m lovin’ the breeze up my backside.” 

boothill glanced down at himself, steel body completely bare and lacking any of his signature clothing. 

“got my pants lyin’ around anywhere, sugar plum?”

you pointed to another table in the room, where boothills clothes— (or rather the new ones you had to go and get—) were neatly folded, his hat placed on top of them. 

boothill went to get himself dressed, hoisting up his bell bottomed pants and sliding on his jacket. he stole a glance in your direction every so often, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes at the mere sight of you.

the artificial man hit a small bump in the road as he went to zip his jacket (could you really call it that with how little it covered?) up—  his fingers weren’t responding as well as they should have been. he could open and close his fist, but lacked the precision to pinch and hold the zipper.

“hey, honeybun,'' boothill called over to you with a furrowed brow. “didn’t i tell you not to go fudgin’ anythin’ up?”

you, in all your overtired glory groaned, turning around in your chair and waving boothill back over.

“what are you talking about?” 

“my cute lil’ fingers ain’t workin’ that’s what i’m talkin’ ‘bout!”

boothill's footsteps were clunky and loud as he stomped his way back over to his mechanic.

you reached for his hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in your touch as you examined five mechanical fingers.

“make a fist,”

boothill obeyed, curling his fingers into his palm.

“open it,”

he obeyed again, letting them open and relax.

“hold up two fingers,”

boothill tried, but his fingers got stuck halfway into the motion, locking at the joints.

“son of a bitch.” you sighed, turning for one of your tools. “sit back down.”

boothill grumbled and went to hoist himself back onto the workbench.

“least one o’us can say it…” 

“do you want me to fix you or not?”

“i'm sittin’ ain’t i??”

you pulled boothill's shirt off his left shoulder and popped open a tiny panel on the curve of his neck, sliding your glasses back on to the bridge of your nose. with a lean forward you began carefully looking at a few thin wires that filled the space.

boothill tapped his fingers against the tabletop while you worked, that same oddity as before settling in his now repaired gut. he rarely got messed up enough for you and him to spend this much time together, or for you to have to really be in such close proximity.

it’s not uncomfortable, but the feeling is by no means familiar. it’s actually a little embarrassing– a galaxy ranger, a space cyborg and expert hunter, feeling almost flustered at some close contact like some kind of shy little girl.

“something the matter?”

boothill nearly jumped as you spoke up quietly to check on him, voice quiet and so close to his ear he had to refrain from leaning both closer and away.

“nah, everything’s just dandy.” boothill’s voice followed yours– quieter and a little softer as a result of the closeness.

“you’re sure?” you looked up from the small mess of wires, eyes glancing up at your cyborg over the rim of your glasses. “might as well fix anything else that’s bugging you while i’m here.”

boothill would have swallowed if he had the need to lubricate his throat. he shook his head, turning to look somewhere— anywhere else.

yours lingered on him, albeit briefly, observing the clench of his jaw and the way he tried to shift in his seat without being disruptive to your work. he didn’t see the little smirk tug at your lips as you refocused on the task at hand.

boothill’s cybernetic limbs felt almost human in their sensitivity, sending faux shivers up a spine he didn’t even have. the mechanics fingers running down his forearm are doing him no favours as they move to hold his hand again.

“close your fist…open it…two fingers up…”

each command was obeyed, ten gunmetal fingers finally holding up a little peace sign.

“that should be it, come see me if they start acting up again.”

you stood up, tentatively reaching out to fix boothill’s jacket and begin to zip it for him.

boothill didn’t protest the act, but it was…confusing, to say the least.

“reckon i’ll just start seein’ those auto bots again,” he leaned back on his palms as your fingers fixed his collar, straightening it out.  “much as i love our lil’ visits.”

you only hummed, smoothing out a few wrinkles and neatly tucking his scarf into it’s neckline, as he liked. “you could,” you mused, hooking your finger lightly into his collar and giving a gentle tug forward. “they don’t take as good care of you as i do, though.”

this time boothill caught the little smirk on your lips, clear as day and enough to make him question if short circuiting was possible.

you’re doing it on purpose, he knows. the careful touches to his hands and body against the sensors you put there, quiet voice leaving him with a frisson you made it possible for him to have.

boothill returned the smirk, albeit a little wobbly.

“you tryin’a rile me up, sugar plum?” 

he entertained you with a lean forward, two white crosshairs looking right at you while he considered if a hand on your waist was too forward or the perfect cornering move. 

“just like watching you squirm.”

you were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, finger unhooked and going to pick up his hat.

“but say i was,” you didn’t bother with a glance over as you made sure the brim was straight and unharmed. “i hardly have to try.” 

boothill hopped down from the table, following your path and offering a scruffy chuckle when you reached up to place it on his head.

“yeah? and what makes y’say that?” his hand found a place on his hip.

you didn’t respond— not verbally, anyway. a quick flick of your eyes downwards was all he received. 

so he followed, looking down as well, to the very appendage he had insisted you give him over and over again pushing against his trousers. 

his own dream, now his downfall. 

boothill pushed passed you, pushing his hat further down onto his head while he stomped away. the profanities that left his lips filled the air— or rather their replacements. something something i love you blah blah peach cobbler something cutie-pie or meow!

“remind me t’settle for them lovely auto bots next time!”

he opened the door with a firm kick of his boot, stomping out with a scowl. 

as if he wouldn’t be back. you took better care of him, after all.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

#i have a few leaks and drip marketing and thats it #but idc thats enough hes everything #boothill #boothill x reader #honkai star rail #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x you #boothill headcanons #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr boothill #also #i know his synaesthesia beacon replaces the phrase and not only the word #im just not writing all that #UNEARTHLY

[satoruluvies]

pretty privilege

jjk boys when they get pretty privilege right in front of you.

includes: yuji, megumi, yuta, toge and ino

yuji: yuji is super kind and humble, also a bit oblivious when it comes to people treating him extra well or flirting with him. someone could ask him for his number and he'd probably assume this was a normal occurence because how else will you make friends without having their number at the very least right? however he isn't slow to realise that he alone was the one being approached, warmed up to and even being offered discounts for simple things and not you. he'd notice the way you'd look away and try distracting yourself while he was busy with yet another girl coming up to him. next time he promises himself not to entertain other people and politely decline them, focusing on telling you how much you mean to him instead.

megumi: megumi isn't stupid, he notices the little frown that would find itself on your pretty lips (you say otherwise but megumi thinks you're the prettiest person he has ever seen) whenever someone, yet again, comes up to him with a slightly bigger smile asking him for directions and some as far as asking him to walk them to their destination. he'd decline everytime though, of course he would. why would he entertain other people when you're right there? don't get me wrong he isn't rude, he'd show them the directions but not without pulling you closer or holding your hand a little tighter.

yuta: he'd stutter and badly too. sometimes even wanting to hide behind you when he's completely at a loss for words as the waitress offers him an extra plate of food on the house, strangely only for him. on days when he's a little bolder though, he'd accept the free gifts with a thanks and hand them to you. he'd be confused why he's being offered goodies and never you and upon explaining to him, he'd sheepishly try replicating the treatment he got saying something like “if they treat the people they find pretty like that then it's only right for me to treat you like that too, because i think you're very pretty.”

toge: we all know toge doesn't speak because of his cursed speech but his eyes do all the talking. his gaze becomes a little softer on seeing you looking down at your feet waiting for whoever approached him to go away. he isn't really registering what the other person says, his focus being all on you when suddenly he finds a phone being handed to him, the number tab open for him to put in his. he'd hold out his hand, shaking his head and point to you, pulling you closer and zipping down his jacket revealing his pretty marked mouth to place a kiss on your lips. on seeing your surprised expression his eyes turn into pretty cresents as he mutters “salmon roe” and somehow you understand everything he wants to convey to you.

ino: ino would nudge you in triumph with a smirk as the barista offers him his coffee on the house but he doesn't fail to notice the way your smile faltered a little upon hearing the offer. he'd then decline politely but when the barista insists, he pulls you closer and tells them that he comes in a pair so it's either they give you free coffee too or he pays for the both of you. and pay, he does. with your order in hand, the both of you walk out of the cafe as he brags about how pretty he is but also about how lucky he is to have someone prettier, that someone being you of course.

included ino this time bc he's growing on me !!

#jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jjk headcanons #yuji x reader #yuji fluff #yuuji x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #yuta x reader #yuta fluff #yuuta x reader #yuuta fluff #toge x reader #toge fluff #inumaki x reader #ino x reader #ino takuma #takuma ino x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk boys #yuji x you #megumi x you #yuta x you #toge x you #ino x you #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen headcanons

[stsgluver]

synopsis. your husband still ignores the side effects of his cursed technique just so he can get a glimpse of you.

wc. 1.2k

gojo satoru was born with six eyes — a special cursed technique that allowed for an extremely precise manipulation of cursed energy, down to an atomic level. it also blessed him with a beautiful pair of ocean blue eyes that were practically glowing. you’d never seen eyes so pretty.

the drawback to this gift? the skull-splitting migraines that came with the excessive information constantly being processed by his darting eyes.

as a child, the pain was manageable. gojo didn’t have much of a hold on the technique so his weaker state meant that the migraines were subdued as less information was being absorbed. however, as he grew older and more powerful, he would find himself bed ridden for at least twenty four hours if he did not take some sort of measure to protect his eyes.

his go to method was the sunglasses, almost 100% tinted — no other person would be able to clearly see out of them, if they could see anything at all. his sight, on the other hand, so impressive that he could distinguish people and the objects around them through the levels of cursed energy radiated.

still, accidents happened. whether it be him breaking his glasses, or forgetting them as young children do, he quickly learned the drawbacks to his technique. no normal medicine could relieve the pain and no sorcerer was strong enough to either.

gojo satoru met you at fifteen years old on his first day at tokyo jujutsu high. you wore a uniform similar to shoko's but your skirt was closer to the floor than it was to your thigh. your hair was longer than most female sorcerers and tied into a plait that hung against your back. in all honesty, you appeared quite plain to him. nothing particularly stood out. not even your cursed energy was particularly strong.

but you were gorgeous. completely and utterly gorgeous. his glasses slipped slightly down his nose as he analysed you from afar and it wasn't till a slap on the shoulder from geto that he snapped out of it.

within six months of knowing one another, the two of you were dating. you picked up on his habit to forgo his glasses around you pretty quickly and you definitely didn't miss the increasing amount of discomfort that would cause him.

"why do you do that?" you asked him one time.

the two of you were on a date in the park. a picnic blanket had been laid out and satoru had bought basically every single pastry and sweet at the bakery next to the park. you'd barely managed to make it through half till the both of you had given up and opted for cloud watching, giggling as he joked that one cloud in particularly looked very similar to nanami's 'emo' haircut.

satoru turned to his side to look at you questioningly, his head resting on his hand, "do what?"

"take off your glasses," you gestured to the folded pair of black glasses by his head. "i don't have to be a doctor to realise that you're in a lot of pain right now." the longer you lay there, the less satoru was actually looking up at the sky, instead just listening to you as you pointed out shapes and animals.

you knew the toll six eyes could take on his body.

he kept his eyes screwed shut when he wasn't looking at you to ease the the pain from the intense light that was too overpowering for his splitting headache. he winced when a kid screamed too loudly or ran too close and his fingers would push against the sides of his head frustratedly. as if he thought hard enough, the pain would just go away.

his lips tilted up into a lopsided grin, "but i see you."

you twisted so that your body was parallel to his. there was a faint blush on your cheeks now but you didn't look away from his eyes. how could you? "you always see me."

"not with those stupid glasses," satoru frowned, and you think it was the most serious you had seen him since you met. "seeing you and seeing your energy are two very different things."

"you're hurting yourself," you pointed out, placing one of your hands onto his cheek to gently stroke your thumb against his skin. his shoulders relaxed slightly and he leant into your touch like it was magic. like you were some drug that numbed the pain, replacing it with a special serotonin only you could give him.

"worth it." satoru kissed your palm.

that was his only response. worth it. and he stuck to it even a decade later.

"old habits die hard, i guess," satoru tried to laugh at his poorly made joke, but only a few shakey breaths came out. you'd been home thirty minutes and he'd already been sick twice. he'd curled himself up in your shared bed not long after the second time and that was where he was when you began scolding him for his carelessness.

"you are twenty eight," you rant exasperatedly, juxtaposing your voice that is no louder than a gentle whisper, "you have three first years to be looking after right now, but no, someone wanted to go out for dinner and someone didn't want to wear their glasses, and someone-"

satoru's much larger hand squeezed yours, "don't be cruel. i do this for you, my love." his blindfold was now on (you had made him put it on as soon as you had gotten home) but you know him well enough to know he was staring up at you with those lovesick eyes that made you weak at the knees.

"i just worry," your tone eased. you had no issue looking after your husband, you never had. it wasn't his fault that he got the migraines per se. yes, he could definitely be doing more to mitigate the severity, but he was stubborn. that had never changed. "i've seen you fight special grades. i hate seeing a stupid headache hurt you so much."

"lay with me."

"you're sweaty and sick." you scrunched up your nose, eyes flicking to the en suite you'd just cleaned and back to the cold flannel on his forehead as his body temperature fluctuated.

he shook his head, placing his index finger over his lips. "shhh, i'm passed that stage. pretty please? i need you."

gojo satoru was irresponsible at the best of times. he'd been raised to believe he was invincible and had been spoiled to always get what he had wanted. there was no telling him what to do when he'd already decided an hour ago exactly what he wanted to do.

but there was something about being needed by gojo satoru. you could never say no to him. so whether it be due to his own decision to stare into the eyes of his wife during a romantic night out, or an extensive fight against a cursed spirit, you would always be there to clean up and make sure he was wrapped up in bed all cosy.

and you would always lift up the covers and climb in once there was no more that you could do but simply act as a pillow for your husband as he tried to sleep off the throbbing pain.

a/n. um so my previous post on this topic blew up and i’m so so grateful so i thought i’d expand a little on this hc for anyone that was interested. rambled a bit towards the end but i hope you still like it!! love you lots xxx

#— toru!! #gojo drabbles #satoru #gojou satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojo headcannons #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo jjk #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru drabbles

[planete777]

BAD INFLUENCE 2・⁠｡♪ LN4 [+ OP81]

( lando norris x fem!reader ft. oscar piastri)

READ PART 1!

IN WHICH. oscar never knew getting high with lando and y/n entailed... this. but he's not complaining.

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI!, threesome, oral sex (m & f rec.), referenced tit job, face sitting and anal (m rec.), a bit of sub!oscar because it's my roman empire, high hotness pt. 3574144, unprotected in v sex, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, squirting, realisations (they love each other, your honour), they're just nasty omg what have i written 😭

NOTE. PART 2 HAS ARRIVED!!! many of you asked and so i have to deliver amirite?!?!? credit to @mariahcarreyyy for the main smut scene!! i hope it's good enough for ya <3 enjoy luvss.

has now been edited.

‧₊˚✩彡 taglist @laciijane @ferrarrigirl @norrizzandpia @mimi-luvzyu @multifandomwhore-003 (use askbox if you'd like to be added!)

"gonna suck you off so good, osc," lando moans in his ear, breath warm and words dirty, "you like that?"

and as oscar begs him to, he thinks that maybe getting high with lando and y/n isn't so bad afterall.

-.-.-.-.-

oscar feels fucking spent.

his cock lays limp, yet tingles with the undercurrent of arousal, and honest to God, if he fucked once more, he may never cum again.

thing is, he had thought the same 2 orgasms ago, and roughly an hour prior, but, as if the weed trickled a steady flow of dopamine into his bloodstream, the more they fucked, the more he hungered for another orgasm.

had his cock sucked completely dry by his teammate (how the fuck is lando this good at giving head?) as y/n sat on his face and he had all his prayers answered, before another climax was scooped out of him when y/n gave him a good tit job. never had he thought seeing his cum drizzled upon a girl's boobs like icing would be that cathartic, but it only gets worse when lando, the fucking nerve of that man, licks every drop like it were the remnants of a melting popsicle.

"your mouth, lando," oscar had whined out in absolute despair because, one day, it's gonna wipe him out like he never existed.

his teammate only smirked, lips oiled with spit and cum, before dragging his tongue up his girlfriend's neck, eyes hooked to oscar's, and shoving his tongue down y/n's throat. the noises were downright pornographic, pumping more blood to oscar's dick, and they ended up fucking, reverse cowgirl, as the girl wanked oscar off. he swore his dick would fall right right there and then, everything felt too good that there had to be a compromise, but he was yet to figure what that was. if there even was one.

wished he could say they were done, sated to the point where alarms for their flight tomorrow would be like whispers in a rainstorm. however, no matter how many breaks in between they took (consisting mostly of getting more high and sharing one spliff, which made it all hotter), a seemingly innocent make out would lead to one's mouth on another's crotch, or one's cock deep inside another (oscar had never, you know... bottomed, but fucking hell, lando's got some cock on him).

with a throbbing hole, and an equally throbbing dick, inert just minutes before, oscar has the dire need to squeeze one more orgasm before he allows himself to lay at fate's mercy.

a clammy body, flush against his own pink skin, wrings themselves out of his gentle hold and sits up, "you're hard again, baby?"

it's not really phrased as a question, but rather an interesting observation, and y/n trails a hand to grab his dick. it hurts, a dull pulse of ache bouncing through the skin, but it feel so so good and oscar's head is thrown back, mouth open as a heavy moan breaks through.

lando, from y/n's other side, watches intensely as she slowly jerks oscar off. his sternum elevates and sinks in a rapid succession, legs open wide to fully accomodate the hand working between them, and lando is fully mesmerised by it all.

shy, quiet oscar, who could have a man compelled by his hole alone, and besotted by the wonders of his mouth. lando wouldn't mind a throuple, not at all.

a sloppy kiss is left on the skin of y/n's jugular, "you want him?"

he can see the curve of his girlfriend's smile, pushing against her smooth cheek, and she knows what he means.

you want him for us?

"yeah," her hand slows, and oscar whines, lando giggles at that. so desperate. "not letting him go now."

then she's taking her hand off oscar completely, pushing her body into his to whisper, "wanna fuck me while i suck your mate off?"

and oscar's eyes glitter as they snap open and his head nods so fast, it nearly tumbles off his neck, lando's sure.

he's moving, sitting up and looking at the both of them with red, lidded eyes, and they hold so much, that lando wonders how one could retain it all.

y/n is smiling and wiggling onto her front, and it galvanises lando to bare his legs wide, cock hard and weeping precum. she gives it a small teasing lick and sparks zap through his dick, causing a hand to fly to her hair. he pulls ever so slightly, just as a warning, and she's smirking, giving the head a kiss.

"how do you want it?" oscar asks from behind her, calculative. she opens her legs more, pussy glistening, "any way you want to, baby."

he hums, kneading the flesh of her ass softly in confirmation, and grabs his dick to prod at her hole. it's tentative, almost adoring, before he slides in fully, soft and slow. he's so sweet, so gentle, as if it's his first time doing such a thing, and y/n can't withold the moan that pushes past her lips.

"oh fuck, oscar."

he's whining, hands tight around her waist.

lando pushes her down on his dick, saliva lathering his skin beautifully, y/n's nose deep in the tamed bush of hair. she allows herself to breathe, eyes shut tight, but then oscar's moving, so slow and slow deep that she choking on her moans, and lando's cock.

he pulls her off just slightly, but she slides him back in, dick thick and hot in her throat, and lando's moans are whorish.

"yes, baby," he's whining, "just like that."

oscar feels his orgasm creep on him too quickly, tries to think of anything that would slow it down, but the sight before him is so nasty, he loves it. lando is completely gone, fucking into y/n's throat like it's his last ever head, two hands in her hair. he's redder than oscar's ever seen him, curls stuck to his forehead like glue and muscles straining as he pulls his girlfriend on and off his cock.

"fuckkk— shit, i'm gonna cum," he groans out, hand moving to rub into y/n's clit. she's writhing, legs shaking as she slobbers all over the dick in her mouth and lando's face turns pained with pleasure, unmoving, as his eyes roll to the back of his head.

oscar can't stop his orgasm anymore, and it tumbles over him like a tsunami, hips snapping as he fills y/n deep. the sound of high pitched moans cry from lando's mouth, body trembling with the intensity of his climax and just as oscar slowly dwindles from his high, y/n is clenching around him so tightly and a gush of wetness splashes against his thigh.

his head whips down to see his legs drenched and oscar— he's mesmerised.

"shit, y/n," it's an awed whisper, "you're squirting?"

his voice sounds fucked out, and lando's eyes are sliding open, curious. the sound of liquid falling onto the bedding is so damning, and oscar pulls out to watch as her pussy clenches and pushes more out.

it's beautiful, what he's seeing.

"oh my God."

lando gently pushes her mouth off his dick and y/n's sobbing, back arching as she convulses.

"let it all out, baby," lando caresses her cheeks, "look at you being so good for oscar."

and at that, oscar figures he could get used to this, for as long as times wills.

#‧₊˚✩彡 planete.thinks: high!lando #lando norris x reader #lando norris #oscar piastri #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #oscar piastri smut #landoscar #landoscar x reader #formula one x reader #oscar piastri x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lando norris x y/n #formula one x y/n #formula one x you

[lassieposting]

Been thinking a lot lately about romanced Astarion post-spawn ending.

Because like. The Funnest™ thing about cptsd is how much of it gets delayed. When you're trapped in a lengthy, ongoing traumatic situation, you do not have the ability to process and start healing your mental wounds. Your brain and body go into survival mode, and all that matters in the moment is that you somehow cope with the horrors. He wouldn't have been able to even begin dealing with the physical, mental and emotional toll of two hundred years of torture, brutalization and dehumanization while he was under Cazador's control; he is in constant danger, surrounded by sharks in the water, and survival means not letting them smell blood. He can't afford to fall apart, to show weakness. He is shockingly functional and competent in-game, partly because he has to be to work as a game character, but also partly because...it do be like that, to some degree. When death, for whatever reason, is not an option, you just have to shut down and keep going. People adapt in order to survive, and when we learn that showing an "injury" (physical or psychological) only gets us punished, we learn to hide it.

Early-game Astarion is terrified - of Cazador, of Godey, of being hunted down by his siblings, of being staked or sold off at the first opportunity by Tav and the other companions, of turning into a mindflayer, of another painful transformation, of losing himself when he's only just regained his autonomy after two centuries, of what Cazador will do to him if he ever finds him - the man is overwhelmed by fear. He's on thin ice as a vampire, and he's not going to give them any more reason to want him gone. Survival instinct is still in control, and in this new situation, crafting some fragile safety for himself means not only selling his body for protection, but also being useful. Clear-headed. Good in a fight.

Endgame Astarion finds himself in a completely different situation. The time-sensitive overarching threats - Cazador and impending ceremorphosis - have been dealt with. He has a loving, supportive partner he's really starting to feel safe with - Tav/Durge has proved that they're on his side, that their affection is genuine, that they don't just want him for the one thing he's been told he's good for. They've told him they're going to help him find a workaround for his sun allergy. He's getting fed regularly. He has time to stop, and breathe, and just. Recuperate.

For the first time in 200 years, he is safe.

And it will probably take a while to catch up, during which time he will seem to be coping really well, but at some point, his brain is going to realise that he's safe, and it's going to finally start processing the sheer fucking horror he's been through. Since I haven't seen anyone talking about this particular fun aspect of cptsd, allow me to offer u some thoughts on issues Astarion and Tav might end up dealing with in the months/years postgame, during the

✨ Delayed Trauma Response ✨

Memory Gaps: Astarion realising, as he opens up to Tav, that there are entire years or decades of his life from which he has only a handful of memories. Great big blank stretches where he has no idea where he was, who he was with, what was happening to him. Some of the gaps cover years at a time where he was so dissociated and shut down that he just didn't retain any memories of what was going on around him. Some are shorter periods of particularly horrific torture that his brain has deliberately blocked out to protect him.

Recovered Memories: At some point, years into the future when he's done A Lot of healing, he might find that every now and then, a fragment of those lost memories will unexpectedly come back to him. He'll catch a particular scent on the breeze, or overhear a specific phrase in the street, or cross paths with someone whose face is oddly familiar, and he'll get a glimpse of an acute horror he'd filed neatly away where it couldn't hurt him anymore. He very rarely remembers all the context to those flashes of his past. He might recall that he was punished, but not what he was punished for, or he might remember words spoken by a greedy conquest, but be unable to recall the man's face.

Dissociation: Tav knows going into this relationship that Astarion has basically made an art out of dissociating during sex. They also know, from their shared encounter with the drow twins, that he's not great at enforcing his own boundaries - he'll always say he'll speak up and back out if he stops having fun, but in practice he rarely does; he's not used to having the option of saying no to his partner, and being punished if he tries. So they know there's going to be some practice and experimentation and negotiation necessary there, to figure out the rough limits of his comfort zone. But once he starts really processing, there may be days where he just checks out completely. Tav will touch his shoulder, and he'll startle and apologise - "Terribly sorry, darling, I was miles away for a moment there." And Tav will gently point out that he's been sat in the same spot vacantly staring into the middle distance for hours. They've been checking in on him occasionally and this is the first time he's responded. It's unsettling, to say the least.

Lost Time: Astarion was very young when he was turned, physically mature but emotionally juvenile. He was basically an overgrown teenager, in the phase of life where elves are just starting to learn who they are and what they want, and figure out their place in the world. But he never got to do that, because he spent his formative young adult years in a world where everyone became an abuser, where his only means of surviving was to smile and charm and obey while even his basic human dignity was stripped away. He learned that communication is based on manipulation. He learned that the powerful can do whatever they like to the weak. He learned an incredibly toxic, abusive way of life, and that was his family dynamic, his everyday life, for as long as he can remember. Now that he's free and safe, he's realising that the world doesn't actually work that way and that he's now far behind even shorter-lived races in social/emotional development. He's grieving for the person he could've been. He's grieving for the life he could've lived. He's grieving for all the years he already lost, and the ones he'll lose in the future as he flounders to catch up. A decent chunk of his life was stolen from him, and that's time he will never get back.

Flashbacks & Night Terrors: Specifically the kind where your brain convinces you that an injury you had a long time ago is actually an injury you have (or are receiving) right now. There are nights where he'll wake Tav in a panic, because his back feels like it's on fire, he can feel every freshly-carved wound dripping blood and he's in so much pain he doesn't know what else to do. If Tav looks, they see nothing out of the ordinary - old, long-healed scars, same as always. But the pain and the fear and the distress are all very real to him, and all they can do is try to comfort him, cover his back with cool damp cloths or healing salves, remind him he's safe now and they're not leaving him.

Boundary Shifting: Sometimes, Tav can come up and hug him from behind, and he'll melt into them a little bit and go all soft and happy. Other times, he might flinch away or go rigid at the same gesture. A lot of the time, it really depends on how he's feeling on the day, but at least a little bit of it is deliberate - he's pushing to find the limit of just how much autonomy Tav is willing to give him. He wants to know at what point they'll stop respecting his "no". Will they accept it if he doesn't want a hug? If he wants to sleep in his own room tonight? At what point will understanding turn to anger at being rejected? From the drow twins four/fivesome, we also know he's got a tendency to push his own boundaries, and jump into things he's actually not ready for, and Tav would be the one holding his hand through the fallout as he tries to figure out what his own boundaries even are.

Frustration! So, so much frustration. He wants to be Over It already. He wants to move past everything that ever happened to him and never think about it again. He hates that Cazador still has a grip on him, even in death - he doesn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction of dwelling on all his punishments, his cruelties. Sometimes, that frustration is going to explode outwards at Tav - he'll get angry at them for coddling him, or find something small to start a fight over, or he'll set an unreasonable boundary and try to defend it because he's still learning what healthy boundaries look like. Sometimes, it will implode inwards, and that won't be about Tav at all, but they'll get the brunt of it all the same - it might come out as self-loathing or self-punishment, and he'll react by doing something stupid, like trying to drive them away, because having a secure, relatively healthy relationship is terrifying and the instinct is to destroy it before Tav can. There will be yelling and angry tears and deeply unhealthy coping mechanisms, and they'd have to work through that. Trauma is ugly, and Astarion is right at the beginning of a very long journey towards healing.

Abandonment Issues: Astarion wants the relationship to be one between equals, but he's kind of got Tav on a pedestal all the same. They saved him. They helped him get rid of Cazador for good. They chose him and love him despite a wealth of better (in his eyes) options, and all his baggage. They stayed with him even when he has very little to offer them. We know his vanity and obnoxious self-absorption is a fragile attempt to obscure the fact that his self-esteem is in the dirt and he has virtually no self-worth, and there are a couple of occasions in-game where it becomes clear that he's afraid of losing the one person who somehow considers him lovable. After seeing Sebastian and all the other conquests, he begs Tav not to hate him, saying that he did what he had to. If he has a rival for Tav's affections, and Tav informs him that they broke up with the rival to be with Astarion, he's shocked and the first thing out of his mouth is, "You ended things with them for me? Why?" And if Durge tries to break up with him for his own safety, his facade drops and he immediately asks if he did something wrong. So while he's not afraid to argue with Tav, if something happens - like an angry outburst - that upsets or angers them, and he thinks he's at risk of losing that one steady, stable person in his life, he might well cling and overcompensate to try and repair what he thinks is a fracture in their relationship. He'll fawn or beg or crawl into Tav's bed to "apologise" and "make it up to them" because, well, very occasionally it worked on Cazador. With patience and good communication and lots of repeatedly driving the lesson home to overcome 200 years of education to the contrary, he will eventually start to believe that "I'm really pissed off at you right now," does not equate to, "You are the worst mistake I've ever made and I am leaving you."

Panic Attacks: I feel like honestly he'd get some symptoms of these on a fairly regular basis, but he's never been given any option other than just trying to power through them. He's used to realising he's shaking, he's used to feeling like he's watching himself from outside his body, or like he can't breathe even though he doesn't need to. He's very familiar with the sickening fear in his gut, so intense it makes his head spin. He's not used to being comforted or reassured about them - he thinks they're normal. Tav disagrees.

Anyway, cptsd is messy and complicated and often looks very different from person to person so these will not represent everyone's but these are just some ideas for what the ongoing recovery process might make them work through, based on the aspects I'm most familiar with.

Projecting? Who's projecting? I'm not projecting. Shut up.

#bg3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 meta #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #mom said it's my turn to project on the blorbo #astarion ancunin

[de4dlyniightshade]

munch! spencer, reader with migraine, spencer reads something about how orgasms can help with pain

꩜ warning!: this post is +18!!! mdni!

꩜ word count: 1.6k (got a little carried away;-;)

꩜ A/N: honestly i don't rlly like this but hopefully it's good enough :,)

You let out a quiet groan in pain as you squinted your eyes at the tv, trying to watch your favourite show but the light from the screen only made your throbbing headache worse, to the point it was almost unbearable.

"Another migraine?" Spencer asked quietly from the other end of the sofa as he looked up from his book, keeping his voice low so as to not make it any worse. You just nodded, holding your head in your hand and letting your eyes close, feeling slight relief from the light no longer beaming into your eyes.

You didn't get migraines all that often but when you did they could be pretty bad and Spencer hated seeing you in pain and hated the fact that there was nothing he could do to fix it even more, or so he thought. He'd spent hours researching ways to alleviate your pain after your last migraine, which got so bad that it practically debilitated you and you couldn't do anything but sit in a darkened room for hours until it passed.

After reading countless articles and blogs a unanimous opinion was that an orgasm relieves a large amount of the pain, one woman going as far to say that hers was completely gone afterwards. Honestly the remedy was a complete win-win, he'd be able to help you and make you feel better and he'd also get to do his absolute favourite thing at the same time, which just so happened to be eating you out.

"Do you want me to help?" Spencer suggested, laying his book down on your coffee table and turning to face you, a slightly excited feeling bubbling in his chest.

"Remember nothing worked last time, Spence" you murmured, sighing at the realisation that you'd probably end up back in your bedroom, cocooned under blankets for your unforeseeable future. You felt Spencer shift closer to you and you could practically feel the excitement radiating from him, knowing that meant he'd found some scientific way to help you and wanted to try it.

"I researched a lot about migraines and how to help you since the last one and the method that came up almost every time was that a sexual release would alleviate a large amount of the pain and i was thinking maybe..." he didn't even have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was thinking, as soon as he uttered the word "sexual" you knew what he had in mind.

"You seriously think it'll work?" Your tone was hopeful and you were prepared to try anything at this point, feeling your pain slowly worsen the more time went on. you'd tried almost every other remedy you'd been suggested by friends and nothing had worked even a little and painkillers did nothing for you no matter how many you took.

"It's worth a try," Spencer smiled, resting his hand on your lower back. you knew he wasn't just doing this for himself, it was just convenient that he loved nothing more than to be buried between your legs.

"Alright, but if this doesn't work I'm not gonna be happy" you were only half serious, you were happy to let Spencer run his little experiment, considering that if it did work, you'd both not have a migraine anymore and would have had an incredible orgasm, so either way, you got something out of the experience.

You watched as Spencer moved to turn off the TV, leaving just a lamp on so that it was light enough that he could still see but dark enough that it wouldn't hurt your head so much.

You quickly hooked your fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pants, lifting your hips to tug them down over your ass and slide them down your legs, kicking them to the side to deal with later as Spencer moved to eagerly kneel in front of you, placing his hands behind your knees and leaning down to press a chaste kiss just above your left knee.

You smiled as you slowly spread your legs apart, watching Spencer's eyes glint with anticipation. You already knew the drill—moving to place your legs over his shoulders the way he liked it and shifting forward on the sofa to give him better access.

Spencer didn't waste any time with teasing, reminding himself that this wasn't for him, no matter how much he enjoyed it; this was an attempt to alleviate your pain.

You let out a sigh as you felt his warm tongue lick a bold stripe up your folds before he circled your clit, moaning quietly at your taste that he'd grown to love so much.

You tangled your fingers in his hair as he buried his face deeper into you, urging your thighs apart to lap at your pussy, your quiet whines and moans egging him on as he took your clit into his mouth, sucking and licking at your sensitive nub, the stimulation making you twitch and grip his hair tighter, rolling your hips into his face as you let your head fall back against the couch.

Spencer wrapped his hands around your thighs as he nuzzled his face into you, making sure to get as close as possible to you so that he could dip his tongue into your entrance. The feeling of his warm, wet tongue pushing into you causing you to arch your back, a loud gasp falling from your lips, your migraine long forgotten.

"F-fuck spence," you whined as you tugged on his hair desperately, letting yourself grind into his mouth. Spencer continued his ministrations on your sensitive cunt, drinking in everything you had to give him with pleasure as he whined into your wantonly.

You felt Spencer push one of your legs to the side, and instantly you got the message, lifting your leg to sling it over the arm of the couch to give him access. You couldn't help but gasp when you felt his middle and index fingers prod at your entrance, teasing your hole briefly before he began slowly sliding them in. The copious amount of saliva and your arousal making it easy.

"Oh, f-fuck!" you moaned out as you felt his fingertips curl right into your g-spot, the mixture of his mouth on your clit and his fingers pressing right into that spot that made your toes curl, making your mind go completely blank as you whimpered and moaned, his name falling from your lips in breathy gasps.

Spencer began massaging his fingers into your g-spot, drawing needy moans from your lips as he brought you closer to your release, revelling in the way you moaned his name and the way that your walls clenched around his fingers.

You got completely lost in the pleasure as you rutted your hips into his face, gripping his hair harshly and pushing his face into you. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach tighten as you squirmed and shuddered, the feeling of Spencer's fingers nonstop stimulating your sensitive spot making you a needy mess.

"C-close! 'm close, Spence." Your voice was high-pitched and whiny as you warned him, Spencer only pushing his fingers harder into you, the action pulling a loud moan from your throat as your body began to shake and tremble.

You couldn't help but sling your leg back over Spencer's shoulder, letting your thighs clench around his head as you felt your orgasm approaching. Spencer's tongue never letting up his brutal sucking and licking on your clit, sending shockwaves through your body.

Spencer began moaning and whining into you, the sounds sending vibrations through your sensitive cunt and making you cry out in pleasure as your breath came out in gasps and huffs, your whole body tending as you felt your release dangerously close.

"G-god spence, I'm gonna c-cum!" You practically wailed with no regard for how loud you were being, letting out a constant slew of desperate noises when Spencer massaged your soft spot more precisely, coaxing you to your release as he sucked harshly on your clit.

Spencer let out an especially loud moan as you tugged on his hair, the intense vibrations sending you over the edge as your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, your whole body shaking and writhing as your release gushed around Spencer's fingers that continued to curl into you, coaxing you through your orgasm while he gently licked at your clit.

You were breathing heavily and still shaking slightly when Spencer slowly pulled his fingers from your sopping cunt, wincing slightly as his skin dragged against your sensitive walls. You watched as he buried his fingers in his mouth, cleaning off your release like he always did, sighing at the taste before he pulled them out and leaned back in, dipping his tongue into your slit to lap up everything he could, not daring to waste any of it.

Spencer leaned his cheek on your knee when he was satisfied, looking up at you through his lashes as you lay completely fucked out with your eyes closed, a beautifully content expression on your face.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly, watching as you cracked your eyes open and furrowed your brows, scanning around the room and sitting up slightly, a smile spreading across your lips as you looked back down at him.

"I feel...great?!" You laughed slightly, completely fascinated by the effectiveness but also relieved that you'd found something that worked, both for you and for him. Spencer couldn't hide the wide smile that adorned his lips. He was overjoyed that his method worked as he pressed gentle kisses up your leg before he situated himself beside you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and sighing.

"i'm glad" 

(dookie ass ending again ik</3 i need to work on that :,)

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