#I am not confident enough in my skills anymore

[giantkillerjack]

Ya know. I spent most of my life with horrible painful soul-crushing social anxiety.

And after about 25 years of continuous hard work, suddenly, people started pointing out - to my utter bafflement - that I had, in fact, achieved my lifelong dream of being charismatic. I'm 29 now; I feel comfortable in most social situations, and it is a very rare person whom I cannot make laugh.

I am, undoubtedly, finally, charismatic.

But do you know what I found?

I found that now that I have an understanding of which social rules serve which functions -- Now that I have an understanding of just how much damage my awkwardness was doing to people, well,

I found that, actually, my awkwardness never really hurt anyone at all. People were just judgmental dicks to me about it.

Now that I have the skill-level to (most of the time) creatively vocalize what is in my head as soon as I think it and without fear, I can confirm once and for all what I had always suspected:

I was worth talking to when I was quiet.

I was worth talking to when I was awkward, and when the words in my head took time and patience to hear, and when most of my jokes didn't land. I was worth talking to the whole time.

So I just... I hope that if you've ever wondered whether you are worth communicating with, the answer is yes. Absolutely yes. Each of us has a soul worth sharing - and if you and I were talking, I would happily wait for you to speak (or communicate in other ways) without condescending, and I would never shame you for that harmless awkwardness that so many people feel the need to violently stomp out.

You are worth talking to. You just are. And you deserve people who will speak to you with kindness, with patience, and with the basic immutable respect owed to all people.

(I talk about this with some frequency, both on tumblr and in real life. At some point, maybe I'll gather all my thoughts on the matter into one post. At some point, I wrote about my personal experience trying to build my social skill. But I felt the need to say at least a little bit tonight after seeing this other lovely post, and I'm glad I did. It will happen again.)

[joonieskinks]

i got my red dress on tonight

simon ghost riley x reader | fluff, some swearing. just a nice, sweet confession <3 | 3.7k

Hair freshly cut, make up done, red dress adorned and high heels slipped on. 

You felt and certainly looked like a new woman. It was however a necessary effort tonight as this was no casual event. You, the 141, everyone in the unit was invited to a rather fancy gala. A reward of sorts for your efforts in taking down Makarov, a thank you. Your appearance tonight was certainly something you weren't used to anymore. Not when it came down to 5 minutes to get ready in the morning when the Sergeant calls at 4 AM. But this time was different, and no one could deny that you didn’t look elegant, enticing and beautiful. Maybe it was the outfit and your appearance this evening giving you the confidence, or maybe it was your desire for a certain Lieutenant. 

Perhaps both. Both in the sense that you wanted to see what he would think of you.

Nothing big has really ever happened between the two of you, besides the longing stares, lingering touches and laughs in private occasionally. You two were friends, you stitched him back together when he needed it, you were a confidant. You trusted Simon, and he trusted you. Enough to even tell you his name overtime, it was a memory you treasured deeply…

One year prior…

Simon had a blow to his back, grazing by his shoulder, it was truly a miracle the bullet didn’t rupture deeper with lasting damage. He was fortunate, and trusted you to take care of him. You plopped him on a bed and got to work, carefully extracting what you could without hurting him. It was in these moments of exposure, his back bare to you, trusting in you, that Simon would talk. He would thank you, compliment your skills, ask you about your day. It softened you right up, and you would smile, enjoying his voice. Seeing him so relaxed, it was refreshing and certainly endeared you to him. Yes, he presented a tough exterior, but underneath the mask, he really was just a man. 

“Ghost, can you move a little to the left here, I need the angle to-”

“Simon.” 

You paused at the sound of his deep voice.

“Sorry?”

“Simon, can you move a little left…” He muttered out, you could see his confidence rapidly dissolving before you. But you quickly realized and smiled. As he glanced back your way, shuffling to where you needed him to be, your eyes met briefly and you nodded encouragingly. 

“Simon…” Trying the name out for the first time. You liked it. He liked you saying it too.

You wondered if it would suit his bareface... “Thank you for telling me.” 

“I wanted you to know.” He admitted, feeling a rising blush settle upon his cheeks, and one on yours. It was moments like these where he was thankful for the mask. 

...

Slowly but surely, you fell in love with the tall, broody Brit, you just didn’t know how he felt on his side of things. Apart from quite literally being unable to see his face, he was hard to read. But Simon did have his moments, it brewed hope deep within you. He could be soft, even in his most vulnerable moments where anxiety might overpower all- he was nothing but kind to you. He was an enigma, a blend of both steadfastness and sweetness but you loved it. It took some time to warm up to him, but now that you’ve seen the glimpses of Simon, you couldn’t help but want more. 

So tonight felt huge for you. You felt good, your best, finally clean and put together. It certainly was a nice break from the dusty old uniform. You wanted to see his reaction to you, to see if maybe, just maybe, he would be interested too. 

With one last nod in the mirror, you were out the door downstairs to the hotel ballroom. Perhaps a little late, you would at least make an entrance. Approaching the doors to the hall, they were opened up upon your arrival, revealing a marble, descending staircase to the floor. 

One foot in front of the other, you started to make your way down, treading a little carefully in those heels…

Meanwhile the rest of the 141 were standing around their table, finally enjoying a night out and relaxing with one another. 

“Do you think she’ll even show at this point?” Johnny asked, looking around the group for opinions, rolling up his sleeve to check his watch. John was barely engaging, more like surveying the room, Kyle was knocking back a drink, while Simon kept to himself, standing by his lonesome. Hands resting against the back of his chair, face and emotions hidden behind the mask. Events like this were a lot for him, but he was doing his best by just being here. He couldn’t quite get all dressed up without it tonight, just a little too vulnerable. 

“I don’t know. But she’s usually quite punctual, ain't she?” Kyle returned, grabbing another glass of champagne from the waiter walking by. 

“You know how gals are, hair and makeup, fashionably late.” Johnny teased, but Kyle just shook his head.

“Not our girl, mate. Have you met’er?” He laughed, hitting Johnny gently with his elbow. He could only roll his eyes, ready to knock one back himself. His eyes surveyed for a waiter, turning towards the stairs he spotted red. 

A beautiful woman in red. One he actually recognized, one that- 

Oh. 

“Uh- Are you sure about that, boys?” Johnny chuckled into his glass, staring at a certain someone in particular to see what he’s seeing.

They all turned at once, glancing over in the direction where Johnny was currently nudging his head. Kyle was the first to produce a low whistle at the sight of you, while John was squinting his eyes, not quite clear yet. 

But it was Simon that couldn’t stop gawping. It took him a second as well, thinking Johnny was just eyeing up another girl he could possibly take home tonight. But it really was you, looking like a goddess. Your hair was shorter than it used to be, your figure outlined beautifully in your dress. A waist he wanted to get his hands on immediately, claiming you as his. A smile of confidence on your face. You looked truly beautiful. Simon would argue that you’ve always been beautiful to him, but there’s a certain glow about you tonight. You made an effort, he hoped in part that it was all for him. 

You approached the table smiling, all the boys still looking at you. 

“Well well well, Charmer. Don’t you clean up nice.” Johnny said, eyes still wandering along your frame. Kyle could only pat his Scottish friend on the back in defeat. “Alright, alright. Maybe I owe you one”. Price was smiling too, almost like a proud father, happy to have all his kids together again.

That left you with Simon. You could feel his gaze on you, but you felt too embarrassed to look. It was suddenly like the weight of the world was on you, and you were almost scared. 

What if he was staring in disappointment? You grandstanding like this to get a reaction. It was unlike you, maybe he wouldn’t like this. Fuck. 

You pushed the thoughts to the side as you finally looked up, trying to be brave and smile. The boys were looking on as well, sipping and chatting quietly. They all knew what was going on here, all except the two of you, of course. 

You met his eyes for a second before they left you and studied the ground. Your smile dropped when he excused himself, walking away abruptly, not bothering to look back for a second glance. You watched him as he walked away, his suit fitting him just right. He looked handsome, proper like this. Even when he walks away from you, you’re still thinking about how he affects you… Gosh.

His feet carry him up the stairs and out onto the balcony outside. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to choke back your own disappointment. 

Did you look bad? Was he unimpressed? Was he not attracted to you? Was he embarrassed by you? Were you too much?

“Lass, listen. You look great,” Johnny started, taking you out of your thoughts. “He probably just needs a moment. You know how he is.” 

You nodded with a defeated look, accepting the flute full of alcohol from John as he made his way to stand next you. He let you take a sip to calm your nerves a bit before he drew you into a small hug, whispering in your ear. 

“I’ve been around him too long and seen you two enough times to know when he needs you. I think maybe you know it too. Go.” He encouraged, pulling back with a reassuring stare. John searched your eyes, hoping the message would sink in. You could only nod as the thoughts overwhelmed you, patting his shoulder as a thank you. 

You raised your cup to the boys around you before taking a hefty swig. 

“Gonna need this I reckon.” You quipped before you lifted up your dress to walk across the room, heading after Simon. 

Your emotions are swirling. You’re still a little self-conscious, yet determined as you climb the stairs in your heels. Numb, but feeling absolutely alive at the prospect of Simon needing you too. You’ve always felt something there for him, of course. But with the way Price talked, it was like you too had an effect on the Lieutenant. Your heart swells at the thought and you pick up your pace to the door, hands resting against the cool, metal bar. 

You move to open it slowly, catching a glimpse of Simon’s back turned to you, hands gripping the balcony railing tightly, clearly lost in his own head. You slowly make your way over to him, ready to turn if he decided he wanted to be alone instead. 

“Simon?” You softly prod as you approach him. “Are you okay?” 

He scrunches his shoulders up at the touch of your hand, your body threatening to lean against his at any moment. You’re trying to meet his eyes beneath the mask but he keeps staring straight on ahead at the gardens. You two stay like this for a couple moments, Simon still unable to answer, lost in his own mind on how to deal with this. 

“Si, I just wanted to check on you, make sure you were alright.” 

Your thumb brushes his jacket, moving soothingly back and forth. You’re trying to comfort him, show him you care, that you’re always going to be there for him. That you know him now, that you can read him even beyond Ghost’s persona. You’re trying to help. All he has to do is talk. Open up, his mind is racing. Say something, you fool. Say something. 

You pull your touch away from him, flattening out your dress anxiously. Your gaze defeated and falls to the floor. 

He doesn’t want you here, he just doesn’t know how to say it. Take a hint, Y/N. John was wrong. 

“I’m sorry, Simon, if I’ve done anything to upset you. I didn't mean it, whatever it was.” You mutter, your chest growing heavy. “I’ll see you around, okay?” Biting your lips back, you remove yourself from his presence, his smell, him. 

The tears start to prick at the sides of your eyes, you feel ridiculous and crushed and gutted and-

Simon turns to grab your arm, halting you from moving away from him any further. You turn your head at the feeling. His large, warm hand completing wrapping around your arm. He was so big, comforting. It made your heart leap into your throat.

You meet his eyes once more, and this time he holds it. Looking between yours, you can tell he’s thinking, he’s searching, he’s calculating. You understand, and move to stand in front of him. Your hand coming to rest on top of Simon’s, you smile. Nodding, reassuring him that you’re here, you’re patient, you’re willing. You squeeze his hand. All for him.

All for him and his stomach is flipping, his brain is haywire. He wants to pour his heart out to you, he wants to tell you how much you mean to him. He does, he adores you to pieces and wants you all to himself. The Charmer and the Ghost, he wants you, all of you and he needs to know you want all of him too. It just takes a bit to draw it out. But you’re worth it. You’re wonderfully you, you want him and you’re worth it. 

“You look beautiful tonight.” He whispers, and his voice is music to your ears. Just at the sound, you’re smiling like a kid all over again. It causes a tear to escape down your cheeks, and he notices immediately, moving his hand to wipe it away.

“Don’t cry ‘cause of me, love.” You shake your head.

“I’m okay now. I’m here with you.” Leaning your head into his touch, he caresses your cheek. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. He’s warm, he’s comforting, he’s all you want, he thinks you’re beautiful and he’s finally touching you like you’ve longed for. 

If this moment could last forever, you’d surely find a way to become immortal.

“Forgive me.” Simon whispers, his body moving closer to yours. “M’not any good at this.” 

You brush his insecurity off without a second thought. 

“I think you look beautiful tonight too, Simon.” You bite your bottom lip, shy under his gaze. But neither of you let up. His eyes flickering down to your mouth at your movement. Simon clears his throat at the sight, bringing up his other hand to cup your face. He opens his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it.

“I mean it. Very handsome to me.” You breathe out slowly, trying to focus on your thoughts as the proximity to him makes your head woozy. 

“Ghost is handsome to me, and he looks very good this evening.” Your hands move to copy his around his face, touch gently colliding with the mask. “But I think Simon does too… Even if he’s hidden away.” Your thumbs are palming at the material, you move closer to him until your chests meet. A small intake of air can be heard from the soldier, and as you move your head closer to his. He then wraps his arms around your waist to keep you there, acting on impulse. At first he surprises himself, unsure if he made the right call, but your gorgeous smile is there to reassure him. 

Simon lets his forehead rest against yours, the cool material against your skin, calming your aching fever for him, centering your world. 

“I adore Simon. I want you to know that.” You look to his chest, his lips, then settling on the eyes you fell in love with.

“Even if I never get to see him, I choose him.” You remove your hand from his face, but only to make room for your lips. You gently touch them to the mask, lingering as you cherish this moment being so close to the man you love. 

You pull back and his eyes are glued to yours, taking in your action, your kiss, your confession. It’s all he’s wanted and more for years, and now he finally has it right in front of him. But you all too quickly move. You release your hold on him, going to move away. You want to give him his space as you know this is a lot for one night. The last thing you want to do is overwhelm him. The fact that he knows how you feel for him, is enough for you. In time, he will let you know how he feels. And yes, maybe that can be enough for now.

You give him a polite, small smile before going to move away from his grasp again. But he holds you still to him, refusing to let you go. You two remain in each other's embrace for a moment, trying to read one another’s eyes. 

“Simon?” You whisper. Asking him, urging him, encouraging him. He’s trusted you for a long time, he adores you, fuck- he loves you. This is honestly a long time coming at this point. 

Hands move to his head, pulling off the mask hiding his face. You can only watch him as he drops his guard before you, the trust evident. The gesture is a shock to your system, but only love and adoration for his bravery flows after. 

It slips off into his hands and it takes Simon a minute before he can look you in the eyes. He’s both afraid and he’s over the moon. He’s happier than ever but also feels like his heart could stop, he’s everywhere and in between. His soft eyes finally land on your face, your own scanning him for the first time, drinking him in. His heart races a mile a minute, ever waiting for your reaction. 

“Simon…” You whisper. Your hands coming up to finally unite with his bare skin. You hesitate at first, hovering above briefly, silently asking for permission. He nods slowly, eyes still scanning yours for any sign of rejection. 

But you don’t have any. In fact, you think he’s rather gorgeous under the mask. Your thumbs caress his cheeks, whisk delicately over his scars, adorning his soft lips. You’re in his hair, tracing his jaw…

“You really are beautiful.” Another tear slips down your face as the smile erupts. The gesture, his trust in you, his gorgeous face. Your Simon.

He lets the breath he was holding slip from his lungs, relieved. 

“Thank you for trusting me with this, Si.” You whisper once more, eyes moving between his and his lips. At just the sight, you feel a fire starting to burn in your stomach. And he feels the same. The girl he loves isn’t repulsed by his scars, by the man behind the Ghost. Of course he’s overwhelmed at the rush of emotion and support and love he feels from you. He doesn’t waste a second more and brings his hand to the back of your head, bringing your lips to his. 

He’s soft, he’s hot, he’s everywhere. On your mouth, your waist, your head, his chest against yours. It makes your head spin and your body ache for him, more and more. Simon attempts to pull you closer to him, tight, reassuring you he won’t let go. Fuck, and he feels good against you, your nails slightly digging into his shoulders. He’s palming at your waist, fingers slipping down to just above your ass. He can barely resist. 

Simon breathlessly releases you, bringing his forehead back down to touch yours. You hum contently, staring up at the gorgeous man you’ve come to know and love. He refuses to let you go, enraptured by this moment. 

“Si,” You start, still catching your breath. “I want you. All of you. I have for quite some time now.” You laugh a little at your school girl confession, finally admitting your feelings for him. 

“You have me. You’ve always had me, m’just shit at showing it.” You bring him in for another kiss, unable to resist as you watch that gorgeous face produce that deep, deep voice for the first time. It could bring you to your knees, you’re so wrapped up in your love for him and he is too. 

“What do you think the boys will say?” You jokingly inquire. Simon just huffs and smirks. 

“They’ve known for a long time. If anything, I reckon they’ll be relieved, love.” Your eyebrows shoot up and he chuckles, kissing your shocked expression.

“Wait- this whole time?” He nods in confirmation. 

“Since you showed up on base and charmed your way into the 141. Sarcastic but persuasive one, you are.” Simon’s staring down at you, lovingly. Reminiscing, but also thankful for the road walked to get to where you two are now.

“Charmer… Is it you who gave me that? I never figured it out.” 

“Yes, mam. That’s what you are.” 

“My, Simon Riley. Are you flirting with me?” You teased, propping up an eyebrow. Your confidence, your beauty, your love for him- it makes a man do wild things. He didn’t even know he could dip a girl until he tried. 

“Si!” You grasp your hands around his neck, clinging to him for support. But he’s not wavering in the slightest, just gazing at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. 

“I love you.” He confesses, touching his nose to yours. He’s waiting, patiently. He hopes you’ll say it too. 

Your eyes begin to well up with tears again because finally. The man you’ve longed for after all these years…

“Simon, I love you too.” His gorgeous smile cracks onto his face once again, and you bring your lips to his. He may not be much of an expressive man, but he certainly is with you, here with his hands all over you and kissing you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. It’s the happiest he thinks he’s ever been, and it’s all thanks to you. 

His Charmer in that gorgeous, gorgeous red dress. 

/

“Where the fuck did they get off to?” Kyle asks the boys, utterly perplexed. You two missed the whole gala and for what? Price just chuckles. 

“Don’t you think you two already know?” Johnny just rolls his eyes at Price’s comment, motioning for Kyle to follow as he gets up from the table. 

They make their way up to the balcony, spotting your red figure through the glass, stopping as they see you pulled horizontal. The boys take a second and look to see that a man has indeed dipped you, and is indeed kissing you. 

“Who the fuck is that?” Johnny asks menacingly, squinting through the glass. But Kyle just smiles, nudging his friend to glance at the floor.

The mask.

“Well, fuck me- He did tell us he was a handsome fella, huh? Sneaky bastard…”

[nanaminsmoon]

Good morning!!!! I love your blog so much!!!!💗🫶🏾 Your writing is amazing???

Baby daddy Choso????

thank you so much!!! but thanks for requesting this fren bc i love this so much🤭

𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. (𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲!𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

cw: pnv, unprotected sex, oral (f + m receiving), choking (f+m receiving), spit kink, choso calls reader; 'baby' and 'baby girl', this man is a masochist lowkey, yeah this is a lil nasty

wc: 3858

your twins loved their dad; excited feet would scamper their way to your bedroom, three hours earlier than usual, every friday because they knew it’d be the day they’d see him. and you guys had a routine: you got them ready in the morning, took them to school, then choso’d pick them up, and they'd be his for the weekend.

© Rights owned by nanaminsmooninc. Do not repost without permission.

and, during those 48 hours, there was no beach far enough, nor park busy enough, for choso because he would take his girls wherever they wanted to go. every week, pinkie promises to not tell you about staying up later than rules would allow were made between the trio. then, come sunday morning, the girls would be impatiently jumping into your arms, as soon as you opened your door—usually with some playful change in their appearances. yet this particular one would cause your forehead to crease in confusion,

”what's on my daughter's face?”, you’d ask, once the girls were of earshot. immediately, choso knew what you were talking about but he’d play dumb just to irk you.

”eyes, eyelashes, eyebro—”, he’d start listing, and you’d interrupt him.

”no, dickhead, the thing over her nose”, you clarified and he’d inwardly rejoice at his success at annoying you.

”oh. she saw my tattoo and said she wanted one, so i just got her a little temporary one”, he’d explain, eyes trained on the twins as he waved back at them while they ran around the house.

”and when she wants it for real?”, you’d poke at his chest, and his hand would rise to hold the spot your fingertip had touched as he faked a pained expression.

”i don't know how reckless you think i am, but i'm not gonna tattoo a six year old”, he’d scoff, but his amusement would fall to flatten quite quickly.

as hard as choso tried to fan the hurt fogging his mind, it just wouldn’t leave him. choso could be denounced for his work over, and over, again and he’d bounce back because he was so confident and sure of his abilities. but jabs at his skills as a father never failed to pinch at his heart. people would spend an hour with him, then start to question his parenting abilities based off the way he looked and his reserved manner. the prickling in his chest didn’t come from insecurity, but from sensitivity to reminders of the same baseless assumption. especially coming from someone he deemed to be the perfect parent,

”why do you keep doing that?”, he’d look at you earnestly, and confusion would force your eyebrows together.

”doing what?”,

”making me out to be this bad influence.”,

”maybe it’s because you run around with cancer sticks behind your ears”, you pulled the cigarette from behind his ear, and shoved it in his pocket.

”aside from that. you treat me like i'm gonna corrupt the girls.”, he paused, ”you treat me the way your parents treated me”, due to his appearance and impassive demeanour, most people around you had opposed your relationship with choso. your friends warned he’d be a terrible father, and your parents mistook how reserved he was for coldness, and arrogance. outwardly, he seemed inattentive, rude, and aloof but choso didn’t care because the most important people in his life understood him. he was his daughters’ best friend, protector, and joint number one on their list of favourite princesses to join their tea parties—the other being you.

no matter how many years passed, you’d always love choso. though you weren’t together anymore, the need to defend him against those who misunderstood him had never dissipated. so to hear that you had become one of the people you had spent almost a decade trying to quieten, lunged your heart into your throat.

”choso, i'm so sorry. i didn't know i was being—”, you’d start to apologise, but you’d be quickly interrupted. penitence sunk all your features in a way choso couldn’t ignore; he knew you had no malintent with your words, and he didn’t want you to beat yourself up over it.

”nah, it's cool.”, he waved you off, ”i get it, but you know me. you know i love them to death and i'd never encourage anything that i knew would hurt them. but anyways, i guess i'll go now, i'll see you on frida—”, he’d been stood in the doorway and, as he began to step backwards to leave, your hands would clasp one of his. he’d be visibly surprised, but his feet would still be ladened to their spot.

”let me make it up to you”, you'd propose, and intrigue would raise choso’s eyebrow.

you’d always known there were benefits to your best friend being your neighbour, and today would be the day you’d reap one of them. after instructing choso to sit and wait on the couch, you’d gather the girls’ stuff and take them next door. you’d come back to choso still sat where you had left him, legs spread and large hand dwarfing his phone. the urge to jump on his dick right then and there was stronger than you would’ve liked, but you’d keep composed. even under his fervent glare as he watched you take your shoes off. there’d be a moment of waiting once your eyes met, then you’d beckon for him to follow you. choso’s curiosity was eating away at him, but if there’s one thing he had learnt during your time together it was that he was not to question your plans. even as he realised you were leading him to your bedroom, he’d just scoff to himself and continue trailing you.

once at the door, you’d open it and hold it for him to go in. and, chuckling, he’d enter the room, chills already running down his spine at the way those four walls boxed him into your scent, and swathed him in it. his back being turned to you allowed choso to shamelessly close his eyes, and take it all in. he’d only be brought back to reality by the clicking of the door lock.

”the fuck are you doing?”, he laughed as he turned around.

”making it up to you, now sit.”, he'd raise his hands in surrender, before he’d sit on the edge of the bed, eyes narrowed as he watched you saunter your way towards him.

one thing led to another, and you went from kissing and licking at choso's bulge through his boxers to having his dick throat deep inside you. during your relationship, head had been one of choso’s favourite things. he’d even claimed that, had your pussy not been so good, he’d like head more than sex. there were never enough words to explain it but, to him, there was nothing that drove him crazier than the sight of your eyelashes batting up at him as you took all of him into your mouth, nose tickling his pelvic bone. and, busy with his tattoo studio, choso didn't have a lot of time to date so he couldn't remember the last time he felt a woman's throat enclose around his tip the way yours did. his toes were damn near gripping at the carpet through his socks, as his fingers dug into the duvet. though their one wish was to be entangled in your tresses, scratching at your scalp when you swallowed around him, choso hadn’t forgotten that the reason you had asked him to drop the girls off two hours later than usual, was because you were getting your hair done. so he'd refrain for an entire two seconds, fingers contracting around nothing, before he'd just ask,

”can i put—fuck—my hands in your h—shit, y/n—hair”. and another low ’shit’ would leave his lips when you'd pull him out of your mouth to show him the lewd mix of your saliva and his precum leaking out your lips.

”’f you fuck it up, then you gotta pay for me to get it redone”, you tilted your head to run his length against you lips, and choso’s hands were on your head immediately.

”yes, ma’am”, he moaned out.

though you had been broken up for five years, the mutual sexual attraction between you two had never dwindled, so you two fucking post-breakup was inevitable. that being said, choso hadn't nutted in you in almost two years and he didn’t want the first time in 24 months to be in your mouth. that’s what his heart wanted, but his body would have other plans. head wasn’t just about the feeling for choso, the man loved a performance. knowing this, you’d pull him out of your mouth to allow a string of spit and precum hang from your lips, letting it land on his length again just so you could use it as lube to stroke him a few more times.

”you can’t do shit like that, y/n, i’ll nu—”, his strained voice tried to explain, but it’d be cut short by more of your antics. one second your lips would be around his balls, then the next they'd be damn near touching his pelvic bone, as you took him into your throat again. he'd raise his hand to place it on your forehead,

”w-wait, y/n i'm gonna—fuckfuckfuckfuck—baby, wait i'm gonna cum”, he'd warn, but you'd just take that as a signal to keep hallowing your cheeks and taking him into your throat. the pleasure delayed his reflexes, so choso wouldn’t be fast enough in pulling his dick from your mouth; most of his nut would be inside it and, as you let his dick slip from your lips, he’d get some on your cheek, chin and nose too. the tip of your middle finger would collect some of it, and put it in your mouth, eyes locked with his as you did so.

”i forgot how fucking nasty you are”, he'd chuckle before flopping backwards to face the ceiling, as he just laid on his back.

choso’s love for head wasn’t limited to just receiving, because one of his life’s finest pleasures resided between your legs.

”i just need to get you ready f’r me, baby”, would be his response when you told him he didn’t need to reciprocate. but the truth was, choso luxuriated in the way you grabbed at his hair and closed your thighs around his head—the near suffocation was the closest to heaven he thought he’d ever get. he loved the way your body didn't know what to do with itself, squirming underneath the cold metal of his tongue, and lip, piercing. yet, nothing could dethrone the way the warmth of your thighs taking away all his air made his dick twitch. he'd enjoy the gratifying discomfort they brought, before he'd force your legs open again,

”you taste so fucking good, baby, i don't know how i went without this for so long”, he'd say when he came back up for a breath. his fingertips would dig into your thighs as he placed your legs on his shoulders. fingertips would soon be substituted for large palms, as choso pushed the flesh together to basically cut off his air supply. it felt sick to admit, but he loved the feeling of you essentially choking him out.

choso hadn't intended on eating you out until you came, but once he’d started, he couldn't stop. he’d lost track of time and then, all of a sudden, the feeling of your nails on his scalp was harsher. and if he wasn’t relishing in the feeling, eyes fluttering shut in enjoyment, he might’ve noticed that you were about cum a lot sooner. but he’d only catch on when your babbles became more coherent,

”chos-so, i'm-m cumming, shit”, you'd say, and when his brain finally processed those words, it'd be too late because he'd have your release all over him.

for a few moments, the only sounds audible in your room were your heavy breathing and the sound of choso licking your arousal off his fingers. the glisten of the inside of your thighs would catch his attention, and he’d move to remove them of their shimmer. the feeling of the metal on your skin would coax a jolt out of you, before you’d be backing away from his mouth to sit up and face him. the man looked depraved; hair a mess, and face shining, as he just smirked at you.

the shirt covering your top half would be off, as well as choso’s shirt and boxers. and, seeing your bare body for the first time in years was having visible effects on choso—he was stunned.

”wow”, he said, in a whisper, reaching to hold you but you’d pushed his shoulder.

”what?”, you giggled, and he just shook his head so as to not make you feel embarrassed.

”no, i just…i forgot how beautiful you are”,

”shut up, bruh”, you'd playfully roll your eyes, before pulling at choso’s arm to switch your positions. his interest would be piqued yet again, and you'd quell it with a sloppy kiss to his lips. you’d mount choso to sit at the bottom of his abdomen, and his hands landed on your hips. they'd help you ride the ridges of his toned stomach, taking note of how you moaned into his mouth as your juices smeared all over his lower torso.

you'd soon shift yourself, sliding down his length and choso wouldn’t be able to see much of it because his eyes rolled to shut once he felt you wrap around him. hands placed on his broad chest, you'd move up and down on him and his tatted fingers would dig into your hips. choso’s pleasure was visceral, and he almost wanted it to stop before he got too attached and refused to let it end as he had many times before. when you and choso fucked, you did so for hours because you were both relentless. yet, as good as this felt, choso was ashamed to admit that something was missing.

”this is all for me, right?”, he'd ask breathily, hands stilling you. it’d be hard to formulate thought, because you were just paused with his dick deep inside you. but you'd manage a shabby attempt at a nod.

”well, can you…”, choso’d pause, eyes wandering around the bed, and his uncertainty would make you anxious. when it came to sex, you two had always been honest, and open to try anything. so if it made him cautious, then it was one of two things; something he’d been wanting for a while, or something completely left field.

“could you choke me?”, he'd ask, and your once lidded eyes would be widely staring back at him.

”like…?”, you'd raise your hand, and both of his would engulf it, leading it to his neck.

”this.”, he looked you in your eyes, and your hand grew firmer, ”and just keep it there”, he'd instruct, and you'd nod, before starting to move again.

though new to you, you began seeing the appeal of choking choso very quickly. mainly because of the way his eyelids would flutter, as his eyes rolled to shut, just by virtue of feeling your hand on his neck. not to mention the way his hips would move on their own to rut into you, every time your thumb and middle finger tightened around his throat. he may have been larger than you in stature, but choso was completely under your control. both the tightness of your walls, and the feeling of your hand around his neck—sweat making it hard for you to move while maintaining a secure grip on him—was making him delirious. and he never wanted it to stop.

choso's mouth was making any noise it could muster to express how good he was feeling. he went from quietly cursing under his breath, to just shouting cuss words at you. you weren't far from your nut either; due to both the view and the way his dick’s chase for more pleasure, made choso fuck into you harder. the feeling made your thighs weaken but, ultimately, choso would be the first to let go,

”where d’you want it?”, he asked, and your hand would remain on his neck as you leaned down to speak to him.

”nut in me, choso”, you’d whine, lips latching onto his neck to kiss it. the combination of the sultriness of your voice and your lips attacking the most sensitive spot on his neck, would’ve been enough but choso completely lost it when he’d feel a sting as you marked his skin. he'd cum underneath you, hips stuttering upwards to prolong the pleasure he was feeling. all choso could do was cuss, and dig his trimmed fingernails into you before just laying there, a shell of his former self.

you'd be riding him for a few more minutes, before choso’s control of his limbs would return to him, then he’d have you laid underneath him. no further words would be exchanged before he was slamming into you, silver chains dangling in your face and his hand on your throat, as he fucked you with vigor. as amazing as the opposite had felt, choso much preferred this version of things. he preferred looking down at you as your eyes fluttered and rimmed with salty displays of euphoria, he’d even lean down to lick one as it ran down the side of your cheek. choso indulged in the way you'd grab his forearm as strong as you could, sanguine crescents colouring in the empty spaces in his tattoos. he'd lean down to suck on your nipples, nipping at them just so he could hear the raising in pitch your moans and whines would do when that sensation coursed through you. his eyes would flicker down to the white froth collecting at the base of his dick, as his nut was pushed out of you with his every thrust.

”you're doing this all for me, right?”, he'd ask, and you'd nod, ”this fucked out all for me. taking this dick so good just for me”, he'd say, lips once again around your nipples.

choso wasn't letting up; his pace was merciless, as he fucked you dumb. most times you had fucked, choso would slow down, or pull out, when that familiar constriction of your walls told him you were close. he'd do it until you were crying and begging underneath him, voice growing excrutiatingly hoarse. but, seeing as you already had tears in your eyes, he'd only do it once before he'd just maintain a harsh rhythm as you came around him.

”choso, fffuck”, you cried out, but he'd just keep going. his eyes were so focused on the silhouette of his dick moving in and out of you, as your stomach contracted, that he'd lost all sight of where he was. you could've told choso he was jupiter and the man would've believed you. he couldn't even remember why you guys had started fucking in the first place, all he knew was that he didn't want to stop. to choso, thinking about anything that wasn’t you was a waste of brain power. so he'd turn his brain off and let his body do whatever it wanted to. even if it meant overstimulation for the both of you.

your third nut would be pretty imminent, seeing as choso literally would not stop moving inside of you. but it'd be unlike the others,

”choso, g-gimme a s-second”, you'd say, and he'd shake his head because he knew what you were doing. choso knew your body, and he knew it well; he knew what you were trying to prevent well enough to know that it was the very thing he was striving for,

”you said you doing all this for me, baby.”, he'd remind you, ”’nd i wanna see you make a fucking mess on my dick.”, his words would do nothing but edge you closer to your nut.

”can you do that f’r me?”, he’d ask, and you’d nod your head.

”just f’r me?”, he’d ask, voice laboured, ”i don’t deserve you, baby”, he’d pout before moving down to connect your lips.

and, under his instruction, you’d just let that funny little feeling near your bladder do whatever it wanted to. one of your hands would be struggling to wrap around choso’s wrist, while the other would be gripping the sheets for dear life. the hand choso had placed on your neck would remain stagnant, movement only reserved for the other as it moved to your clit. worries about you moving because of how fast, and hard, he was fucking you were nonexistent because the sweat covering your body meant that you were adhered to the fabric underneath you. choso's tatted fingers would rub on your bud until you came on them, practically spraying him with your release.

a low chuckle would leave choso's mouth at the endearing view of you trying to calm your body down. heavy breaths would slither past your lips, but your eyes remained closed. choso’s hand would plant a light slap to your cheek to wake you back up, but it'd be to no avail. so he’d try once more, this time, grabbing your chin to shake your face until your eyes opened.

”say ‘ah’, baby girl”, he'd ask, and you'd open your mouth as wide as your slack jaw would allow. a line of spit would fall from his lips to your tongue before you'd swallow it, and he'd smirk to himself.

”didn’t even have to tell you what to do”, he’d snicker, and you’d smile contently up at him. the woman choso was seeing was so unlike the one he had met so many years ago, and he dreaded to think that the sweet glint in your eyes had bittered because of him. however, that dread would quickly fade and, in its place, would be a knowing smirk,

”shit, maybe i am a bad influence.”

[zahri-melitor]

I know you've all been waiting for this one: Sum of Our Parts (yes I finally got to Meghan Fitzmartin).

The very first thing I'll say: yeah, I see why DC commissioned more stuff from her after getting this and seeing the response. It's a solid opening showing her ability to write Tim.

There were a lot of moving parts that needed to be re-established and tidied up in this story, and I can see the list being worked through:-

Name: being very clear Tim is currently Robin, because since Tynion's 'Tec run ended, his name and costume have been varying by who is writing him with very little consistency.

Tim not going to university: this probably did need a push back on, because Tynion just waved the door open on that again during Joker War.

The fact that Tim and Steph are broken up (sort of essential for the plot being told)

Playing with the themes of moving on from Robin (but in this case using it as a frame to actually be the bait and switch that it's coming out instead)

Bernard is clearly an OC from the ground up who shares a name and hair colour with his previous existence. Which, look, Bernard was a pretty thin character with basically two personality traits (conspiracy theorist/trying really hard to project cool), and it is of course fairly arguable that Bernard was projecting a front at 16 that he no longer needs now he's accepted his identity. But it would be nice to have that conveyed in the text, rather than something you infer to try and connect two characters who are otherwise unalike. Especially given how much of the story is Tim reflecting on himself.

Even a line or two more about how he doesn't feel the need for a front anymore to line up with Tim having revelations. "Tell Tim Drake...he helped me realise my true self. Who I am" is nice enough but it could still use some more acknowledgement of how that changed his personality. It's just this nice parallel that could have helped develop the themes more securely. There's a bunch of possible implications you can read into the story (particularly in terms of how the Dowd parents really ARE characterised lightly as Fanon Drakes, between the polite fronts and implications that Bernard was previously abused at home in this) and this is one of the things that while I don't mind how much of this story Fitzmartin was telling via implication, a few more concrete things confirmed would have helped.

If I were going to make a solid stab of a guess at what sections of Robin Fitzmartin liked/reread in the lead into writing this, I honestly think it was Fabian Nicieza's Robin run (and probably parts of Red Robin). It's just...a lot of the characterisation has some very similar notes to it. Tim's got the same sort of smug confident edge to his internal commentary, the ways his skills are portrayed, and Detective Williams even reminds me quite a bit of Officer Jamie Harper. (I don't think she actually looked back over Willingham).

It's also very much a coming out story, and I do appreciate in that Fitzmartin does try to be delicate about it and doesn't whack you over the head with the bluntest lines possible (I just suffered through that in Infinite Frontier #0 with Alan Scott and good god did I cringe the entire way through the 'yes while you are my biological children and I have indeed been married. to women. I am gay. Listen to me come out.'), the amount of implied themes she levels through it is still substantial. It could have used slightly more focus on the actual underlying mystery.

I can also see the start of the situation where the story needs to decide whether Bernard Knows or Doesn't Know. Because both states would allow for situations with a lot of drama (and potentially identity shenanigans which are the best shenanigans), but just having it as sort of vacillating in the middle as something that doesn't need to be investigated? It's leaving a lot of potential storytelling on the floor that could instead be used to send Tim through the wringer. (Also Tim wow half of that cult probably could have figured out your identity, you weren't subtle)

Look, I don't think this story contained the greatest Barbara Gordon characterisation ever written, but it was within the bounds of overly-interfering, self-righteous and pushy Babs, which is something that does pop up at times. It felt in conversation with her characterisation in Batgirl 2009, and while I don't LIKE the way Babs is written in it, especially in regards to Steph, it makes sense in terms of the direction DC was pivoting at this point in terms of leading into the whole Batgirls title.

Fitzmartin was also clearly using Steph characterisation from very late Robin/BFTC/start of Red Robin, when they were fighting, in terms of how she's trying to have Steph needle at Tim's sore points, and set up a dichotomy of 'Steph has it together/Tim does not'.

And yes, Belén Ortega's art is very, VERY pretty.

[letsfluxshitup]

I love how quickly Bdubs starts defending him

transcript:

Cleo: It's not that I think Etho is overrated! I think that his skills were from a time back in the day-

Bdubs: I can't believe we're having- This man! Reinvented! The enchanting setup just two weeks ago! It was the ultimate enchanting room video on his worlds famous lets play

Etho: Compliment my pvp skills Bdubs, not my redstone-

Bdubs: And! Uh! Sure enough, start a UHC right now and watch what he does

Etho: Aw, its a hopeless cause. Ohhh who am I kidding, I'm washed up Bdubs! Its all over!

Bdubs: You're not washed up! Stop it, no no!

Cleo: I'm going to get so annihilated right now

Etho: Cleo's right! She's right, I've got no confidence anymore because of her!

Bdubs: Stop it! No! You're a hero!

Tango: A legend some might say!

<Cleo is laughing in the background throughout>

[cranquis]

Your recent reblog made me sad, but also makes a lot of sense. I've been following you since I was in medical school, and I'm now in my fifth year of specialty training (I am not American). I did occasionally wonder why I've been seeing less of the kind of content you used to put out.

All I can say is - thank you for the work you do. I've seen enough online to get an idea of what you must face on a daily basis. I think I'm lucky that somehow, the doctor-patient relationship overall hasn't deteriorated to such an extent where I live (yet at least), but I definitely understand the frustration and despair of trying to communicate with people who aren't coming into the conversation in good faith.

You've always been a kind of role model for me in terms of your passion for your work and your open sharing about your faith. I guess I just wanted to say that I hope you find hope and joy in your work, even if those you serve aren't wise enough to appreciate what you do for them.

Hi, my colleague! Hey first of all, thank you for your kind words of encouragement and affirmation. Negative med-related interactions (online or in person) anymore just roll off me, but the positive ones still give my heart a thrill! :) And congrats on your continued journey down the medical pathway.

Second, I'm glad your message gives me the chance to clarify for all my long-time Cranquis Pants* that I still do enjoy my work. I have been doing the exact same Urgent Care job in the exact same location (with quite a few staff turnovers) ever since I finished residency 17 years ago! I still enjoy the bulk of my patient interactions, I continue to hone my diagnostic skills, I feel very confident in my procedural skills, I have a reputation in our local medical community as a reliable and thorough physician, and I have a loyal group of patients who routinely nag me to "quit urgent care and become a regular doctor so we can be your primary care patients". My staff likes and respects me (despite my best efforts to ruin that on the daily, with my puns etc); I like my staff and appreciate the hard work they do in the face of the same administrative and societal opposition that I encounter; I am not distressed when little kids freak out during physical exams (and my success rate of turning those frowns upside down with playful interactions and silly sound effects is pretty darn good).

I am blessed with amazing work-life balance, more than the majority of Family Medicine-trained physicians I suspect. I carry no pager, I take no call, I leave my work at home when I go home. I know my schedule months in advance, I have a shift template that gives me plenty of week-long stretches off, and I have my Sabbaths 100% free to attend church and spend time with my family. My pay is decent and my benefits are solid, my debts get paid and I have a roof over my head. My kids and wife are happy to see me come home. Personally, I really have nothing to complain about.

But the bloom is off the rose for my profession as a whole. The politics and trends of the US health care system continues to disenfranchise physicians, devaluing the years and $$ invested in becoming physicians, over-valuing patient satisfaction scores and inexpensive labor and glitzy administrative initiatives and staff rumor mills more than evidence-based, experience-driven clinical medicine. The power structure is upside down, as if doctors ought to be automatically doubted and disdained by pharmacists, insurance companies, administrators, patients, and APCs because of their systematic educational journeys and reliance upon scientific evidence.

And one of the saddest results is watching medical professionals turn on each other. The fragmentation and super-specialization of every aspect of medical care creates artificial "us v. them" scenarios; specialists and primary-care battling over who does the paperwork for pre-op visits and FMLA, ER and Urgent Care arguing about how much workup should be undertaken by the UC when the patient is obviously going to need ER management, primary-care so overwhelmed with insurance-required goals that their patients can never get same-day/soon-day appointments, pharmacies so understaffed that it's easier for them to tell the patients that "the doctor never sent the prescription" when in reality ...

I could go on.

I miss the old days (said the geezer on the internet), when I could enthusiastically support a pre-med student's dreams of getting into medical school and "helping people as a doctor someday." Now I wince at the idealism in a high-schooler's eyes, and try to find a nice way to say "there's more options for helping people than just becoming a doctor... be sure you have your motivations straight, because medicine is not what it was even 10 years ago..."

So hope and joy in my career? Hope for the profession of physicians, I have little. But I make the joy in my practice when I can make it, and I only expect to find joy in my non-medical time with family and hobbies and travel and friends and the lifestyle which my medical career still does make more feasible than otherwise.

*Probably not the term historically assigned to "fans of this blog", back when I posted frequently -- it's been a minute -- but if not, SHOOT that was a missed opportunity.

[demonpiratehuntress]

third time's a charm

Kaku x F!Reader

summary - he finds out you're Lucci's sister and is absolutely terrified of asking you out

warnings - none

a/n: more Kaku content because the Kaku fangirls are STARVED (i know, i am one)

Secrets were common among the World Government's top agents. They practically lived on secrets, as their very existence was supposed to be hidden from the entire world. But amongst each other, they thought, there shouldn't have been any.

The only reason suspicion grew that there was a secret amongst them was when you spent an unusual amount of time with Lucci, something none of them had ever seen before.

And a certain square-nosed member was starting to get jealous.

Now, Kaku was by no means a jealous man. He was confident in himself, his skill, and his abilities. He had never had a reason to be jealous of anyone else. That is, until he started developing a bit of a crush on you - one that was now complete infatuation. He was usually wary of other men talking to you, but Lucci was an entirely different story.

He had been the most sought-after foreman in Water 7 after all. Almost every single woman in that town had thrown themselves at Lucci's feet, so Kaku was well aware of how attractive he was to women.

And so, naturally, his first conclusion was that you liked Lucci.

Which set him back quite a bit, if not completely.

You first noticed his change in behaviour when he couldn't look you in the eyes anymore, or when his eager and excited greetings became more of a necessary, formal "hello" and nothing else. It confused you, because he was normally so sweet and happy around you, and seeing him like this was strange. You wondered if you had done anything wrong to deserve these new, distant interactions.

That didn't seem right.

Tired of Kaku's inability to focus when you and Lucci were together in the same room as them, standing close or sitting next to one another, Khalifa decided to just rip the band-aid off and ask for the stupidly shy swordsman.

"(Name), you've been practically hanging off Lucci's arm these days. Is there something you're not telling us?"

Her question caught you off-guard, and you frowned for a moment, thinking that there actually was something you were supposed to tell them. Everyone looked at you curiously, interest piqued.

"You didn't tell them?" Lucci turned to you, raising an eyebrow.

"I...may have forgot," you laughed nervously, before turning to the rest of the group. "Lucci is my older brother."

Out of all the things Kaku expected you to say, that had been nothing close to what he thought he would hear. His eyes widened, both relief and dread filling him in that moment. He was relieved that there was no romantic connection between you two, but also...absolutely terrified about what this new detail meant for him. If he'd been nervous about confessing before, he was absolutely terrified of doing it now.

"You..." Jabra gestured towards you, then Lucci, "and you...are siblings?" He let out an obnoxious laugh. "Yeah, right. You're completely different."

Lucci rolled his eyes, exasperated, "Yes, can we move-"

"She's so much better-looking than you are!"

The room went dead silent. Kaku would have slapped Jabra himself for that inappropriate comment, knowing full well what he'd meant - and it was far from innocent. But, as Lucci's gaze travelled to Jabra's laughing form, he realised that Lucci also realised Jabra's explicit intent. And the look that he gave Jabra was a look you all knew too well.

"Dismissed," Lucci finally spoke, his eyes pinned on Jabra. "Except you, Jabra."

A million thoughts ran through Kaku's head. Was he to suffer the same fate if he just complimented you or called you pretty? And what on earth would happen to him if he decided to brave this and ask you out? Would he even live long enough to find out?

"Hey."

Your soft voice brought him out of his panicked mind, and he turned to see you standing there with the gentlest of smiles on your face. However, it didn't quite reach your eyes and it looked almost forced, turning Kaku's panic into concern.

"Yeah?" He breathed out, unsure if he could manage anything else.

"Can we..." You sighed. "Can we talk? I think we need to."

This made him nervous, but he nodded and followed you to somewhere quieter, anxiety bubbling in the pit of his stomach. What were you going to say? What was this about?

"Did I do something wrong?" You finally asked, looking up at him.

Kaku blinked. Wrong? No. You hadn't done anything wrong, so why were you-

"You're not the same," you cut his racing mind off. "You don't act like you used to around me." Your face seemed to fall. "I just wanted to know if I've upset you or anything, because if I have, I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong, (Name)," he replied carefully, thinking of how to approach this situation.

"Then why are you different?" You asked.

"(Name)!" Lucci called from outside.

You sighed, looking down for a moment before taking a deep breath and walking right past Kaku. He had a half mind to just grab your wrist, stop you and show you exactly how he felt, but he let you go. He was afraid.

Not of you anymore, but of Lucci.

-

The first time Kaku finally worked up the nerve to ask you out, he was trying to mix it with an apology for his recent behaviour. He'd noticed you had also started being distant with him, and he didn't like it. So one day, he found himself standing in front of your room door, nervously clutching flowers and your favourite chocolate to his chest.

Cliche, maybe, but Kaku was completely new to this. And from what his research had told him, women liked flowers and chocolate.

You opened your door just as he was about to knock, surprise crossing your face, "Kaku?"

He swallowed thickly, about to open his mouth to say something until he heard footsteps approaching and turned, quickly hiding the gifts behind him when he made out Lucci's figure. Sweat dripped down his forehead and he shot you an apologetic look before rushing off, almost tripping in the process.

"What was that?" Lucci asked you when he stopped by you.

You watched Kaku retreat, amusement in your eyes, "I have no idea."

-

The second time Kaku tried to ask you out, he made sure to find a time when you weren't needed by your brother. He was so sure that this time would work, that this time he would finally tell you, but he was about to find out that it wasn't so easy.

He knocked on your room door again, and you answered with a smile.

"Kaku, come in."

He stepped inside, then saw who was with you and immediately shoved the giftwrapped box of jewellery into his pocket, his eyes going wide as he swallowed thickly.

"Kaku, what a surprise," your brother spoke, looking up. His gaze then shot to the bulge in Kaku's pocket, "Is something the matter?"

"N-no," the poor, panicked man managed to squeak out. His palms were getting sweaty again. "I'll-I'll just go." He was gone before you could protest, and you shot a glare at your smirking brother.

"He's trying to be a gentleman, you know!"

"I know. I just want to see how serious he is about dating you."

"You're horrible," you laughed, shaking your head.

"Maybe, but my sister deserves only the best."

-

Third time's the charm, right? That's what Kaku tells himself. Nothing can go wrong this time, he's sure. He even watched Lucci leave the building, so he would definitely not be in your room this time.

So Kaku approached your room more confidently this time, and knocked on your door with a sense of relief and satisfaction.

That changed when your bright smile nearly knocked his legs out from under him, and when your voice melted his brain along with every single thought he had.

"Hey, Kaku. Come in."

He did, and was so relieved to find that Lucci really had left. His tension eased, and he slowly sat on your bed after turning to face you. Then he held out the newly-purchased flowers and chocolates, as well as the smaller, giftwrapped box, to you.

"These are for you."

You blushed, taking them and admiring the effort, "Thank you, Kaku. This is so...this is really sweet." You felt butterflies bloom in your stomach.

He smiled, "Only the best for you."

You stilled at his words, eerily similar to Lucci's. But Kaku's were more...romantic. A different kind of feeling settled in, and your butterflies only seemed to grow as you turned to smile at your crush after setting his gifts down.

"That's even sweeter."

He took a deep breath, before standing up again, "(Name), I'm sorry for how I was behaving before...I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought...well before we found out you're related...I thought you liked Lucci." He sighed. "And then after, I thought Lucci would kill me if I tried to make a move."

You giggled at his explanation, moving closer as well, "He was just testing you these last few weeks. Overprotective as he is, he wanted to see how committed you are to me."

Kaku's heart almost stopped, "And is he...did I...?" He wasn't sure how to phrase it.

"Mhm, he's satisfied," you smiled. "That's why he's not here. He figured if you didn't try a third time, you weren't serious. But you did, so he left us alone for a bit." You moved even closer, so close that Kaku's familiar and knee-weakening scent filled your nostrils. Flustering you.

Kaku, in his relief, relaxed and gave you a warm but silly smile, "I was planning to try until he gave me a chance to be with you."

That's it. You needed to kiss this man.

You stepped forward and grabbed him by the zipper of his jacket, pulling him towards you. Forgetting he has a long nose. When it poked you in the eye, you giggled and pulled away.

"Sorry," he said quietly, his cheeks turning the cutest shade of red.

"It's okay," you smiled.

Then tried again. This time you angled your head in a way that would make it easy for you to reach his lips, and you smiled when they finally met yours. The kiss was slow, sweet, and passionate. Kaku pulled you close to him, showing his adoration for you by affectionately moulding his lips against your own. With a gentleness only Kaku owned.

"I like you too, Kaku."

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

I have to be honest, and this post is going to be without my buffoonery or tomfoolery.

I am entertaining the idea of getting back into writing a bit more, because my eyes really can use a bit of rest from the long hours I spend artworking.

But , and I am not exaggerating when I tell you this, the idea literally make me paralyzed with anxiety.

Yesterday night I managed to write those 400+ words for the artwork because I felt like "the main protagonist of the post is going to be the drawing anyway, so even if I fumble, it's going to be ok".

Also, while I am just a hobbyist, I am still a seasoned artist that has been working on her skill for more than 23 years. So, in a way, I feel, if not entirely confident in my skills, at the very least competent enough to know that I can create something pleasant to look at; but even then, I have always my anxiety hanging on my back like a freaking monke that has nothing better to do but bother me.

But with writing, I just become paralyzed with what I assume is fear.

Of what, I am still figuring out.

Because I feel this specific fear and block when it comes to writing an original character with a canon character (specifically, this was caused by my resurgence for Ardyn and Luscinia).

For example, when I was brainstorming for Aranea, even if my knowledge of the setting was limited to BG3 and before I started to actually deep dive into Forgotten Realms, I felt I was going like a breeze, with no fear, no uncertitude, just the brain never stopping talking and branching out by itself (which made my work immensely easier to be honest).

With Luscinia and Ardyn (but it can be even extended to Jacob and Dorothea, if one wants to talk about OC/Canon pairing), the same doesn't happen.

There is a block, a literal wall of nothingness that prevents me from writing and entertaining myself, despite all my willingness and WANT to just dive right into it, and allowing myself to have fun, and it's HORRIBLE. It feels like a freaking bubble in my chest that doesn't leave enough space for my lungs to breathe.

And while yesterday I was too tired to actually do some self-analyses of what the reason might be, this morning, after a good dose of coffee, I think I found one possible reason.

With canon characters there are limits that sometimes cannot be crossed, lest one goes OOC with them.

They are pre-made characters, with set personalities that one must respect in order to write them, and that, I found, put a crapton of pressure over me that only fan and fuel my anxiety, and this without even considering the high standards that I set for myself EACH and EVERY time.

Also, take in consideration that when it comes to creating and imagining, the only limits I like are the one I set for myself, not the one set by others (as it had happened with Dottie and Jacob, something that has partially ruined the fun I had with them), and that do WONDERS (*sarcasm*) for my ADHD.

On top of that, add the fact that if I see someone else with even a remotely similar idea as mine, I have the tendency of not pursuing it anymore because then my inner saboteur starts doing numbers.

Sometimes I am extremely good at ignoring the voices and doubt in my head that just mock me and ridicule me and fuel my anxiety, but sometimes they are just there to stay, like unpleasant roommates that cannot keep the kitchen clean and party at all times of the night😂

All this to say that I am basically a ball of anxiety in my little corner, rocking back and forth until this too shall pass, because I want to pick up the pen again for Ardyn and Luscinia, and I am utterly terrified by the idea.

But I so want to get back on track and write. I miss that so much.

[atlabeth]

now that the dust has cleared from the chaos for me irl, i want to officially thank you all for 3000 followers!! because wow. where do i even start?

this isn't a milestone i thought i would ever reach. i made this blog during my junior year of high school when i was bored as hell in online school, not knowing what would come of it, and honestly not expecting anyone to read anything i’ve written. i exclusively wrote avatar fics (kind of embarrassing that a series i started at the beginning of my blog still isnt finished huh?) because it was what i had been watching most recently. i started to gain some recognition, made some friends, and slowly but surely i carved out my little corner of the internet. and now, 3 years, 3000 followers, and almost 500,000 words later, i’m going into my junior year of college with some of the best online friends a girl could ask for (shoutout to my day 1 @simplysolo for still being around and still being the best ever, and shoutout to all my other tumblr friends that have deactivated over the years</3 i miss you guys) a whole array of fandoms that i’ve dabbled in, and a newly discovered thing for middle aged men. cool 

i truly cannot thank you all enough. i’ve always been a writer, but this blog has given me a sorely needed creative outlet and made me more confident in my writing skills than ever. at the end of the day i’m just writing silly little x reader fics, but i’ve truly had so much fun doing it! every single fictional man im in love with is also in love with me isn’t that crazy!!!

a special, extended shoutout to the loveliest mutuals i’ve picked up over the years. i wouldn’t be half the writer i am and i wouldn’t have half as much fun on here without you all. @simplysolo for being around since the beginning and truly being the greatest person on this app, i love you intensely, @sokkadora for being another one of my ogs (we dont talk anymore but i see you every so often on my dash and you’re doing great!!) @mcallmestiles for being one of the first avatar fics i ever read, traitor encouraged me to be a better writer and i hope you’re doing well with your medical career!! @tangledinlove for being my most famous mutual, the kindest person in the world, and being brought together through the power of lockwood, @giyuji and @milkiane who are both inactive but who i have to tag because i love them and i hope they’re doing well; naomi you got me into the grishaverse and liane we were in the trenches of the stranger things revival together, @boneblushed for dealing with so much but still being phenomenal and lovely in every way, @tommymcartney for being so sweet all the time, my biggest cheerleader and encouraging my insanity in every fandom ive been a part of, @nghtwngs for being the only person who loses it over nikolai lantsov as much as i do, to all my new/more recent mutuals @hotchfiles @ma1dita @moowithmidnight @emiliehornby @supercutszns i can't wait to get to know or keep getting to know you!!! you're all so lovely!!! and all the mutuals i don’t talk to as much as i should, i love you all and cherish you in my heart regardless of if we talk every day or have never said a single word to each other!! i don’t want to tag you all because i don’t want to bother you, but if you’re looking at this and thinking am i talking about you, i am. i love you. it takes a village and im so lucky to have you all as mine 

i can’t believe it’s been 3 years, i can’t believe i’m halfway done with college, and i can’t believe we hit 3,000. truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for reading my fics and letting me be some small part of your lives. i can’t wait to write more for you all. keep a lookout for my 3k celebration post! 

[lilyrizzy]

12 for the spotify game!

What if I told you, I feel like I know you? But we never met

based on this fic by my talented bestie!

All morning at the track, Max has looked for him. For a glimpse of the dark curly hair and warm brown eyes he has known since he was only nine years old. In the sea of hopeful competitors, everybody is too short, too blonde, too eager.

The Daniel that Max knows is all teasing confidence, shoulders rolled back as he helps Max with his homework, or tells him about their races that will happen in the future. It's because of Daniel that Max knows one day he will make it, no matter what Papa says.

"Max!" Somebody yells for him, and for a moment his heart leaps into his throat.

Excitement has his stomach fluttering, and nerves have his palms sweating, but when he turns he sees it's just Stefen, one of the boys he was teamed up with earlier. Max must not do a good enough job of hiding the disappointment on his face if the hurt look he gets back is anything to go by.

He turns away again to keep looking, kicking himself because he should have known. The accent was all wrong.

Daniel, of course, isn't supposed to tell him specifics of their future together. We could cause a glitch in the matrix, Maxy, he always says, with a flick of Max's ear, like he still sees him as the child Max is trying so hard not to be anymore, if it means he gets Daniel the way he is supposed to.

It works in his favour sometimes though, he supposes, because it was his constant, babyish whining that got the details out of Daniel, in the end.

That is how he knows that today, the fourteenth of August, 2011, is the day they finally meet in Daniel's real time, too.

Except, it is almost the end of the day, and Max cannot find him anywhere. Furious tears threaten to begin spilling down his cheek as he considers that maybe Daniel got it wrong, or worse, lied to him. That idea is too painful when Max has had this day marked with a tiny heart all year, on the calendar his mum gave him last Christmas.

It is already five PM, and soon Papa will want to begin the long car ride home. Max is considering how best to plead with him to stay a little while longer, when-

"Max, right?" A familiar voice comes from behind him, at the same time as a hand on his shoulder. "I've heard a lot about you, your sick karting skills."

This time, when Max turns, his Daniel is there. Except-

"Oh," he says, the word tripping to the tip of his tongue before he can stop it. The rest of the sentence he manages to bite back. Your hair is longer, now.

Daniel shoots him a questioning look, but like always, he is still grinning.

"You alright, mate?" He asks, tilting his head a little to the side.

Both 31 year old and 26 year old Daniel have told Max that he grows up to be just as tall as them, but now with this Daniel looking down at him, it is harder to believe.

"Yes," he says quickly, feeling his cheeks burn. "Sorry, I just-"

But what is Max supposed to say?

It is okay, I know your secret. Or worse, it's okay though because older version of you have time traveled to tell me that we are boyfriends in the future.

"I am a big fan," he says instead, and it's not quite a lie.

He's a fan of the way Daniel makes him feel. Even if this Daniel doesn't know him yet.

[ursafootprints]

today on "5k worth of a fic idea that I constantly spin around in my mind like a rotisserie chicken but am not invested enough in to actually write:"

Identity porn omegaverse dystopia AU; Peter is an infertile omega who, despite May's attempts to give him the best chances possible by scraping by to get him an education in both domestic skills and academics, has pretty much zero prospects for his future. Sure, she'll take care of him herself as the household alpha for as long as she can, but she knows a time will come when he'll be on his own, and she knows what happens to infertile omegas-- no matter how wonderful of a housekeeper or nanny or tutor she makes him into, who's going to hire him for that in earnest when he could be used for other things on the side, and who's going to marry an omega who can't give them children?

So one day, she’s helping clean up after a charity event for F.E.A.S.T. that was sponsored by Stark Industries, and she accidentally wanders into a back area and overhears something she's not supposed to through a door. Tony Stark himself, venting on a phonecall to a friend about how the executive board is starting to put real pressure on him to marry if he's going to continue to lead SI-- the public is starting to lose faith in him as a good alpha when he refuses to settle down with a beta or omega and share in his gifts as a protector and provider, yadda yadda, and no matter how much he argues that he's being a protector and provider for the whole country through his work at SI they aren't letting up, and he doesn't even want kids and he doesn't want to saddle some poor omega with the burden of being Mr.-or-Mrs. Stark and everything that goes with that, and they're even implying considering a motion of no-confidence, and and and--

May stands there and listens, and thinks about how she doesn't know Tony Stark personally, but he's made the news before by actually hiring highly-educated omegas (from overseas, where that's permitted) for research positions at SI, and she knows that he funds multiple different charities for omegas in distress, and--

She doesn't like being a charity case, but she does have an omega in distress. So she prepares her speech in her head, and once Tony's off the phone she steps into the room with him and closes the door behind her, and she lays it all out.

She has an omega nephew who's infertile, and he's going to be turning 18 in only a few short years, and she already can barely afford to take care of the both of them even with the tax breaks from claiming him as a dependent. So when he turns 18, sooner or later he'll have to go to work, and being an infertile unwed omega with no prospects means that he'll be nothing more than a glorified prostitute in any position he's hired for, no matter what his supposed job title says. He has the skills to be the perfect househusband, or hell, even a lab assistant if Tony doesn't mind training him up a little, he's smart and he's as educated as May could make sure of, and fine, yeah, he's pretty. And he's on the brink of a life of misery, and May does not want that for him, to the point that she's willing to ask for help from an alpha that she doesn't know and has no reason to actually trust, but if what Tony needs is a sham marriage where he'll get to prove he actually does have all those necessary alpha instincts that make him a good leader, without the expectation or even the possibility of children--

Tony cuts her off eventually, initially disgusted that he's being offered some kind of child husband as a solution to his problems and that May's apparently willing to pawn her nephew off on the nearest rich scumbag, but May straightens her shoulders and makes it clear: she would continue to scrape by for Peter as long as possible, but a day is going to come when that's not going to work anymore, and as much as it hurts her to do, giving Peter away to someone that at least has an incentive to treat him well is the best option she has. She puts it back on Tony: she's only offering Peter to some rich scumbag if he is one, so is he? Or is he actually willing to put his money where his mouth is and protect an omega in need, and help himself out in the process?

Tony sends her away without answering, and she's deflated over it for all of a day, because the next day she gets a phonecall to arrange a first date.

Peter is nervous when May explains it to him and apologizes for arranging things without his input, but also thrilled, because one of the things that May left out when she was describing Peter to Tony was that Peter is huge fan of his. Even aside from the fact that marrying Tony might genuinely be an escape from a very grim future, having Tony Stark as a husband is just unbelievable to think about, after Peter had all but given up on the idea of getting to be married at all once his infertility was diagnosed. It might be nerve-wracking too, marrying someone over twice his age that he'll barely get a chance to know before the wedding, and Peter hopes and hopes that Tony is as good of an alpha as he seems to be from television and magazines, but-- he can't help but be excited.

So he meets Tony at the tower for a lunch date, and Peter does his best to present himself with perfect manners and deference and charm because he doesn't really know how to put his best foot forward otherwise-- Tony's rich enough to have staff for the cooking and cleaning and homecare even if Peter wasn't any good at it, and after you take that and minding any children out of the picture Peter doesn't really know what he has to offer as an omega. (Well, he does, but Tony's expression turns sour at even the slightest hint of flirtation, and Peter doesn't know whether to be relieved that Tony obviously isn't after him just for his capacity to take a knot or terrified that maybe Tony isn't interested in him at all.) But then Tony directs the conversation toward Peter's studies instead, and-- Peter leaves still feeling unsure over Tony's feelings, but during that part of the conversation Tony did at least perk up and ask a lot of questions and even smile, so that's something.

Their next meeting is more of a business meeting than anything, so May is a bigger part of the conversation than Peter is. She negotiates the potential marriage contract aggressively in Peter's favor, to a point that even Peter is shocked by-- they don't even have a dowry to offer, so their bargaining power is next to nothing-- but Tony just shrugs and accepts all of her conditions, and even makes suggestions that May and Peter don't think to ask for.

And after agreeing to draw up a contract that includes all of May's demands, Tony turns to Peter and explains exactly what being Mr. Peter Stark will involve-- the incessant gossip and prying into Tony and Peter's private life, including Peter's infertility, the criticism from the press on Peter's looks and clothing and behavior every time Peter goes out in public, the fact that a lot of the people Tony has to keep company with are not at all progressive about omegas and Tony will do his best to protect Peter from that, but shutting the bullshit down in the aftermath won't shield Peter from having to hear it in the first place, the fact that Peter might find himself lonely with the huge shift in class if his friends grow distant or fake once he has money, etc. etc.

He makes it clear that he wants to be absolutely sure that Peter knows what he's signing up for, and that Peter's really thought it through before anyone signs anything. And Peter is touched by the gesture, but of course none of that is anything near as bad as what he has waiting for him otherwise, so-- a week later the paperwork is finalized and signed, Peter has his first kiss in front of his aunt and Tony's closest friend, and he becomes Tony Stark's husband.

He's nervous but not scared when Tony takes him to his new home and gives him the tour. He hasn't known Tony long, and he's heard the horror stories of alphas that were sweet and adoring right up until the wedding night, but-- Tony had been so concerned about Peter's comfort when they were negotiating the contract, and it even included clauses that would allow Peter to leave him, with something called alimony, so Peter feels pretty secure in the thought that Tony will at least be gentle with him, if not actually-- passionate.

But then Tony leads him past the bedroom with nothing more than a quick peek and a, "This is my room; feel free to find me in here if you need me," and takes Peter to another room down the hall where he stops and says, "Here's yours. The movers got here earlier, so feel free to change things around if it's not set up how you want it, and I got some new things for you that you'll need."

The 'new things' turn out to be a collection of beautiful suits and dress shoes and other accessories, and not-- what Peter thought they might be-- and the room is fully set up and organized, Peter's trinkets and tech scraps sorted into tasteful bins or proudly displayed. Peter's twin bed from his apartment with May has been replaced by a queen, and that he was expecting, but the bedding is a close match to what he had before, and the whole thing gives the impression of a stylish update to his childhood bedroom.

He's flattered and touched and a little embarrassed-- the room doesn't exactly scream 'married man,' but he does love it, and it was such a sweet gesture on Tony's part-- but Tony brushes off his breathless thanks in favor of talking about their plans for tomorrow. Tony wants to take him shopping-- Peter can wear whatever he wants, Tony says, but he thought Peter might appreciate some new casual options now that he was married, and they can go back to the bespoke place that Tony had given his measurements to for the suits if Peter wants some more formal options as well-- and then maybe to lunch, as a low-key introduction of the new Mr. Peter Stark to the world before they start having to tackle galas and red carpets.

And Peter is beside himself with gratitude and awe at Tony's thoughtfulness, and rapidly losing even the expected jitter of first-time nerves the longer they talk, and he makes his smiles soft and shy and inviting as the conversation starts to wind down--

But then Tony just claps him awkwardly on the shoulder with a, "Well, good night," and goes off down the hallway to his bedroom, leaving Peter lingering confused and a little disappointed in his own doorway without even a kiss.

At first Peter thinks Tony is just being overly-conscientious of Peter's comfort, so he does his best to show Tony that he's perfectly comfortable and that he trusts Tony and he's ready without being overly suggestive about it-- he still remembers how Tony reacted when Peter tried to flirt with him on their date-- but three days into their honeymoon week, Peter has met several of Tony's friends and eaten in fabulous restaurants and bought enough new things to make his head spin, but he still hasn't even been scented, much less anything else.

So that third night, he takes a risk on the idea that Tony needs him to be more overt about communicating his comfort, and when Tony tells him good night Peter leans in for a kiss. Just something chaste, nothing that should put Tony's hackles up if he finds immodest omegas a turn-off-- but Tony actually puts a hand against his shoulder and leans away, and Peter's stomach drops to his feet.

"I'm sorry," Peter apologizes immediately, weakly, chilled to the bone by what he can only interpret as the disgust in Tony's expression. Tony-- Tony wasn't affectionate, but Peter had never thought for a second that Tony hated him; it didn't even make sense that Tony would hate him when he had been so kind. "I'm so sorry-- I didn't-- I thought--"

"No-- Peter, you're fine," Tony sighs, but he doesn’t drop his hand from Peter's shoulder, holding him firmly at a distance. "I'm not-- we're not doing that. Okay? It's nothing personal; you're just too young for me."

"But I'm your husband," Peter says blankly, not quite processing what that could possibly mean.

"I know, and the fact that that's even allowed is an absolute failure of our legal system," Tony says with a grimace, finally letting go of Peter but shifting back two steps. "Look, I'm-- did your aunt not talk to you about this? I'm going to be a good alpha for you, you can do whatever you want and I'll make sure you stay safe and you have whatever you need to be happy, but this is just an on-paper thing, kid. You don't have to put yourself out there to get abused by knothead alphas; I don't have to bring kids into this world to screw up; we both get to have society see us as a healthy pair of red-blooded Americans mated to a different designation just like god intended. You don't have to do anything for me that you don't want to."

And Peter had known that it was mostly political-- well, that it was all political; he doesn't kid himself for a moment that he actually has anything to offer Tony that the man seems to be interested in-- but he hadn't realized the extent to which they weren't even going to pretend. People got married for political reasons all the time, but they still made the best of it-- they were still affectionate, they were still intimate, they were still partners--

The words 'what about my heats' almost make their way out of Peter's mouth before he remembers to keep things focused on his alpha's needs, not his own, and he says, "What about your ruts?"

"I'll handle them the same way I have for the last thirty-something years of my life?" Tony shrugs, brushing the idea off like it's nothing, but he must see the lingering conflict in Peter's expression. He sighs, and awkwardly ventures, "And for your heats... You can handle them however you have been so far, or you can buy some toys, or-- hell, if you want to find a strapping young alpha to help you through them, that's fine with me."

Peter is horrified.

"You want me to cheat on you?"

But Tony is just as dismissive of that as everything else, and he just says, "There's no fidelity clause in our marriage contract."

Peter doesn't know how to feel. Being with Tony so far has felt like a dream, and this-- this is still so much better than the alternative, this sham half-relationship where he's apparently meant to be-- Tony's ward moreso than his actual partner, so he knows it's entitled, he knows he shouldn't say it and that he's still making out like a bandit regardless of Tony's answer and he shouldn't even expect anything else, but--

"Are you going to cheat on me?" he asks, voice tiny, and Tony goes still.

It takes him a long time to answer. Enough time that Peter has started trying to acclimate himself to that reality-- being one of those omegas that everyone looks at with pity and shakes their heads over, whose alphas come home every day smelling like someone else, and-- well, it wasn't like anyone had ever been going to believe that he was enough to keep a leash on Tony Stark anyway, so it's stupid to be upset about it; people were going to assume Tony was cheating on him whether it was true or not. He can deal with that. It's fine.

"No," Tony says finally, slowly. "I-- kid, I'm sorry, I thought you knew how this was going to work. But no, I'm not going to cheat on you. The whole point is for me to be a good alpha to you, not to make you miserable."

"What about me being a good omega to you?" Peter asks, pressing his luck; his knees are already weak with relief so he doesn't know why he can't keep his mouth shut and stop talking back, but he's just-- in shock.

Tony grimaces again, shaking his head, and says, "I don't need you to be a good omega to me, kid; I'm a grown man and I can take care of myself. What kind of person do you want to be? Do you want to-- study science and learn to build computers, do you want to design new LEGO sets, do you want to do music or travel the world or run charities like your aunt? Worry about that. Figure out what you want to do and tell me and we'll make it happen, but don't worry about me."

And it is a dream come true, being told he can be or do whatever he wants-- who said stuff like that, who let their omegas behave that way?-- but Peter is still stuck, because--

"What if I want to worry about you?"

"You don't," Tony says bluntly, such an abrupt shutdown that it doesn't even hurt. "You've just been told that's the only thing you're good for your entire life, so you think it's what you're supposed to do, but it's not true."

And Peter-- doesn't know whether to be offended, not that he could act on it even if he did. It is offensive, being told his own mind, but he can see that Tony's frustration is for him and not at him, and that this is Tony trying to-- be sweet, somehow, in his own way--

Tony says, "You have so many better things you could be doing than wandering around after me in case I need something, all right? I'm a big boy; I can get my own snacks and pick up my own socks. So let's figure out what your 'better things' are."

--And Peter is still utterly befuddled by it, and doesn't really understand what Tony is getting at with how he's been essentially groomed to be obedient/deferential and suppress his own needs in favor of his alpha's, and he's still nursing a little bit of hurt and disappointment and grief that Tony doesn't want him at all and that their marriage is nothing but a mask all the way down, but.

They spend the rest of their honeymoon week with Peter trying out different things and getting different experiences to see if he likes them, and by the time Tony goes back to work, Peter has a private tutor to help him get an education past the last level that was available to him as an unmarried omega, and his own workspace in the apartment for his tinkering, and a personal chaperone so that he can go to whatever museums or expos he wants with an extra layer of security beyond what just his wedding ring provides.

It works, even though it still chafes Peter a bit to be treated essentially as a foster child instead of a husband, especially when he's in heat and Tony tends to him like an alpha parent does for an omega child instead of like a lover, and especially when they travel overseas and Tony actually takes his wedding ring off and won't introduce Peter as his mate.

("I'm not trying to cheat on you, Pete; things are just different here," Tony explains, and Peter doesn't get it because everyone already knows that Tony Stark is married and who to, but-- things are different overseas, and it is a little bit thrilling to see omegas wandering around so freely, living whatever lives they want to lead, and Peter is too nervous to go exploring without Tony or Happy anyway but the idea that he could is incredible.)

But they fall into a routine, and Peter's still so grateful for getting to live a life alongside Tony even if it isn't exactly what he had pictured.

And then-- and here's why the "not going to actually write it" disclaimer, 3k words in, because that would allllllllllllllll just be set-up for:

Peter goes on a tour of the Osborn building as a part of his science education, and he's trying to get more comfortable with not needing a chaperone when he's out in public because maybe Tony will start treating him more like an adult if he tries to be more independent, so he doesn't stay put and wait while his tutor is in the bathroom, aaaaand he gets bit by a radioactive spider.

And as he's realizing in the aftermath how it's changed his body-- how he's strong now, stronger than any alpha, stronger than ten alphas-- he starts... thinking about things. About all those vigilantes he's heard of, out on the streets, putting themselves at risk to protect people. About how many times he's had to walk past omegas with black eyes and 'wedding rings' that they wore around their necks, his head lowered in vicarious shame. About how maybe-- if he was brave enough-- if he could shake off that nervousness that told him he needed a chaperone, that he was doing something wrong by being an omega out on his own--

So he does.

Tony bites his tongue about it when Peter starts going out on his own, because he's stressed to Peter over and over how he wants Peter to do whatever he wants, and he genuinely doesn't know where the line between 'controlling alpha' and 'responsible adult' is when he's married to a literal child, but he relaxes when Peter starts coming back bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and thriving with his new independence.

...Until he sees enough clips of this "Spider-man" that it piques his interest, and does enough research to figure out who it is.

He and Peter fight about it, which is wild and new because Peter never actually talks back to him, raised with those perfect omega manners, and only ever gently questions Tony during those moments where all Tony's doing is trying not to treat him like a piece of property.

But Peter throws all of that back in his face now, arguing that Tony is the one who always says that Peter should do what makes him happy, he should do whatever he wants, and he shouldn't base his entire life around what he thinks Tony wants because he's his own person, and this makes him happy, this is the 'better thing' that he can be making of his life if Tony's not going to give him the dignity of at least pretending he has any value as a husband--

And Tony doesn't know how to argue about it, because he has said all those things, but Peter is also a child and it's not right for him to be throwing himself around putting himself in danger like that, and-- and also he didn't know Peter was so fucking bitter about Tony not treating him as an actual spouse, and he hates that for Peter because it's not going to change anytime soon but it's also fascinating, somehow, to hear Peter be sharp with him after nearly a year of nothing but polite deference--

He rubs a hand over his face and says, "Pete, if any of those alpha criminals get their hands on you--"

And Peter takes a liberty he's never taken before-- he hasn't tried to touch Tony on his own initiative at all since that failed attempt at a kiss, except to shrink against his side when he was uncomfortable in public-- and takes Tony's wrists gently in hand and walks him back until Tony's pinned to the wall without a single hint of strain, and he just says, "Try."

He's not mean or even condescending about it, instead watching Tony with a plaintive plea for Tony to understand. So Tony accepts the challenge, and-- he's seen the videos, he did know how fucking strong Peter had to be to do those things, but it's not until he's struggled fruitlessly against Peter's grip to the point that he's breathless with it that it really, truly sinks in.

So then he's standing there, red-faced and panting and pinned to the wall by Peter's unfaltering grip around his wrists, and he registers the way that Peter's expression has changed, all dark-eyed and flushed even though holding Tony in place clearly wasn't a strain for him at all, and he registers how close they're standing to each other, and he registers how heavy Peter's scent is in the air, all warm honey sweetness--

And he says, "All right, fine, you win," because he suddenly needs to not be having this conversation anymore.

He does take some steps, though. He builds Peter a better suit, and he loads it with an AI to take care of him and to alert Tony if Peter starts getting in over his head. And Peter accepts it with genuine gratitude, and it helps Tony feel a little better, but-- Peter gets hit so hard sometimes, and there are so many situations where Tony wouldn't even have time to intervene before Peter could be critically injured or even dead on the spot, and Tony doesn't honestly know what he thinks he would be able to do about it if Peter did get in over his head, it's not like he has super powers--

But then he gets to thinking, and in all honesty, it's not like he needs actual superpowers, is it? When he could just build himself something. Something that would let him actually help Peter while he was out there, fighting for the good of a world that would've thrown him to the wolves in half a second if Tony hadn't intervened, if May Parker hadn't had the strength to ask for help-- and if for some reason Peter seems to hate it when Tony actually speaks into his heroing, like it's some kind of insult that Tony wants him to be safe, maybe he'll accept some help from someone else--

Peter doesn't know what to think of Iron Man when he comes on the scene, at first. It's a little irritating how often he tries to tell Peter to hang back, when he clearly doesn't even have the same amount of experience that Peter does, but it's not too long before Iron Man's deferring to Peter instead, and then it's not too long after that that they become a pretty good team. And once Iron Man learns to treat him as an equal, Peter finds that he's funny and thoughtful and sweet, and he tells Peter whatever he wants to know about how the armor works, and--

Peter has never for a second actually considered exploiting the lack of an infidelity clause in his and Tony's marriage contract. But there is something a little-- addictive, about having the respect and attention of this brilliant armor-clad alpha, when his actual alpha still treats him like a child, and he starts... thinking.

And Tony has never for a second actually thought of Peter as an actual mate. He's too young; that would be-- disgusting. But-- Peter's almost an entirely different person in the suit, or maybe he's just an entirely different person when he's not with Tony-- his alpha-- because Spider-man is all sass and vinegar and unyielding strength of character, and Tony wishes that Peter would bring some of that home with him instead of the return of his unending soft-spoken deferential politeness, because if he did--

If he did--

On second thought, Tony's not going to think about it.

[milaisa]

Teach me how to speed draw I mean I'm unable to finish even a simple sketch in 2 hours...

The secret of being able to draw "fast" comes down to routine and experience. I've worked in a professional environment where I learned fundamentals of efficient work. However, no matter what your skill level is, you can always start practicing.

In my opinion, the most important thing to remember is that sketches are supposed to be just quick scribbles of your ideas. In a professional environment, artists are encouraged to spend as little time in the early development phase. When you start designing characters for example, your first job is to create as many illustrated ideas in a very short time as possible. You shouldn't focus on details but shape language, silhouette and the general "story" you want your character to be able to tell visually.

To me it sounds like your general problem is that you spend too much time thinking how something "should look" or if your sketch is clean enough. Instead of that, try to focus on sketching the outer shape of the character. Here are some of my sketches I've made under a few minutes.

See? My sketches aren't the cleanest but they convey the message I want to bring. Instead of focusing too much on detail, I make sure the shape language and facial expressions are clear and easy to read. I personally suggest checking out the work of storyboard artists. I think learning about their working habits could help you learn how to spend less time on detail and rather put that effort into conveying the message you want your sketch to tell.

When you gain more experience, build your confidence and grow more familiar with your own style, your sketching habits start to become automatic and you don't need to put much thought process into it anymore. It all really comes down to experience. I've not always been fast at drawing. It took me years of practice to get where I am now and believe me or not, I'm STILL learning. It never stops. I'm still aiming to be even faster.

As a general note, being fast doesn't mean you're a good artist but it's a useful skill while working in a professional field. However, I personally admire artists who are able to pour hundreds of hours in a single painting. I could never be able to do that.

[ieatedyourcrayons]

Thank you for the Quick answer! I'll request for Mondo since its probably the easiest for you to understand by a Quick search ^^

A fluff Mondo Oowada x Fem reader (possibly a curvy introvert girl) where he manages to gain enough courage to invite her out?

They're both a bit clumsy and anxious about the whole situation being unexperienced?

Hope its not too much, Thank you and have a nice day (again) U3U

Mondo Oowada x Fem!Reader

Sorry for the late response. school and work has been on my shoulders lol. thank you for the request!

Mondo had his eye on you since he first saw you at school. Your shyness and dedication to your school work caught his eye. You kept to yourself and kept small talk to a minimum, especially with people you didn’t know.

Mondo was conflicted with his feelings for you. Your personality and skills were far from his. He was a hardcore punk and gang biker, while you were shy and closed off. He hung around a hard group of people and you hung around a small group of people.

Chihiro was your best friend. You knew everything about eachother and your nerdy interest clash perfectly.

One day while you were sitting in your reading elective class that you conveniently shared with Oowada, you caught him staring at you. You could feel the eyes burning your head.

You turned around and made eye contact with his burning eyes, just for him to look away quickly and act like he was doing work. Red plastered in both of your faces.

You tried hard to ignore the feeling of him staring at you all class. Thoughts running through your head. You never got attention like this from boys, not that you cared for it , it’s just new.

You brushed away the thoughts. He was probably just bored, he’s attractive and popular. “He probably wants some new attention” you think to yourself as your grip on your pencil gets tighter.

Oowada’s confidence slowly declined after you didn’t look back at him anymore, He was still determined to get some sort of interaction with you.

As you were walking down the hall, headed to your locker, Mondo takes his chance. He quickly walks over to you before anyone can catch your attention first.

“Oh cool, what class?” He ask you, hiding his relief. “AP calculus.” You shrug as you close your locker. “I couldn’t even pass regular calculus” He laughs.

You guys share a laugh before you turn to walk to class, Mondo trailing behind you. “So would you wanna hangout sometime? i have a wii..” He adds sheepishly, fidgeting with his knuckles.

“I haven’t played the wii in so long! do you have smash bros?” You reply excitedly as you continue walking to class.

“Of course I do? Who did you think I am?” He laughs back. He didn’t expect it to be this easy. “Okay then. Wii tonight?” You ask with a big smile on your face.

He nods, confirming your request. “Wii tonight. my place” He replies verbally. “I’ll text you my address on instagram, bye y/n.” He adds before turning and walking away.

You contain your excitement and smile as you walk into you class and set your things down. Junko eyeing your giddy expression.

“Uhm.. what happened to you?” She ask with her usual snarky tone. “Oh nothing. just something funny happened.” You reply, not giving “miss gossip” anything to go talk about.

[halfnekoslair]

Whining post)

Have another photo from earlier today. >w< Seriously, why is it so dark? During the daytime? On the balcony?

Short: Yes, I plan to make them for sale. But I can't say when. I don't know myself.

Long:

I've been thinking about this question for some time. And I think yes. I should sell these guys in the future. But this will not be a quick process. I have to find out and try a lot of things.

I thought about selling 3D files, but I abandoned this idea. I just don't want to do this. I understand that this may be more convenient for people around the world. But I'm not ready to let this project run free without my supervision.

I just spent too much time and materials on this. Mainly due to my inexperience. But still...

So the plan is to make the dolls myself. I think.

I've been in the BJD hobby for a long time. But I left it a few years ago because it no longer felt right.

So I've lost track of what doll prices are nowdays. Especially 3D printed ones. And the varnish I used before doesn’t seem to be around anymore. All my paints are already dry. I don't have many tools that I used to have anymore.

I also need to find a resin that is good for printing articulated dolls. The one I'm testing now is pretty good for my taste. A few scratches are visible only because I dyed resin a very dark green. It looks similar for dark skintone dolls as I remember.

But if you know and can advise something, I will be very glad.

Overall I need more test prints. More materials. More tools. More time to work on my rusty skills. Before I am confident enough in my product. In short: more money >w< Ahaha stupid adult life.

I'm currently working on vtuber model commissions. Drawing and Rigging.

And I think I'm in the burnout stage. I'm so done with it! I just don't want to wake up in the morning to do this... I hope no one from my other pages reads this hahaha...

So I sincerely dream of jumping into something else from drawing.

But not today) I still need the funds to put it into my other projects before I can even begin to imagine if any of it can make a difference.

Thank you for attention)

[prudentfolly]

Hi! How are you?

Sorry for the silly question but is there anymore information on Miss Prudence DuBois? The small bit of lore I read of her in the tags has piqued my curiosity~

Hello! Not a silly question at all! I’m glad she’s piqued anyone’s curiosity! She is a fairly new character, born out of a need to have ‘just a dude’ character. I have a bit of background for her and not much else, currently. The background is a little heavy, however. She's tied to a friend's character, working as her retainer, and I am open to more connections with other characters!

CW for: mention of Suicide, drug and alcohol abuse, gambling, child neglect.

Born to a merchant father and his young bride, Prudence was sort of doomed from the start. Her father was not a very good merchant, you see, and he was over-confident in some of the seedier gambling dens. A few bad deals and their coffers were suddenly empty, their reputation in shreds.

They moved deep down into the brume when Prudence was but a few months old. 

And then the gambling dens came calling for their coin. 

Her father, in despair and shame, fell from the side of the city’s walls one morning. 

Her mother did her best, but she was young and the life of comfort she thought she had won was quickly lost. And with her husband now gone any debt he had fell to her to repay. She would never leave the Brume. Prudence would, though, clawing her way out of the chilly fog with her own skill and tenacity. 

Hearing of Stephanivien and his aid to commoners, Prudence made herself a nuisance until his only choice was to put a carbine in her hand. The roar of that gun makes Prudence feel powerful. 

Currently, Prudence works as a Retainer for a noble woman of House Dzemael. She is loyal and efficient. Incredibly proper around Madame and other nobles. Incredibly crass among her own people. 

A heavy smoker, a heavy drinker, an eager indulger of illicit drugs. On her own time, of course. Direct. Prone to losing touch with reality. Bitter. A workaholic.

A proper Ishgardian girl who goes to mass and doesn’t pray.

She is missing motivations and goals, but those will come eventually. Right now she's grateful to be alive and comfortable enough -- especially grateful to be overworked.

[lonelysheepling]

Advice for artists and non-artists but mainly just artists

You know how you do a thing for so long that it’s becomes super mundane and insignificant to you, like when you’re sewing something you just do a basic stitch and struggle to tie a standard knot at the end. But you don’t do this often enough for it to stand out to you. You’re an artist, hey maybe even a professional one, and you’ve been doing your art a certain way for a long time. You use pose references and look up environment pictures to reference. But you still draw shoes without a reference or you draw clothes without any detailed folds.

At various points in my art journey I tried using tutorials, resources, and step by step guides for drawing certain things, be that nature brushes, drawing noses front-on, etc. and my skills at the time were kinda basic so I could never really pull off the tutorials in a way that satisfied me. I then went years just improving on broad areas like perspective and posing, focusing more on the overall composition than the minor details. But one day, years later, I got bored and decided to look up how to draw clothing folds

On the left of the green line is some previous work, on the right was two pieces I drew after I heavily referenced cloth physics

Ignore the shading, lighting, colors, etc. the stuff on the right definitely has way better flow than the stuff on the left. Now it wasn’t like a “wow I used a reference and now I’m a master” situation, there was an adjustment period with some less than stellar examples

But when I created those first 2 folds it was like a fucking switch was flicked in my head and I’ve been improving ever since. I am immensely grateful that I just happened to go looking for reference photos because holy shit something as simple as improving my clothing folds massively boosted my confidence in my work. Something I’ve noticed after I followed tutorials is that during the adjustment period, while the first couple of pieces are very reminiscent of the source tutorial, they start to get a little too far off and I stop referencing the tutorial and start doing my own thing (for better or for worse), but there’s then a period afterwards where I go back (maybe after re-watching the original tutorial) and develop it more into my own style.

Here’s a graph to better explain my thought process

Here’s another gun to the head reminder to use references. Recently I was drawing shoes for a character and I have a pretty consistent method of drawing shoes (consistent, not good).

But I wanted it to look more rugged so I looked up an image of a hiking boot and guess at what point in this timelapse that the reference was pulled up

I had for years tried using tutorials and reference photos but the process never really clicked for me. But over the years I have improved my technical skills and I believe that those improvements and all that practice made it way easier for me to understand and replicate tutorials, i understand now how the specifics of certain things like shading and depth work, picking up new skills that are still in the area I work in became way easier. But Im obviously still finding areas in my art by random chance that I can improve on. Because I don’t think about those parts anymore, they’re in the background of my design process.

This is where my advice to non-artists comes in. Look up tutorials. For anything. You know earlier when I mentioned sewing? Look up a guide on stitching, I just learned today what a surgeons knot is despite having been hand stitching for years. You don’t know what you don’t know, you don’t seek out improvement when you don’t perceive the need to improve. Trust me, there’s always areas to improve but you are going to have to stretch your mind at some point to recognize them. Everybody talks about how you should use tutorials and use references and all that, but I don’t think many people are going to research tutorials for things they don’t feel like they need improvement in.

. Anyway that’s the end of my monthly psa

If something in this post confused you feel free to send me like an ask or a brick through my window with a note attached to it, I’m not picky.