#I sometimes felt like my writing wasn't any good especially when I see so many other writers get such big reactions

[ohraicodoll]

Thank you so much for Red. It’s crazy how much I relate to her. We don’t live in a post apocalyptic world but we all live in our own worlds and sometimes it can feel like us vs them which Red helps me to navigate. She has helped me to feel less ashamed about the way my brain has turned out.

She’s so cathartic and has shown me that even when someone is as rough and ready, or completely rejecting of anything good that comes their way because they ‘don’t deserve it’ or that they will wreck it that some people could them her regardless. If that makes sense.

I especially love the new Tommy x Red friend post that just made me feel so fucking validated again! The way that Red has unusual ways of showing her love/gratitude and the people in her life just try to understand it until they do with no questioning!? To be loved in a way that is so accommodating and significant blows my mind. I know you’re writing fiction but sometimes discovering that this very specific thing is addressed and taken care of by another human being in the world is insane and has given me a bit of hope for my future.

It’s so soothing and Cathartic to read your work . I spent some of my childhood in survival mode and it never truly leaves you. You’ve written it so realistically I am in amazement with every piece of the puzzle you post.

I wish I had an ounce of your talent so that I could explain my love and gratitude for you in a way that was comprehensible. I’m sorry, I just had to say something now though, I’ve been having a weird couple of days and your writing is one of my only forms of escapism.

I am so interested in what inspired you to create such a specifically complex female character like her. I consume a lot of media, have read and literally studied the new era of woman (still hard to give them a specific name) and no character has ever come close to Red. Your talent blows my mind.

Thank you Sam.

Oh goodness, did you make me cry ❤❤

I'm so glad you feel seen and feel a bit of representation and catharsis with her. That's just all I can hope is that you all love the characters I create and the stories as much as I do. You've all kept me motivated and inspired to write her (especially as fast as I have haha).

The idea about Red came because I kinda got tired of only finding pure smut or timid characters in the TLOU fic tag. I love both but Tess was not timid and was more the dominant in the relationship. And I fully get that Joel radiates "I'll take care of you" dom energy but at this point in the apocalypse I doubt there would be many people left that didn't have some aggression in them or that need taking care of. I love character analysis too much to do the same type of character.

I've always been drawn to rage characters. I wrote a whole book series when I was a teen centered around one. And I think I wanted to go back to that since my character in my Sandman series is the opposite. Dahlia is an exploration of trauma responses, especially around acts of anger because that's what I experience. But I started writing with action and violence and someone who is angry all the time and motivated by rage and I wanted to go back to it because writing a character that lacks the moral responses to killing is fascinating. So often we get characters that regret or are remorseful around killing and I don't think that's Joel.

So it was a combo of just writing someone who doesn't regret her violence, doesn't regret killing, and has been alone in the wild for a long time focused only on surviving that they never thought they'd get more. Someone who is accepted for their violence and rage. And that's Red. She is a bunch of fractured pieces held together with string with no coping skills and Joel and Ellie love her either way.

There's the her before the Outbreak, the her that was broken by her sister (who she sees in Ellie), there's the her that was with her group, the her after being alone for years and years, and then the her with Joel and Ellie. Joel never shies away from her and may actually be drawn to her more because of it since there's a piece of that in him. This story is about being seen and accepting your ugliness.

I think being able to jump all over her timeline and continuously build her has been so wonderful and fun. Requests and prompts have been great in building her (though I do change some to make sure they fit the world and who she is). I fully acknowledge she's not a reader but an OC but I cannot write a character who is a blank slate because your past and history dictate your personality and actions (and tbh, most Readers are actually OC's without names or descriptions. I'm old, the x Reader/You thing is new but also just a relabeling of OC's)

I don't know how other writers write, but these characters fully inhabit me when I focus on them. It's why it's hard to switch between stories and characters at time because I can only see through their eyes. I feel their natural body movements, their conversations flow in my head and usually I have to race to write them down somewhere for later. Red is very much a part of me and it's been a joy to explore her and bring her to you all.

So much love and thankfulness to you all ❤❤

[yelenasdiary]

OK OK OK I have a request go with me here. What about Florence with an insecure reader but she’s plus size she’s insecure about like sitting on Florence’s lap (and face 😗) so maybe like a fluffy smut or something idk I just haven’t been feeling to good about my body these days. You 100% don’t have to do this. Ok love you bye!!!!😘

Why Me?

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Plus Size! Reader

Summary: Flo helps you cope when your mind gets the better of you.

Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Body image issues, Mentions of Depression & Cyber Bullying| 1.3K

AC: I hope you enjoy this, I didn’t include any smut or suggestive themes as I simply do not do that when writing celebrity x reader so I hope what I have written is still somewhat what you were looking for x

Dating a celebrity wasn't easy, especially when you never thought you were built for the spotlight of any kind. Birthdays were usually small just to keep the attention off you as much as possible and you never liked it much when people would make a fuss about your achievements. You were shy, but it was one of the many things Florence, your girlfriend, loved about you. 

Florence absolutely loves showing you off. At family events, she was always seen proudly holding your hand or having an arm wrapped around your waist. It took a long time for her to get you to say yes to attending a red-carpet event with her. Florence had this way of making you smile and laugh when you didn't know you needed it the most, it was like she was always one step ahead of your insecurities and thoughts. 

But not everything was rainbows and butterflies. The world can be cruel, not matter how big or small you are, people are always going to express their opinions and it was one of the biggest things that Florence quickly noticed that was affecting you. Whenever the paparazzi snapped photos of you and Florence hand in hand walking the streets of LA or the rare chance that caught you kissing in a busy café in London, there were always comments. 

Harsh and cruel comments directed mostly to you, comments on your body, weight and how people couldn't understand why Florence was with you. Most of the time you were able to avoid seeing them or ignored them whenever you did see them but being human, they got to you sometimes. You've struggled with thoughts about yourself for a while and it never helped when your depression would side with those thoughts. Florence hated the comments, and she would know when you had read some. 

"What's on your mind darling?" Florence's raspy voice brought your attention back to earth as you looked up from the plate of food in front of you. "Huh? Oh, sorry" you quickly collected yourself, "I'm just a little tired, I think I might be coming down with something" you added. Florence tilted her head slightly to the right, "don't give me that" she said knowing you weren't being truthful with her. 

You sighed, placing the silver fork beside the plate of untouched food, you knew there was no hope in lying to her. She studied your body language while you racked your brain to form the words you wanted to say but not wanting to upset your girlfriend. "I guess, I just" you started, avoiding eye contact with the blonde knowing full well that if you looked into her big green eyes that the tears you felt trying their best to build would break. Florence reached over the table and gently placed her hand on top of your left, "it's okay baby, take your time" she assured you. 

A moment of silence was shared between the two of you before you finally broke it and spoke the thoughts that had been circling your mind for the last few days. "Why me?" You asked, "I mean, you could have anybody in the world, I mean that literally. You could have somebody who isn't….well…. me" you spoke, your eyes dropping to your lap. 

Florence rose from her seat and walked over to you and kneeled, taking your hands into hers. "Look at me darling, please" she spoke. Slowly, you lifted your head up, looking at her with tears building up, "where is this coming from?" She asked, her thumbs brushing gently over your knuckles. A tear streamed down your right cheek when you saw nothing but love and concern from your partner, "I guess" you paused for a moment, "I feel so ugly" you said, "sometimes I think everybody is right, you can do a lot better than me" you added as more tears streamed down your cheeks. 

Without hesitation, Florence stood up and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close to her and placing a kiss on the top of your head. "Oh darling" she said softly. She didn't need to know how this all started, she noticed recently how you were slowly hiding yourself away from those around you, avoiding going out to lunch with Florence, afraid of what more people would say. She hated it so much that people could be so cruel and not think about what their words could do to another human. She gently rubbed your back, letting you break down in her arms. You were tired and she knew that. 

She kneeled down in front of you again, wiping the tears from your cheeks, "I don't want anybody else, I don't need anybody else" she assured you, "You don't see yourself the way I see you, all those strangers don't see you the way I see you, they don't see the beautiful soul that makes my day better every morning, they don't see how hard working you are. You care so, so much about every single person around you, you make sure that everybody feels seen and included and it's something I love about you, but it also makes me wonder why you don't treat yourself with the same kindness. 

You are the most beautiful person I have ever met; I am so lucky that you picked me. I am so lucky to love you. I love that I get to wake up next to you every morning and coming home to you is all I look forward to each day. Darling, nobody is perfect but you are perfect to me and I know that sounds cliché but I wouldn't have you any other way. I just want you to be happy" she said, ever breaking eye contact with you. She brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, "how about this weekend you and I take a trip, wherever you want to go. We'll take some time away from everything and just enjoy our time" she suggested. 

You nodded, loving the idea of not having to worry about your insecurities. Although they didn't go away completely but Florence always had a magic way of making you forget about them. 

----

The sun kissed the top of the lake that you looked over, sitting on Florence's lap while she traced random shapes and patterns on your back. Like the sun, her presence and comfort brought a sense of warmth to you. Nothing else mattered in this moment but spending it with the one person you loved and adored so much. The weekend had only started, you and Florence had booked out a lake house for the weekend to enjoy, arriving in the early hours of the morning Florence still was able to cook up an amazing breakfast which the two of you enjoyed on the porch overlooking the lake. 

"It's so beautiful here" you commented as your eyes traced over the mountains that overlooked the lake. Florence smiled softly, "it is, isn't it" she replied. Although she didn't care much for the view of the lake but more the soft smile that you wore proudly. She placed a kiss on your cheek which only made you blush at her unexpected affection. 

"Thank you" you said as you looked over your shoulder at Florence, "I'm sorry that my mind gets the better of me sometimes" you added. 

"Oh darling, you don't need to apologise nor thank me" she smiled before leaning up and kissing your lips gently, "just promise me that when you start to feel down again, you talk to me. I am always here for you, my love. I'd drop everything just to see you smile, never forget that" she added before you kissed her once more, smiling against her lips before you pulled away. 

"I love you" you whispered to her.

Taglist:  @marvelfan98 | @boredandneedfanfics | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @caporal-nino | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @itsmelulu | @axolotllover225 | 

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

[al4dy]

My addiction [Amber. F]

Pairing: Amber Freeman x fem!reader

Summary: You've been having encounters with Ghostface and now you find yourself addicted.

Warnings: toxic relationship, sick love, mention of drugs(?), addictions, sadism, knife play, violence, blood, knives and things like that. Not proofread, sorry. +16 only, please.

a/n: My friend @jennacarioca was sad and I started writing this to her since she likes Amber (It's shameful how long it took me to write just this little bit), and also her birthday is almost knocking on the door, so it will be two birds with one stone. (english is definitely not my first language and this'll be kinda obvious lmao sorry again)

What makes addiction an addiction? The release of dopamine is one of the factors, that's for sure. The hormone that brings you happiness, pleasure, satisfaction, just as it can also bring you into deep, unforgiving waters and make you drown in these temporary sensations. Something that gives you so many good feelings can - if you're not careful - be your downfall.

Already showing signs of addiction you would recklessly look for things that release this rush of sensations just to feel something similar again.

It's just fucking hard to get out of an addiction, especially if you've been doing it for a while. Sometimes you may end up not getting rid of it even if you want with all your might, because deep down you know that maybe nothing will give you those same sensations.

And that's exactly what was happening to you. Your addiction was consuming you, slowly corrupting you, leaving you rotten and dependent on these sensations, this type of adrenaline– And there's only one person in the world capable of making you feel something like that; Woodsboro's most wanted serial killer.

Your body carried dagger cuts, some still healing and others already healed. Your throat had the perfect imprint of the hand Ghostface used to squeeze it, to choke you until you begged for air, for mercy. All of this was enough sign for you to get out of this fucked up situation, look for help, run as far away...

But how could you? None of that compared to the feeling of those soft lips tracing moist kisses down your neck, whispering words of comfort, sweet words that no one had said to you before. The feeling of those slightly pointed canine teeth grazing your sensitive skin to the point where blood can be seen; it was an agonizing pain, but then their tongue slid over the spot so gently, eliciting a drawn out moan from you.

Now that you put yourself in this situation, you couldn't get out.

The cold night breeze tickled your skin, goosebumps spread over every inch of your body but it definitely wasn't because of that. No, the cold breeze didn't play even the slightest role in how your body was completely rigid, or how - even slightly - you were shaking. It was because of the person dressed in a black cloak in front of you; their face being hidden by a Ghostface mask.

At this point you should be feeling the cold metal of the dagger slowly sliding across your skin - not too deep, but deep enough to make Ghostface pleased to see your pained expression and the crimson liquid running from the cut -, but now what you felt was the fabric of their glove against your skin, making small circles on your neck with the index finger.

You were used to this game. It was a pattern and you discovered it pretty quickly. Ghostface likes to hurt you not only physically, but also mentally: One night they like to play with you, especially with knives, restricting you and any disobedience would be another cut on your body. Over the next few nights they shower you with affection, treat you like a princess, say the most romantic things and make you feel loved like never before. Only to disappear for a few weeks, leaving you distressed, anxious, needing more. That's when Ghostface comes back again and the cycle continues, exactly in that order.

“You keep coming at me, why?” the voice was modulated, but the soft way they spoke to you made the air in your lungs empty in seconds. You're feeling uneasy, you could feel your stomach turn from feeling your body heating up. You hated it, it was ridiculous- however, you still wanted to keep feeling that way.

You opened your mouth but nothing came out, it was as if a lump had formed in your throat, preventing you from saying anything.

“Come on love… you know exactly what to say.”

“B-Because I love you.” You felt your stomach drop, you always did. It didn't feel right to say those words, not in this situation and definitely not to that person.

As soon as the words completely slipped out of your mouth, a robotic laugh was heard in that dark and deserted alley. “Oh god- that never fails to make me laugh!”

“As much as I like to hear you say it, you don't love me, baby. You love how I make you feel.” You lowered your gaze to the dirty floor, but it didn't last long as the same hand that made small circles on your neck grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at them. A gasp left your lips. “Look at me while we’re talking.” Ghostface had a threatening tone. You could tell they were smiling and enjoying it.

You were completely right, you just confirmed it when they took off that mask.

As soon as the mask was off your breath hitch. No matter how many times you saw Amber taking off that mask, you always got the same reaction. Having those intense eyes staring at you dead in the eye made you want to squeeze your thighs together. It was as if all that uneasy feeling disappeared as soon as you saw her face.

Amber had a cheek-to-cheek smile on her lips; a smile that make you shiver from head to toe in fear. That was definitely what people call a “maniacal smile”. She tightened her grip on your chin.

Your eyes were seen so much clearly now, your frown said that you were thinking about getting rid of this touch because it was really hurting, but the way you swallowed hard and sighed with your lips parted right away put everything Amber needed to know on the table.

You still wanted her, you still needed her even though she treated you like that and that was just a trigger for her to continue.

“Hmm...” The hand that held your chin firmly slid slowly down your jaw. “But it’s okay if you don’t love me, because I definitely love you.” The sinister smile on her lips gave way to a softer one, you could have sworn it was something more tender.

“Let’s get out of this alley so I can love you completely, okay?”

It was always the same question, you knew that after that night it would take days for you to see her again. You knew she would make you go to heaven only to pull you straight to hell.

But you don't care, do you? As long as you're able to be with Amber - as long as she can make you feel alive even though she's killing you slowly -, you'd go to hell blindfolded.

“Yes.” You said quietly.

“Yes what?”

“Yes love."

[findmeinthefallair]

An Uncommonly Discussed Trauma Symptom

Disclaimer: This is in no way a substitute for therapy: it’s only psychoeducation. Please consult a therapist and/or hotline and get the help you need if you are experiencing mental health difficulties, especially if experiencing distress or issues that feel unmanageable.

Warnings: Mentions and discussion of suicidal ideation, death, abuse and violence.

Special thanks to @ashanimus and @childlikegoblinqueen

Ever heard of "the sense of a foreshortened future"?

If you have suffered trauma over a sustained and long enough period of time, you may find that you can't imagine yourself living long. You can't see yourself reaching milestones, because it hardly makes sense to your mind that you can go on for that long...given how much you have felt like you've escaped danger, given just how many close calls you have had in life.

Yet the sense of a foreshortened future is a separate thing from suicidality.

If you have both of those together though, it really isn't fun because they may feed one another in a cycle, in the way that symptoms under the same mental health condition have the potential to do the same.

It isn't a desire for pain to end (which is what suicidality is), more so a generated expectation that takes root, and a framework which a survivor tries to fit their experiences into, with the goal to get things to make as much sense as can be. Because it's often the easier thing to devise a simple formula, to feel certainty and to manage one's expectations: rather than embrace the grey areas of uncertainty about how life will turn out.

It's almost as if this feeling of a foreshortened future is in a tug-of-war match between what appears to be solid reasoning, and a person's natural survival instinct along with the hunger for a meaningful life.

This symptom isn't on the *official* criteria for a psychiatrist or clinical psychologist to make any diagnoses, it is not listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition (DSM-5) or International Classification of Diseases, 10th Revision (ICD-10). But informally it is sometimes categorized as an avoidance symptom under both PTSD and Complex PTSD, and also under longer-term depression.

(however, I think it can extend to other conditions. The key criteria is it emerges from repeatedly experiencing horrible things until it makes sense in one's head to expect themselves not to last much longer)

If you hop onto Google Scholar to find proper research about it, the findings are very scarce because it's hard to define it, empirically measure it and quantify it in the first place.

Again, it's not the same as suicidal ideation because a foreshortened-future view is an expectation, while the latter is about a desire.

I wasn't taught about this symptom in any training and supervision before becoming a licensed therapist, nor did any of my own therapists bring it up as psychoeducation when I saw them. It was only through online articles on informal websites that I stumbled upon the phrase and it all clicked for my long-term experiences.

But I feel it is good knowledge for anyone providing psychotherapy to bear in mind.

In The Owl House, the grimwalker lore weaved into Hunter's arc, can shockingly be linked with this symptom, symbolically and thematically.

But the show's age rating means it would likely be too dark for the writing team to explicitly incorporate it into Hunter's dialogue.

Hunter was a lamb marked for the slaughter early on.

He has questioned his survival and ability to thrive.

The following article on Psychology Today describes Belos's long-term influence on Hunter pretty well and provides info that strengthens the points I'm making in this whole post:

Link

It's bad enough that before Hunter and Luz found Belos's mindscape, he struggled with the fear of failure to the extent that there was already the raging inner battle between his primal survival instinct and the already knackered part of him that sought eternal rest from his suffering (showing up as suicidal thoughts):

Fast forward a number of episodes...and we see the looming horrors in Hollow Mind that culminated in Hunter's discovery of what his predecessors went through:

followed by permanent rejection by his parental figure:

The power held by a foreshortened-future view, and its potential to isolate you - to make you feel like you're invisible, or a ghost - can be strong.

What Hunter said to Gus in the following screencaps sums up what it feels like pretty well:

In the context of having an abuser, it emerges from the negative beliefs they impose on you. It gets tricky if those beliefs are internalized, and which may remain internalized even after you get to safety and away from said abuser. Internalized until they become what you expect of your life.

It's about those thoughts which you know in your rational mind are lies, but you feel their apparent truth. They go more silent when you practice self-care but they return to try and reel you in again, and to a degree, they succeed in getting you to believe them all over again, before you renounce them once more.

Being in the C-PTSD Club along with Hunter, I personally experience the feeling of a foreshortened future as a voice deep down which almost always says that life feels too long and it therefore feels absolutely weird, like it doesn't make sense. Life feels too long, contrary to that commonly heard cheesy quote, "Life is too short to blah blah blah".

When I reached milestone birthdays like my 21st, it was confusing and made me irritable, feeling an itch deep down that I could not scratch.

The voice asks me why the heck I'm still around when it apparently doesn't make sense. It's a pervading feeling which can be pretty annoying, though I have it far enough in the background that it's like noise instead of being a source of distress.

It's not the easiest thing to explain this, but Hunter may have confusing thoughts creeping into his head like "Caleb didn't last long, why would I?" whereby such thoughts have a strange feel to them. They aren't exactly hard rules, nor are they distant enough that they can be easily brushed aside. Brain hurty, emotions spooky.

After the horror of this night:

I can definitely see Hunter wrestling with this symptom from time to time. No doubt. It was a major loss of autonomy and control that would significantly aggravate what was already brewing deep down.

I'm doubtful that the crew even established this on purpose (unless they actually consulted trauma experts and/or experienced mental health practitioners), but...this one symptom ties in with grimwalker lore so perfectly...it's hella fascinating that all Hunter's predecessors' lives (including Caleb's) were cut short. Prematurely.

They came with an expiry date set by their abuser: something very characteristic of this foreshortened future feeling, though not unique to survivors of abusive home environments (e.g. if you experienced natural disasters over many years, yet had a loving family, you could also feel like you may not live long). And Hunter's experience of seeing the grimwalker graveyard in Hollow Mind is a shockingly visceral and visual metaphor to symbolize a concept like this, which matches perfectly with his symptomology as a Complex PTSD survivor.

The battle for inner peace has a high price: it is ongoing, and extends beyond him being physically free from Belos. Because Hunter can't just trim away the Belos-related memories from his earliest years and formative years. He can't forget, but he can choose to give those memories less attention, and choose not to let them take the steering wheel in the long-term.

In my opinion, the possession scenes don't just portray the physical experience of an abuser returning to try regaining control or restoring the status quo of having the survivor in their grasp.

The scenes also represent the abuser's imprint upon the survivor that lasts beyond the duration for which Belos is present in Hunter's life. Belos is the kind of abuser that is so insidious that he knows he could leave some marks that outlast his directly physical presence, in the event that he meets his own end. He would have definitely thought about this. Leaving the kind of grisly reminders that won't ever technically fade away (not to be confused with how they can certainly "fade further into the background" via therapy, new positive experiences and the support of loved ones).

For example, the patterns of the permanent scars on Hunter look so much like the patterns on Philip's own face and body. When possessed, the markings were dark green, later faded to the colour of scar tissue once Belos leaves his body.

As we all know, it's hella sad to imagine Hunter having to look at himself in mirrors throughout the rest of his life. It was awful enough that he had the haircut-related panic attack.

If we tie all that back to the symptom of a foreshortened-future view: Hunter might be left with a spooky nebulous feeling (that will alternate between coming back to haunt him, and subsiding) that he too has some expiry date that is different from how the people around him naturally and confidently expect to live a substantially long life. As a cult survivor with C-PTSD, Hunter can't afford the luxury of those natural expectations.

I don't mean that he might plan a day in the future to end his own life, not at all. But he may have a strange ghostly expectation of how long more he has till his life may come to an end, and he wouldn't be sure of how this subconscious expectation came about.

The darker days of navigating the confusing mess of his complex trauma may feel like exhaustion from paddling and swimming to keep your head above water to breathe.

Speaking of water and drowning, plus the theme of sinking down vs. rising back up above the water surface...the fact that Camila jumped in to bring him back up, his friends helped to pull him out, and Flapjack passes new life to him...this is also some crazy powerful symbolism for surviving complex trauma.

Falling back on a support network, your "tribe", that won't abandon you.

My other Hunter analyses (link) go into more detail about his support network and why he needs it.

I was talking to a friend about all this: she has relevant lived experience and mentioned that poor Hunter would reach a milestone birthday and perhaps cry at least a bit on that day, maybe even during the birthday party: out of sheer confusion. The confusion would be silently screaming "But...this doesn't...make sense?". And he might feel confusing waves of darker emotions along with a strange sense of joy.

He may make a decision to start a family with Willow, and a confused questioning voice will bother him now and then with "How are you still here, doing this and living to see this?".

(...also, when is his birthday...? Is it documented in some Emperor's Coven records that they will find..? Even the mere concept of having a birthday is messed up for him to think about, given the purpose behind his creation)

Complex trauma changes its survivors' relationships with the world, not just with people, and this can even apply to their relationships with things like joy and how joy is experienced.

Flapjack's absence would have bred survivor's guilt. It might translate into Hunter questioning whether he is worth the love and effort his friends put in for him. This feeling could emerge at random moments over the years in his life.

Visually, I feel that these two frames - the lighting (which I'd say is unique among all his scenes because they are parts of his arc that stand out so much), his pose, his expression - somehow capture the experience of how complex trauma is chronic and long-term:

The currently most known C-PTSD memoir out there, What My Bones Know by journalist Stephanie Foo, has some content that I feel matches nicely with what Hunter is experiencing in the two separate scenes above.

The author describes something she calls "the dread" (if you get the book, it's first mentioned on page 51). I would call it the amalgamation of multiple things such as shame, the fear of impending harm, self-doubt where you question whether you did something wrong, fearing that someone hates you, etc.

And basically, good lord my poor boy in the first screenshot..with that expression of suspecting what he thought was Belos's presence in the room: something about it fits the book author's words, feeling like she was "on the precipice of fucking everything up".

That's certainly something that would cross Hunter's mind multiple times as he processes the worst night of his life. That he could have done something to prevent all that.

With so much pre-existing worry that his friends and family might actually hate him, the possession scenes and Flapjack's death would definitely shake his foundation and I'm sure he isn't past this kind of ingrained thought pattern at all:

Second, the book author calls C-PTSD a shapeshifting "beast" (page 316). And when she fights it, she must use a different strategy depending on what form it takes, and that it will keep coming back from time to time in another form. Which is why there is a particular exhaustion one feels from having to adapt to each battle.

For Hunter, the second screencap of him fighting Belos's coercion in a direct physical manner is the first of many battles he has to win in his mind, even after Belos is gone for good. Outlasting whatever invisible assailant is trying to get him, as he faces inevitable episodes of being retraumatized in the future: these are called emotional flashbacks (one of the symptoms of C-PTSD).

Being a survivor of complex trauma who experiences a weird sense of time via a foreshortened-future view, can feel like being on the outside looking in.

But! To end this meta on a hopeful note, I should reiterate something from my most recent long meta about Retraumatization vs. Self-Soothing, the first part of Hunter's important speech in Thanks to Them touches on wild magic and palisman. Wild magic represents freedom, while palismen (quoting the Bat Queen) represent close bonds in relationships, emotion, and conviction.

Applying this to how we can navigate the swampy waters of a foreshortened-future view, Hunter can use his newfound freedom and sense of agency to create the story he'd like to tell about his life. It is pretty much impossible to avoid bringing beliefs from our young formative years into adulthood. But expectations (which have a direct link with emotions we end up feeling) of ourselves and of life can be altered over time, so they become less rigid and instead more open to new possibilities.

He has an inquisitive mind which is a big plus point in understanding the impact of what he has been through, and I have full faith that he'll do just fine in that regard because of the courage we have seen in him.

Among the hobbies he explores in the future, flyer derby will be one example of an excellent outlet for him because of its physicality: trauma and grief are not only emotional battlegrounds but also highly physical ones. The body is also very much involved e.g. feeling the lead-like weight of depressive moods in one's body, feeling the physical tension of hypervigilance, etc.

It's fantastic that he has Luz, Willow, Gus and company, he will have a very meaningful career, and he'll have everyone else in his large found family.

His story...his heart...his resilience and vitality...it's all truly inspirational.

We might learn even more about the grimwalkers in the finale and that would undoubtedly prompt me to do a shorter Part 2 on top of this meta.

[bi-bard]

I'm Back Between Villages, and Everything's Still - Tenth Doctor Imagine [Doctor Who]

Title: I'm Back Between Villages, and Everything's Still

Pairing: Tenth Doctor X Reader

Based On: The View Between Villages - Extended

Word Count: 1.516 words

Warning(s): bad parents, mention of bad childhood

Summary: A further look into the trip that the Doctor and (Y/n) took to (Y/n)'s hometown. The one place that (Y/n) never wanted to walk into again.

Author's Note: I had to reread what I wrote for the first part this because it has been a hot minute that story came out.

PART ONE HERE

STICK SEASON [WE'LL ALL BE HERE FOREVER] - NOAH KAHAN WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

---------------------

I expected showing the Doctor around my hometown to be more terrifying than it was.

At first, my steps were heavy.

I didn't know where to go. I didn't have many roots left in that town. My biggest fear was being recognized and stopped by someone that I never wanted to see again.

But after a while, I found myself relaxing.

I was able to find some joy in the places that we were going. I was able to tell small stories. Not all of them were entirely happy, but it still felt good to share them.

I had spent a long time trying to hide my history from not just the Doctor but myself. Being able to look back at it was almost healing. Especially when there was someone holding my hand.

"I have one place that I want to visit," I said as the two of us walked back to the TARDIS. "If that's alright."

"It's your trip," he replied. "Where are we going?"

"To see my parents."

He paused for a moment. He must have seen the fear on my face. "Alright."

We got into the TARDIS. I told him where to go- and to park down the road from the actual house- before I sat down on one of the benches. I felt my leg shaking, heart pounding, and breathing becoming shakier.

"(Y/n)..."

I looked at the Doctor.

"We're here," he said. "We don't have to do this. We could go."

"No, no," I shook my head. "I... I need to see them."

He nodded.

"I mean... After spending so long running through time and space, I could at least let them know that I'm alive."

He grinned a bit.

"Oh, by the way, they don't properly know anything about you or the TARDIS or aliens or anything... just that I've been traveling."

"As long as I don't get slapped."

"Has that... Has that happened when meeting someone's parents?"

"... sometimes."

I slowly nodded.

"Come on," he said excitedly, sticking a hand out to me.

I stood at the end of my parent's driveway for longer than I care to admit. The Doctor didn't walk forward without me. He stood next to me with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Are you ready," I asked as if I wasn't the one stopping us.

"Whenever you are," he replied, smiling at me.

I stepped forward. My feet felt heavier with each step. I had a million thoughts going through my head and none of them felt particularly good.

I knocked on the door and took a deep breath.

The door opened and I found my mom standing on the other side.

A wide smile crossed her lips. "(Y/n)!"

I felt a sigh of relief escape me as I hugged her back. I thought that I would be met with the door closing in my face or some kind of angry rant. I guess that I saw it as comforting that she hadn't bitten my head off already.

Most of the visit was perfectly fine. My parents met the Doctor- who very kindly introduced himself as John Smith to help me- and they seemed alright with him. They seemed to be okay with my traveling and they wanted to hear about it.

Nothing could have beat my grandmother's reaction.

She stormed into the house after my mom called her. I was dragged into the tightest hug that I had ever been given and then met with a million questions.

It was nice.

I was starting to relax. Take a few deep breaths and feel like everything was going to be just fine.

And then, dinner.

We had sat down together. There was small talk. Everyone seemed to be eating in peace. Nothing gave me any indication that the night was going to take the turn that it did.

"So, John," my dad spoke up. "Do you hide (Y/n)'s phone or was it a shared decision?"

"Dad," I snapped immediately.

"What, it's an honest question," he shrugged.

"Bullshit," I replied. "Is it that hard to believe that I did something that you didn't like on my own?"

"What are we expected to believe when you never call," my mom asked.

"Why do you think that is?" I countered.

I felt the Doctor reaching over and grabbing my hand under the table. I assumed that my anger was somewhat new to him. I wasn't one to be explicitly angry. I would usually hold it in.

To be fair, the things that we confronted never felt quite so personal.

"Oh, is this about that stuff from when you were a teenager?" my mom pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Stop calling it just 'stuff'," I shouted.

"Always need to overreact," my dad muttered.

That seemed to open a can of worms that refused to be closed again.

I felt as if my throat was closing up. I couldn't even fight back against the rant of disappointment and annoyance and bullshit.

I closed my eyes at the comments and the growing arguing. My head was pounding. My chest felt tight and heavy. My eyes felt as if they had been cemented shut. I couldn't look my parents in the eyes if I wanted to. I had started digging my nails into the Doctor's hand, which I was certain was going to hurt him.

"All of you, hush!"

The table fell silent as my grandmother raised her voice for the first time that evening.

I finally lifted my head again. I found her already looking at me.

"Step outside with me, darling," she instructed, pushing herself out of the seat. I followed her. "The rest of you sit here and pull yourselves together."

I followed her outside to the porch. She guided me to the porch swing, sitting next to me with my hands clasped in hers.

"I'm sorry that you had to deal with them, dear," she said. "I can't believe that they are surprised that you don't see visiting them as important when they behave like that."

"It's... It's alright," I shook my head. "They were right. I just ran away with no warning. I never call, never visit-"

"Because of their actions," she replied. "What they did and what they refused to do. And because this place isn't enough for you. And that's okay."

I sighed. "You spent your whole life making a life here. So did my parents. I... I just like I've been ungrateful."

"No, no, not at all," she shook her head. "This place was enough for me and your parents. It never was for you. I know that. You were always bound for something better than this. Your parents are scared of that and it caused what you saw tonight... what you've seen for a long time."

There was a long pause.

"Tell me... are you happy traveling with that man in there," she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah... I really am."

"Then go with him," she pushed. "And call me from wherever you're visiting. Your parents can't guilt you if they're hearing everything from me... I'd like to see them try."

I chuckled.

"I love you, sweetheart. And I love the person that you've grown to be."

"I love you too."

She leaned over and hugged me. I closed my eyes as I hugged her back. It was the first moment of pure support I had ever been offered regarding my traveling. And it was everything to me.

We both leaned back when the front door opened. The Doctor stepped out and offered us both an awkward smile.

"Sorry, I don't mean to intrude, but I think I was just adding to some of the... tension in there," he explained.

"It's alright," my grandmother replied as she stood up. "We were just wrapping up."

I stood up with her.

"I suppose you both are off, then?"

I looked at the Doctor, who was already looking at me for an answer.

"Yeah, we are," I said, looking at her.

"Good luck, sweetheart," she touched my arm.

"Thank you," I mumbled.

She stood on the porch and watched us as we walked away. I glanced back when we made it to the end of the driveway. She waved at us with a wide smile on her face. I waved back at her.

I grabbed the Doctor's hand as we walked down the street toward the TARDIS. He didn't respond, merely making sure that our fingers were still intertwined. The walk was silent. It was a nice change from the chaos earlier, which still had my ears ringing a bit.

Once we made it inside the ship, the Doctor dropped my hand, going to start flying us out of there.

"Doctor," I said after a minute.

"Yeah," he asked.

I jogged over and wrapped my arms around him. I closed my eyes and hid my face in his shoulder. He hugged me back, letting out a quiet sigh as he did so.

"Thank you," I muttered. "For everything."

"You have nothing to thank me for," he replied just as quietly.

Oh, how wrong he was.

---------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[discluded]

I'm so proud 🌈 of Apo for how brave he's always been.

In case you missed it since Apo never specifically said it in an interview, Tong spoke about having this conversation with Apo about how Apo viewed Porsche's character (I'm guessing Tong here means Porsche's gender preference... this is the official BOC subtitled version too, sigh.)

This is a companion to the Proud🌈 of Mile piece I wrote a while back. I've been wanting write one for Apo but it's very hard because it's obviously very hard for him to talk about too. Sometimes I when I get notes on the Mile one, I still feel shy about it (even though I don't think Mile is shy!) But someone needs to loudly celebrate both of their bravery! Especially Apo's!!

It takes a lot of courage to walk away from a career you love because you realize you're being not treated the way you're supposed to be. Especially when it's an art you love and you've gotten to a place that most people dream of. Let's not forget, Apo was quite famous as an actor in Thailand already before KinnPorsche. Not only is he a great actor, but he was building a reputation for himself and he chose to walk away from all of that, potentially permanently.

The kind of policing that Apo received of a young person's self-expression while working on the sets of Channel 3 has really detrimental effects on the psyche. I won't say too much about it because Apo is human and he's allowed off days and deserves the grace, but you can see glimpses of how being at an industry event full of industry people, some of whom may or may not have said shit to him in the past, inadvertently hit him at the Vogue Gala. Of course Apo had fun still and it was an amazing experience he got to share with Mile! But if that's how he felt like he had to police his own body language every day on set, I can see why he quit.

New York was so good for Apo because it allowed him to see that the problem was with the people around him, not with himself. When I was in my early 20s, I remember seeing a billboard in New York that said something along the lines of: "Here we judge you more for the shoes you wear than who you love." And ain't that the type of freedom Apo needed.

But when he got back from New York, he committed himself to making queer art.

How brave does he have to be in the first place to walk away from a career he loved because of the homophobic comments he got and knowing it wasn't right (and a reminder, he wasn't working on any BLs before KPTS), and then how much braver still to come back and say: you can't hurt me with what I own about myself. And, I want to make art that expresses it.

Make no mistake, I'm not commenting on Apo's sexuality here. He's asked us not to. But being queer, queerness isn't just about gender or sexuality. It's about identity, the struggles you go through; it's a political stance. Many queer musicians who've never been publicly linked to a same-sex partner have made art specifically to explore their queerness and grapple with violence they still are at the brunt of as a result of being part of society.

And Apo has let us know multiple times what his political stance is, the kinship he feels with expressed queerness. It's the way he came back home and owned the queer art he is a part of. It's the way he continuously expresses the humanity in the stories he's telling, and talks about in interviews how he sees that honesty in the story resonates with the audience.

Apo is a role model in not only how we should treat those around us, but a reminder that being kind to everyone includes being kind to yourself. Especially when society tries to tear you down.

[toburnup]

Is there a way you personally think people should support your fics?

Whenever I write I’ve always been a ‘I’m grateful someone read it even if they didn’t enjoy it’ type of person but recently I’ve seen a lot (like seriously a lot) of people saying, if you don’t comment on fics (on ao3) you aren’t supporting them or the creator. I know I don’t feel that way about what I write because I’m not really a good writer and I’m just happy if one person likes it because that means someone took time out of their day to read but now I think maybe I’m an asshole for not like commenting on everyone’s fics?

You’re like the best writer of fics imo so I’m wondering how you feel about all of it? And I’m sorry that I haven’t left any comments on your work if that’s truly the correct way to support!

well. this has been a topic of conversation for a long time, and everyone will have a different take on this, but here's mine.

the downside to reading without commenting is that hits on their own.... don't really mean anything. hits just mean someone opened it, it doesn't even mean that they read it. i've opened lots of fics, started reading, found out it wasn't for me and closed it. it still registers my hit. kudos means they technically scrolled to the end of the page and clicked a button. they're nice, but i consider kudos w/o a comment to be the equivalent of "i didn't hate it" (i'm sure many would disagree, but this is my take!)

so, yes, i'm a firm believer in leaving comments. i will always comment on a fic when i read it, because if i had 5-10 minutes to read a fic, i have 30 seconds to write a quick comment. if i had an hour to read a fic, i have 5 minutes to write a longer comment. but i have the same mentality for eating out - i only go out to eat when i have the $ to leave a tip.

obviously, there are some fics where i end up leaving much longer comments, but i build that into my reading time (so if i'm about to read a friends fic where i know i'm gonna Ramble, i hold off until i have adequate time). does that mean i sometimes don't get to fics right away? yes. but for my own sake, i'd rather read it and write a comment while it's fresh.

i don't think you're an asshole lol, but i think you're kind of devaluing comments. and devaluing your effort as a writer! you're putting hours of free work into something they enjoyed, i don't think it's too much for you to ask for people who engage w/ your work to leave a comment.

the biggest pushback i see from people who don't comment is that it takes a long time, or that they don't know what to say. and to that, i say: i have people who simply leave a 💕 in a comment and that's enough. it still tells me way more than a lone kudos. and the people who put the time into leaving longer comments are just my heroes. the backbone of fandom, imo (my repeat essay commenters are like.... truly amazing, amazing people).

confession, i used to be a kudos-no-comment reader. i still remember the first comment i left as an adult (this was a few years ago) - it was on a WIP that hadn't been updated in ? a couple months, and i was like. i NEED to tell this person how much i loved this. and i felt stupid as hell writing the comment, but i powered through out of sheer stubbornness. and the author replied, and they said something like "i've been struggling writing the next chapter, and this helped!" and then they fucking updated the fic like 2 days later 😭😭 it changed me, i swear. so, with that...

comments are especially important for ongoing fics, because people will only leave a kudos once. that ratio of hits:kudos:comments can mess with the author (like 1000 hits, 100 kudos, and 10 comments is significant!). that's why i'm (now) a big believer in reading WIPs and supporting them along the way, it's disheartening to see the hits go up and nothing else.

i'm very grateful for the amount of comments i get! i think i'm really lucky in this way. occasionally i'll get a comment from someone who tells me they've never commented on any fic before, and like!! yay! the first one is toughest, but it only gets easier after that.

another important aspect of comments is it builds relationship between the reader and writer. i love seeing familiar usernames and icons, and i notice when people haven't commented in a while and it always makes me happy when they pop up again. i also really like replying to comments. it takes... multiple hours but it's my favourite part of the process second to writing the fic itself. i also occasionally will poke around on someone's profile and if they've written a fic, i'll give it a read. it's a good way to make new friends.

anyway. i'm not saying all this to tell you to comment on my fics, but more to gently encourage you to reframe how you think about comments in general. it's like... why we clap at the end of concerts. just because we're in the room doesn't mean we enjoyed the show, so we do things like cheer! clap! scream! we make our opinion heard.

comments are like clapping 💙 it's free to do, and shows our appreciation. why wouldn't we do that?

[bullieving-in-amour]

A Feather for a Feather

i literally just woke up, went "ooh sweet idea..." and then got up and wrote nearly 2k in 1h20 without a break, in one go. i was possessed with a muse ! but it felt good to let go again and just write

Fandom : Boku No Hero America / My Hero Academia Rating : General Audiences, SFW Pairing : Takami Keigo & Reader Dynamic : Platonic Tags : Gender Neutral Reader, No Pronouns, Reader has wings, Hawks' POV, Hurt/Comfort, Reverse Comfort, No dialogue, Fluff, Sweet, Emotional focus, First Meeting, Chance meeting

Summary :

Today had been rough. Nothing had happened, that could explain his current feelings. So he flew.

Surprise was an understatement to see someone sitting on the edge of a particularly higher tower than most, someone with feathery wings, like him.

Something about instincts wanting to flock to his kin.

Today had been rough.

There hadn't been anything particularly awful... At least not more than usual. No particularly gruesome fights. No particular loss, only injuries that he couldn't have prevented, as they had happened before he'd arrived. If anything, for once, there hadn't been any additional injured. He should have been glad.

But today had been rough. Nothing had happened. He hadn't had a fight with a friend... or friendly acquaintances, or people he favored. No fight. No arguments, or upsetting words and actions. No out of place attitude.

Nothing had happened, that could explain his current feelings.

But... There he was. Flying as high as the tallest towers in town were, through the cold, refreshing air so high up, the wind plastering against him creating a fuzzy feeling to drown his mind. At least, somewhat.

Today had been rough, and there weren't many explanations for it. He could probably find one, if he were able to sit still and put aside how he felt, if he were able to reason through his entire life and what lead him to today, if he wasn’t able to ignore what he knew did make him feel this way.

But today had been rough, and he didn't want to bother to know why, he didn't want to dwell, didn't want to think. Didn't want to hear what felt wrong. Didn't want to go "home" and see what was wrong.

Hawks wasn't doing good. So he flew, letting the harsher wind of this altitude quell his mind, make the nausea he felt through his entire body slip away. It was like a caress, to him, at this moment. Something he took often craved. Something he tried to find, too often, but never right, rarely genuine, or gentleness lacking. The wind wasn't able to hug him, envelop him into an embrace, but it caressed his entire being gentler than he could ever imagine, better than he'd been able to find.

There wasn't much, up there. Other birds, sometimes, but people ? Only maybe people able to fly, or jump and follow through the air, but even that was a rarity. Sometimes when he flew, there would be people on rooftops, but not this high.

Surprise was an understatement, especially with how he felt, to see someone sitting on the edge of a particularly higher tower than most, although not the tallest, looking over the city, as far as Hawks could tell.

Someone with feathery wings, like him. Someone with wings proportional to their body, unlike him, following the logic of what wings would need to be like to be strong enough for the body they would be attached to, unlike his. Ones that were so much bigger than his, feathers so differently shaped as theirs were obviously entirely wings, and not individual, controlled feathers shaped as such. Wings so long, they trailed behind them, in resting position behind their back, the ends of them curling before laying a distance on the floor of the roof they were sitting on the edge of, legs dangling in the void of the night.

Hawk's heart hammered. He didn't meet people with wings often enough. He always loved it. Something about instincts wanting to flock to his kin, maybe.

You didn't seem to react much as a red feather floated gracefully in front of you - but you gently took it from the air, before it could get away, tracing the edges of it with a soft touch.

As Hawks settled next to you, not with a word for once, he saw you better. You looked melancholic, he thought. Not exactly sad or depressed, or like remembering something, or any other kinds of feelings... The hero wasn't sure if melancholic was the right word, but it was the best he could think of. Regardless of your height, sitting down next to him... Your wings shadowed above him, even at rest, making him feel something... That he definitely couldn't think of a word to describe. Hawks didn't hate it, that was for sure. It made him feel some sort of calm, wonder. Maybe that was it. Maybe it didn't need to be much more than that. Maybe it didn't need to be anything but simple wonder.

You hadn't said anything, so far, nor had you let you go of the feather, still looking at the sight in front of you in calm silence. Hawks didn't feel like breaking that, either, so he joined you. Looking at what was in front of him. Slouching more than you slightly were, his day still heavy on his shoulders, dejected but wanting to move past it. Maybe this wasn't too bad. Right here, right now. He could still feel the wind. Still caressing him. And your existence, the presence of you right next to him... It felt nice, too. It helped. He hadn't wanted to admit he'd wanted company, as he flew to nowhere, as he flew until he saw you and didn't want to pass up his chance, his heart screaming and weeping for something, anything, that would let him feel like more than... Hawks closed his eyes as a harsher wind blew hair into his face, feathers ruffling. He heard yours, too, the sound of it calming him even more, more than he ever thought it could have. Like this was something he missed, something he'd been yearning to hear again, like something important he'd lost.

Hawks heard you sigh, soft, faint, from content he assumed, the wind feeling nice to you as well.

A horribly selfish part of him, one he always ignored when meeting people, anyone, strangers and ones he knew alike, begged him to reach out. Trail the tip of his fingers against skin, bury them into hair if there were any, place a palm on waist, back and sides.

Search through your feathers to put them all back into place, pick out the loose ones he knew felt itchy. Get potential stuff from the world around you stuck to the part you couldn't reach, that wouldn't stop sticking to your feathers even by flapping your wings.

So Hawks kept on looking over the view, basking into the presence you didn't refuse him. Maybe you appreciated his, too. He had a feeling you'd have left, by now, if you hadn’t. Maybe you felt that instinct to be close to what your basic needs assigned as your kin, too, even if you were fundamentally different.

The feeling of a fingertip tracing the edges of his feather, gently held into your hands, hadn't stopped, either. Perhaps it was what made his heart soar. Made the tears he lied to be from the wind, even through his protective glasses, gather in his eyes. Not much, not overflowing, not enough to trail onto his cheeks, or even water a single eyelash. Only feeling the wetness against his eyes, behind his lower eyelids, slightly cold.

His body had relaxed.

Hawks wasn't sure when, or how much time had passed. Not enough for the night to be any different. Not enough for the stars to stop being visible, even as faint as they were from the large city's illumination and sky pollution from it. Not enough for the moon to have jumped too far away to easily find. Not enough for him to receive an inevitable call for work, or for...

The sound of feathers made him blink away the moistness in his eyes, an involuntary little sigh leaving his lips. But the noise kept going, indicating more than you flexing your muscle for comfort. The sound of rustling, and the vague movement of the limb on his side in the corner of his vision told him you were opening this wing, only this wing. The air current created by it, as faint as it was, against his back and own wings, indicating you were...

Curling it around him, the far end of it closing against his side, pushing enough to prompt him to scoot closer, enough that he could lean against your side easily if either of you decided to. Your wing had moved position again slightly, enveloping him but not cutting off his vision, like a blanket big enough to cover him. Keigo hadn't been on the receiving end like that for... he couldn't remember. Especially not with wings so much bigger than he was, regardless of your size. To experience what it was like, to be the one getting the affection, protection, he'd offered countless times before... He felt how precious of a feeling it was. He felt how easy it was to feel vulnerable, to let it shield him from everything, except the wind, still caressing the both of you but now not as cold, not as sharp, just a caress.

One tear, small and nearly invisible, painted the tiniest line down his cheek, unnoticeable, nearly even for Keigo. Nothing else happened, the limit of what his emotions needed. Just that, small and nearly insignificant, but enough to stop everything from sounding muffled, feeling muffled, looking muffled. Insignificant but oh so enough. The ruffling of your wings in the wind sounded gorgeous. Your faint breathing, barely audible, lowering his eyelid from how it eased him. The sight of the view from all the way up, finally more than a mudded rejected reminder of his life. Keigo, and you, taking in the sight of the moon so slowly moving ever so slightly with the passing of time. Not enough for the night to leave yet anytime soon, but so much longer than he could ever ask for for a break.

Inevitably, a ringtone, sharp, loud, breaking his heart, but enough for the feeling of your wing to stop shielding him. Not enough for the weight on him to come back as before, to come back tenfold, not enough to change any of what he'd felt since he sat next to you.

Flying away in the direction of the address he was given when he answered the phone as he took off, now ended and put away back into his jacket, he felt how your hands gently clasped his feather between them, hold soft, gentle, confident. Unrelenting on keeping hold, claiming it as yours. Whatever had made you sit on the edge of that roof, silent and looking over what faced you, he knew you'd eventually be fine. However it would go, you'd get there. Your hold on his feather was confident, firm, like a promise to hold onto yourself as well, to keep going. You had this. Keigo was confident of this.

How blessed he felt, for the one he had claimed back, when you had wordlessly handed it to him time before his call, one feather the same size as his, precious into his hand, between his gloved fingers. Protected into his coat, hidden away, something to never lose, something he'd make sure would never be taken away once he could, back "home"... once he could, back to his home. His apartment. It was home and what he could make of it. Your feather, now Keigo's new treasure, would be the first addition to a new step towards making this his.

So Hawks went back to work. Today had been rough, and it would be rough again, now or another time. It would continue to be rough.

Regardless of if he ever met you again, or if this was a single memory of a lifetime,

Keigo, Hawks, had this.

hope you liked it ! leave a comment and reblog !

[nahoney22]

Hello lovely !! Take your time with the requests and keep yourself mentally stable,, remember you shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything , especially since you are so kind to write works for FREE

Anyways… i was wondering if you could possibly do a Hunter x fem! Reader and the 1 bed trope… possibly enemies (not necessarily enemies but they aren’t exactly friends) to lovers where the two just chat in bed and it might lead to something more ..? (smut maybe but not needed)

Again take your time and we love your dedication !!!

Living the Unknown Dream***

Hunter X F!Reader

word count: 4k

Stuck in a scenario with just one bed, you and Hunter spend the night together and alone but neither of you expected for the events that were about to unfold.

warnings: NSFW 18+ only please. Share a bed trope (my fave), enemies(?) to lovers. Slight angst due to bickering, p in v sex, cream pie , swearing. Kinda twisted it up a little but I hope you enjoy it regardless.

authors note: Thank you so much 🥺🤍 enjoy your request lovely.

Masterlist 🤍

“Can you stop staring at me?”

The room was thick with tension and you were doing everything in your power to stay cool, calm and collected. But, as a pair of glowering eyes could be felt burning into the back of your neck, it was a hard task.

"I ain't staring at you. Believe it or not, there's not much else to look at in this room," he grunted dismissively, shifting his gaze but making no attempt to break the awkward silence.

Ignoring his response, you continued cleaning your weapons with unnecessary precision, desperate to pass the time with the man you found so difficult to get along with.

"There's a perfectly good wall to look at," you retorted, the bitterness in your voice evident as you finished cleaning the already spotless firearms. This bitter feud with Hunter had seemingly sprung out of nowhere, catching you off guard. When you first joined the group, you believed you all got along, but Hunter had a different opinion altogether. He wasn't welcoming, disregarding any advice you offered, and instead, he seemed to derive pleasure from observing your every move with judgmental eyes.

In fact, he was always watching you with a face like a slapped-

"If you're going to clean your weapons, you should at least have a clean rag," Hunter mocked, repeating a dig he had taken at you numerous times over the past six months.

Frustration and exhaustion made you snap. Turning to face him with narrowed eyes, you shot back, "If I knew we'd be staying here, I would have been prepared. But no, Tech had other ideas."

What should have been a simple supply drop ended in a surprise stay over in a remote yet civilised planet. Not surprisingly, the others had claimed the rooms which had left you and Hunter in the dark. You had a strong feeling they did it to see if maybe, just maybe, the pair of you could get along.

“We’re fighting in a war, you should always be prepared. I don’t know how many times I have to say this to you.”

You did your best to not roll your eyes but this was something that had been echoed into your ears. “Hunter, it’s a cloth. Not a blaster, or food or water.”

Hunter stands this time, moving in front of you and you curse silently as he practically envelopes you. He was so tall and broad that it was like looking at a wall… sometimes even like talking to one as well.

You feel his gaze on you and you slowly look up at him once he speaks your name, “I don’t want to have this recurring discussion with you. No matter where we go, you need everything. What happens if we’re in a fight and your balster gets jammed because you used a dirty cloth? You could put-.”

“You at risk, I get it.” Your tone was moody, which is usually whenever Hunter had to lecture you.

“No,” he finalised, eyes glaring at little that you would think he was talking just about himself, “I was going to say ‘yourself at risk’.”

You tear your eyes away from his glaring ones and sigh. “Right, whatever.”

This time he sighed, deep and annoyed. He was half-tempted to just turn around and get some sleep to get the whole night to go faster but he had enough. Had enough with your attitude, the constant bickering and so he had to make his feelings known.

“What is your problem?”

You’re moving across the room as he speaks, pausing once his demanding question strikes you in the back and making you turn to face him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard.”

“You’re right I did, I’m giving you time to think of a different thing to say.” You retort, folding your arms over your chest.

Hunter shifts, not even hesitating to move closer to you. “You have a sincere issue when it comes to listening to me. You don’t follow orders properly, you just…” he trails off, agitated.

“Just what?” You prompt him, scoffing.

“Why don’t you let me care for you?” Comes his reply and you couldn’t help but notice that it sounded… sullen?

Your body tenses at his question and the thought of him caring, genuinely caring for you made your stomach churn. You had never seen it like this, never seen him like this. His face was red but not out of anger, it was indescribable but if you could point out any emotion from it: it was hurt.

The silence was filled when he spoke up again, not gauging your reaction at all. “Is it a crime for me to care? To show that I have feelings-.”

This time your mouth dropped a little and so did his at the accidental confession. There was silence. Tension. The only thing that could be heard was the way your breathing sharpened and he could feel the vibrations of your heart pounding against your chest. Or maybe it was his chest - he was not too sure at this point.

With enough courage, you’re about to usher his name but he cuts you off and announces that he’s leaving, that he needs to clear his mind with some fresh air.

Mouth snapping back shut, you lose your voice again as you wanted him to stay, to talk this through but he was gone the moment the words left his mouth.

An hour passes. Then another. At this point, you weren’t sure how many. You were sat on the end of the bed for a majority of the time, staring at your commlink. A part of you felt you needed to reach out to him, to hear his voice.

It is weird isn’t it? Someone who has been in your life for so long, someone who grinds your gears and stresses over every little thing you do suddenly disappears and you find yourself missing them. Missing Hunter. But you’re stubborn, he’s the one who left.

Besides, he’s the leader of the group. A strong force, a cunning warrior and a smart man. He could take care of himself.

Your eyelids were starting to get heavy and every so often you would jerk up as your body orders you to rest. You sigh and begin to strip, pulling off your body glove and swapping it for your sleeping shorts and a top. Sliding under the duvet, a luxury that the Marauder didn’t gift you, you laid awake for maybe ten minutes until you finally drifted off to sleep.

Unsure how much time passed, you finally hear the sound of some beeping followed by the sound of the room door swishing open and closing. It was him and you knew it was but you didn’t dare open your eyes. How could you face him? He had, more or less, confessed… What did he really confess? He didn’t finish off what he was saying but you found yourself wanting, needing, him to say that he had feelings for you. The silent part of longing for him came resurfacing like you had the first time you met.

Still, you stay silent and your eyes remain shut but you heard his silent steps and could almost feel his contemplation.

Minutes pass at this point and you hold your breath as the other side of the bed shifts. After some shuffling, you knew Hunter got under the covers with you, keeping a lengthy distance between the two.

Softly, he speaks. “Are you awake?”

You remain silent, hoping he may just drift off to sleep. Hunter glances down at your ‘sleeping’ body. Your legs were bent comfortably it seems, one arm propped under the pillow and the other laid peacefully against the mattress. Your eyes were closed but you had chills running up and down your arms once he spoke.

“Don’t pretend,” he says after a moment of watching you, your laboured breaths ringing in his ears, “I know you’re awake.”

“I’m not,” your reply is cranky with tiredness but mixed in with sadness.

From then, he wasn’t so sure what to say. He tossed every possible conversation starter around in his mind but was pulling blanks. Then, you shuddered.

“Cold?”

Finally, you turn your head, looking over at Hunter to see his back straight against the headboard. His arms were crossed over his chest, not surprised he’s still wearing his blacks and you were half tempted to climb back into yours for extra warmth. “A little.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

You turned away from him again, sensing nothing but awkwardness. Painful awkwardness. Hunter chewed on the inside of his cheek. If he could he would do anything to make you warm again but for now, he stayed as he was.

It wasn’t long until you drifted off to sleep, Hunter following soon after hearing your gentle snores and just waiting to sleep the night away.

Hunter awakes and he’s warm, wonderfully warm for that matter. His eyes slowly open, adjusting to the darkness of the room and he almost gasps out loud when he realised what had happened. He’s spooning you and he is, well, awake with a raging hard on.

The Sergeant tenses. The arms wrapped around your shoulders stiffen and he does his best to wiggle away from you without stirring you awake. He’s blushing furiously, the what from his cheeks travelling down to his stomach and creating butterflies since he had been cuddling you for who knows how long.

He was surprised to feel the cold when he seeped away from your body, his cock softening as he guiltily rolled onto his back, wiping the nervous sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Hey,” your sleepy voice comes out in a hoarse whisper, head tilting a little back with closed eyes, “come back. I’m cold.”

Hunter looks at you, mouth agape. You wanted him to cuddle you? After so much arguing from you? “I…uh…” the Clone trails off, feeling his cock that was once softening harden once more. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He gulps, inhaling a little but that’s when he smells you, not intentionally, but it was hard not to. You had been shivering so much that you had sweated a little, the natural scent of you wafting his nostrils and you smelt beautiful to him. If any other person had his senses, there was no way they could control themselves.

His voice was gentle as he spoke and that’s when your eyes opened to peer at him through the dark. “I don’t care, Hunter. I’m cold. You’re warm. Come back.” Your words were short of commanding and that erupted something in him. That fire you had inside always made him crazy. Little did he know that it was also a massive turn on of his.

So, he does. He slides back into the slot of your back and tucks one arm under your neck and drapes his other over your stomach. He doesn’t pull you flush to his chest, the fear of you noticing his boner stirred him a little but if it’s warmth you want then it’s warmth he shall provide.

You feel how tense he was at this gesture and you

regret forcing him to cuddle you just so you could be selfishly warm. After all, what were you thinking? He tells you he has feelings for you and now you want to be cuddled up in his arms. There was no denying how handsome he was and how his muscular arms almost engulf you fully. “You don’t have to do this.” You speak gently, hardly above a whisper.

To answer you, he relaxes and his arm curls more into you, your back now against his chest and you make the sweetest noise possible.

It’s a mix between a soft sigh and a moan and his cock, if possible, hardens even more.

Hunter curses inwardly and judging by your sudden sharp breath, he knows you noticed. After all, he had pulled you in tighter so that his crotch was centered with your rear.

Your sharpened breath quickens and he ever so gently moves his arm from your stomach up towards your chest, gentle fingers pressing against the skin and feels how your heartbeat has also quickened considerably.

Deep down, he wanted to hear that noise you made again but he knew he would be pushing his luck. You wanted warmth and that’s what he wants to give you. Nothing more.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps unsteadily. He was not even planning on apologising but it just slipped out.

The hairs on the back of your neck bristle against your skin, the feeling of Hunter's warm breath tickles at you. You begin to feel him recoil back again until-

“Don’t,” you reply, voice just as unsteady as his was. Hunter stills and hears the fluttering of your lashes followed by a shuddering breath. He works his way back to you silently and ever so slightly lifts his hips, pressing against the curve of your arse.

He utters your name so beautifully that your lead lols back, finding home in the crook of his neck.

You’re beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous and you wanted this. Whatever this is. His hands find refuge on your sides, hands ever so gently seducing along your sides until his fingers find their way under your shirt. He waits, waiting for you to push him away but instead, you melt into him. You’re responsive to his touch, coaxing him to touch you more and more.

He’s straining against his blacks and he could feel his blood running hot everywhere as his hand comes towards the side of your breast, ever so gently caressing it to gauge your reaction. He’s trying so hard not to rock against you and into the warmth of you.

Then, he heard a soft groan of pure longing as his finger traces over your stiffening nipple. “Mesh’la…” he growls, low and guttural, watching in awe as your back arches into him just by his touch alone.

You begin to writhe, needing any form of friction between your legs at this point as you become severely undone. You were hot, flustered and so fucking horny. The lower half of his blacks are damp and he didn’t need to feel if your shorts were wet because he could smell it; smell your dripping cunt and it was just all for him.

He shuddered, the touch of your hand began to drag over his aching bulge and shortly after, you twisted your body to face his. He’s half-hunched over you, glorious honey coloured eyes staring down into your wanting hues.

Slowly, the hand that was palming over his blacks traced towards his hip, ever so gently tugging on the fabric as a subtle hint and hoping the clone understood what you wanted.

As wanted, he pulls away from you and very swiftly, eagerly, he pulls his blacks away from his body. Starting with his upper half, your eyes widen in delightful surprise as his toned body comes into view. Your mouth salivates a little and your eyes go down towards his crotch, still covered but wanting to breathe.

Again, you trace your fingers over his hips until they trace and tease at the lower half and so Hunter obliges to your want, shuffling out with a jerk of his hips and you see his cock spring free. And what a sight he was to behold.

He sees you look down at him, chest heaving from under your night shirt and watches your tongue lick your lower lip and almost choke on the word fuck. Hunter positions himself back to you, chest to your back once again and he grunts as he feels your leg come back and wraps around his waist.

You don’t say anything, your voice is absolutely non existent at what was happening. Your Sergeant, your leader was naked and pressed against you. You let out a little whine, feeling the way his cock slips between your thighs and nudging against your clothed sex. Ever so gently, he rocks his hips forward, just to get a better feel of his cock between your thighs.

“Your skins so soft, so…” he trails off, mouth watering as his hand comes to hold your waist and keeping you in position as he grinds against you. His cock was learning the shape of you and he closed his eyes, sensing how wet you were which he was so eager to slick up his cock with.

You had your own type of sense; knowing how much he wanted to fuck you and how much you know you were willing to let him pound you into the bed. You grab the fabric of your shorts, pulling them to the side and revealing your glistening folds.

“Fuuuuck, beautiful,” he looks between your thighs in awe, his hand coming down to stroke his cock out of instinct. Ever so gently, he slides the tip between your folds, focusing on everything. Your heartbeat, the sharp choke of your breath as his cock comes into contact with your pussy. You’re trembling, full of an aching need.

He’s breathing down your ear until his lips attack at your neck, teeth grazing and tongue licking against your skin that releases a refined moan from your throat. “You’re so wet. So needy, aren’t you?” His tone makes you twitch and pant, forehead sweating as you crane your neck, wanting him to love you more.

Hunter slowly rolls his hips again, the friction between your pussy and his cock was having him tremble and you swore he whined out a silent ‘please’.

He was begging for entrance at this point and you were more than willing to give. “Hunter…”

“Yes beautiful?” He pauses all movements, lips gently kissing at your cheek. “Is this what you want? Do you want to stop?”

A soft smile forms on your lips and you tilt your head back, eyes locking in the dark. “I want you… I really want you.” You whispered, not helping as your eyes locked to his lips and then back up to his eyes.

Hunter noticed and did the most logical thing, leaning down and placing the sweetest, delicate kiss to your lips. You melt into him and as he pulls away, it leaves you wanting more.

It was more sacred to stay silent than speak at this point, Hunter not once taking his eyes off you as he lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed himself in.

You're wetter than what he had thought and gloriously warm. You’re also so tight and he goes as gentle as he can. Eyes fluttering closed, your head lolled forward again, face smushing against your pillow as Hunter began to rock his hips against you, clasping onto your hips for support.

By the third roll of his hips he almost bottoms out already, hips grinding against your perfect arse as you lift your hips as an invitation to take him all. There was no rhythm between the two of you, both taking whatever the other is willing to give.

A greedy groan slips out of Hunter's mouth from his chest once he feels you tighten around him; walls flutter around him as if you’re trying to draw him in more. In the end, he ends up rolling on top of you, clasping your hips to bring you to your knees whilst your face buries into the nest of warmth you both created as he takes you from behind.

You’re mewling for him now, hands gripping onto the sweat ridden sheets as you feel him stretch you open with every thrust. The force of him fucking your ripples through your body and you’re chanting his name, eagerly begging him for more and more.

“Hunter, Hunter,” you’re a moaning mess and you were already at the peak of a climax but you just couldn’t get there and so you begged for release. “I need more, p-please.”

He cooes your name softly, hand leaving your hip to gently cup a breast from under your shirt. “That’s it cyare. Not long now. I’ll get you there, I’ll make you cum princess.”

“I could-ugh-fuck-get used to you calling me that.” You pant, lifting your head and smile coyly at the Sergeant who only smirks as he masks in glory at how beautiful you looked.

“Good girl.” He utters through gritted teeth as he cock slips out of you messily, repositioning himself before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you upright and flushed to him, back to his chest and tilting your head to the side so he can kiss you.

Your mouths lock awkwardly together but it’s so sweet at the same time. He pushes back into you with a hefty sigh and despite the awkward angle of the kiss, you could feel the heat and longing it emitted. “You need to cum.”

His clever fingers trails down the front of your body, seeping in past through the band of your shorts that you still sported. “Oh,” you whimper once you feel his hands run over your precious bud and gives you more than you felt you deserved.

Moaning at the touch of his hand, he swallows your little whimpers of pleasure gloriously and he sensed you were about to fall apart at any given second. With enough pressure on your clit followed by the resounding pace of him fucking you, he pushes you to the age you were teetering on.

You come and it’s beautiful. You’re practically quivering against him, jaw slack and eyes rolling into the back of your head as stars blur your vision.

He slowed his pace and held you somewhat protectively. “I’ve got you.” Hunter whispers into your hair as you slump a little forward, feeling him kiss the back of your head. “Kriff you’ve came all over my cock, cyare. Such a good, good girl.”

With your high sloshing all over his cock, Hunter began to feel that tension and his knees began to shake. It’s too much and that’s when he pours his seed deep inside of you and filling you in deep only moments after you come.

His vision is dazed just as yours and he slowly pulls out and lays you down on the bed.

Your eyes are closed, legs twitching and so he does the sensible think of going to the refresher and getting some tissue for you both.

After you’re done with all that, he crawls into the space beside you and gnaws nervously on his cheek because you hadn’t said anything. Then again, neither had he.

“Was it okay of me to… you know?”

“O-oh yeah, I’m protected.” Comes your reply, soft spoken and almost shy.

With some hesitance despite just fucking you into the bed, he drapes an arm over your shoulder and you willingly fall into his chest. You sigh softly and he quirks a brow.

“Are you okay cyare?”

You look up at him through your lashes and nod. “I’m good, just a little surprised with what just happened.”

The clone rubs the back of his neck, still coated in sweat but he nods in agreement. “Me too but I enjoyed it. I just ain’t good with these types of things.”

You urged him to continue what he was saying and in the meantime began to trace your fingers softly over his skin, watching him get goosebumps as a result.

“I know I’ve been hard on you but like I said, it’s because I have feelings for you. Strong feelings. I’m a soldier and since the Republic fell I never had to think about…” he trails off and you feel him take in a strong breath before he says, “loving somebody. I’m sorry if I came overbearing but I can’t tell you how much it makes me sick seeing you in any form of danger.”

You stare at him with doe-like eyes and your heart almost melts into a puddle at his confession. It showed you how blind you were at first; not realising his bossiness was just a sign of care; of love.

“I can’t, just can’t lose you.”

More Hunter Works

taglist: @teletraan-meets-jarvis @jennamelinda12 @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @adriiibell @theroguesully @equalityforcats @rexandechosandwich @mustluvecho @inagalaxywickedfahaway @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @sadspring @chxpsi @harleyevanstan @alexandrisonfire @salaminus @by-the-primes @torchbearerkyle @tech-aficionado @shawtyitsyou @in-the-crosshairs @therealnekomari @cyarikadarling @a-c-lee @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @grogusbff @mylifeinthetardisforever @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @lucyysthings @ctsimp-reap @robustmyaft @captain-splock-you @4rosydreams @mundaytuesday @fiveshelmet @the-good-shittt @photogirl894 @rintheemolion

[rainbowdelicsunshine]

this isn't really that finale-specific BUT. i want to know ur thoughts on caroline becoming an apprentice of sorts for chucky? i feel like the first season gave her some autistic coding and it seems like that's died out in s3, i personally was so nervous about how s3 would treat an autistic coded child roped and manipulated into a killer doll's antics but she mostly feels like a different character with caroline's name? especially in comparison to alice pierce and the way chucky treated her; writing her off ("fuck that kid") as soon as she died off (i'll never accept she's dead if we don't get a body or death certificate or sonething). tiffany's said to have been alice's caretaker and we don't know if alice had the same issue nicachucky did with blood, where alice got back control of her body whenever she saw blood too, so i think it's plausible that tiffany actually took care of the real alice once or twice, we know gg thinks tiff's a good mom, so do we consider chiffany fleeing with caroline as them sort of adopting her as a daughter? I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS. WHAT ARE YOURS.

Honestly I still feel that she's an autistic coded character and I actually like that she isn't a goody two shoes character since a lot of autistic characters get made into either heroes or at the least the protagonist or sidekick of the main lead (or just a straight up background character)

Sometimes, I just wanted an Evil/Chaotic/Anti-Hero Autistic character of ANY age and Caroline also feel like she was me when I was her age so there's that too!

Also my headcanon is that since Caroline has been around Chucky, she began coming out of her shell a lot more and the reason why is cuz she actually feels like she can be herself without having to shrink herself down like she did for her bio Mom when she was alive (since why she was so quiet in S1)

Honestly, I feel that Caroline is pretty much Alice but with no need to possess her and can actually handle the fucked up murder shit that Chucky gets up to!

Hence, in actuality, Chucky and Tiffany just dropped her off at a group home/orphanage before the events of Cult to take over Nica's body after Chucky removed his soul from Alice's since he felt she wasn't really working out (plus Chucky never got attached to Alice like he did for Caroline)

And also yes, I DO consider the ending with the three of them being a big tell that Caroline got adopted by Chucky and Tiffany!

Honestly, I just wanna see Chucky, Tiffany, and Caroline be a fucked up but close knit family of killer dolls and their adoptive autistic daughter (also would love if a new addition to the family pops up after a time skip in the fourth season or something)!

Thank you soso very much for coming by to the inbox to chat my friend, it's always so awesome to have discussions like this! I really really hope you drop by again soon and have a wonderful evening!!

[our-aroace-experience]

Hi! I just kind of... want to write about my experience here, I hope that's okay. This is sort of a vent related to my identity + aroace discourse so if anyone doesn't feel like seeing it, feel free to scroll!

So I'm most likely aroace, and I feel comfortable and secure in my asexual identity, but when it comes to identifying as aromantic, I always... just feel very conflicted. Am I aromantic? Most likely yes; I've never had a crush, don't have a strong urge to be in a romantic relationship, etc. and I'm in my early 20's so it's not like I'm "too young to know" or whatever else it is that people say to invalidate others' experiences. But I feel like some part of me doesn't like that part of my identity. I sometimes wish I could go out somewhere, like to a club or something, and have a sudden magical movie-like experience of meeting a girl and kissing her and suddenly feeling something new; or I wish I could meet someone, that I'm attracted to aesthetically, and truly start liking them romantically, like actually get a crush and not be able to stop thinking about them 24/7. I wish I was proven wrong about me being aromantic one day.

But also... I'm not sure if it's something that I actually want, if I could ever actually be in a romantic relationship and like it, or... if I'm simply aromantic and just don't feel comfortable in my identity, so much that I fantasize about it changing.

I'm also autistic so I suppose me not having any crushes might be related to that as well; I struggle with making connections and getting to know people in general. Also I can imagine a "type" I could have; I know who I'd like to have a crush on. But I've never been able to actually... make myself feel anything romantic. And when I think about the concept of how a romantic relationship is even supposed to start, how people just... apparently start flirting with each other and just decide to date? The sole idea feels so foreign and impossible to me.

When I was younger I feel like I was pretty certain I was aroace, and I was proud of that, felt confident about my identity. I think when it changed was actually when the "are aroace people lgbt or not?" discourse started popping up around 2018 or so. Back then, I've seen most people say that "being asexual and aromantic isn't enough to be called lgbt because you're not oppressed enough", many of my close internet friends included. Before that time, I always thought of asexuality and aromanticism as lgbt identities; didn't even suspect that anyone would think otherwise, so I was just... very surprised when all of a sudden I was seeing a bunch of people say that aroaces don't belong in the lgbt community (unless they're another identity that "counts"); it was like all of a sudden every single person was hating on asexuality and aromanticism, making fun of every aroace person who'd write about their experience, calling asexuality "boring" or "not valid" or "fake", talking about how aphobia wasn't real, etc. etc. And I think seeing that, especially from people who I considered friends, who'd always had "good" views on other social issues, made me be like: "Oh. Maybe what they're saying is right? Maybe I should get more educated on that and stop trying to invade other people's spaces?" I felt as if I couldn't have any say in the discussions, since I was aroace, and it was mostly people of other sexualities discussing it, people who "had it worse"; so I simply felt as if it wasn't my place to be like "you're wrong, I have a place in this community too" because... well, I was aroace - the identity that was being discoursed about and made fun of at the time, not someone who "had any say in the topic". And I think with time, since I kept seeing people go "aroace people are not lgbt" over and over again for literal years, I kind of accepted that and started... I don't know, thinking of my identity as "less"? Less important, less valid, etc.

Prior to the discourse I felt happy about finding my identity, about realizing who I am, I felt happy that my experiences were relatable to others as well and I felt welcomed within the lgbt community; I felt like I was a part of a community that understood, that was accepting. I was actually proud of being aroace. But after seeing all the discourse, I kind of... stopped feeling good about being aroace. I felt mostly ashamed of it; alienated from people who I thought were "like me". Eventually I even stopped identifying as "aroace" and changed it to "unlabeled" because now I'm even not sure who I am, because I'd prefer not being aroace. I know I wouldn't feel comfortable being with a man, I don't think so at least, but... I think I'd like to have a crush, I fantasize about being able to get a crush and be with a girl romantically, even though I never wanted any romance when I was younger. I kind of... feel like I'd feel so much more valid if I could just say "I'm an ace arospec lesbian" (or some other identity) rather than being like "I'm aroace but maybe not, it's complicated." But it's a thought that also makes me feel bad, because if I am in fact not capable of actually falling in love with someone, then wishing and fantasizing about the possibility that maybe one day it'll finally happen... makes me feel like I'm also invading other people's spaces. Which just sucks, and is not something I'd like to do. And I'm also aware that if I am just aroace and will stay single forever, I won't be in as much actual irl danger as other sexualities, like I know that. I know life would be harder if I was in a same-gender relationship and it'd be genuinely dangerous for me. But that feeling of validity, of feeling supported and accepted by an actual big diverse community... I miss that. And even though as of the last 3 or so years I stopped seeing mostly "aroace aren't lgbt" takes from other lgbt people, and started seeing almost everyone treating aroace ppl as a part of lgbt again, I still feel some of that... unsureness in my identity. I feel ashamed to say that I'm most likely aroace and I feel like I always have to add hundreds of disclaimers like "but I'm not cishet and maybe I like girls but I'm not sure, but I'm still figuring it out" etc. etc. in order to not be ridiculed, in case a person who likes making fun of aroace people happens to be reading it.

So, overall... I know this is probably such an unserious problem to have, I know people have it way worse, it just kinda feels like... even if I am aroace, I will likely never be able to proudly say it again with confidence, just in case it turns out that I'm not one day, or in case that's not enough for other people. Not sure if anyone can relate to that but if anyone does relate, or wants to add or say something... uh, yeah!

it’s very ok for you to share your experience here, that’s the whole point of this blog! i’m sure there are definitely people out there who relate to you!

[bluetooththereptile]

Oh my gosh first of all sorry Blue I think I did go a bit overboard on that ask especially considering it was for a yandere one shot 😂 Ok you don't have to write it thanks for your honesty to be honest I wasn't sure what to give you for yandere batfam. B/c in your original work like with the unwanted reader you went above and beyond with emotions , and in each part it got really suspensful and good. And I wasn't sure if the typical girl meets yandere would cut it I was afraid if I made it to simple you'd be bored with my request. Anyway in hindsight I probably should have read over my ask and made it shorter. Ok so I know its kinda the same ask but it can be more vague and unsaid if you are ok with it could you do a one - shot of a day in the life of growing up from birth with a yandere batfam? But with a male character maybe mid teens and things can be implied but mostly it could be about how his life has turned out from staying so long with them how he is just barely seeing the signs of how strange his life is and his struggle for independence and self discovery and wanting to be his own man and having so many strong male role models in his life yet never seeming to make progress on his own and he is frustrated . Anyway if thats ok with you maybe something like that also I hope you know you never have to feel pressured to write for me I will always appreciate the work you put out and the sensations I felt and remember when encountering your work I like you to and I kinda get it I'm not much of a writer with an online presence but when I do write sometimes for prompts or projects it can be a lot the burnout or just not feeling the scenario or words to fill it out and finish it so take care ok after all you are giving us your time and work and I and others appreciate it so just do whatever feels natural in the mean time I'll be cheering on from the sidelines !☺

Alright now we are talking!

I can do that don't worry! Thanks for asking!

Being a Wayne

Male reader x yandere bat family

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Just saying I may write a chapter two for this~

Tw: violence, injuries

"Master Y/N!" You rolled your eyes as you turned to meet Alfred with your lunch bag in his hands. "You were going to forget your lunch master Y/N..." you gave the old man a half-smile "You know I'm not 12 anymore right? Plus in school, they give us lunch, right Tim?" You turned to your brother who was trying to find a way to get rid of the lunch bag in his hands by putting it behind a plant or a statue "Timmy?" You tried to grab his attention "W-what huh?" He jolted his head up "Oh sorry...did you say something Y/N?" At this point whatever you were going to say was forgotten and Alfred had walked away, leaving you with the lunch bag.

You sighed in frustration, you were not a child anymore! You could take care of yourself! You'd be an adult in just a year and Alfred still treated you like you didn't know what to eat or not! Alright, maybe you and Tim, who was nearly your age, had made some questionable habits over drinking coffee or eating snacks but that didn't mean that everything you ate had to be monitored by someone else! The only time you got to eat something, not home-cooked was when you were on a mission, for sure home-cooked meals were great but you didn't need to be supervised about it!

"Good morning guys!" Dick's voice echoed in the hallway, you smiled at him as he waved to you before turning his head toward Tim "My batring is broken you care to fix it up for me?" He nearly yelled from the other end of the hallway, his phone in his hand "Why don't you do it yourself? Too busy talking to your "baby"?" Tim nagged "Oh hey stop right there young man! I'm an adult with so much stuff to do! As your older brother, I am asking you to fix my stuff because I can!" Tim rolled his eyes "Fine, I'll fix it when we get home!" "That's a good boy! But make sure to fix it before the sun goes down I need it tonight!" "I thought you didn't patrol tonight?" You asked in surprise "No it's Jay's turn tonight, I need it for the mission-..."

Dick trailed off as Tim mouthed him to stop, but it was too late and the secret already had spilled "What mission?" You asked, confused. As a member of the justice league you had expected to be informed about missions happening, so when dick, as the supervisor, knew about the missions concerning the league, you had to know it too! Unless they had "forgotten" to inform you. You turned to Tim with your eyes narrowed, shushing him before he could even open his mouth you sighed deeply. Today's ride to school was going to be a long one.

......

"I thought we were close enough, Timothy!" Tim winced at his full being used, your sarcastic tone adding to The bitterness of your argument "Didn't we agree on not hiding anything from each other Tim?" "Yes but-" "No buts and no more excuses! How could you? It's the third time this month!" You looked out of the window in frustration, trying to calm yourself down, Tim remained silent, knowing that if he continued to make excuses, you'd get angrier.

It was not fair, you thought to yourself. You trained so hard that some training sessions had ended up in you and your father arguing about you pushing your limits too far. You tried to analyze every mission as best as you could so you had better performance in your missions, you tried to be the best but your family left you out of what you enjoyed the most, being a hero.

You had joined the league for six months now, but you had gone on two missions so far when Tim and your siblings were too busy dealing with their duties. It was not fair! Not at all! You bit down on your fist to stop yourself from groaning in frustration. How could they leave you out like this? You were tired of their stupid excuses, they had used all of their tactics to make you believe that something was wrong when it wasn't!

Your physical test for the joining application to the league had gotten rejected several times while you were in perfect condition! Your equipment had broken down without being used, you were left out of the mission calls and your batring were always offline, no matter how many times you had tried to fix it. You knew it was your family's fault, but you couldn't find any evidence. And it frustrated you to no end.

All you wanted to do was to help people around you, just like what your mother had taught you during the first decade of your life, she had told you to become a good member of society, and help the people who are in need of it, just like your father. Bless her soul, you hadn't seen her again since you were ten years old, how could she come out of her grave to meet you again? You thought, your heart clenching in your chest at the memory of her.

......

The ride to school went silently, and you didn't bother to utter a word to your brother for the rest of your time at school. Fortunately, you had Bart and M'gan To fill up your time with. "Wow boy! If my ma were going to put these in my bag I wouldn't have eaten junk food away again!" Bart said as he buried his head into your lunch back, making you smack the back of his head lightly as you chuckled "You look down today...what's the matter?" M'gan asked as she tilted her head to the side, you sighed and looked up at her, she had put on such a good disguise that even you couldn't recognize her easily if you didn't know her new look already, "It's my family..." She knowingly patted your shoulder, you had talked about this before, and no matter how many solutions you had thought of, none of them had worked out.

"I just...ugh! Look at Bart! Look at him!" You said as you pointed at Bart, making the poor guy stare at you with wide eyes "What?" He asked with his mouth full "Am I not as good as Bart?" You asked, making M'gan rub the back of her neck "Well..." She trailed off, making you groan "I may not have any super powers but I bet on anything you say that I train my ass off nearly every day! I try to learn from others, but I'm never good enough!" You made an impression of your father as you deepened your voice "You are not qualified for this position!" You couldn't help but slam your fist on the table, making your plate fall off the lunch table.

"I'm sick of it! Look at me! It's my 18th birthday next month and I'm still treated like a baby! I'm sent off to a school that has cameras everywhere, I don't care if it's nice or not! I'm constantly watched by some strangers! I find trackers sewed in my clothes and bags, even right now I know that someone is listening through my damn phone because it's hacked!" You seeth the last part in your phone's speaker, scoffing as your Jayson's number showed up on the screen.

You turned your phone off as you continued "I'm never good enough! At home, I'm treated like I'm something fragile and outside of it I'm like a failure that needs to stay at home all the time! Haven't you seen Bruce when he's all of the gear and armor? He terrifies the shit out of everyone including me, and I feel madder every day passes because I am not good enough for him!" You called your father by name when you were too angry to help yourself. "I just don't know what to do!" "Let it go, dude...you can start tomorrow, just don't push yourself now..." Bart said, sounding more sensible than ever "Alright..."

It was your last class of the day, and you were impatient to leave, your empty stomach grumbled, making you tap your pen on your notes harder, so you could let out the frustration in a way. You couldn't understand whatever the teacher was saying, your mind was in another world. You were pulled out of your thoughts as a note found its way on your desk. "You okay?" Tim had asked making you scoff again, you turned to your brother, who had his desk next to you "Do I look okay?" You mouthed, making him wince again, a storm was going to hit the Wayne mansion and it was going to end in something good, Tim thought to himself.

......

"Y/N! I don't have time for this!" Your father shouted at you, making your Jae close in an instant, he hadn't shouted at you like this before, He was tired and angry, not on you of course, how could he, but the last weeks had been frustrating to him, and your continuous nagging didn't help him ease it down much. You stood there as your father put his armor gear on, you sighed and looked away, it was not the time to talk to him, you knew it well, that was why you gave given up. You watched Damian pick his weapons up, making your fists clench harder. You understood what your family was going through, but the anger did not subside, it just crawled into your every bone, waiting for the right for you to snap.

Damian gave you a knowing look, reminding you of the conversion you two had effort your father had gotten home, you had offered him help in his patrolling, and even though the boy loved to have quality time with you, he refused. You asked for the reason and he withheld the answers from you, for no damn reason!

So naturally, you had tried to open up the conversation with your father, who surprisingly "didn't have time" for you. And here you were, standing there like a moron. "Dad...can we have a talk when you are back?" You asked, "For what?" He said as turned to you, you looked at him the scowl on his face reminding you of the danger your words could bring. But you swallowed your saliva that had suddenly thickened for no reason "About my missions..."

Your father sighed before glaring at you "Look Y/N, right now the whole world is crumbling down" he hissed as he walked toward you, "Millions of people are in danger!" When he reached you he did something that you couldn't imagine him doing, he grabbed your jaw and slammed your back to the nearest wall "I don't have the time to worry about what is mine! And you, a spoiled brat, can be a virus in my perfect system!" His fingers clenched your jaws hardly as you stared at your father in fear, Bruce was in one of his most dark days and you were unlucky enough to be a victim of the Batman inside him.

Damian was terrified to do anything but watch as your father let go of you and left, leaving you to sink onto the floor, your body frozen in fear and disbelief, your face covered in bruises made by his strong grip, later you'll find out that your jaw had cracked under that pressure but for now you were too busy processing what had happened. Damian rushed to help you, but you stopped him by holding your hand to his small chest, he had duties to do in your father's perfect system, and you didn't want to have that deadly look set upon you ever again, so you pushed him away gently, pointing at his batring that was buzzing.

Damian left you alone despite being worried, but he didn't forget to call for Alfred who would come to help you. Being a Wayne no matter how loved you were, was hard. You had to be the perfect gear in your father's machine, just doing what you were asked to do while your father pulled the strings, and he could hurt you if you were disobedient. Alfred tried to talk to you, but you stared at him like you had met him for the first time, your eyes had opened to the reality you had lived in all your life. All of those lost friends and relatives, those little accidents and destroyed your relationship with many, your life choice being affected by unexpected circumstances, all of that...now you were seeing things in a different light, now you knew.

You were going to get out of your father's sight as soon as you could.

[gulliblelemon]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag @bigalockwood!

How many works do you have on Ao3?

22

What's your total Ao3 word count?

266,115

What fandoms do you write for?

Exclusively Young Royals. 

Top five fics by kudos

See You (Soon)

Where We Left Off

Please Try Again Later

Happy 18th, Crown Prince Wilhelm

The Umbrella

(I have a whole kudos spreadsheet and watching the trends is fascinating 😉)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Well, I try to. It sometimes gets a little bit overwhelming, especially at the beginning when there's an influx. But they're all so wonderful.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I haven't written anything with an angsty ending. I don't think I have it in me 😅

(Unless you count one shots in a series, in which case it's What Am I Going To Do? But that's part of a whole universe that does have a happy ending, so I'm not counting it - although when I posted there was no promise of a continuation of the story, so it was angsty for a while).

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All my fics have happy endings. But I think they all feel like it's a happy ending to that particular part of their story, and will go on to be more after.

Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't as of yet. I still can't really believe that's a thing that happens.

Do you write smut?

No. And the longer I go on, the more I wonder if I should. But then again, I wrote a whole fic that was basically about hooking up without it, so maybe I'll be fine never writing it.

Craziest crossover

I've never written a crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I had The Umbrella translated into Russian and uploaded to ficbook.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No.

All time favourite ship?

Wilmon.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a folder full of WIP documents, most of which are just a line or a few sentences scribbled down. Some scenes, some ideas. I doubt they'll all get written, but lots get pulled for other things. And Wille's Month made me dust some of them off and either expand on them or just publish as they were.

But as for actual WIPs that I'm actively working on, I haven't got one that I don't think I'll finish. Once I start, I kind of get to the end by whatever means necessary 😅 Even if it takes me ages.

What are your writing strengths?

Erm... horrible question 😅. Dialogue? Maybe? I don't know. Someone else would have to answer that for me. I think I have a very skewed view of my own writing based on what I do and don't like doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Also horrible question, for very different reasons. Repetition probably. When I have something I just need to get down, I stop paying as much attention to how I'm saying things (what words I'm using, how I'm structuring sentences etc). But luckily @iwouldnevergetintofanfic is pretty good at catching it.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

It depends. I am not fluent, or even passable really, in any languages other than English. I'm not averse to dropping the odd word in, but in general I write the English translation (since they're speaking in Swedish anyway). I also discovered that the grammar rules are different, so ended up changing a load of stuff back to English in one fic because I wasn't sure which grammar rules to use.

First fandom you wrote in?

Young Royals.

Favourite fic you've written?

I don't know. I like certain ones for different reasons.

Where We Left Off was a massive undertaking. It's over twice as long as the next longest thing I've written (still not long by 'long fic' standards) and I was writing it for nearly a year. (And I'm not sure I'll ever write something that long again, that's not really how my brain works).

See You (Soon) was the first one where I felt like I knew what I was doing, and I think I will always be very fond of it.

I loved the process of writing Making Music, because it was a gift for a dear friend @purplehoodiesandclementines.

But I love them all in different ways 💜

No pressure tags for @unfortunate17, @enjoythesilentworld and @peakotp (and anyone else seeing this that wants to answer - I love reading these. I'll even retroactively tag you if you want!).

[sinzkiller]

Mayuri Kurotsuchi x reader

"Jealousy"

EXPLICIT CONTENT. I have so many ideas but it's difficult for me to write it all since I'm kinda weak in English :(

Kurotsuchi Mayuri, a captain of the 12th Division, a mad and a cruel scientist, yes he is and everyone knows that. No one dare to anger him, not to mention approaching him. He is the last person that you want to mess with, the one who will fuck up you up and turn your life into a nightmare. However, the creepy captain sure has a soft side that no one knows, because he's good at hiding it.

"Akon, can you please pass me that paperwork over there" you said, fingers still typing on the keyboard, eyes completely locked on the computer, reading all the collected data that had been displayed on the screen. With the paper on his hand, Akon bowed down like the gentleman he is, handing it over to you. "Anything for you, my princess" he said in a flirty way, with a huge grin on his handsome face. He took your hand and place a quick kiss on it, as a joke, of course. "Ewwwwwww" Rin who had been watching the two of you is disgusted and couldn't focus on what he's doing.

Standing up from your chair, your fingers pinched the lower part of your lab coat, pulling it slightly upwards and bowing like a princess "Thank you...my prince...pfft" you said, almost laugh at him.

"You think that's funny? Huh, y/n?" Your captain snapped from behind, causing you and Akon went silent and your face turning pale. Slowly, you turned around to see his painted face and greet him with a soft smile which you instantly regretted doing it. Mayuri stares at you for a moment, before he rolls his eyes in annoyance. "Akon, why do you need to be this close to her? You just need to pass the paper, isn't that an easy task to do?"

Akon and Rin were your best friends for a long time, the only two of them besides Nemu you were comfortable with. Your relationship with everyone there is actually pretty good, except with the captain. Captain Kurotsuchi for sure love to put you in hell sometimes, he dislike it when you're getting close with your other colleagues in 12th Division especially when some of them being flirty with you. The only way for him to solves this problem is by dragging you to his private lab and working with him there for entire day. It's kinda confusing because you think that he might like you since he always seems so jealous whenever you're with someone else and yet he seems not, who's know?

"Y/n, you are distracting Akon, so please stop talking to him" says Mayuri. "Captain, it's me who started the conversation first, not Y/n" Akon tries to back you up but Mayuri won't listen to him, raising his slender index finger and pointed at his computer "continue your work, Akon, and I won't repeat myself." he snarled. Akon went silent, he's only nodded and walk away from you two, hoping that the captain doesn't cause you any harm.

You felt something grab your left arm with a strong grip, it was his hand. "Follow me, woman" he said in a harsh tone, you literally pray to all the Gods that you know because he sounds like he's going to kill you. As you two entered his private lab, you saw Nemu standing in front of Mayuri's huge monitor, looking at the two of you in confusion. "Get out of here Nemu, I need to settle this thing between me and Y/n" He said as he pushed Nemu out of his lab.

"Understandable, Mayuri-sama" Nemu answered as she closed the automatic door behind the two of you and walked away from that place.

"What did I do to you?? I don't remember doing anything wrong, in fact I completed all my work and handed it to you on time, I wasn't even rude to you was I?" Pulling your arm from his grip, you backed away from him. He can kill you whenever he wants, he can unleash the power of his Zanpakuto and drown you with poison there. But he didn't, he only watched you in silence. You stared at Mayuri, there was something about him that you just noticed at the moment, it was something unusual about the way he look at you. How long has he been looking at you with such a soft gaze?

Without saying any words, he approached you and pushed you against the wall, caging you between his arm as he roughly kisses you on the lips. "I don't like seeing you with others, you are mine, only mine" he said, pulling away and now kissing your exposed neck. "I don't shares, you know." He pushed your hips down so that your pussy on his left knee which was already between your thighs, forcing you to grinding on it. "You know what to do." He commanded. Mayuri wants to take off your clothes so bad, but something in his mind stopped him.

"No..let she crave for more..craving for my touch.."

"Ca.. captain" you moaned, staring into his eyes as you do what he says. "Id prefer you call me by my name when we do this, so that everyone knows who you belong to"

"M...Mayuri...." You moaned his name, looking at his half opened eyes as you grind your pussy on his knee. You don't even know what you're doing, you were drowning in your own pleasure and lust. The excitement he felt lead him into gripping your neck roughly with his hand.

"That's it...just like that mhmmmm" with that he inserts two of his fingers inside your mouth, shoving them deep and toying with your tongue using his fingers. Thank God it's not the one with long nail......

"If only you didn't aroused my jealousy then you don't have to experience this"

Your hips move back and forth faster than before, almost reaching your own climax. Before that could even happen, he pull his knee from between your thighs and had you fall into a kneeling position in front of him. He lifted up your chin and made you look at him in the eyes. "No, I won't let you cum, stupid"

Both hands gripping your hair as he pressed your face against his clothed dick that still hard, moving up and down slowly as he let out a loud moan. "Mmm.. feels so..good ah.." He pressed himself to your face harder than before that you almost couldn't breathe, the rough texture of his pants brushed against your soft skin.

"Mmm...Ma..mm..yuri pweash sstop..mm"

"Shut up you slut" He hissed, slapping your cheeks and continue to grinding on your face. You were completely helpless under him, unable to resist and letting him to do whatever he wants on your body. Damn, it's turning him on so much, thinking about this with you underneath while he's looking at your innocent eyes... It's was your fault after all, because of you he's in a great mess like this, because of you he finds himself stroking his own dick almost every night and came into his hand, instead of inside your pussy.

"Hah..... Ah.." finally, he came. His grip on your hair is tighten and he stop moving, your face still pressed on his clothed dick with your mouth slightly open.

"Ah....mmmmm... I.. hope you're satisfied" You said in a low voice, almost crying and you didn't dare to make eye contact with him.

He looked at you, hands caressing your cheeks softly as he gave you a worried look.

"Am I being too harsh on you, sweetheart?"

__________________________________

You: Heheheh

Mayuri: What?

You: I.... I knew it

Mayuri: Knew what?

You: YOU ACTUALLY LOVE ME!!

Mayuri: wtf??? *Blushing *

You: Oh come on~

Mayuri: Shut up or I'll dissect you.

;)

I love Mayuri Kurotsuchi and I'm not ashamed of it.

_____

[hime-bee]

*rubs hands together menacingly* fuckbuddy hoederer?? ohhhh i'm gonna have fun with this one,,

it works in your favor, seeing as intimacy isn't exactly on the plate for someone of your standing. being the doctor of rhodes island isn't exactly a position that allows you the leeway of what could be considered a normal romance (what, with all the eccentric characters that are your operators). but it does allow you some room to at least weasel in some sessions of getting dicked down. and hoederer is the one who suits your fancy, even if he responds rather awkwardly to your little teasings. you're well aware that he doesn't hold you in the same regard that any of your other operators do, but that's not the end of the world.

hoederer adapts surprisingly well to being your fuckbuddy, even if he's a bit stiff the first few times around. he's certainly not used to you being so forward and bold with your advances, though you work around what makes him comfortable. and you did assure him that your little meetups wouldn't affect his standing within rhodes island, but you did ask that he keep it a secret, especially from w of all people. she'd never let it go if she found out you were getting fucked by what was essentially her father figure, and she'd certainly never let you hear the end of it.

the way hoederer fucks you certainly affirms your choice of picking him for your fuckbuddy. it does take a lil' bit to really get him going, but you've figured out that he needs a good handful of affirmation and gentle touches before he's rearing to go and you can get on all four limbs for him. he fucks you so hard that he keeps slamming against your cervix and making your head go blank from the sensations alone. sometimes when you want to feel just how strong he is, you'll place your hands against the wall and playfully wiggle your hips until he fills you up with that huge dick of his. it's not fair, really, how easily you fall apart to the point where he has to lift your hips up himself and keep fucking into your cunt while you squeal and moan like a needy slut.

he's the type of fuckbuddy who pushes your head down into the mattress while he's pounding into you from behind, your sobs and moans muffled as he hits so deep that you can feel him in your stomach. whether it be intentional or not, just feeling his raw strength is enough to have you creaming around his dick over and over. even if he does offer an apology for getting too rough, it's pretty clear from your pleasure-slack expression that you enjoyed every second of his manhandling.

but the one time you coaxed him into fucking you raw? oh, that really did it in for you. it just felt so damn good with how much of his release he filled you with, and you couldn't stop moaning for him to hurry and knock you up and how badly you wanted his babies. and—oh? looks like he's getting pretty into it too, despite that conflicted look in his eyes. seems like even your war-exhausted fuckbuddy wasn't immune to becoming weak at the thought of knocking you up~

(you gave me an inch and i took a mile >:3c hope this lil' thirst can help with any potential hoederer smut ideas once you're all healed up and feeling much better! <33)

I'M??? LATI????? You really got me over here blushing, no lie 😭 I rarely get flustered by smut anymore, SHEESH- I've reread this so many times, I stopped counting LOL

Ma'am, you're feeding me graciously and I can't thank you enough for these full course meals fr. You've given me such a good idea for a fic, I can't WAIT till my hands heal up, I'm gonna be all over that old man like white on rice, just watch me 😩😩 If you end up writing for him as well, I can guarantee I'll eat that up too 😌💦💦

[ahundredtimesover]

Wow that was some heavy emotional heartbreak in that chapter! I feel like there is an elephant sitting on my chest right now. My heart just hurts that bad for two fictional characters. It's just a testament to how much emotion you create with your stories. The best stories take you on an emotional roller coasters, and that's exactly what yours is doing.

I did not see that back story coming! It makes more sense now why she wants to leave so badly. JK really didn't have a choice but to let her go. This story is kind of like that famous line that goes something like if you love someone let them go, and if they come back to you, they were meant to be yours. That's what will happen with the two of them here. He even says it one of the lines. That he'll let her go to find her own happiness, and if she comes back to him, that means she chose to be with him. By convincing her to stay in the company, it's not her choice to be with him. She's not being given any other choice that way. She has to want him on her own. And him too. He has to want her outside of just needing her to be his assistant. They need to be more to each other than what the job allows them to be.

I really hope Mr. Ri gets his chance to be with OC's mom. If OC and JK can get their "second" chance, I hope Mr. Ri does too. He's such a great character, and I've really come to adore him. I hope that when the story ends, he also gets his happy ending.

I'm assuming there will be some kind of time jump coming up in the next chapter. I would imagine it would take maybe a few years for her to find what she's looking for and make her ready to come back to him. It certainly can't happen in a few months. I'm curious to see if they stay in touch after she leaves, or if there is just a complete break between them until she's ready to find him again. The real question is will JK have gone back to his playboy persona again. Can he stay celibate while he's waiting for her? I hope so, because that would just prove to her how much he cares for her. And will she stay celibate? So many questions I can't wait to find out the answers to!

Hiii ugh, I love it when you guys cry but I always hope you feel better right after. 🥹 I cried writing this chapter, too, especially the narration of the past, so I'm happy to know that the emotions I felt are also being felt by the readers.

I've been hinting that connection from the beginning! You might spot them after another read through hehe but true, it was just so important for OC to do this for herself. Imagine having to carry that burden... And she didn't even expect to like him! Like she said, she wasn't supposed to care that much. We at least have a JK who understands why she's doing it, but sometimes the best decisions don't make us happy (right now). And that' just how life goes. Like you said, it has to be their choice, an idea that I emphasise moving forward bc choice is what OC didn't feel she's ever really had, so if she stayed for JK, she's essentially letting him take that away from her this time. It's just not a good start.

I love the love for Mr. Ri! I absolutely enjoy creating characters like this. There's so much wisdom and pain and I just like the idea of how he's family to both OC and JK. 😌😌

Hmm interesting take about the way forward. I'd say that learning to heal and finding their happiness is important but like a lovely friend pointed out, they aren't together... They just admitted their feelings but there's nothing else beyond that. Whatever feelings they have for each other haven't fully developed yet, so they don't even know what happiness with each other looks like. Sure they have their own issues, but they’re issues that intensified bc they’ve been dealing with them in their own.

Just a thought, bc this seems to be a popular take! And my answer would be... things will be happy but they won't be perfect. There are also plans for season 2, so there’s that!

Thank you so much for reading! Been enjoying reading all of your lovely thoughts 💕💕