#I’m too far down the rabbit hole I fear

[pinkblosmx]

In the last couple of days I have become slightly obsessed with Tiffany Valentine, I apologise for all the posts of her you’re gonna get.

[midnightanxietytm]

He takes his whiskey neat

A/N: Look, I think i was possessed while writing this one /j. It was like 1 am and I was procrastination on college work, I dunno what happened but this is the ungodly spawn of my imagination mixed with sleep deprivation, caffeine and stress. Enjoy and don't question it too much

Contents: Ford Pines x reader, pinning (lots of pining), I pictured reader in their late 40s to early 50s so there is an age gap but nothing extreme. There's some plot in those holes. uhhh lots of tension and no payoff because im pretty sure I passed out before I got to that part.

Word count: 996

There’s this look on his eyes now that you can’t quite figure out.

Ever since Stanford Pines came back from the portal, ever since weirdmageddon and the end of that fateful summer, something about him fundamentally changed. There’s contempt, relief, sure, but there's more to it, something that he keeps deep in that rattling metal-protected brain of his.

And god forbid sometimes you just want to pick him apart entirely, figure out every detail, note it down, absorb it, maybe then his mere presence won’t entice you, mess you, so goddamn much.

It culminates, as all events are bound to do, right before that year’s summer vacation, you blame the heat. 

Soos and Melody took a vacation for themselves, entrusting the shack back to Stan’s less than trustworthy hands, just like old times. Ford slips back into the basement so easily you almost follow him; your mind briefly longing for that nostalgia of being freshly out of college, when you and Ford were easily impressed by the oddness of the world.

You were a prodigy; a good ten years younger than him yet still doing your masters while he did his doctorate, and in the same area with similar themes! Back then, you two were just bright-eyed yet very tired academics… Then Gravity Falls presented itself on a silver platter, and Bill followed through.

You were there, on the day of the portal, or at least, almost there, going back for the thousandth time, expecting no answer to your knocks at the door as usual, only to be met with the fallout of something far worse than refusal.

And then he was back, less jittery, less paranoid and less sleep deprived than he was before at least. But there was that thing in his eyes, that inherent distrust, detachment…? You struggled to find the words and if there’s one thing that you as a scientist can’t deal with is a question that goes unresearched.

So it began; your “research” depended on experiment and to experiment, you firstly decided to get close to your unwilling subject. And you go down the rabbit hole.

You find him in the basement, of course. He’s drawing on loose sheets of paper, some of the discarded pieces lay on the floor, and the cd player by his side is playing just loud enough to muffle your footsteps as you approach him by his right side. “Updating the journal?” You ask, nonchalantly, as if you hadn't obsessively turned each page of his journals before, as if your own handwriting wasn’t squeezed in the first ones before his old muse took all the space left.

Ford just hums, raising his chin slightly, but not his eyes, just to acknowledge the question. “Not really, just trying to get some proportion practice. Looking back, some of my work on the first journal was… Not the best.” 

A chuckle leaves your mouth; “If you say so…” You hum, picking up one of the filled out pages that were pushed aside in the table and pretending to look it over as he places his pen down and looks up at you.

“Any advice?” He asks, and once again you pretend to be paying attention to anything but him and his every movement.

“Not really… I think you’re good.” You place the paper back at the table, leaning against it. “Thought you’d be going through your abstract phase by now, honestly.” And you smirk down at him.

He leans back, crossing his arms; “I fear I’m too logical to have an abstract phase, even my craziest dreams have math and science behind them.” And you both laugh, and your curiosity itches more and more every millisecond.

The next words that leave your mouth were planned and inwardly rehearsed, but they come out natural as a summer breeze. “Every tortured artist has an abstract phase, get on with the times, sixer!” It comes out as a joke, it's a test. And suddenly you’re too nervous to stay there, staring at him and waiting for a rebuttal. You push yourself off the table and zipline to one of the bookshelves, reaching towards the back of it, you pull the ‘eureka whiskey’ and the two cups.

He just watches you for a second, then accepts the cup as you pour him one, then one for yourself. 

And it’s truly the eureka whiskey, because goddamn you just found something in those eyes. 

He takes a sip; “Yeah I guess those portal days would do for some good surrealist pieces at least.”

“I can’t even imagine.” You say.

He smirks, lips inches from his cup. “You can’t…” He takes a sip. “That’s the point of surrealist.” You want his brain under a microscope, you want his breath mixing with yours, you want to never see him again, you want to wake up near him every day.

The curse of science is that in the endeavor to figure out the world, the scientist often loses sight of themselves. 

The witty remarks, the planned lines, the psychological strategies, all fly out of you head and you lean back against his desk. He’s leaned further back now and his chair is turned diagonally towards you and he watches with a smile and those eyes. “What did you see?” It’s almost a whisper, because you think he might actually tell you, and that scares you more than anything.

“Too much…” He swallows, sighs, takes a swing of whiskey and rests the empty cup on the desk. “It was very chaotic, honestly that’s all I want to say…” You sigh, pushing yourself up to sit at his desk, and his head tilts as he watches you. 

“I’m glad you’re back.” You settle, even though it doesn’t even come near to all the things you want to express. He smiles, and his eyes travel down, landing on your hands, holding your barely touched whiskey glass. You follow his gaze, and chuckle. “I’m more of a whine person.”

“I know…”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can you please do this but with Ruggie and Leona?

Courting Rituals w/ Fem Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Ruggie Bucci

Mating rituals for hyenas are very…tense

Females are aggressive and violent

For males there's a lot of submission and fear that goes into the mating process

Naturally he’s not supposed to be all that dominant when dating anyway

But you’re so clueless and totally unaware he might have to help you get the hint

There are three things male hyenas typically do

The cautious steps forward and cautious steps back

Spotted hyena males often do something of a nervous start toward the female before running back 

Kind of like a nervous jig that’s a sure fire sign of their intentions

Whether or not the females actually see it they do it

Which rings just as true for Ruggie 

“Oh wow, Ruggie your sharing with me?”

“Yeah don’t get to hung up on it. I’m just being a good senpai.” No he’s not

Or when Ruggie unexpectedly shares some of his food with you

And right after that he doesn’t talk to you for the longest time

Those are his steps but you won’t notice

You’ve got so many friends 

He hates it really

Next is another round of testing the waters

Now this testing of the waters–or more accurately your boundaries

Starts with crossing his legs in front of you

Something he does casually while speaking to you 

Next is the scratching the ground in front of you

Again you just casually brush off the extra time he spends down there tying your shoe

But now that he’s tested the waters he can finally commence with his final act

Presenting and you accepting

Now this wasn’t the olden days unfortunately

Even without your proper knowledge flashing you wasn’t the right display

So he’d take something close to it 

“Ruggie I really appreciate you inviting me to come swimming with you.”

“Nishishishi it’s no problem! You scratch my back I’ll scratch yours.”

And scratch his you will since he’s wearing a tight speedo

And he purposely planned for this after all

Made sure grim and company we’re too busy 

And Leona away on some trip 

Now for your acceptance

Again he has to be slick you’re so far from a typical hyena beast woman 

You just don’t know that bending over and parting your legs is the ultimate sign

The go ahead he needs

“Hey (Y/n), I need your help with something! My goggles fell into this rabbit hole.”

“What why don’t you do it?”

“Heh? I thought you were nice!” 

“Fine fine. Just make sure I don’t fall in the ground looks pretty unstable.”

“But of course!"

He’s holding your waist tight as you  bend over

Its the way it will be from now on

Your his mate now 

And any violence he does in your name is completely justified 

Leona Kingscholar

Lion’s have very basic mating rituals 

That aren’t really worried heavily on being impressive or not 

Its snuffing out competition 

Yes, powerful roars and a large dark mane is just as alluring

But it means nothing if your intended mate is occupied

Like with another male or with a child of another

So that’s what Leona’s worried about

Worried about the way you so easily interrupt your time together to deal with Grim

“Sorry Leona, if I don’t go home now the rest of the night is going to be a nightmare!”

“Then why don’t you stay here, then.”

“Thanks but Grim gets fussy if I'm not there.”

The urge to revert to his ancestor’s behavior is strong

But he’d rather not deal with you fighting him so he’ll invest in making Grim a little ally speedbump

A few plates of gourmet fish and suddenly Grim is willing to mess up any other rivals of his 

And that pleases him….for awhile

But you still mention Grim when you two are talking or cuddling 

It makes him sick

So a deal with Azul or paid underhanded deal and suddenly Grim’s not your problem anymore

And when you come crying to him he’ll soothe you but he won’t feel remorseful

You won’t feel to bad if he gives you a cub or two of your own

[starkeysprincess]

Went down the season 2 Rafe rabbit hole today and I’ve never loved a hot psycho more and it gave me suchhh a good idea. It’s not everyone’s thing but erotic torture/dubcon would toooootally be his.

Like maybe before his life got so complicated, you were friends with the pogues, and while Rafe didn’t necessarily like it, he didn’t care as long as you were happy and came back to him at the end of the day.

I’d imagine you’d be introduced to this side of him when one late and stressful night, you get caught right in the crossfire of him and them, just tagging along with your friends, because Rafe always told you whatever he was up to was nothing to worry about. So you weren’t that concerned about them finding the treasure, and your friends hadn’t told you about Rafe yet. He’d get furious and be dragging you home, telling you he needs you safe and protected and ends up taking his frustration out on your frightened little self. Every time you saw him unfathomably angry after that, you knew what was to come.

He’d be into chaining you to his bed or tying you up tight enough to give you rope burn on your most sensitive parts. He’d say the most evil shit imaginable and do everything to make you cry from edging to the most intense overstimulation and not having any limit or remorse for how far he’ll push you. No, you’re gonna take anything and everything from your daddy. He likes to fuck your ass without prep and plugs his cum in it with dildos while he deals with your other holes. I have a visceral feeling he’d be into clamping your nipples, but more than anything your clit, knowing that’s where he can be the most sinful because it’s your most sensitive part. He’d tie a vibrator to your leg and leave it on your pinched little pearl for hours in the highest and just watch and taunt and degrade you, maybe getting up to cum in or on you or use his fucking machine or spank or torture your ass again to guttural screaming and sobs full of begs that fall on deaf ears, maybe even threatening to get out the knife if you don’t shut the fuck up. Or he’d do it himself, choking you so hard that since you don’t even recognize the Rafe in front of you, you genuinely fear he won’t know when to stop. He would be the most sadistic and unhinged version of a Greek god you’ve ever seen, and would absolutely break you, his toy, his property, his little slut who he needs by his side just as much because otherwise he’d break himself.

I feel like there’s so many ideas in here this is more short story material but queen I thought it and I knew you’d know what to do with it so do what you see fit, I neeeeed ur perspective. I love psycho Rafe <3

I’m sorry that this isn’t super detailed, i went more with a small rundown cause everything you said was 🙂‍↕️

i definitely think he gets off on the fact that you’re scared of this side of him, he genuinely enjoys seeing you tremble in fear when you realize what’s to come

when he ties you to his bed, he wouldn’t give a shit if the ropes are burning into your flesh because to him, it shows that you’re his and his only and that he has control over you

his favorite thing to do, in my opinion, is keeping your wrists and legs tied as he’s holding a vibrator against your sensitive clit, he’d tease and edge you for as long as he feels like and he’ll either stop, leaving you crying for more or keep going until you’re squirting and making a mess all over his sheets

also yeah this man is def into knife play, like he’d drag the cool metal down your body, running the flat blade against your nipples, watching them harden, hell—he may even carve his initials into your skin

he will manhandle you and when he’s being too rough, he doesn’t even show remorse as he’s turning you into nothing but his perfect little fucktoy of a girlfriend because in some sort of aspect in his mind, this is his way of showing you he loves you

because no matter how scared you are when he gets like this, he knows you love him too much to leave him

[vodika-vibes]

😌 idk if my first request for a fox x reader went through but i’ve been reading a lot (ofc whats new) and uh uh I found I really love fics with CX-2 (Clone Assassin) aND SO, to my favorite SW writer I ask;

How bout a soulmate au with CX-2 (?) Could be a bit of angst with a happy ending, and everyone is just wondering how reader could be with him after all the things he’s done (uh im getting sunshine!reader x grumpy character vibes)

dont have to write this! i just would love to see some more cx-2 fics after reading one just now lol also im down the rabbit hole again that its cx-2!tech whose been reconditioned, do what you feel is best but i just love that theory bc I’m a firm believer too that tech never died 😌

Protective

Summary: For a long time, your parents feared that you didn’t have a soulmate. Until, one morning, you woke up and found a wild dog curled up next to you on your bed. You named him Noir, and the people around you quickly learned that he was fiercely protective of you. However, after Noir kills an Imperial Officer after he threatens, you have no choice but to go on the run.

Pairing: CX-2 x F!Reader, background Tech x Phee

Word Count: 2799

Warnings: None

Prompt: Soulmate AU - soulmates have spirit animals representing each other.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So I wasn't able to get the angst to work, largely because I wasn't in an angsty mood. Also, as much as I love the CX-2 being Tech idea, I had a different idea for this fic, so I hope you like it!

“What d’ya have there, Noir?” You ask as you return to the small hut that has been your home for the last three months and crouch in front of your oldest companion.

Noir’s tail wags rapidly as he nudges something in your direction.

You gently rub his head, then carefully pick up his offering, “Oh, it’s a fish. Did you find dinner for us, pal?”

Noir releases a happy yip, and you laugh softly, “Good job, Noir.” You stand and carry the fish over to the rough kitchen to divvy up the portions. Most of the fish will go to Noir, while you’ll prepare your portion with some seasoning that the Wookies traded with you.

Three months ago, Noir slaughtered an Imperial Officer who threatened your life. You’ve always known that he is fiercely protective of you, and you knew that there was a chance that he would kill again if you were threatened.

The first time it happened you had still been a child. Your uncle tried to kidnap you, and Noir reacted violently. 

That time, the authorities just nodded and said it made sense, that your uncle had bad intentions. Neither you, nor Noir, were punished for the death of your uncle.

The Empire is much less understanding.

You had no choice but to take Noir and flee from Coruscant.

The pair of you bounced from planet to planet for several months and then were offered a safe house on Kashyyyk, in the Shadowlands far below the treetop homes of the Wookie people.

It’s not easy.

You are, at your heart, a city girl. Hunting and survival skills do not come naturally to you. Luckily, you have Noir. He really is the greatest equalizer.

If not for him, you’d have died several times since you moved into the small hut.

The biggest downside to this whole situation is the knowledge that you’re not likely to ever meet your soul mate.

Well, unless your soulmate is a Wookie, you suppose.

Carefully, you fillet the fish on your cutting board and toss the large majority into Noir’s bowl, the rest is set in a bowl of marinade and shoved into the fridge. 

At least you have electricity. 

Sure, you don’t have a holo, but you do have a radio that allows you to keep up to date on the current events, and, much more importantly, listen to books while you fight to keep the Shadowlands from reclaiming the hut.

You’re about to flip the radio on, when Noir releases a low growl.

A growl low enough that your hair stands on end.

You turn your gaze to Noir and see that his ears are flat against his head and his teeth are bared. Spooked, you reach for your belt and grab your blaster, and then you nudge the door open.

Noir slinks out of the hut and, cautiously, you follow him.

The forest is silent. Eerily silent. 

You scan the forest around you, not that you expect to be able to see or hear anything. It’s enough that Noir is still growling as though he’s on the verge of attacking.

There’s a rustle in a bush, and you lift your blaster, only to lower it as a small, curious-looking creature ambles out. It’s red, black, and white, and you’d almost think it was a raccoon if not for the colors.

Noir is still growling like there’s a threat, but he’s ignoring the small creature, which is still ambling towards you. It stops at your feet and raises on its hind legs, and you crouch to get a better look at it.

When Noir first appeared in your bedroom all those years ago, no one was sure what kind of animal he was. Not even the zoologists at the local university were able to determine a species.

So you spent a lot of time as a child flipping through various animal encyclopedias. And, while you’d never claim that you had a perfect memory, this little creature does look familiar.

“You’re a Red Panda, aren’t you?” You murmur as you lightly stroke the soft fur on top of her head, “Your kind isn’t native to Kashyyyk, how did you get here?” What’s more is that she’s soft, as though someone’s been taking care of her, though based on the scarring around her ankles, she’s been chained up a lot. “Are you someone’s pet?”

The red panda climbs into your arms and promptly falls asleep, nuzzling her face into your neck. “Well, you’ve clearly been socialized. Maybe I can do something about the scarring.”

Your head snaps up as there’s more rustling and Noir’s growl lowers.

Five Stormtroopers stumble into the clearing, “There it is!” One of them says as he points at the Red Panda in your arms, “Get it!”

You stumble backward as they lift their blasters and Noir launches himself at the Stormtroopers. 

You’ve always known that Noir was quick. Quick and with a strong bite, but the last time you’ve seen him move this quickly was when you were a child. He manages to kill three of the Stormtroopers before they recognize that he’s a threat.

The fourth and fifth, however, turn their blasters on him.

And, for a moment, you think that you’re going to watch Noir die. 

You only think that for a moment, as another man emerges from the forest. He’s clad in black armor, much unlike the stark white armor of the Stormtroopers. And you watch as he uses a blade to kill one of the Stormtroopers from behind. 

You watch as he and Noir work in concert to kill the last of the Stormtroopers.

And then you watch as Noir jumps up on the man, his tail wagging faster than you’ve ever seen before. The armored man seems surprised at how friendly Noir is, and, to be honest, you are too.

He’s so friendly with the armored man, in fact, that you can’t help but think that Noir is the representation of said armored man.

“Noir,” You say, drawing the attention of both the wild dog and the armored man, “His name is Noir.”

It’s kind of hard to read him, seeing as he’s wearing a helmet, but you’re pretty sure that he’s staring at you. “Ka’ra.” He gestures to the red panda in your arms, “She’s been a prisoner her whole life.”

“That explains the scarring,” You walk over to him and pass him his spirit animal, a small smile crossing your face as Noir drops to his paws and bounces around you. “I have some medical stuff, to wrap her scars if you want.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and then nods once, “I’d appreciate that.”

You lead him into the hut, and motion for him to take a seat anywhere while you dig around for the first aid kit.

Once you find it, you set it on the table and open it to dig through what you have left. “You know, you don’t have to leave your helmet on.” You note lightly, “This is a pretty safe place.”

The man hesitates for a moment, then he nods once and reaches up to pull off his helmet. 

You’re genuinely surprised to see that he’s a clone. He looks like every other clone you’ve ever seen, dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin…though he does have some nasty scarring along the side of his face.

He’s handsome, you decide as you focus back on your medkit. He kind of looks like Noir, if you squint.

Though, now you have to wonder if you look like his Ka’ra.

“Ah, here we go!” You pull several rolls of bandages from the bottom of the kit and some scar powder. “If I remember correctly, this needs to be added to water, and then the bandages need to soak in it for a bit before we apply them—” You mumble under your breath as you flip the bottle and squint at the instructions.

“What’s your name?” The man asks.

You glance at him and introduce yourself absently, before you squint at the directions again, “What’s yours?”

“...CX-2.”

You pause, “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve never actually met another person with a soul animal before.”

“It’s rare, then?”

“One of the rarest soul bonds.” You agree, “The only one that’s more rare is the teleportation one.” You stand to grab a clean bowl and fill it with water before placing it on the table.

“I have a brother with the teleportation soul bond. He vanished one day, never saw him again.” CX replies as he watches you.

“Well, there are a lot of you.” You reply as you add some of the powder to the water and stir it in.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, “What is a human doing on Kashyyyk?”

“Ah…well.” You pause, “Noir killed an Imperial Officer who threatened me.”

CX stares at you for a long time, and then his lips curl up into an amused smile, “Good.”

You shoot him a puzzled look.

“He’s as protective of you as I would be.”

“Yeah, well…he is representative of you, right?” You reply with a small shrug.

“I didn’t expect you to be so calm about it,” CX notes, “You do realize that I’m an assassin, right?”

You start unrolling a roll of bandages, “When I was about eleven years old,” You say quietly, “My uncle tried to kidnap me from my bedroom. Noir,” You nod at the wild dog who is gnawing on a bone, “ripped his throat out before he got me out of the living room.” You look at him, “Why should I be afraid of you?”

CX looks startled for a moment, and then a quiet laugh falls from his lips, “I suppose you have good reason to not be afraid.”

You shrug, “I would prefer it if you didn’t assassinate people anymore, but I’d also prefer to not live in a hut on Kashyyyk, so—” You shrug again, and finally drop the bandages into the water.

“What would you have me do instead?”

“Mm, you can join the Rebellion?”

“Ick.”

A laugh falls from you, “I mean when the Republic was still standing, I never had to worry about Republic Officers threatening me. Within a month of the Republic turning into an Empire, I was threatened by an Imperial Officer.”

“...I suppose that it fair.”

“I’m not going to make you do anything,” You say lightly, “We can stay here if you prefer.”

“We?”

“Well, I assume that you want to stay with me?”

CX gazes at you silently, “I want you safe. So staying does make the most sense.”

You meet his gaze evenly, “I’ll definitely be safer with you, compared to away from you.” You agree.

CX is silent for a long moment, “Mandalore.”

“Beg pardon?”

“There’s a group of former Commandos who have a compound on Mandalore. They’re housing clones and their families.” He explains, “We’ll be safe there.”

“How do you know that?”

“All of the Clones know it.” He says, “Well, save for Alpha Prime, I suppose.”

“How are we supposed to get there?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

“I have a ship.”

You grin at him, and then pull the bandages out of the water, “I think it’s a great idea.”

It takes three weeks for you and CX to get to Mandalore, and it takes even longer for CX to prove that he’s not an active threat to his brothers. You’re not able to help with that, but watching him interact with you does a lot to earn him some goodwill.

You like your new home, it’s not Coruscant, but there is plenty of room for Noir to run around and get spoiled, and he does get spoiled. Not quite as much as CX’s Ka’ra, but pretty close. 

Surprisingly, CX is somewhat clingy. When he’s in the same area as you, his arms are around you, or his hand is in yours. You kind of have the feeling that he’s a little touch starved, so you don’t mind it.

On this particular day, you’re lounging in the sun, watching Noir and Ka’ra play together, while CX is sparring with Ordo (only the Nulls aren’t hesitant about sparring with CX, which is sad, but understandable).

You enjoy watching him spar largely because he tends to spar shirtless.

You’re allowed to be a simple woman when it comes to your soulmate, right?

“Watching them again?” A familiar voice pulls you out of your musing, and you tilt your head back to look up at the familiar man approaching you. “You could join them.”

“Hardly, if Ordo so much as scratched me, both Noir and CX would rip him to shreds.” You pat the ground next to you, “Have a seat, Tech. No need to hover.”

“He still wishes to be called CX?” Tech asks as he sinks to the ground next to you.

“It’s his choice.” You reply easily, “How was your physical therapy?”

“Painful,” Tech replies, matter-of-factly, “However, my healer believes that I am getting to the point where I will no longer need to see them.”

“That’s something. Are you thinking of reaching out to your brothers? Or your soulmate?”

“I am…unsure.”

“Oh?”

“I died.” He says bluntly, wincing as CX manages to flip Ordo onto his back, “I died, and my soul bond is weaker than it was before.”

“I assume your doctor has an opinion on that.”

“Of course. He says that I just need to reach out to Phee.”

“Why haven’t you?”

Tech anxiously adjusts his glasses, “What if she has found someone else?”

“Do you really think that she would?”

“...she is a beautiful and clever woman. Any man would be lucky to have her—” Tech starts.

“You’re borrowing trouble, Tech. You need to call her.”

Tech opens his mouth to reply but stops as CX jogs over.

You smile up at him adoringly, and offer him his water bottle, “Having fun, love?”

He smirks, “Ordo is bitching because I managed to flip him. So we’re having a round two.”

“Of course you are.”

He flashes a tiny grin at you and crouches so he’s able to kiss you quickly before he jogs back over to the sparring ring. His training was so different from his brothers, you can tell based on the scars covering his body, and based on the fact that he’s not quite as solid as Ordo and the other Nulls.

Not that any of that matters to you.

You love him as he is.

“It does not make sense to me how someone as kind as you ended up with someone like him,” Tech admits, “He intimidates everyone, and lashes out when pushed.”

“I’ve never been afraid of him.” You reply with a small grin, “Even when he killed someone in front of me, even when he loses his temper.”

Tech shakes his head, “I believe I understand.”

You tilt your head curiously.

“You are just as insane as he is.”

You aren’t able to help that laughter that bursts from your lips, “I suppose,” You say through your giggles, “that’s one way to view it.”

Tech flashes a crooked smile at you, and then gets back to his feet, “I am going to go send Phee a message, and hope that she forgives me. Enjoy your ogling.”

You fling a handful of grass at him but don’t deny his accusations. 

The spar ends an hour later after it gets too hot for them to continue, and CX makes his way to your side, dropping onto the ground next to you. Immediately his arms slide around your waist and he presses his face against your neck.

“Did you have fun?” You ask as you card your fingers through his curls. 

He hums in response, his arms tightening around you, “I’m glad that you don’t mind coming to these.”

“I enjoy watching you spar.”

He pulls his face away from your neck, “You enjoy watching me do anything.” 

“You are ridiculously handsome.” You shift in his grip slightly so you’re able to press your hands against his cheeks, “I’m a lucky lady.”

“Mm, is that right?” CX asks as he leans in and presses his forehead against yours.

“You’re all sweaty,” You whisper to him. 

“So maybe we should go home,” He offers with an arched brow, “You can wash my hair for me.”

A giggle falls from your lips, “Deal.”

CX grins at you, and crashes his lips against yours, knocking you back onto the grass.

Everything isn’t perfect, CX still needs gene therapy to remove the enhanced aging, not to mention regular therapy to help deal with all of his issues. But so long as you’re together, everything will be fine.

You won’t allow for anything else.

[ddejavvu]

If this is too far out of your guidelines for a prompt then please feel free to ignore this! I’m not requesting a story/blurb, I just want to know :)

What is your favorite head-canon about Jake/hangman? Or what is your favorite head-canon of him that you haven’t been given the opportunity to work into a story yet, but would like to share?

Well i have to go down sort of a rabbit hole for this. my favorite headcanon about hangman is that he's a loud-and-proud texan, but i forcibly work that into everything i write about him. i'd say my favorite headcanon within that headcanon is that he grew up with a bunch of big old ranch dogs as a kid !! i love it when men grow up caring for animals and it fundamentally affects their disposition. i bet he'd be soooo good with dogs just smacking the shit out of their sides and letting them all ride in his truck. cowboys need big old ranch dogs i fear.

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

I Wrote Another Thing!

For people who follow Some Things Are Meant to Be on AO3 first of all, I am so, so sorry for how slowly I've been updating. Life has hit me pretty hard and on top of that I have writer's block on how I want to continue the main story.

Second, I have been working on a companion piece that is a prequel written from both Elvis and the reader's perspectives as they navigate the lives they lead before they finally meet in early 1973. The first chapter is up on AO3 now and I can link it here:

Before You - ooihcnoiwlerh - Elvis (Movie 2022) [Archive of Our Own]

I've also fallen into the rabbit hole of Pinterest boards and have made one for the first chapter that I'll link here: (1) Pinterest.

For those who want sneak preview, I'll post tidbits below the cut:

People like to say that you're too big for your britches.  People see a scrappy kid in her sister's secondhand hand-me-downs and think it's sometimes cute and funny, sometimes exasperating how stubborn and competitive you can be.  It gets you in trouble early on; grown ups and other kids alike quick to remind you of your place.

You never listen for long.

You have a few early memories of your mother taking you into work with her a couple of times a week because you’re too young for school like your older siblings and she tells you to not bother anyone or cause a scene while she rolls out and laminates dough and makes and pipes filling.

You don’t bother anyone or cause a scene as far as you’re concerned, but you quickly lose interest in seeing your mother at work and wander off briefly which results in a thorough spanking.  You don’t get why it’s so wrong for you to want to see new places or leave your little bubble, especially when no one seems to have time for you anyway.

All things considered, it could be worse.  The two-bedroom, one-bathroom row house with paper thin walls, warped floors, and occasional faulty wiring is better than no home at all and your parents know how to shop and cook economically enough to make a grocery budget stretched to its limit feel like plenty.  It’s also not like the kids at your school have it much better and can mock you for being poor when a good chunk of them are too.  While you doubt you’ll ever develop the same love for cooking as your parents, you do like being “the little helper” in the kitchen when your siblings outgrow that title (even if your mother has more than one use for a wooden spoon that can put the fear of God in you if you cross her.)  A few of your classmates and neighborhood kids make fun of you but you still make at least a few friends.   And while they find you annoying, your older siblings still love you, even if that love sometimes feels like that baffled fondness one feels for a yappy terrier trying to sidle up to a Rottweiler.  

And for nearly as long as you can remember you love movies and big billboards with people whose names you’ve never heard splashed across them.  You coax whichever older sibling is most likely to give in to take you to all the movies and disappear, for the brief time you’re watching the screen.  You’re not little Y/F/N Y/L/N, the tagalong youngest of four with nothing to your name and no one to listen to you; you’re whoever you want to be, sharing in the adventures you see in each movie.  And someday you’ll be in those movies, and be that person for another lonely and frustrated child who wants to escape.

At first you decide you want to be an actress.  After all, for a child there’s little else you really understand that goes into making a movie.

“That’s what I’m gonna do,” you announce to your parents and of course they think you're being ridiculous.  They also can't afford to fund your little fantasy even if they wanted to.

But there are school plays and musicals you try out for and get into.  You find that you have a perfectly fine singing voice and an aptitude for matching pitch.  It doesn't take you too long to learn choreography or lines.

It's fun, and you get the impression that you have some moderate talent for it.

But you start to realize that you’re not amazing.  You’re not sure why some part of you was hoping you’d be some kind of prodigy, but you’re definitely not.  And that’s fine; it’s been said that success is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration, but you also don’t love it.  You don’t feel the same thrill that you hear real actors do onstage.  You don’t transform into your character or become this larger-than-life persona like the stars and starlets you see onscreen.  You’re still little Y/F/N Y/L/N, just in grease paint and a costume giving a “solid, even charming” performance.

Funny thing, you don’t then lose interest or decide that show business isn’t for you, after all when you come to that realization.  You just wonder what it is you should be doing if not acting.

You’re not that interested in lighting or set building.  The technical aspects of filmmaking interest you to some extent, but what fascinates you is how it all comes together.

"Maybe directing, then?” a friend who still humors you tells you after rehearsal and before you have to go home.

“Maybe.”  The next time you go to the movies, you pay attention to the credits and all the different job titles.  You’ve matured enough to understand a lot more goes into making a movie than the people onscreen and so mentally pick through and notice “A Cecil B. DeMille Production” and “Produced and Directed by Cecil B. DeMille.”

What does a producer do, exactly? you wonder, and after a bit of digging you find out.  A producer oversees the entire picture as a whole and promotes it so that audiences actually come to see it.  They're the ones pushing them during awards season.  And that…sounds perfect.  You help bring the entire thing together, as it were, and you realize that was what you wanted all along.

"I think you stand a better shot at being an actress," people tell you when you explain your new career plans.

It's a man's world, of course.  And men entirely different from any that you've met.  And yet, somehow, it never really occurs to you that your dreams are impossible.  

You never stop believing that you'll be able to do anything you put your mind to.  At times that belief is all you really have.

...........................

Everything changes again one night right when Elvis is twenty, when they get the chance to perform for KWKH station’s Louisiana Hayride. 

It’s certainly the largest crowd they’ve played so far, the farthest they’ve ventured out.  It’s the first time anyone’s going to record them live, and that’s the part that terrifies him the most.  He pictures himself freezing, forgetting all the lyrics, and who knows, maybe simultaneously throwing up and pissing himself onstage before being booed into oblivion.  Scotty and Bill try to talk him down.  Dixie, sweet Dixie, who’s two years his junior and who he’s pretty sure he’s going to propose to after the end of her senior year, offers him a soda that he can’t drink because his stomach’s already foaming like it has rabies.

Twenty-six different states all listening in.  It’s too much.  He gets the sweats and the shakes performing in front of tiny crowds at clubs for almost zero money.

“What if I forget the words on live radio?” he asks.

He calms down enough, encircled by Scotty and Bill, by Dixie, by his parents, to steel his resolve once they’re called to the stage.

He’s still shaking like a leaf, feeling nauseous and sweaty as he barely registers Lorace Hogan’s words as he introduces himself and isn’t entirely sure what’s spilling out of his mouth as he tries to thank everyone and introduce the song and then…silence.  Elvis can sense Bill and Scotty getting nervous behind him as he can’t quite get the sound out, as he freezes.  A guy around his age in the audience calls him a fairy and tells him to get a haircut.

And while, for some reason, he was terrified of this very thing, the sudden noise is what spurs him on.  It shocks him into clarity.  That’s the worst of it, then: some stranger spouting nothing he hasn’t already heard before.  He can just move on and do the song.  He takes a deep breath, and he lets loose.

It’s a fun song; Elvis likes the bouncy rhythm of it and playful tone and finds it comfortable in his range.  He thinks that he and the guys play it pretty well.

What he doesn’t expect is for the amount of girls and women in the audience to start screaming; it starts out as a few giving little shrieks, jumping in their seats, but then the number grows, and he’s not sure why.

At the instrumental break he turns to Bill and Scotty for some explanation and the answer is, “The wiggle!  Them girls wanna see you wiggle!  Move, man!  More!  Much more!”

Funny; he hadn’t been fully aware of the fact that he was wiggling.  But these girls sure seem to like it.  So he keeps moving, keeps feeling the music and lets it take over.  The screams, the near-hysteria from the audience keep him going like they’re fuel and he’s a pink Cadillac and for a couple of minutes he’s never felt more powerful.  As one final gesture he reaches out into the audience, and they nearly pull him off the stage, tearing his jacket off of him.

And he leaves the stage, stunned, like he’s just had an out of body experience.

That was real.  That was all real; the show, and the audience’s reaction to it.  To him.  To some extent he’d known that the audiences enjoyed him, that for the last few years anyway that some girls liked him, but he’s never felt their reaction so deeply before.

He knows, in this moment, he’ll never be the same.

.........................

Elvis promises both Mama and Dixie that he hasn’t gotten to any foolin around on the road and so far he’s managed to keep his promise.  It’s not easy, granted. A lot of pretty girls would love to be in his hotel room where he stays, alone.  It’s funny; while he started dating back in high school, he’s never felt so deeply wanted until now.  

It’s an intoxicating feeling, like one night when he was younger and tried drinking peach brandy.  So at first he reminds himself of the morning after trying the peach brandy when he spent the majority of it throwing up and swearing to God above that he’d never touch the stuff again.  He flirts with the audience, tries to hide how flustered he feels to see so many girls throw their unmentionables onstage when he performs, and stops there.

It comes to a head, albeit not literally, when a woman his age, perhaps a little older, invites herself into his hotel room without a word.  He recognizes her from earlier, when she’d asked for his autograph after the concert.  She’d said her name was Natalie and he’d noticed even then the raw sex appeal she’d exuded, how she’d seemed interested in him but not in the breathless, star-struck way the other girls were.  More like he was a fun new toy she wanted to play with.  It had thrown him off guard but he’d almost been able to forget, until now.

His resistance has been falling each night.  He knows that he could easily ask this woman to leave.  Instead he turns his head to watch her sashay past him.  He takes in the sight of her supple curves shown off to almost dizzying effect in her tight little dress and she smirks over her shoulder, aware of how he's watching her as she drops her purse on the edge of the bed.  One that Elvis had been getting ready to retire to; he’s taken his shoes and socks off and had been working on his shirt before opening the door.  He stares, dumbfounded at her confidence and the way this woman’s skirt hugs her hips and backside.

He knows that he's on the verge of something new once more, that if he keeps going there's no returning to who he was before.

He shuts the door and turns to face her.  His heart pounds, he feels flushed and hot, his nerves on fire.

He could easily ask her to leave.  He should.  He should tell her that there’s some misunderstanding, that he’s flattered but he has a girl back home who’d be crushed if he fooled around with someone else.  He wouldn’t have to tell this woman that he’s never actually fooled around with his girlfriend, either.

“I haven’t done as much as you probably think,” he says instead.

......................

Ma sent you and your brother out for one last errand before the shops shut and you glance past the TVs in the home appliances store.  Your family may have moved into a nicer rowhouse with an extra bedroom and bathroom, but a television set is not a luxury your parents see any reason to throw away money on.

You’re glad, then, that you’ve been sent out this particular night because the image you see stops you dead in your tracks.

You know who this man is–you’ve heard his voice on the radio recently, the deep crooning and vivacious mix of rhythm and blues with country.  You’ve seen pictures that left you stunned at his combination of masculinity and almost ethereal beauty.  But you’ve never seen actual footage of him moving until now.

Fully dressed and before an audience he moves with untamed energy, rocking his hips in a way that just looks so primal that you can hardly believe it’s real.

It feels like you shouldn’t be allowed to see this.  Technically, he’s not doing anything wrong; it’s not like his thing is actually out for you to look at.  It’s not like he’s actually–well–you blush, watching as his hips go between undulating like the rolling tide and bouncing frenetically.  You let out an involuntary gasp, face flushing.  

While your eyes travel everywhere, noting his pretty face and plush lips, his long hair, you keep looking at, well, the area in between his legs you know is forbidden until marriage.  The part of him that you have only the vaguest knowledge of and have been told is meant for making babies only, just like your flower that's been bleeding every month for two years now.  You know the mechanics, and think about them sometimes with a detached sort of curiosity but no particular real desire.  

In between your own legs you throb, feeling hot.  You can't move, can't look away.  You've never seen anything quite like this.  Never felt quite like this or so deeply.  Once again you forget how long you’re standing there and staring at the vision before you.

“Y/N, what’re you looking at?  We need to–” your brother sees the monitor, looks at you, and rolls his eyes as he shakes his head.  “Oh, for–you can drool over that guy later.  Come on."

You immediately bristle, ashamed and almost afraid.  Is it really so obvious that you were thinking such indecent thoughts?  

"Oh, screw you!" you tell him, flushed now from embarrassment.

Your brother feigns an offended gasp.  "She's cursing now!  What next?" He reaches for your arm to tug you away and you pull away.

“I’m not a child!” you tell him, and he rolls his eyes. 

"Remember this conversation in four years.  Now come on."

Your brother doesn't bring it up later.  He could easily tease you about it in front of your sister and parents and a few years ago probably would've.  You're grateful; since you're the youngest and the only one who hasn't dated at all yet, and your parents hate the mere suggestion of that changing anytime soon.  But they also want you to get married.  If you had the gall to sass them, you’d ask if they knew you’d have to eventually date to marry.

That night you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what you saw.

You feel wet, but not like you're about to pee.  You squirm as you think about how you’ve heard whispers of people taking care of their…urges…alone.  And you keep thinking about it as you desperately want something to rock against, to rub against the ache between your legs.

You can't.  You mustn't.  You shouldn't.

Although if your sister wasn't sleeping just a few feet away, you probably would at least try, even if you wouldn’t have any clue what you’re doing.

You give a small whine through closed lips and throw yourself onto your side, flopping around in bed like a fish out of water.    

You groan, embarrassed, and after a moment fish out the magazine you’ve kept hidden under a book in your nightstand along with your flashlight.  You silently apologize to your older sister as you pull the covers up and turn on the flashlight.  You catalog everything you see, every detail.

You wonder what he looks like under those baggy suits.  You know enough of the basics of a man's anatomy but wonder, still.  He's slender but not too thin.  Would his…his thing match that or be thick like a…a Coke can?  Is that even possible?  You've heard that he's six feet tall.  Would that mean he'd be long?  You're not sure what "long" would even look like.  You haven't been so bold as to ask your sister (who you know for a fact has gone all the way already with her fiance and that's part of why they're engaged now) nor any of her friends.  Right now you wish you had, so you have a better frame of reference.  You wonder how it would feel nestled within you.  

You've never even been kissed and already you're thinking about far more than that.  It's safe to imagine, though, that he's a wonderful kisser.  With those soft-looking full lips he can probably do a lot; you're not sure exactly what, but your body seems to understand things your brain hasn't learned yet.

You end up falling asleep with your flashlight in your hand and the magazine pressed against your cheek.

.......................................

The Colonel asks him what he’s going to sing tonight.

“I’ve made no decision,” Elvis says, not in any particular mood to pretend that he’s happy with the Colonel right now.  “I’ll feel it.”

The cop smirks and cheerfully tells him it will all go fine, “just so long as you don’t wiggle a finger!”

And that does it.  Something snaps within him, even as he sits still and quiet, face still impassive as he gazes out the window at the massive crowd that’s formed.   A crowd of people who are there for him because they responded to who he actually is, not the neutered parody of himself that Steve Allen and the Colonel have been trotting him out as.

I’m here for them, not for any of the people who want to hold me back.

As he’s being announced, as he and his guys start to ascend the stage, the Colonel grabs Elvis’s arm.

“All you gotta do is sing the nice song, smile the nice smile, no wiggling, and then we can get back to show business!  And have fun, my boy!  Fun!” he says, either not noticing or not caring about the coiled tension in Elvis’s body, the way Elvis doesn’t respond.  A little over two years ago Elvis thought the Colonel had all the answers to questions he never even thought to ask.  He thought the Colonel understood him better than anyone else in show business possibly could.  Right now he’s not so sure.

What he is sure of is that something needs to change, and he’s going to be the one to do it.

Now.

He knows for a fact the cop who drove him here is in attendance, watching and seething as Elvis points one pinky in the air, and that knowledge makes him smirk.  For a moment he feels like a prowling lion, ready for the attack.  

“Trouble,” he instructs the band.

“I’m gonna show you what the real Elvis is like tonight!” he cries out to the audience.

‘Fuck you,’ he thinks, the moment the first chord hits.

‘Fuck you,’ he thinks, as he begins with, “If you’re lookin for trouble, you came to the right place.”

He won’t lie down, he won’t give in.  He doesn’t give a shit that there’s a segregationist rally nearby and in fact he hopes he ruins the rally because fuck them, too. He doesn’t want their approval.  Elvis gyrates and writhes and screams and doesn’t give a single flying fuck what trouble he’s really causing because for the first time in months he truly feels alive.  

[ascendedheavenly6]

Meta out of this Alice in Wonderland Scan No.6

Scan from @restructuralcommittee!!

All information and interpretations will be a synthesis between the No.6 Novel & Manga + This Alice in Wonderland Analysis from the Lewis Carroll version!

*This whole analysis was copy-pasted from my Discord*

Shion as the White Rabbit!!

HONESTLY, THIS IS A GOOD CHOICE NGL. I remember someone said Shion acts like a catalyst of the story, one way or another. You know now as I read the novel, Shion is the catalyst to the titular No.6 as he learns and relearns and then his background and experience mesh up to shift the direction of the setting. Shion’s curiosity and nervous demeanor of ‘down the rabbit hole’ is really like him too Also— on the website on Alice in Wonderland analysis stuff, they noted White Rabbit’s

The White Rabbit is nervous and always in a hurry. However, he is confident enough about himself to contradict the King of Hearts.

This is also fitting because Shion’s position later on (and even before) as a prestigious figure and highlights Shion’s personality as prestigious but not prideful, I think? Or is the exposure of being the ‘new person’ in Alice’s human world that made him weird at first glance…?

Nezumi as the Mad Hatter-

Technically this makes sense on multiple faces. One on the fictional effects of people, even though there’s actually not a lot of info about Mad Hatter as far as I know, he (or at least his archetype) remains quite popular, I think that’s also the influence that Nezumi has on reader: some sprinkle of mysterious and interesting narrative. Two is that in the original Alice in Wonderland, I just found out that Mad Hatter isn’t the original name - it’s only Hatter or some variation of that - which is kind of like Nezumi’s identity like ‘masking, unintentionally?’

But also here there’s a bit about Mad Hatter that on other opinions is that he keeps changing his personality, but his devotion and eccentricity remain true. I think this speaks to Nezumi a lot because he sticks to his promises no matter what, and his presence has kind of a charm - whether it’s in the theatrical dramatic sense or genuine - there is a presence of Nezumi that makes him consequently, quite lonely, or becomes more significant (Eve, VC, or his knife skills, or his high empathy) that it’s kind of ironic when it touches his survival instinct to stay low

ANOTHER THING IN THE ANALYSIS STATES THAT

He occasionally is very rude and provokes Alice during the tea party. When he is called upon by the Queen, he is very nervous and frightened

That kinda fits Nezumi because I think that in the end he is still human and he expresses his fear of Shion pretty often

That kinda fits Nezumi because I think that in the end he is still human and he expresses his fear of Shion pretty often

Also apparently Mad Hatter is a term to describe workers who were poisoned by Mercury exposure? I haven’t thought about how this fits it but uh - the more you know.

Inukashi as Cheshire Cat

Okay for one, that’s a very contrasting choice considering what Inukashi has attached themselves to, but also there isn’t a prominent dog-like character in Alice as far as I know.

But - the analysis website, states that Cheshire Cat actually listens to Alice’s concerns and guides her toward Wonderland itself. Cheshire Cat is mischievous, yet also a guidance is a guidance figure too - quite explicitly. This characterization is something that I think Inukashi also has because Inukashi, lovingly raised in a cruel environment, would still lend a hand and also express care like when they interrogated Nezumi or eventually wished Shion and Nezumi to be back safely Also as a guide - could be looking at Inukashi’s role in baby Shion’s life too?

But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ Alice remarked. Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the Cat: we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.’ How do you know I’m mad?’ said Alice. You must be,’ said the Cat, or you wouldn’t have come here.’ Alice didn’t think that proved it at all; however, she went on And how do you know that you’re mad?’ To begin with,’ said the Cat, a dog’s not mad. You grant that?’ I suppose so,’ said Alice. Well, then,’ the Cat went on, you see, a dog growls when it’s angry, and wags its tail when it’s pleased. Now I growl when I’m pleased, and wag my tail when I’m angry. Therefore I’m mad.'

(sorry for the sucky format-)

Simple arguments but remain credible because one is a resident of that unknown place is also very Inukashi…

I’m sorry Rikiga but idk what the hell are you and I don’t wanna analyze you cause uh

[m3gachee]

Hello to the fellow One Piece enjoyers that have found their way to this post! I go by the username m3gachee, but you can call me Meg. This is my first post on tumbler as well as my first time publishing my writing in general, but I would love to know what the feedback on this would be.

This is the prologue to a story in the works that I’m posting in hopes to know if you guys would like to see more of it :)

————————————————————————

Happiness was one thing Maeve struggled to find in life. The mental war raging day to day inside her mind and soul had steadily begun to take its toll, making it harder to piece together the shattered parts of her heart as her body began to break along with it. It was only after discovering the story of one highly ambitious pirate with a goal to become the next pirate king, that she found herself looking forward to something for the first time in a long time. The days that had once filled her with dread had come to a stop as she found herself waiting in anticipation for the next episode of One Piece. Though, even with this newfound passion, the ache in her chest never ceased. Her soul had been tainted by the loneliness that consumed her day to day life. She yearned for the company of someone she could call a friend, someone that she could confide in, someone that she could trust with the darkest parts of herself without the fear of abandonment— but that person had yet to come. Maeve had once again begun the cycle of depression.

The days had begun to mix together as she found herself locked away in the seclusion of her room as the sun rose and sat cyclically. How many days had it been since she last left the eerily chilled blankets that held her tightly, slowly rotting away in the confines of her bed? She couldn’t remember. There she laid, scrolling through her phone aimlessly in an attempt to cease the growing noise crowding her brain, only stopping as she came across a post that had peaked her interest. The post read, “I finally shifted to my DR!”.

Maeve knew little about the term “shifting”, having only seen it on the occasional subreddit that she would often scroll past without much of a second thought. This time was different though— This time she hovered her finger over the post before taping on it to read more of what the article had to offer. It was in that moment that she had fallen down the vast rabbit hole in her discovery of shifting, aching to live a life full of adventure in a reality other than the one she had known for the entirety of her life. Hours passed by as she dove deeper into the research of her newfound interest, soon leading into days, which then turned into weeks, and eventually lead to where she was now months later— lying comfortably within the confines of her warm blankets, eyelids resting gently against her cheeks, eagerly awaiting the soft touch of sleep to consume her mind in yet another attempt to shift to her desired reality in One Piece. Before long the void of sleep had begun to slowly cloud her mind as the heaviness of her body lightened as if gravity itself had released her from its clutches, her loss of consciousness sending her tumbling over the edge of darkness.

At first there was no sound, no light, no feeling, it was simply nothing. She felt as if she had been floating around aimlessly inside the realm of darkness for what seemed to have been an eternity, only breaking from her trance when the faintest whisper of a voice scratched against the back of her mind. Startled by the unexpected sound, she whipped towards the direction the voice had originated and opened her eyes to search the surrounding darkness— leading her to question if her eyes had even opened to begin with, as she was met with the same darkness she had witnessed with them closed. With no source of lighting to confirm her suspicion, Maeve began to move around aimlessly in a fortuitous attempt to grow closer to the source of the whispering, seemingly too far out of her reach to begin with— that’s when it appeared. A dull hue of light glowed at the end of a large tunnel that appeared to continue on for miles with no end. The sight did little to sway Maeve, determined to reach the end of said tunnel as she began her ascent towards the hue of light. Time seemed to tick by slowly, as if the realm of darkness she had fallen into had no sense of time to begin with.

After several tiring hours traveling down the endless channel, the source of the light she had been so desperately determined to reach now stood tall in front of her. The whispering Maeve had heard previously now sounded like idle chattering, for too many voices mixed together for her to comprehend anything of importance. In a way the voices beckoned for her to touch the wall, to discover what was on the other side. With the voices influencing her mind, she reached out to place her palm against the beaming wall, only to jerk her arm back as a booming voice that commanded her to wake up. The wall rippled wildly from the force of the vibrations the voice had caused, threatening to break through it. Maeve stepped back from the rippling wall in alarm, foot barely touching the ground beneath her before a gush of rushing hot air forced her back further. The wall had torn open much like a flimsy sheet of paper, ropes of light to invade the darkness surrounding her and whipping around wildly as if having a life of their own. The tear in the wall combined with the ropes of light thrashing about was enough to send her running back the way she came in an attempt to escape whatever harm that was coming her way— but it was no use.

The ropes of light shot towards her receding form, wrapping themselves tightly around her limbs and torso before yanking her back towards the tear in the wall from where ropes of light had emerged. A terrified shreek escaped her as the ropes pulled her through, watching in terror as it began to stitch itself back together behind her— cutting off any escape back towards the void of darkness she had arrived in. Wind slapped against her skin harshly from the speed of which her body was being pulled towards what she could only assume was her soon demise, leaving her with an overpowering feeling of grief for the life she had yet to finish— the feeling of guilt for her mother that she had left behind without the chance of saying goodbye.

Suddenly, the ropes of light disappeared and she felt as if she had been launched into a dense body of water. The booming voice that had once been beckoning for her to wake up had grown muffled as her limbs felt far too heavy for her to move on her own. It was as if a boulder had been placed atop her, crushing any ounce of strength her body had left to offer and sinking deeper towards the bottom of the water she had been submerged in— only for her to then wake up with a gasping intake of breath as she struggled to fill her lungs with the air around her. In her desperate intake of air, she was hit with a chilling sensation of ice cold water drenching her from head to toe, seeping into her clothing and spreading goosebumps along her skin as a cold breeze nipped harshly at her wet skin. The stench of seawater and mold filled her sense of smell as she struggled to cough up the salty water that had invaded her lungs, puking up the remaining water that she had the misfortune of swallowing. While attempting to steady her breathing from the trauma delt to her throat and lungs, the sounds of shuffling footsteps echoing through the room caught her attention and forced her to crack her eyes open in an attempt to identify the source of the shuffling.

“It’s about time.” A voice sneered. “I was beginning to think you died!”

With her eyes having finally adjusted to the light cascading into the room, she took in the sight before her, causing all color to drain from her face as recognition flooded her mind at the sight of the man towering over her. Maeve racked her brain for any possible explanation for her situation, only for pure horror to fill her veins as she realized what she had done. She had shifted realities. After six long months she had shifted realities, but this wasn’t anything like what she had scripted to happen in her desired reality.

She had scripted that she would appear on the Going Merry as a stowaway on the Straw Hat Pirate’s journey towards the Grand Line… that she would become a member of Luffy’s crew and fill her life with adventure as part of their team. Question after question of how this came to be racket her brain as she tried to come up with an explanation for the position she had landed herself in. In the confines of her mental dilemma, she failed to notice that the man towering over her had begun reaching towards her form, a cry of pain ripping from her throat as her head snapped back harshly from the tension caused by the grip in her hair forcing her neck back into an uncomfortable angle. She is then met with the eyes of the infamous fishman pirate Arlong as his lips quickly take the shape of a menacing grin, rows of sharp teeth filling her vision as his eyes glint with what she can only describe as excitement.

Where had she gone wrong?

———————————————————————

Thank you for reading. Let me know if you want more! ~Meg

@m3gachee 2024 ~ I do not give permission to translate, copy, or repost any of my works without my given consent.

[divinetrance]

[cw: addiction, intoxication, hypnosis?, please ask to tag!]

To any reader who is not my Master ( @the-norsemans-desires ),

You might find yourself wondering what people find so hot about addiction. What can be gained from the temptation of letting something consume you fully? I mean, it could so easily ruin your whole life, right? Especially an addiction to hypnosis, an addiction to dropping, to being mindless and blank. It’s so easy to get lost in those feelings and never come out. Even when awake, the addiction is still there. That craving is still there, isn’t it? Don’t bother answering, I know it is.

And that’s terrifying, right? It scares you how badly you need to go under. You’re scared to lose control. I know you want to drop and never come back up, always feeling the blissful pleasure that comes with trance and sinking ever deeper. And you’re scared to give up your control to the wrong person.

Oh, because the other person is the scariest part of it all. I know. Because so easily an addiction to being hypnotized can be tied to another person. Just thinking about them makes your head feel fuzzy, thinking becomes harder every single time they enter your thougths.

Do you get it yet? Or do you still think it’s too scary? Don’t you see, the fear of being taken advantage of is what drives the arousal, feeling the love of the chase. But trusting someone enough to not cross any lines? That’s the hottest fucking thing ever. They could break you, take you as their own, and lock you away for good, only to be used for their own pleasure, but they don’t. Because they love having you squirm back to them, begging for more. Chuckling at you, knowing that you can’t go over an hour without rubbing your thighs together, thinking of them. And you keep coming back for more, because it just feels so fucking good. Humans have always enjoyed seeing how far they can take something before hurting themselves. We have learned nothing from Icarus’ tale and no one cares to understand the lesson.

And to Master,

See, and all of that is what I’m talking about when I talk about being addicted to you, Darling. I love that you feed my addiction to trance. The only thing I love more is my addiction to you because of it. I’m sorry it took me so long to write this but I needed to starve myself of your attention to accurately depict how badly I need you. God, right now I might break down and beg you to fuck me after two triggers, max? It’s only been a few hours and I’m already shivering from the underlying arousal that comes with thinking of you, just thinking about your words drives me wild. I’m fucking obsessed with talking to you.

It’s not just about you dropping me. I love listening to you speak about anything, just don’t stop. I feel good every time we talk. You make me feel heard and safe. That’s not an easy thing to do. It almost scares me how much I actually trust you. But I’m trusting myself because you’ve passed every test. You listen and even when I push you to take me further down the rabbit hole, you tell me no. The fact that you want a good life for me is what makes you intoxicating. Feeling no fear in being honest with you about what I want, that’s what I love. Of course I’m scared, you feel too good to be true.

I keep expecting the other foot to drop, for you to cross the line that I dare you to cross but you don’t. You love my addiction as much as I do, maybe even more. Because I hold back, trying not to want to give you everything, but you hold the greater temptation of not taking everything when it’s offered. I’m so proud of you for being strong but I won’t be upset if you ever lose control. I can only tease you for so long before it’s consider cruel, right? Or am I just tempting you to get what I really want, which is full release of my self control, to fully give into the addiction?

Either way, thank you for talking with me and indulging my habit! I love serving you and the pleasure that comes with it. I love the way you fuck me, I love feeling you inside me. I love how your words drain everything from me, leaving myself blank and empty and mindless, just for you. Feeling dazed when I’m brought out of trance, just to hear another trigger, it makes my eyes roll back. Listening to myself beg for more, even though I’m so tired already? That’s addiction, that’s obsession, that’s the greatest pleasure I’ve ever felt and it’s because of you, Master. Every touch, every thrust, every mind break keeps me thinking of you constantly.

I still don’t know if you meant for this to happen or if I just couldn’t resist thinking about you for such a short period time but, I have to talk about this morning. I woke up and I wasn’t awake for more than 10 minutes before I was thinking about you and squirming again. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I was moaning in minutes and mmy hands wouldn’t stop touching. I was feeling just as good as I felt the night before. I couldn’t stop the overwhelming pleasure from consuming me in a flame, desperately humping away at my vibrator to ease my own heat. It just isn’t as satisfying without you.

Surrendering to those feelings, surrendering to you always does feel best. I can fully let it all in and let you overwhelm my senses, take control. I need that from you. I crave your control so badly and I wish you would change me into exactly what you want me to be. I want to know that I changed for you. I want to serve you and be as much use to you as I can be. You deserve it for how amazing you make me feel.

Why do you think I don’t resist you? Sure I do, for fun, but actually trying? I don’t want to. I fucking love how intoxicating it is ot feel your command overwhelm me, drag me down deeper. I crave the feeling of release that comes with giving in to you. I only even try resisting because you want me to but I love giving in more. I love being used by you more, feeling your words. I’ll give into your words all the time. I love dissolving into nothing more than a moaning, desperate whore for you, babbling away about whatever prompt you give me. Im sure im barely intelligible then but I know every word is true, because when im desperate for you is when im mkst honest. Why do you think I just start rambling about random things sometimes? Im trying not to ask you to drop me again.

Because the last thing I want is to make you feel as though I just want you for what you give me. I want you to know that I really do enjoy your company. I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel. I want to service you and be what you want. I need to, I need to worship you in any way I can to repay for everything I feel when im with you.

Feeling you take everything away and feel how empty and quiet it was, I felt uneasy. It was uncomfortable. I don’t just crave or want it, no I need you inside of me to remind me that I’m yours. I need to keep feeling you all the time, my addiction is too strong. It was only a few minutes that it was all gkne but I was already starting to ache. I started writhing around, looking for where you went but I couldn’t find you. I hate that feeling of you just being gone. I crave you too strongly to miss out on your words, your pleasure, your control. I’m fully addicted to you and I don’t ever want to stop.

Thank you Master for making me feel everything that I’ve always wanted to feel and more.

Yours,

Elle 🫧💞😵‍💫

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

I’m feeling the same way about the Mando movie 😭 I’m worried they’re gonna use it as a way to kill off Din and have someone else take over Grogu and completely change the storyline 😭😭😭

UGHHHHHHH BB YOU READ MY MIND

i could go on forever at length about my fears, worries, and concerns for what the writers will do to our beloved Din and Grogu in this upcoming movie, but I'm trying to stay optimistic about how it could turn out.

Here are my thoughts under the cut:

Many ppl agree that the way they ended s3 with Din and Grogu was finite. A neatly wrapped up package with a bow tied on it, to end their adventures and consequently, their story within the mandalorian universe. They have their house on Nevarro, Moff Gideon is no longer a threat to Grogu and Din, and they can live the rest of their lives in peace, as father and son. I just really hope the writers heed the terrible low warnings that s3 received and use it to keep Din and Grogu as the main focus of the movie, without straying too far to focus on other characters.

I know John Favreau has already said that they have already written s4 of the Mandalorian but I can't help but think that it really will not involve much of Din and Grogu at all, given the way s3 ended. That plus the fact that they kept saying that the Mandalorian doesn't have to be about one singular Mandalorian, and that it can center around the entire Mandalorian universe as a whole, and other mandos (*cough cough* Bo-Katan *cough cough*). Consequently, with s3 centering around Bo-Katan for the majority of the season, it is pretty clear that this is the direction they are moving in. Which makes me incredibly sad, but I do understand Din and Grogu couldn't go on forever.

Plus, Pedro's filming schedule for s3 of mando was extremely rigid given his time and devotion to filming TLOU, I'm doubtful that he could have had a major role in the future seasons. Given TLOU's success paving the way for 2023 to really be Pedro's year, I feel that he is going to step back from Mando, which would align with the way the storyline for Din and Grogu is going.

I think what makes me most sad is I'm not sure which is the cause and which is the effect in this scenario. Is Pedro taking on other roles and stepping back from Mando bc he feels short changed by Disney? With how they've been writing for Din and Grogu lately? Did they start to push him to the back burner as soon as the hype around TLOU began? OR are the writers fruitlessly writing out his character and making space for the mandalorian to center around other characters bc of Pedro's rise to fame and popularity now? Rightly so, he's a hot commodity and everyone wants him starring in their projects, so it makes sense that they would take this into consideration when writing future stories for Din and Grogu.

All of this to say that I feel like the movie is the final send off we will get for Din and Grogu, which is bittersweet and heartbreaking. If I'm honest, I think I'm in my feels so deeply over the whole thing because the Mandalorian was how I found Pedro.

Other people found him through Game of Thrones as beloved Oberyn, or through Narcos as the insatiable Javi P, and some more recently discovered him as Joel in TLOU. My ex was a huge star wars fan, and I had only seen the OG trilogy (which I did enjoy), and he suggested I try watching the Mandalorian. I tried it once and didn't enjoy it, but then I gave it another watch and slowly fell in love with it. Once I found out that Pedro was the main actor, and he was the one underneath the suit?? It was over for me.

I fell HARD, down the rabbit hole. Interviews, photoshoots, his other movies and shows, you name it. Anything I could get my hands on, I consumed with a ferocity that scared my ex away lmao. So for me, this whole thing really feels like the end of an era. The end of Pedro's era as the Mandalorian, the end of a character that made me discover him, and fall in love with him. So that's why it hurts a bit more to anxiously anticipate how they will write his character out of the story line. I wish I could go back to the glory days when mando was still airing and the show was still about our beloved father son duo and their adventures, their relationship, because they are the heart and soul of the show. They are the reason I kept coming back for more, kept rewatching, kept looking for fics to consume.

UGH ALL OF THIS IS A LONG WINDED WAY OF ME SAYING THAT I CARE SO MUCH ABOUT THIS SHOW AND THESE TWO CHARACTERS. THEY ARE MY EVERYTHING AND IM VERY PROTECTIVE OVER THEM, AND I DON'T WANT THEIR TIME TO END, BUT THEY DESERVE AN HONORABLE SEND OFF WITH DIGNITY

AND IF YOU READ THIS FAR I FUCKING LOVE YOU, THANK YOU. I am always open and wanting to nerd out more about these two and my theories for them, my inbox is always open to you!

[openheart12]

Spend It With You

A/N: fell down the FBI rabbit hole and i honestly wasn’t expecting to love it enough to write for it but here we are, first time writing for them so i’m still trying to figure out all the characters and i’m just now getting to season 4 so my apologies if i fuck anything up

also i love them as friends and as a couple, i cant choose but this is on the romantic side

song by Kodaline

Warnings: mention of blood, gun shot wound, talk of maybe dying

Summary: An incident in the field leads the two of them to finally confess their feelings.

WC: 950

Bang. 

The resounding bang echoed through the woods as she fell to her knees, clutching her side. When she pulled her hand back, it was covered in blood. The bullet had exploited the weakness of the vest and left her vulnerable. 

“Maggie, what the hell was that?” OA asked through her ear piece. The two had separated to run after the perp, to cut him off. 

“O-Omar…” it was so hard to breathe, that was the only word she could get out. 

He retraced his steps to make his way back to her, his heart racing. ‘Please be okay, please be okay,’ he repeated in his head. The trees blocked his view and as soon as he saw the familiar FBI vest, his heart dropped to his stomach. Running over to her, he saw blood pooling around her abdomen, staining the ground underneath. 

“Agent down, I need an ambo to our location immediately,” he ordered into his ear piece before crouching down to her level. “Hey, you’re gonna be fine,” he promised, brushing the hair out of her face. He inspected her wound that was still heavily bleeding. “I have to take off the vest.”

She nodded weakly. 

Carefully, he removed the vest and applied pressure to the wound. She let out a groan, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Mags, I’m sorry.”

“OA, what’s going on?” Jubal asked. 

“Maggie was shot. How far out is the ambulance?”

“At least another fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“Dammit, I told you we needed back up out here.” “They’ll be there, did you get the suspect?” “No, Miller’s in the wind. Last seen headed north. And Jubal, get that ambulance here as soon as possible.” He lowered his voice so Maggie couldn’t hear, “she’s losing a lot of blood.”

“OA… give it to me straight, how bad is it?” She asked, trying to even her breathing. 

“You’re going to be fine.”

“I… I don’t wanna die,” she cried, a lone tear trailing down her cheek.

He moved positions so that he had her head laying in his lap, taking his coat and putting it over her abdomen. “Hey, I’m right here and I’m not letting anything happen to you. You just gotta stay with me, alright.”

“I’m so tired.” Her eyes kept fluttering closed, no matter how hard she tried to keep them open. 

“What do you wanna eat tonight?” He asked out of no way. 

Opening her eyes, she glanced at him. “I have no idea.”

“Whatever you want, I’m buying.”

“That’s tempting,” she laughed softly before grimacing at the pain that tore through her stomach. “OA… if I don’t make it, I need to tell you something.”

“Don’t talk like that Maggie, please,” he begged, he couldn’t imagine it. She was his partner, his best friend, the woman he loved, but was too afraid to tell.

What he didn’t know was that she harbored the same feelings as him, both too afraid to tell the other for the fear of losing them. Being on the brink of death gave her the push she needed to finally confess. “I know it’s bad timing, but I don’t want to risk it. I love you and I have for a long time.”

“Agent Zidan,” a man’s voice called out, tearing their attention away from each other. Two men came into view carrying a stretcher. 

“Looks like my ride’s here,” she teased. 

The three of them loaded her onto the stretcher, making the long trek back to the ambulance, but he held her hand the entire time. When he tried to get in the back of the ambulance with her, one of the guys stopped him. 

“I’m sorry sir, but she’s gonna have to go straight to surgery when we get to the hospital.” The medic explained.

He was about to protest when Maggie spoke up. “I’ll be okay.” 

Nodding, he squeezed her hand before letting go. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

During her ride to the hospital, she couldn’t help but think she may have screwed everything up between them. 

Some time later, she slowly opened her eyes, adjusting to the fluorescent lights in the room. She looked to her right where a beeping noise was coming from to see herself hooked up to the monitor and that’s when she noticed the weight on her legs. OA had fallen asleep, his head perched on her calves. Reaching out, she gently touched his face, his beard rough beneath her fingertips. 

He stirred, opening his eyes. “How are you feeling?” He asked, sitting up and grabbing a hold of her hand. 

“Like I was shot.”

“Annnnd she’s back,” he smiled.

A silence followed after that, there was no taking back what she said earlier and would just have to deal with it.

“Listen, OA, about what I said earlier-”

“If you’re going to tell me you regret it or that it was just in the heat of the moment, I don’t wanna hear it because I waited too long to hear you say that.”

“You did?” To say she was stunned was an understatement. 

“I love you too, Maggie. I was always too scared to tell you, to ruin our friendship or partnership.”

A huge smile broke out across her face. For someone who could’ve died a few hours ago, you never would’ve guessed. “Now what?” She asked.

He leaned up, reaching his hand out to cup her face before leaning in. Giving her a couple seconds to back out if she wanted, instead she closed the distance between them until their lips met. 

It was a short, sweet kiss. When he pulled back, they shared a smile. “Now, we see where things go from here.”

[alyjojo]

Thinking of You - July 🌛 2024 - Pisces

Whole of their energy towards Pisces: King of Cups rev

In the preshuffle I was getting someone *extremely* emotional that things didn’t work out with you, they saw/see you as 10 Cups. You’re everything they want, the only one they love, the only one they can even see themselves with. It’s almost desperate in the way they feel about you because you’re not around them. They could feel like you’ve hurt them, messed with their head, played games maybe - and they still want/love you. The Scholar shows this person as really freakin’ smart, may be highly educated, and they tend to not let things go until they’ve analyzed and turned every single stone over for clues…I’m sure you’re one of those things they’ve studied. Probably the main thing, most often.

King of Cups rev is an emotional game player, and in this case it’s for the purpose of coming back around. They haven’t yet, The Fool rev shows them being afraid to take the risk, but they think about it constantly and it’s only a matter of time. For now. They want to create a situation that gives them the excuse to talk to you, whatever that is, anything, they just haven’t figured out what it is yet. I don’t see any toxicity in this person, aside from the rev they’re just looking for an “in” to be around you again.

Feelings: 2 Pentacles rev & Knight of Wands rev

They have no freakin clue how to go about doing this. They don’t want to come off as immature or inconsistent. They don’t want to just show up at your door or give off fkboy/girl vibes. They want to be seen in the correct way, but with the circumstances involved feel they can’t. They study you, like a book, and it just freaks them out more. They don’t actually do anything because they talk themselves out of it every time - they’re afraid of what you’ll say. Probably more how it will look, even if you wouldn’t care, ohhhh they do, that’s the point. Basically, they want a sure bet, while still smelling like a rose 🌹 and that doesn’t exist.

Intentions: Ace of Cups rev

They intend to do nothing, because they feel like you don’t share the same feelings. But they don’t intend to move on either, no one new, there are no other soulmates, no one else exists but you. But they won’t talk to you and risk rejection. They stalk you in whatever way they can, because of course they do. Could be dealing with a Scorpio with this energy and King of Cups.

Actions: 10 Wands

Heavy burden. Doing nothing, just carrying this love on their back like a 1,000lb. weight they have to put down eventually, but don’t, and can’t. Failure at getting you back or taking the risk - they keep talking themselves out of - is killing them. It’s a confidence thing more than anything. I assume this is an ex, if not it’s someone suffering silently idk. I’m kinda lost at their issue here because you’re not shown at all.

Why do they fear Pisces: Because they haven’t talked to you in a long time. Or it seems like it. It’s more than just you it’s the possible perspective shift of what they know vs. reality, the shame of them reading a situation wrong, or looking like a Fool. Basically, it’s pride 💯

Character Card: The Scholar

More Virgo/Hermit energy with this card. Someone very smart, they may like to read or enjoy things like Scrabble, investigative journalism, keeping up with world events, watching court cases, they could like crime shows or The Big Bang Theory. Modern Day: 3 Body Problem. Along with something niche they’re an expert at like idk, bugs 🐞 They probably like figuring things out on their own and then checking to see if they’re right, always speculating and digging deeper into things (sometimes too much). They’re someone who can go so far down a rabbit hole they get stuck, and need a hand out of a perspective, it can get echo chamberish in their head sometimes, without others offering different insights and methods - which they are open to.

Messages:

- In love with you ❤️

- I don’t want anyone else.

Possible signs:

Virgo, Gemini, Sagittarius, Scorpio & Pisces

If you’re dealing with:

Death is a major ending in your life most likely, along with a reoccurring theme in those you deal with. These may be reasons for a death, or certain things you/them are going through right now, how it resonates will be different everywhere. The only common thread with Death is it’s not as it was, something is over with for good. Intense 💯 And honestly, your cards in everyone else’s reading have been kinda intense, it’s a mood this month.

Aries - constantly going back and forth on whether something is going to work out

Taurus - a lover or family member that you keep breaking up & making up with 😣

Gemini - has a solid opportunity to mend a painful or heartbreaking situation, or you do

Cancer - not pressed or stressed, if anything they think you’re the drama and they don’t want it, you could work together

Leo - wants to ask you out, flirt, or make a move but they’re conflicted about it 💕

Virgo - committed to you and moving forward in a positive direction, definitely this person for someone

Libra - there’s no healing this connection and they’re fine with it, or you are

Scorpio - very sad, doesn’t know what to do, misses you a lot

Sagittarius - sneaky liar lies all day errday 🤥

Capricorn - something is not working out for them regarding work or finances, and that’s where their focus is right now (as usual?)

Aquarius - not speaking because you aren’t

Pisces - sharing some of their abundance and loosening the reigns a little, because they can afford to - for you anyway

[lily-orchard-gossip-blog]

On the topic of EoT’s suspension and whether or not that’s a self ask anon, it’s very much likely bc I’ve never really seen any of LO’s fans use her exact name calls for anything or think they’re being creative by coming up with a clever insult for something she doesn’t like, or copy her exact phrasing word for word, not that I’ve really paid much attention to that anyway, however….I was once a LO fan, and my ex as far as I know, most likely still is. Even when we were still together, they sometimes threw around specific terms LO uses when talking about stuff ie “white favoritism” in terms of writing characters, shipping and character lineup, “Poe faced” about a mobile game we played together coming out with a new season at the time and their ‘concern’? over it being unnecessarily ‘edgy’, “gay reylo” about catradora, and “nazi/fascism/abuse apologist” about making their main villain oc irredeemable and making sure not to write them like rebecca sugar would,etc and i hate to say it but they’re a pretty good example of a sheep and not even just when it comes to Lilian. I think what started to have me go down this rabbit hole of how problematic and awful LO really is, is how I kept getting this vibe/fear of accidentally offending her, if I were to interact with her, basically walking on eggshells, which is not good, and brings me back to my own past traumas with toxic abusive assholes I’ve dealt with. If anything I still kind of enjoy MO’s art and videos, but I’ll have to watch in a way that doesn’t go straight to LO’s pocket.

And I kind of have the feeling LO’s influence may have also contributed to even my friendship ending with my ex too, bc even when we broke up as a couple, we were still okay with being friends, and even while I thought things were fine between us after awhile, apparently things weren’t on their end bc they pulled away from me completely over how similar our coming outs were; they told me after reflecting on it, they noticed this pattern of similarities between them and their timings, basically accusing me of copying them and tacking on their labels just so they could notice me? I’m sorry but don’t flatter yourself. Because that is farrrrrrrr from the truth and it literally took me over 6 yrs to come to terms with being gay, going back n forth on whether I was actually bi or lesbian, and even with my pronouns, I am comfortable with going by she/they, and even with those I still contemplated over for awhile bc I always had this fear of ‘faking’, so I made sure to take my time in figuring these things out, regardless whom I was interested in, not letting anyone define me and they knew that. While they said I never did anything objectively wrong, it’s like they just picked apart any “questionable” thing about me and used it as a reason to drop me when she/they were never like that at allllll, more so the opposite, and seeing them act this way felt like such a betrayal because I never saw it coming from someone I considered one of my best friends, we literally started dating on our 7th friendship anniversary the year before. We almost made it to a year and despite their hectic work schedule, I knew they still did their best and I was nothing but understanding and supportive and loved them no matter what…I just..feel like it could have been handled so much better and that we could have come to some sort of understanding. I made it clear that I wanted to hold myself accountable for any flaws and mistakes I may have made throughout our relationship and apologizing for my timings coming off a certain way that offended them…taking responsibility for myself, my actions, any misunderstandings, open to having a civil conversation, call things out and clear up any confusion, but they just weren’t here for it and I don’t think it would have mattered what I had or hadn’t explained at that point, not if they were just going to pick it apart in a black and white/all or nothing way like a certain youtuber they sheep over. Shortly after Christmas, I found they had me blocked/removed on everything… Also they didn’t know I was getting those walking on eggshell vibes from LO either, I never told them, mostly bc they seemed to be defensive of her and I was still trying to figure out my feelings on that, not knowing if it was intuition or just me being paranoid. I’m so sorry if this is all over the place, but I also recall seeing an ask here about friendships falling apart bc of LO’s influence and I felt I may as well work that in and vent a little. If LO encourages questioning the validity of someone’s labels and cutting them off over it, that is truly fucked up, considering she said that if someone identifies a certain way, you don’t question it unless you want your teeth knocked out, yet she also misgenders those she doesn’t like… those inconsistencies alone, among many, are a red flag.

.

[helga-heason]

Letter #8

Dear Selina,

I hope this finds you well. I’ve been running around Gotham for the last week or so in a way Gordon has termed ‘like a bat out of hell’ - and I suppose he isn’t wrong - because of this weird new alliance that the Danger Twins (the Joker and the Riddler) have formed. I’m writing this in a brief moment of serenity. Arkham is quiet for the first time in my living memory, but that’s… Not good. If it’s quiet, those two are up to something. Knowing now what the Riddler is like, he probably has a good deal of schematics in his cell for ridiculously convoluted and messed up death traps - that the Joker is probably helping him with.

I fear that I may end up going too far in my search for answers; chasing my own tail down a road best left untravelled, breaking my wings in a box too small to contain them. No-one knows how deep the rabbit hole goes, but once you find that out, you’re beyond the point of no return. There’s no way back when you know how far the rabbit hole goes. I feel like I’m already dancing that thin line, caught in the nail-biting anguish of a bleeding city and the anger and hatred of the Gotham poor; of the rogues who take matters into their own hands. I see now that I cannot do this alone, but who would work with me? The few other vigilantes that operate in this city are afraid of me, and why shouldn’t they be? I’ve spent the past few years hammering fear into the hearts of the petty criminals. That sort of thing can’t be undone in a hurry. I can’t ask you to join me. Not again. Not when you have a life where you are now. Not when you almost died last time we worked together. Not when some sort of affection for you threatens to break the Batarang off my chest with how hard my heart beats.

It’s not really a thing for me to go and check up on people, but I did a few days ago. I went to check on both Bella Reál and Oz… And the mayor was so much more pleasant. She has an odd thing against Bruce Wayne - I mean, who doesn’t - but she’s a surprisingly good conversationalist. She has aspirations and dreams and goals to help this city. If only the council would stop blocking her efforts… Even I have a thing against Bruce Wayne… And I am Bruce Wayne! I spent a while talking with Bella about various different things, and she asked me if it was possible for me to work with a few of the scattered Gotham vigilantes and Gotham PD to try and clean up the city and start removing the corruption, bit by bit. I snorted and said that I’m not the kind of person you employ, while the other vigilantes probably don’t work for free. She said that was fair enough, sounded pretty wistful, and said it had been a nice conversation and she hoped we could have another at some point. I agreed. And, don’t worry, neither of us meant it in a way that would be considered socially inappropriate.

Oz, however… He’s an annoying bastard, alright? For some reason - somehow - he is even more of a pain in the ass when you’re there on a social visit. I told him I wasn’t there to ‘bust his balls’, and he took it as an invitation to immediately start mocking me over the fact I have a cat. He said I was pining over you so hard that I’d somehow materialised a cat into my life who is oddly similar to you. He’s out of line… But he is somewhat correct. I didn’t materialise her, I found her outside of your old apartment, though it’s true that I did decide to take her in and adopt her in your honour. Because, yeah, I’m pining. I told Alfred about this conversation with Oz and he said, in what you’d probably call a ‘disapproving dad tone’, “oh, my heart, it bleeds.”. I’ll remind him of this next time I catch him trying to teach Robin how to shake hands - or paw, in her case.

That tomcat won’t stop sniffing around the Batcave. Robin isn’t in the slightest bit interested as far as I can tell, but the tomcat is insistent. I considered the possibility that it was just super… Horny, but for a whole month? I think it’s just obsessed with someone or something. What it’s obsessed with, though, is beyond me. If not Robin, then what? Robin is doing great, oddly. I’m really not the most competent pet owner - for god’s sake, I can’t even look after a plant without it dying - but Robin is… Thriving. Maybe all she needed was someone just as lonely as her to keep her company. I admit I wasn’t too keen on her at first and only took her in because it didn’t feel right to leave her to starve, but… She has definitely grown on me. Not to be dramatic, but I’d die for this cat. It’s nice waking up to her pressed against my side, on the very rare occasion I sleep or when I pass out. It almost feels like it’s her way of telling me that it’ll be OK, that at least someone is here for me and that she has faith in me. God, I’m not even 33 yet and I’m super sentimental. Over a cat. Over a goddamn cat. Once again, I blame you for this.

I think I’ll leave it here. Asylum staff are coming back from a check around the building, I’ll have another meeting with them and Gordon in a few minutes. I hope you’re well. Please don’t come back. Please. For your own safety, at least until we’ve gotten this sorted out.

Yours, always, the Bat(man) - and Robin the cat.

[so-cio-pathetic]

I hate feeling this way. So stressed out by life that I just want to force quit it. Nothing is even that stressful in the moment, but thinking of everything and how I feel and what I want, it’s just so overwhelming. I don’t feel confident in myself or my abilities right now. I feel like I’ve made it through life by just being decently good at most things so I never really had to try that hard. Now I feel like I actually need to put in effort and I’m too fucking lazy and/or scared of failure to do it. I hate admitting that I’m scared but I don’t know how not to be right now. I feel like what I want has changed but I’m too far down the rabbit hole to do anything about it. I’m scared of moving all by myself across the country. I’m scared I won’t make enough money. I’m scared I’m walking away from my life and I won’t be able to come back to it. I feel like the only thing I’m happy with is my relationship. I wonder how much of my life I’ve been living for others, because now that I want to live it for myself I’m fucking terrified.

Maybe that’s a good thing, a breakthrough. But god it makes my fear of failure so much worse. I’ve never cared about myself enough to actually put in the work for what I want. I’ve only ever been motivated to do it for others or external validation. How the fuck do I fix that?