#and now i need more!!! and i am mad that no one has any connections to uzushio and the uzumaki in general even those who should have!!!

[justsomeoneunordinary]

If we tweak canon just a teensy bit, we can make Katsuyu a sea slug (she certainly already looks it) instead of a terrestrial one, from the seas surrounding Uzushio, thus giving Tsunade a connection to her Uzumaki side that Kishimoto failed to do so himself

[tender-rosiey]

“JUST LOSE CONTROL, LOVE”

— gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, toji being obsessed with you (gn!r)

a/n: ehehe, I hope you guys like this <33 (a bit suggestive ✨)

SATORU GOJO:

“satoru, what’re you?—“

you’re cut off as he pushes you against the wall. his eyes are glossed over and his breathing is heavy, “I am hanging on by a thread, y/n…”

only one thing is on his mind, it seems.

he takes a hold of your chin and makes you look at him, “i was never completely sane to begin with…but you’re going to make me get rid of the remains of it.”

his gaze is intense, and you genuinely wished that he had his blindfold on. your knees feel weak, but your hand cups his cheek, nonetheless, “and…what’s wrong with that?”

he lets out a raspy chuckle, “quite the temptress,” he picks you up and his lips find their place on your neck.

you fist his shirt, and try to hold back any sound from coming out. you feel him smirk against your skin with a murmur, “look who’s holding back now.”

“you live in my mind,” he mumbles as he trails kisses along your neck and shoulders and you quiver at his touch.

he pulls back and pecks your lips, but it is far from innocent. he has a devilish grin on his face as he nears your ear and whispers, “I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it.”

KENTO NANAMI:

another mission was completed by the kids successfully and they partied; however, gojo had a thought of hosting another party for the adults. consider it unwinding.

naturally, you were invited. you were very proud of the kids and were eager to attend the second party. honestly, you didn’t think anything would happen today, especially making out with nanami, the cool and collected man.

“nanami, people…” you whisper, but he doesn’t relent, lips kissing yours time after time.

he tilts your chin up, “forget about them; focus on me.”

he probably feels your grip weakening as he picks you up and seats you on the counter, “everyone is lost in their world.”

he, gently but firmly, squeezes your hips and pulls you to him once again, “so what’s wrong with us doing the same?”

he smirks lightly, something unfamiliar but very welcome, “plus its not like I can stop, dearest.”

he caresses your cheek, “you’re simply irresistible, my love,” a kiss on the cheek, “divine,” a kiss on the neck, “gorgeous,” a kiss on the shoulder, “I would need the utmost strength to resist you.”

he lets out a breath as he looks you in the eye and nears your face, “and I am a weak man.”

SUGURU GETO:

your husband’s descent into madness, thankfully, didn’t translate into how he treats you. he is always gentle and playful.

sometimes, though, that madness shows in some things. you can’t say that they don’t excite you.

for example, right now, suguru has yet to detach himself from you as he kisses you. his kisses are gentle but a little unhinged. they are soft but just a tiny bit rough.

one hand wanders while the other one doesn’t leave your waist.

he is desperate and can’t help but want to feel every inch of you.

“suguru,” you try to calm him down and to steady yourself but to no avail. he doesn’t relent, each kiss more eager than the former.

on the other hand, you just can’t compete against him.

specially as he smirks and he kisses your neck, “abandon rationality, honey,” his lips graze your neck as he speaks.

you don’t respond and you feel him chuckle and he looks up at you with lovesick eyes, “crazy suits you anyway.”

you hold onto his shoulders as he connects your lips once again. the passion flows from him and you feel so tempted to join him on the other side.

so you do.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

“my king,” you murmur as you stroke his hair.

“hm?” he grumbles as he looks up at you. His head is on your lap, and he was minutes away from dozing off.

you chuckle lightly and your hands, involuntarily, stop their movements. he doesn’t like it so he sits up and glares at you, “why did you stop?”

you pinch his cheek—one of the many privileges you have—and whisper close to this face, “I think you’re enraptured by me, my king.”

he laughs a hearty laugh that surprises you. It shakes his entire body, “me? enraptured by you?”

his hand cradles your head and pulls you towards him. he has a menacing grin on his face as he says, “then that makes you obsessed with me, doll.”

you smirk and place a kiss on his lips, “it’s a mutual obsession, my king.”

“at least do it properly.”

sukuna is rough and possessive. his hold on you is firm and you know he won’t let go.

you think that he wants to corrupt you, with the way he is kissing you and giving you no time to think about anything but him.

he fails to realize that you’re already corrupted as he is by you.

TOJI FUSHIGURO:

“mister toji, pleasure seeing you again,” you greet as said man enters your office, again.

he chuckles, “why the formality? I thought we were closer than that, boss.”

you quirk an eyebrow and reply swiftly, “we’re in my workplace; such formality is expected and needed especially for you, sir.”

“I like it when you call me that,” he chuckles.

“have you done what I asked of you?” you try and change the subject.

“who do you take me for, doll face?”

You smile humorlessly, “you’re in a good mood today, considering the nicknames and everything.”

he merely looks at you with eyes filled by hidden desire, something you’ve learned to notice from a mile away.

he takes a hold of your hand, “let’s take this somewhere.”

“toji no.”

he pays you no mind as he pulls you to the closet and locks the door.

you whisper-shout, “what’re you doing?!”

“nothing you won’t like,” he responds smugly.

“but you can’t just take me away like that!”

he places his finger on your lip, smirk never leaving his face. he holds your face and says, “cross the boundaries; they weren’t even there to begin with,”

you don’t get to respond as he smashes your lips together. his hand rests firmly on your neck and deepens the kiss.

you hold onto his shoulder weakly and he pulls back and chuckles.

“isn’t easier…to just give in?”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will make you sleep-deprived

[carmenized-onions]

I Want To. | Wellness Check

logline; Such is life, you go from not being needed at The Bear today to being more needed than you ever have been.

[!!!] series history, this is the fourth; First, Second, Third

portion; 4.7k+

possible allergies; a dash of Tony's former paramedic background (and just medical shit in general) in this one, so, a sprinkle of post-trauma stress (and her usual yikes psyche). Mikey comes up a bit, as usual! despite the ops, we ball.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (pretty unavoidably gendered episode, mb non-fem folks)

we'll talk after babe, have a good time w/ this one.

Falling asleep was easy— par for Carmen fighting to keep his 6:30 am alarm on. When he finds out you don’t have a plug on his side of the bed and he has to charge his phone on your side, he turns it off. Cute.

Well, there’s also the part where you had to ask if he was okay because it sounded like he wasn’t breathing and it turns out —He was not breathing— He then pointed out that it sounded like you weren’t breathing —You were not breathing— Both of you thought the sound of your lungs would bother the other, so you opted not to use them at all. Turns out, counterproductive; you notice each other’s absences pretty well.

But besides that, it's easy. Carmen isn’t an awful bedfellow. He’s not super shifty, he doesn’t tug the blanket, he doesn’t roll all the fucking way over to your side, or anything like that. He’s honestly concerningly still. Is he annoyed that you’ve gotta toss and turn a little to get comfortable? Probably. He's probably dreaming of you exploding right now, he’s so annoyed. He didn’t make fun of your ages old build-a-bear plush nor it’s Cubs jersey, so that was nice. Pity, probably.

...If Carmen wasn’t here, he knows he’d be stirring and kicking and probably sleep-walking to his oven to light it on fire. But he is here. Where kicking would hurt. Where stirring would wake you. Where a fire would cause more anxiety than relief because all your plants and projects would die. Where you washed his hair and told him that taking care of people doesn’t feel like a lot of work to you. Was it not a lot of work, to take care of his brother? Was it worth it, to you? Probably not. How could it be?

He wills his body to not fucking move because if he does it's going to ruin everything. He's going to ruin everything.

He wakes up at 6:30 on the dot, alarm or no. He’d be concerned if his body functioned any differently. But he can’t get to his phone while you’re sleeping in his way and you’re so comfortable. You’re clutching a bear that’s undeniably on a losing team and you’re at peace with it. He’s trying not to make a metaphor out of this in his mind; alas, it’s already there. The only thing he can do is go back to sleep and dream about killing the teenage boy in his head before he can escape again and call you pretty.

It's around ten when you wake up, you try not to wake him when you turn to grab your phone, but the split second of motion makes him flinch like he’s about to get jumped. “Relax!” You hiss, but like, soft, whispered. “I’m doin’ the fuckin’ Wordle, not smothering you with a pillow.”

“You do the Wordle?”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“The first fuckin’ thing you do in the morning is the Wordle?”

“And I do the Crossword too, bitch, what of it?”

“…I like Connections.”

“I fuckin' hate Connections.”

“Alright, damn!”

The Chicago accent in both of you is stronger in your rasping morning voices. As is the laughter. You roll onto your stomach to get closer to him and let him see your screen. Neither of you have entirely woken up yet and that means it’s the perfect time to do a puzzle. If you don't focus on this puzzle right now, you fear you will get too comfortable in this idea of domesticity.

“C’s in the right place. Nothin’ else though.”

He’s the one that figures out its Cumin. You pretend not to be mad about this. You’re furious. Of course, it’d be a spice on the day Mr Food Guy sleeps over. Bullshit.

When you finally sit up, stretch, and say, “I’m just gonna shower real quick ‘nd—”

He’s at a breakneck speed to reply, “I’ll make breakfast.”

“Oh, you cook all the fuckin’ time, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

You blink, then shrug, the man likes to cook, c’est la vie. “Who am I to refuse?”

He looks far too happy about this, as though he’s won a lottery. A lottery of manual labour. He rolls out of bed, grabbing his back pack stuffed with yesterday’s clothes before leaving you to your own devices. In a literal sense, too, since you get a text. Ugh.

‘Gigi called in, can you reach?’

You would prefer not to reach, but this is capitalism.

‘When's the shift?’

‘6:30 to 12:30’

Why couldn’t something else at The Bear be fuckin’ broken today?

‘yeah i can reach’

‘that’s my girl, red tops today, see u’

You have also won the lottery of manual labour today. Look at you and Carm, luckiest people alive. Something like that. Alright, go shower and be normal about the fact that there’s a Michelin Star Chef making you breakfast in your kitchen. And he’s prett—

“You make your own bread.”

“I do.” You sit at your own little breakfast nook, waiting to be served. Towel hung around your neck post shower. You’d offer to help, but based on his urgency to cook for you, it’s gonna be a no. Plus, the gift on the table you’ve got for him is going to piss him off enough, can't poke this bear too much. He's already given you a mile. Too many idioms.

“I like to think in another universe I am a homesteader who makes her own soaps and renders tallow n’ shit. But I settle for growing basil and making sourdough in my shitty little Chicago apartment for now.”

“I like your apartment.” He hums, though amused. He turns and sets your plate—the one black plate— in front of you with a small smile. This smile immediately falls when he pushes the plate towards you and you push a travel bag of toiletries towards him.

“Fuck is this?”

“I don’t want to hear any complaints, Irish Spring.”

“How d’you know I use Irish Spring?”

“It’s all five of your routine, it’s going to be pungent— Now listen.” You pick up the bag; you’d dug through your sink cabinet and found a dollar store pack of plastic travel bottles, unused from cancelled trips of yesteryear. You've decanted your own products for him. It's fine, you buy jumbo sizes anyways...

“Shampoo, conditioner, face wash—They’ve even got labels.”

He takes the bag from you, setting it down on his side of the counter, begrudgingly. Though he hasn’t particularly paid it much mind, tunnelled on something else entirely, “Do you not like Irish Spring?”

"I didn't give you a body wash, you can still use it for that one purpose."

"Yeah, but do you not like Irish Spring?"

"...I think it's fine."

“Fine?”

“I’m more of an Old Spice fan.”

“You don’t deserve breakfast—” He pulls your plate, you pull it back.

“All I said—” “Thinkin’ I smell like shit—” “Did not say that—!” “Just cause you use the fruity stuff—” “I smell good! Deny that I smell good!” “You smell fine.” “Wowww—Whatever, do the thing.”

“Bruschetta with a breakfast twist.” Ah, that makes him give you the plate back. His kink is explaining food. “Sourdough toasted, topped with fresh basil—”

“Courtesy of me.”

“Courtesy of you, yes. Tomatoes, bacon glazed in balsamic, and you didn’t have parm so I used feta. And then, y’know, over medium egg on top.”

“You’re very good, Carmen.”

“Oh, I—Uh—” You haven’t even tried it yet. You’re telling him he’s good for the sake of the effort he’s given alone. He needs an antacid. “Thank you.”

It’s redundant to say his food is good. But what else can you say? It’s a fucking perfect open face sandwich. But he’s eating it with you, and half of it’s your own handiwork, and all of your pantry, so you leave your praises purely reaction based, unsaid.

You're honestly a little distracted, reading too hard into the act of him giving you the black plate and taking one of your shitty plastic ones for himself. Time to talk.

“Itinerary for today?”

“Gotta talk chaos menu with Syd before opening, then, well, running the restaurant all night… And then I’ll—I’ll go home.”

“Yeah? You can come back here, if you want to.” Thank God you took a bite in time to hide your selfish disappointment. It’s good for him to go home, but then he’s not here. Real Catch-22.

He shakes his head, “I think I’m good now. Thanks, though. What’s—What’s uh, your plans for today?”

“I’m gonna drop you off wherever you’re going, n’ then I’m gonna go shopping for Syd’s gift—”

“It’s her fuckin’ birthday or somethin?” It’s a delight how immediately panicked he is by this. You're also thankful because he's so distracted it means you won't have to tell him the rest of your plans for today. You'd like to keep that life separate. For as long as possible, at least.

“Nono, it’s just, I didn’t get her anything for her opening night and I wanna change that. I’ll get you something too.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” The very idea of waiting for his response is freaking you the fuck out, so you’re quick to clear your voice and add. “I’ll give you my number, in case you end up needing to crash.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Ey, text me your invoice too.”

You take both your cleared plates to the sink, and the lie is swift. You've gotten a lot better at that, in the past year.

“Oh no worries, your sister already covered it.”

It is 6:30 and your life is over. Kidding. Unless? You dropped off Carmen at the train station hours ago and, to use his words, ‘it’s hit’. He’s at The Bear and there’s nothing for you to fix there— So you’re not.

You’ve only been there like three times and yet it started to feel… Like your thing!

Like, like you’d just come in everyday and… Dunno, fix something... But it’s not like they’re gonna have a crisis everyday. Especially not ones that Fak can't handle himself if needed— There's no way he's gonna last at hosting, anyways. You’re now realizing the unrealistic dream— Possibly more unrealistic than homestead you.

Speaking of, Homestead You would probably throw up, if she saw the you you’re looking at in the mirror right now. You look good. Objectively, you know you look good. The mug is stamped. Your pants are black, high-waisted, and give you an ass. The bright red leather corset top is… Chafing, but it looks good! It's a sweetheart neckline so you have to take off your long rope chain necklace from Mikey and shove it in your pocket— Which is fine and doesn't feel bad at all. And listen, listen, being an on-call bottle girl is good money!

And you might get put on bar tonight! You don’t know for sure if you’re gonna have to juggle around lit up bottles for a bunch of fucking geezers!

...

God, fuck, it’s 10:20 and your life is over.

This group of geezers have been fucking annoying and fucking Cherry wouldn’t get off fucking bar even though you literally covered for her last week and these stupid grandpas asked if gratuity is included— No fucking shit! Did you take their card and put a 40% tip? Yeah, maybe. Fuck them! They’re too fucking rich to notice! And they took three hours to leave! Gonna bash this champagne bottle over his bald fucking—

“Ey! That’s a face I remember.”

You hear your name— Not Tony, not Chip, not Cousin. Your name.

You turn to see, oh fucking hell, let God kill you—

“Uncle J!~ Good to see you!~ What a surprise! It’s Jack, here.” Jack of all Trades. It was cute at the time of sign up. Your smile is bright, fake, strained, and beautiful.

“Been too long, really.” Cicero isn’t a bad guy—Correction: Cicero isn’t a bad guy, to you, but as Mikey once put it, he’s a fuckin’ ball buster and in your case, you’re one of the few people beneath him that he asks favours from. Always wants free labour and your expertise. And he always has a habit of asking for favours the second you need one back. But you don’t need one right now! So it’s fine! Everything’s fine!

“Do your Uncle a favour,”—Fully not your Uncle—“Could you pair me and my friends here with a good red?”

You let it go that they’re having fish and asking for a red. Stupid thing to get hung up over right now. You make a commission of it anyways; you just pick the most expensive bottle. He won’t know the difference. The Bear would know the difference. Carmen would notice the difference... Alright, relax.

While pouring glasses, Jimmy whispers to his compatriots and one by one they all peel off. It is almost alarming how quickly this group of men turn and leave without a second thought, taking their glasses with them.

You raise your brows and look at Cicero. “Ah. This is the moment where I sit?”

He nods, gesturing to the booth. “This is the moment where you sit.”

You slip into the booth, sitting across from him. “What do you need?”

“Right to the point with you.”

“I hate suspense.” You shrug.

“You liked Mikey.”

What the fuck?

You bite your inner cheek, hard. “Don’t say that shit.”

“I liked him too,” He says it solemnly, like your mutual grief is a proper apology. He takes a long sip of his stupid red wine. “Did you hear? Cousin Vinnie and Mira are gettin’ hitched, finally.”

“I have no fucking idea who Vinnie and Mira are.” You take the glass when he hands it to you, taking a sip. Small. You gotta drive home, after all.

“Really? It’s a big wedding—Destination too, in New York—”

“I hate to remind you, but I was friends with Mikey, not his family.” Not his biological one, at least. The Beef, sure. But you literally only met his siblings two days ago. “What’s a wedding gotta do with me?”

He bristles, and finally cuts it short. “Around three hundred guests, seven-hour shift, open bar—” “Oh, for fuckssake—” “Listen—”

“It’s an easy gig, I’ll fly you out for it, it’s a month and a half away, you’ll get to attend a big fuckin’ Italian wedding— Which will be a shitshow, certainly, so free entertainment; and Michelin Star level catering, kind of.”

You squint. Kind of? “You got Carmy in on this shit?”

“You know ‘em?”

You nod, pressing your elbows on the table, “We’ve recently become acquainted. What d’you got on him for him to cater a wedding?”

“He’s eight-hundred grand in the hole.” “Fuck!” “He gets thirty off for catering. Smart boy, said yes.”

Christ, you massage the bridge of your brow with one hand and pull out your phone with another to check your calendar, you might as well see if you can even entertain the idea. You don’t need a favour right now, maybe you can bargain and get him to actually pay you for it, this time.

“I dunno, Uncle J…”

Oh.

28 unread texts from Syd.

3 unread texts from an unknown number— Probably Carmen.

9 missed calls from Syd.

Uncle Jimmy, always, always, has a fucking way, of asking for a favour when you need one…

You slam your phone, screen down on the table, straightening your posture in your seat. “I have demands.”

He motions for you to continue, taking his wine glass back. “You always do.”

“You and your friends are gonna tip a hundred percent tonight.”

“That why you give me a 2016 Fisher?”

“I like to think ahead.”

“Smart girl.” He shrugs, palms of his hands out. Which means yes.

“If Uncle Lee comes up to the bar I’m throwing a fork at him and leaping over the counter.”

He chuckles, “Thought you 'didn’t know family'.”

“I remember what I'm told.”

His amusement fades quickly, remembering first hand. He nods. “…You’re allowed to jump him if I’m watching first.”

“And you’re friends with my boss, right?”

“We’re acquainted.”

“I’m gonna punch out now and you’re gonna smooth that out for me.”

He perks up, amused, glancing at your phone, “Somethin’ come up, Chip?”

“Don’t call me Chip.” He wants to poke at you, just a little bit more, but there’s a rattled look in your eyes that he’s so rarely seen that he lets it go.

He waves his hand, shrugging, “Be safe. I'll send you the details. December wedding, remember.”

At the end of the day, Cicero isn’t a bad guy to you, someone who loved his nephew as much as he did.

You’re running to your car while you dial back Syd. You don’t have time to read the texts, all you need to know is that it’s an emergency. She picks up just after the first ring.

“Syd what the—” “Code blue!”

You almost fall on your face and eat asphalt. For a flash, you’re in the back of an ambulance being handed a defibrillator at the age of 22, surrounded by faces just as scared and young as you. Then you’re back in the parking lot, slotting the key into your car door because the fob doesn’t work. It’s never worked.

“S-Someone’s having a fucking heart attack!?”

“What?!”

“That’s what fucking code blue means!”

“Oh my god! Sorry! No, I was just saying the thing that scares doctors the most!”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ scared Syd!” You slide into the driver’s seat and slam your car door shut. You take a deep breath, white knuckling the steering wheel. “…I’m-I'm sorry for yelling! Where are you, what’s going on?”

“The—The Bear, the restaurant.” The second you have a location you’re revving off.

“Nat locked herself in the office—” “Like trapped?” This shit again?

“No, no— Like she locked herself in— She did this like two hours ago and I thought she was just taking a breather— But we’ve closed and, and like almost everyone left and she’s still not coming out— And she blocked the door inside— and— And I think she’s trying to hide that she’s basically shrieking in pain every five minutes.”

You take a long time to register anything she’s just said. Her tone is as panicked as you feel on the inside. You’re only now registering the ambient yelling of Richie and Carmen in the background.

“…Did—Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah Syd, I’m just thinking.” You don’t step on the gas on purpose, it just happens. “A pregnant woman is screaming in pain— in intervals— behind a blockaded door?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Have you called an ambulance?”

There’s a much more distinct yell in the background from Richie, “No cops!”

Then from Carmen, “No coverage!”

“Yeah…” Syd shakily continues for them, “The insurance is a problem, and Richie said— Motherfucker—” You hear a muffled scrap over the phone before Richie continues on for Syd.

“Er, yeah, Cousin, Sugar keeps yelling that she’s fine ‘n blocked the door, if we call the cops they’re gonna ram that shit down and take her to the loony bin.”

“That’s not— That’s not what paramedics do.”

“That’s what they all do.”

“Richie, y’know, I was a paramedic, right?”

“…You a fuckin’ fed, Chip?”

“Richie, if I was a fuckin' narc you would be in prison by now. I, I— I'll be there in like, like eight minutes, everyone stop fucking yelling at Sugar!”

You’re there in four. You almost rear end someone and you run every yellow you get but you’re there in four. You don’t park properly in the back, you just drive your car in and turn it off in the middle of the lot. You don’t bother to be let in, you just punch the code in as you remember it. As Natalie told you.

“Oh good you—Oh my, God?” Syd is no better than a man in this moment, going from grateful for your presence to being one intrusive thought away from whistling.

You did not have time to change out of your ...outfit and someone has been hogging your Carhartt. You pass Syd quickly, waving a hand in front of her face. Goddammit, why do your boot heels have to have that incredibly satisfying femme fatale click right now?

“Alright— Relax—”

“Holy shit, Chippy!” Richie was yelling at Sugar through the door along with Carm, but once alerted to your presence is now snapping his fingers. You'd describe him more as impressed than actually attracted to you. “You clean up!”

 “Cousin, are you—” He grabs Carmen’s face, turning it to you— Carmen does of course, immediately slap Richie’s hand away which of course, means they just start smacking each other's hands. Like preteen girls. “Ey, get the fuck off—” “I just want you to look at a pretty girl, Cousin—!” “Stop fuckin’ touchin’ me!” “Are you looking!?” “I—”

“Everyone shut the fuck up!”

You silence the room. You’re thankful most of the staff has left by now since it’s well after close. It's just Carmen, Syd, Richie, Tina, and Fak for some goddamn reason...You can't be mean you're handymen, you have to stick together.

“I look different from the usual jumpsuit, yes, we get it, can we move on? Pregnant woman?”

Syd is the first to speak, “…Were you on a date, though?”

You blink and roll your eyes all at once, twisting your head to her, “Syd—”

“It’s good to see you getting out there, baby.” Tina, deeply unhelpful in this moment, puts a hand around your shoulder. Oh to have a mother’s judgment when she’s not even your mother.

“O-kay!” You drag on the ‘kay’, clapping your hands together, “Everyone, just get your thoughts out in the next five seconds and then we’re moving on.”

“Chippy, I cannot believe you’ve held this out on me—” “—I meant it like-like a concerned, did we interrupt your date—” “—The red is unbelievable on you, Cousin!” “I need you to teach me how you do your makeup—” “Can you— can you yell again—?” “Fak!” “Oh, so that’s too much?”

A cacophony, it continues on. Your eyes glaze over, and you’re waiting for Sugar to let out a scream so everyone remembers the fucking point of being here. But then you look at Carmen. Everyone’s pivoted from staring at you to yelling at each other. But Carmen; Carmen is still looking at you. Stupid soft scary eye contact. And his voice is so much quieter than the yelling but it’s the thing that you hear anyways.

“It looks tight.”

There’s a possibility that when you killed the teenage girl inside you that you also killed the feminist. Because there’s a small sub-sect of you that’s upset that he’s not objectifying you right now. That his vision is focused on you. Not the changes. He doesn’t seem to look at you any differently than when you’re wearing a jumpsuit and utility belt, covered in toilet water. This should not be annoying and yet it is.

“It is.”

He nods, eye contact unshifting, unblinking, “You wanna change?”

“Maybe after we find out whether or not your sister is in labour.”

He nods. He takes a second but he nods.

You approach him, rather, the door, knocking gently. Everyone quiets down.

You clear your throat, and once more, the persona is put on, you’re a paramedic, putting on that soft but firm reassuring authoritative tone. “E-M Rescue, I got a call for a wellness check on Natalie Berzatto?”

“Tony—” A groan of pain behind the door, “I am perfectly well! Everyone go home!”

You grimace, you motion with your hand for Fak to hand you a screwdriver— He keeps one in his breast-pocket, even when wearing a suit. Hey, you should start doing that.

“Nat, I’m a paramedic— Or I was—will you please let me in?”

“I don’t— Fuck! —Need a paramedic!”

“Never hurts to do a check-up, Nat.” You speak calmly, like you always did. “Listen, lover, if you don’t open the door, I’m gonna have to take it off its hinges, and we're gonna lose medic patient confidentiality.”

When she doesn’t reply after a good beat, you start to unscrew the top hinge; she can hear it, “Wait, wait, wait— Fuck-Fuck— I’m opening it!”

There’s another series of pained groans as she exerts herself to open the door, and once she does, it’s only by a crack, to look at you and you alone. She’s absolutely been crying. She speaks in a whispered tone. “Just you.”

You nod, handing the screwdriver back to Fak without breaking eye contact with her. “Just me.”

She cracks it open just enough for you to come in. And so, you do. Everyone is, for the first time, too worried about her shutting down to interrupt or yell a complaint.

You close the door behind you, pressing your back to it. You note the toppled over chair by your feet that she must’ve blocked it with. Plus the puddle of amniotic fluid beneath her. Oh fuck.

...

“You wanna talk or do you just want me to check your contractions?”

“I’m—” She shakes her head, covering her face. She half sits on the desk. “I’m fucking— I am not ready for this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. You’re not here to convince anyone they’re ready to be a fucking mother. But you’re here to listen, certainly.

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“Who?”

“Her—!” Her voice is choked, another contraction. You’re silently taking the time in your head. She points to her stomach.

“And— And we just opened, and— And I’m gonna have to go on maternity leave, which is the last fucking thing we need and— and— If I could just fucking keep her in!”

“Natalie.” You put a hand on her shoulder, she finally looks at you. “This is happening.”

“Not help—fu—ll.”

“I know it’s not. This is scary and there are no take backs—” “Very unhelp—”

“Nat, your daughter wants to meet you.”

You squeeze her shoulder; she looks like she’s gonna cry all over again for a completely different reason. “She probably won’t hate you. Who’s to say. But I know you’ll love her. And that’s enough, isn’t it?”

She nods, emphatically, but something is still bothering her. You squeeze her shoulder again. You whisper, so even if everyone’s ear is pressed to the door— Which you doubt, she’s screaming after all, they won’t hear.

“Carmen will still know you love him, even when you're not here.”

She immediately goes for a hug, you reciprocate with a shuddered ease. She sniffs, head on your shoulder. She stays there for a while before letting you go, nodding. “Okay.”

You hand her the tissue box next to her on the table, she takes it thankfully, crushing it in her hand. Another contraction. Oh, that couldn't have been more than 2 minutes. Oh fuck.

You kneel down in front of her, and you’re simply no longer in your body as a person but just the paramedic. You could not be more thankful that she’s wearing a dress today. Awkward requests of spreading legs and pulling off underwear aside, Natalie’s daughter does in fact really want to meet her. Oh fuck.

You look up at Natalie, between her knees, you speak cool, professional. “You’re crowning. This is gonna have to happen here. I'll have someone call your husband.”

You’re so calm that it doesn’t give Natalie the feeling or need to freak out, she just breathes. “Okay. Okay.”

You stand upright. “Do you prefer this office or somewhere else?”

“I can’t— Move.”

“Makes sense. Makes total sense. Okay. I’ll go get everything we need, I’ll be right back. I might send some people in, okay, love?”

She just grunts in reply, nodding, now that she’s not in as much emotional pain, she can entirely focus on her brutalizing physical pain.

“Oh, hey, I know—” You grab her purse, pulling out her phone and ear buds, handing them to her with haste, your calm demeanour is faltering just a bit. “Listen to some music, loud, y’know, chill…” You put the pods in her ear for her. She’s again, in too much pain to tell you to fuck off, and just plays her music loud.

You softly open the door, smiling just a bit too much as you leave, and very softly close the door behind you. Looking at the motley crew before you, your persona immediately falls apart. You really only wanted her to play music so you could scream. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“What’s happening, she good?” What a sweet, stupid brother, Sugar has.

You purse your lips together, eyes wide, shaking your head. “She’s going to give birth in like— Maybe six minutes. Max ten.” Everyone goes to speak in an uproar of panic, and then you slap yourself in the face. Hard. That stuns them silent.

“Alright!” You press your hands over your eyes, “Tina!”

She’s been around this block before, “What do you need?”

“Can you go sit in there with her? Tell her all the breathing exercises and shit? Keep her calm? Coming from you it won’t seem so—”

“Condescending as fuck?”

“Yes, exactly, can you?”

“Gotchu, baby.” She claps your shoulder when she walks past and into the office.

You clap hers in tandem, “Thank you, Mama—Okay, Richie!”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna need you to call Nat’s husband—”

“Why do I—”

“Because you’re a fuckin’ dad, Rich, and he will need you!” You’re yelling all pissed, snapping your fingers at him, but he does light up when you say it like that. “I don’t care if he wets his fuckin’ bed, tell him to get here!”

He salutes, walking off, “Aye aye, Cap’n Chip.”

You shake off the sting in your hand, God, you really did slap yourself too hard. You turn to the next targets. “Syd, Fak.”

Syd responds hesitantly for the both of them, since Fak is silently enjoying your colonel persona a little too much. “…Yes, C-Captain?”

“I need towels, a lot of clean towels— cloth ones, like sanitized clean— Warm half in water— And then I need a clean sheet�� A table cloth or something, I don’t fucking care, something clean and big that you’re fine destroying. I need sterile sheaths, Syd you get those— Other than that, however they get to me, I don’t give a shit— Just scrub in before you touch anything!”

They almost knock into each other the way they run so fast. You yell after them. “Get the big sheet first, she needs to lay down!”

“Yes, Chef!”

You take a deep breath before moving your gaze onto Carmy. The screaming lead EM in you melts off your shoulders, just for the second.

He asks before you can even say anything, “Yes, Chef?”

“I need you to scrub in and get me gloves and an apron—” “On it, Chef—” “And you’re gonna sit in with me for the birth of your niece.”

He cringes, not to refuse, but just the mounting reality of the situation is dawning on him. His sister is going to give birth to his niece in their shared office of his high-class restaurant within it's first week of open.

But you then tag on, “Carmy, she needs you— Frankly, I’m not the one giving birth but fuckin' I need you. T-There.”

He softens instantly, like tranquilizing— Well, a bear.

“Yes, Chef.”

I know the opening probably feels so far away by now, but i do want to note that Breakfast Bruschetta is my own recipe that I used to make like every fuckin' day pre-employment. It's so goddamn good. I highly recommend it, babes. It's balsamic with brown sugar dissolved, btw, Carmy's just a quick explainer.

I wrote like a solid 75% of the labour sequence before deciding it just needed to have the breathing room of it's own chapter, so until next time for that one bbs. But I'm excited for it! And also dreading it! A lot of hard conversations combined with giving birth = nightmare to write, but well worth it, i think. Speaking of: I don't believe at the end of Season 2 that Sugar is at the end of her term of 36 weeks, but in our case here, she is. I'm very much so not interested in a very scary premature birth for our girl!! She's okay!! Dw!! I just wonked with time a little, hope that's okay.

And hey, look at that reveal! Bartender/Sommelier was code for bottle service-- Which is a very respectable career, btw, don't get it twisted-- I was critiquing it only in the way I would critique literally any other job: Misery Under Capitalism. And now we've got that fuckin' wedding in the future midst! Ah!!

Anyways please send me your thoughts ad nauseam, I reload my activity feed every 3 seconds to see what you guys are thinking. If you reblog, tell me what you think in the tags!! Yell at me in the replies!! Send an anon in!! I don't bite, I swear <3

Next Part

[inkskinned]

i. about 2 weeks ago, i was told there's a good chance that in 5 or so years, i'll need a wheelchair.

ii. okay. i loved harry potter as a kid. i have a hypothesis about this to be honest - why people still kind of like it. it's that she got very lucky. she managed to make a cross-generational hit. it was something shared for both parents and kids. it was right at the start of a huge cultural shift from pre to post-internet. i genuinely think many people were just seeking community; not her writing. it was a nice shorthand to create connection. which is a long way of saying - she didn't build this legacy, we built it for her. she got lucky, just once. that's all.

iii. to be real with you, i still struggle with identifying as someone with a disability, which is wild, especially given the ways my life has changed. i always come up against internalized ableism and shame - convinced even right now that i'm faking it for attention. i passed out in a grocery store recently. i hit my head on the shelves while i went down.

iv. he raises his eyebrows while he sends me a look. her most recent new book has POTS featured in it. okay, i say. i already don't like where this is going. we both take another bite of ramen. it is a trait of the villain, he says. we both roll our eyes about it.

v. so one of the things about being nonbinary but previously super into harry potter is that i super hate jk rowling. but it is also not good for my mental health to regret any form of joy i engaged with as a kid. i can't punish my young self for being so into the books - it was a passion, and it was how i made most of my friends. everyone knew about it. i felt like everyone had my same joy, my same fixation. as a "weird kid", this sense of belonging resonated with me so loudly that i would have done anything to protect it.

vi. as a present, my parents once took me out of school to go see the second movie. it is an incredibly precious memory: my mom straight-up lying about a dentist appointment. us snickering and sneaking into the weekday matinee. within seven years of this experience, the internet would be a necessity to get my homework finished. the world had permanently changed. harry potter was a relic, a way any of us could hold onto something of the analog.

vii. by sheer luck, the year that i started figuring out the whole gender fluid thing was also the first year people started to point out that she might have some internalized biases. i remember tumblr before that; how often her name was treated as godhood. how harry potter was kind of a word synonymous for "nerdy but cool." i would walk out of that year tasting he/him and they/them; she would walk out snarling and snapping about it.

viii. when i teach older kids creative writing, i usually tell them - so, she did change the face of young adult fiction, there's no denying that. she had a lot more opportunities than many of us will - there were more publishing houses, less push for "virally" popular content creators. but beyond reading another book, we need to write more books. we need to uplift the voices of those who remain unrepresented. we need to push for an exposure to the bigotry baked into the publishing system. and i promise you: you can write better than she ever did. nothing she did was what was magical - it was the way that the community responded to it.

ix. i get home from ramen. three other people have screenshotted the POTS thing and sent it to me. can you fucking believe we're still hearing this shit from her when it's almost twenty-fucking-twenty-three. the villain is notably also popular on tumblr. i just think that's funny. this woman is a billionaire and she's mad that she can't control the opinions of some people on a dying blue site that makes no money. lady, and i mean this - get a fucking life.

x. i am sorry to the kid i was. maybe the kid you were too. none of us deserved to see something like this ruined. that thing used to be precious to me. and now - all those good times; measured into dust.

/// 9.6.2022 // FUCKING AGAIN, JK? Are you fucking kidding me?

[fukcnoplease]

Things Always Go Wrong Pt3

Pt1 Pt2 Pt4 Pt5

Gotham was truly testing her abilities. Usually she could vibe check the building and be good but the vibes of Gotham were rancid everywhere she went. Every building and street had some varying level of unsafe and she could feel Danny slowing behind her. He wasn't going to stay on his feet for much longer. Thankfully there were plenty of alleys they could probably hide in and even though it was already midmorning the thick smog on the city made it look like the dawn had only just broken. The alleys were still dark and as soon as she paused at the back of the alley she felt Danny collapse into her. His breathing was ragged and he was slick with sweat. She tried vibrating her core at him and the response she got was uncoordinated and harsh. It was as if two things were trying to respond to her, attempting to drown each other out.

“Shit.” she said. Jazz would be mad for her language, you know, if she didn't kill her for killing her brother. 

“Found you, wretch.” A voice said and Dani shot up into a fighting stance. The entrance of the alley was blocked by five people, all dress head to toe in white and aiming several weapons at them. They were all men and significantly bigger than her. That would be fine in her ghost form but transforming in front of them was risky.

Danny groaned from the cold alley floor and Dani grimaced. She growled, inhumane and low, and punched her palm as she went ghost. Showing her transformation was a small price to pay to protect Danny and they probably had her, or Danny’s, ecto-signature if they had managed to follow them cross state lines so accurately. 

Their weapons hummed as they charged and Dani caught a glimpse of color above them. Praying she had seen right she took in a breath and shouted her words.

“I am the princess of the Infinite Realms. Any harm that comes to me is a direct attack on the entire dimension of the Infinite Realms and cause for a war between our worlds!” Internally she cringed at her words but she prayed they had the right effect. 

“Ha! Like you could fool us, you manipulative ecto-sum! You’re coming with us. If you're lucky you might even make it in one piece” The leader, she assumed as he was standing at the front of the group, said. She tensed in case her gamble went south and prepared for something to hit her. 

Thankfully she didn't feel anything and a yellow hero came crashing down on the agents with a ferocity she wasn't expecting. He used what she thought were escrima sticks but they were connected together with a long wire and looked modified. He downed the panicked agents in seconds and turned to Dani. Unconscious agents littered around him.

His sudden movements made her drop into a defensive stance and he froze. Gently putting away his weapons as he raised his hands to show he meant no harm.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just trying to help.” The man paused as he looked over the two disheveled siblings. The white haired girl was glaring at him but looked more wary than aggressive and the dark haired boy on the floor looked incredibly ill. “Would it be ok if I helped you? I can call some friends and we can get you to a safe space.”

Dani stared the man down. He could fight, and right now she wasn't confident she could take him. Not while protecting a very incapacitated Danny. He had a black bat symbol on his chest which was good but also bad. Good because Batman was a hero and helped those in need. Bad because Batman was famous for not liking metas and while she and Danny weren’t metas she doubted Batman would care enough to make the distinction. Hopefully if she played up the royalty bit she could get maybe some leeway.

“Ok, bumblebee, but I want you to promise you wont hurt me or my… ambassador,” Danny was going to be so mad when he woke up, “or I will bring the entire Infinite Realms down on this world.” She did her best to sound threatening and maybe using some energy to make herself scarier but she wouldn't admit it.

“Of course, your… highness?” Bumblebee asked. Dani frowned, she didn't like ‘your highness’ but she couldn't give her actual name…

“You can call me… Elle.” She felt her insides crumple up at how cringey that name felt and she was very glad Danny was out cold for this conversation. The bumblebee hero nodded and said something into what she assumed was an earpiece. After a few minutes of discussion he went quiet and began watching the roofs. Dani floated off the ground slightly, trying to see what he was looking for. She didn't notice the surprise that flitted across his face at her show of power or the silent black hero who landed gracefully beside Bumblebee. 

“Hey Black Bat. Can you help me gather these guys up? Batman should be en route but might take a minute to get here.” Bumblebee said. Dani whipped around to see the new hero, black bat apparently, silently working her way through the knocked out GIW.

“Batman is coming?” Dani asked, anxiety making her fidget with her hands. That wasn't good. She couldn't pretend to be a princess around him, he could practically smell lies, or fear, and maybe she could be the princess of the Infinite Realms but she wasn't officially! Not yet at least. And Danny definitely wasn't her ambassador. Shit, maybe if she played up with the sad little girl image? Batman was known to take pity on kids… or was that one of his allies. She should’ve listened in on the conversation the bumblebee had had earlier, maybe she would have had something to work with then.

Black bat and bumblebee worked together to tie up the GIW and leave them in an easily accessible spot for when the police came around. Black bat touched bumblebees bicep and he looked up to see the scary shadow of Batman looming over the alley. Dani notices him too and landed in front of Danny, spreading her arms to block him from Batman's view as he landed beside the other heroes.

“Report.” Was all he said as he looked over the scene. His gaze lingered on the unconscious boy and Dani had to resist growling at him, in case that ruined her case for receiving help. Bumblebee took a breath and nodded.

“I found these two as they were about to be attacked by a group of people,” he gestured to the tied up men in white, “it looked like meta trafficking and I stepped in. Elle,” he gave a smile to Dani who cringed internally, “gave the men fair warning about their attack being against royalty and at risk of ruining dimensional relations, they refused to back off.”

Batman responded with a noncommittal ‘hn’ and narrowed his eyes at Dani who prickled under the gaze.

“For the record,” Bumblebee added, a little hesitant, “I believe her.”

Batman nodded and took a step closer to Dani and this time she did growl. The man stopped and regarded her. She glared back. He wasnt coming near her or Danny. Not in his state.

“Would you like to come with us?” Was all batman said. Stern and quiet. Dani didn't move, she looked over Batman’s unmoving face and then back at the bumblebee and black bat. The bumblebee hero looked worried but more for Batman than Dani and the black bat seemed relaxed as she watched.

“Where are you going to take us?” Dani asked. Batman frowned slightly and Dani worried he would just try and grab them. 

“A place where we can keep you safe and confirm your royal status,” he said. Dani didn't really like the sound of that but she could feel Danny getting worse and she was running out of time to make a decision. When he chose that exact moment to let out a pained groan Dani almost smacked him. Batman’s frown deepened and Dani felt her throat bob.

“We might even be able to help your friend.” He offered.

“My ambassador,” She corrected, if she was gonna sell this she had to go all out, “And I don't want you to lay a hand on him.”

Batman gave her the slightest, stiffest nod she had ever seen and she relaxed. Batman nodded to the other heroes and black bat vanished, bumblebee paused before leaving himself. Dani felt her anxiety come back threefold at being left alone with the big bad bat but in a few seconds a fancy black bat shaped car skidded to a halt outside the alley. In the passenger seat was the familiar bumblebee, he grinned and waved at them. Batman stared at him in what Dani thought could be disapproval but said nothing. The doors to the suped up car popped open and bumblebee stepped out.

“You can get in the back seat. Do you need help with your ambassador?” He said as he stepped back into the alley. Dani shook her head and Batman made a grumbling sound.

“Signal.” he said. Bumblebee, signal apparently, shrugged and continued towards Dani until she stiffened.

“I just wanted them to have a familiar face so the journey wasn't too stressful. Black bat and Spoiler are covering me while I stick with them.” He said, smiling at Batman and then turning back to Dani. He moved to help her pick Danny up but she shook her head at him and he stepped back. Batman made another ‘hn’ sound before retreating to the driver seat of the car. 

Dani moved Danny around and picked him up by throwing him over her shoulder. He wasn't heavy but he was bigger than her and it made him difficult to carry. Signal, she preferred bumblebee, hovered around her but was careful not to touch Danny as she carried him to the car. They managed to get Danny securely in the back seat of the batcar and Dani slid in next to him. He looked worse. Maybe moving him wasn't the smartest idea but Dani didn't know what else to do. If the GIW had their ecto-signature there wasn't a safe place to hide. Maybe Batman would be able to protect them but it would only last so long. She pushed aside her fears and gripped Danny’s too warm hand. The scenery went passed too quickly for her to see and the drive was silent. She was starting to hate road trips.

~~

This is short but the next one is gonna be LONG I got distracted anyway I love that people are enjoying this, i like writing it :)

[shut-up-danny-kun]

I've read hundreds of Star Trek TOS fics by now and it never ceases to amuse me how many different ways there are to fuck up Spock's characterization...now hold on just a minute - this post has a more interesting point than “fanfic writers stupid”, I promise you.

Every time, it's a spin on the massacre wheel. It's kind of amazing. Will he be overly emotional to the point where he's not himself anymore? Will he be so cold it's unpleasant and kind of hard to understand how he's lived to this point? Will he be extremely horny for no good reason? Will he speak in a way that sounds complety wrong?

I chuckle and shake my head. Of course, I KNOW what Spock is like, and MY interpretation of him is the most perfect and correct one. Obviously. He's just a very nuanced character, formed by many people in an unconventional way, with traits that seem to contradict each other at first but ultimately form a rich and unique character that so many people fell in love with specifically because he's so complicated...

Or...is he?

Let's entertain the idea that there isn't one correct interpretation of Spock, that all of these messy bits of characterization are not part of a bigger picture, but...just what they are: a product of many people with starkly different visions, working on a show that refuses to properly develop its characters. What then? Well, then Spock is a Rorschach test. Each viewer connects the random dots in their own way, and ignores the ones they don't like.

Let's use an example: me! In my interpretation of Spock (the most correct one, of course) he is, first of all, gay and on the asexual spectrum, reserved, largely uninterested in casual flirting or sex. When he is interested in the aforementioned things, he tends to be quite ashamed of it.

Makes sense, right? I can show you plenty of evidence for why that could be true. However, in the beginning of the first bloody season, Uhura sings a song about how Spock is actually kind of a heartthrob who likes to drive women insane with how hot he is, and Spock smiles. He smiles at her, as if agreeing and being very amused by all this! This interaction goes against pretty much everything I think about Spock. So what do I do? I explain it away in the most bizzare fucking way possible. See, Uhura and Spock are friends (there is no evidence for this), and Uhura knows everything I've just told you about him (through telepathy I guess? Not like he'd ever tell her!) and she's just trolling him (why would she do that? That is NOTHING like Uhura!). I need to do some Olympics-level mental gymnastics here, the opposite of Occam's razor.

“But Danny,” I hear you say, “it's just the start of the show! They hadn't figured out his character yet!”

To which I say: you can say that about anything! You can blame it all on a bad writer for that episode, and ignore virtually any scene that doesn't jive with your headcanons. It's there, and I can't ignore it.

So...how am I different from the people that want Spock to be thar heartthrob Uhura is singing about? That evidence is as much a part of canon as my favorite lines. Well, I'm not any different, that's the thing. And all those writers I complained about also have a point.

It's kind of a nihilistic take, I know, but maybe the reason Spock is such a cultural icon is because he is...whatever you want him to be: just concrete enough to spur on your imagination, yet vague and contradictory enough to let your brain fill in the gaps.

Don't get me wrong: I absolutely do not believe in this. In my mind, it just so happens that I'm one of the, like, 5 people ever who truly understood Spock (and one of them is Jim Kirk himself). But I still think it's something worth thinking about next time you're mad at a fic.

[hausofneptune]

aspects/placements i love (and hate) in my chart [1]

[astro notes no. 003]

hey y’all! i felt like going through some of my personal aspects/placements and describing the “positive” and “negative” ways they’ve manifested in my life, so here we are. this ended up being longer than i thought it would, so i'll end up doing a part two since i really enjoyed making this!

disclaimers | masterlist | ask

༄ venus conj. neptune in aquarius (1°03’) in the 1H

this is one of my favorite placements. i feel like this + my pisces sun can make me appear to others as “ethereal” at times, but if i’m keeping it a buck, it also makes me extremely evasive. i have a good amount of aquarius influence in my chart as well, so all of this combined definitely makes me feel like i have to put in effort to not come off as too impersonal, especially towards my loved ones. 

having neptune in my 1H also makes me feel like people perceive me to be someone that i’m not. like even my close friends and family, i don’t feel like anyone actually understands who i am, and i don’t think i’ve ever had a relationship (platonic, romantic, or familial) where i felt like i was seen for who i actually am, or where i was able to connect to somebody on a deeper, spiritual level. i can also over-romanticize people and situations at times, but i’ve grown out of this habit… for the most part.

i’ve always been an extremely creative/artistic person. i’ve been drawing, painting, writing, and singing since i was a kid, and i even sell my artwork now as an adult. i’m extremely imaginative, but i do have to be careful to not get too in my head and forget to participate in reality, if that makes sense. i’ve also had issues with dissociation and memory loss throughout my life. i feel like my lived experience has more to do with that, but i can see how the Neptunian influence in my chart could play a role in it as well.

༄ venus opposite north node in the 7H

there are some placements that convince me that the universe was tryna be funny when it made my birth chart. this is one of them. i have so many things in my chart that can make it challenging at times to form meaningful, trustful relationships with other people, and it’s interesting to me the fact that my spiritual growth is something that’s supposed to be found… through my relationships with other people. i try not to victimize myself too much and look at things from an objective lens, but i would be lying if i said it didn’t feel like people find it convenient to have me in their lives only when i allow them to view me in a way that makes them feel the most comfortable.

like i mentioned, i can be very avoidant, it’s something i’m working on. but i know that it’s possible for me to have fulfilling connections with other people, and obviously with this placement it’s something i need to work through my aversion to, seeing as my self-development and spiritual growth is something that’s extremely important to me and deep down i do want to want to experience having meaningful, healthy relationships. 

༄ sun sextile lilith in the 11H / chiron in the 11H

let me tell you, most of the people i’ve been friends with over the years, regardless of gender, hypersexualize the fuck out of me. especially the men i’ve been friends with, majority of them had feelings for me that i never reciprocated. i was actually friends with a girl in high school who’s moon fell in my 8H, and in hindsight she had a very unhinged, borderline obsession with me. she would speak to me, and get mad at me, as if we were in a relationship together, and did not understand any type of boundaries that you’re supposed to have with someone you’re friends with. i don’t hold it against her now as an adult, but we definitely don’t speak to each other anymore.

i’ve also encountered issues in regards to the relationships i've with women, mainly when i was younger though, the women i’m acquainted with now i have healthy, normal friendships with (thank god). but i’ve had friendships with girls where they secretly didn’t like me, they were secretly attracted to me, or both. and i don't mean this in a weird, misogynistic, "pick me i'm different!" type of way at all, this is just a pattern i picked up on with some of the women i've met throughout my life.

in regards to having chiron in my 11H, my sore spot is most definitely my friendships. on top of feeling misunderstood and objectified in the friendships i’ve had, i’ve also experienced trauma at the hands of people i thought were my friends. and i always do my best to exercise being mindful and self-aware, and i’m definitely not on some “i’ve always been the perfect friend and people hurt me regardless, boo-hoo, woe-is-me” type shit, because i’ve definitely hurt people in my lifetime. but in terms of how these placements have manifested, i’ve always encountered difficulty in connecting to others, and i’m just now getting to a point where i feel comfortable enough to even attempt to try making new friends again. 

and this is what i mean when i say: astrology is a tool that you can use for shit that is more important than your appearance and future partner! it wasn’t until my 12H profection year when i started studying traditional astrology and learned how to read charts, that i actually began to understand myself on a deeper level and gained the confidence to end friendships that no longer served me and made new ones that actually do. 

chiron in my 11H also makes me feel inclined to take on a “therapist” role in my friendships, something that can be good or bad depending on whether the boundaries are there or not. i tend to attract people who like to trauma dump on me (that’s my moon in the 8H influence too), and i have to actively put boundaries in place and make sure people around me understand that i have to be in the right mindset to hold space for them. there aren’t a lot of pisces sun stereotypes that i can relate to, but being an emotional sponge is definitely one that i can. unfortunately. 

༄ moon and ceres in virgo in the 8H

LMAOOO this one might be a little heavy. i apologize in advance. feel free to skip this one if you don’t want to hear about parental/maternal loss or my mommy issues <3

my relationship with my mom is without a doubt where a lot of my emotional avoidance comes from. that plus my moon being in the 8H makes me very guarded when it comes to emotional vulnerability, even with the people i’m closest to. without telling a bunch of strangers on the internet too much of my business, here are the sparknotes:

↝ my home life growing up (and to this day lowkey) never felt stable

↝ it never felt like i could feel my emotions without them “consuming” me, this was mainly an issue in my youth, i was around 12-years-old when i started going to therapy and taking antidepressants  

↝ my mom battled a chronic disease her entire life and passed away when i was a teenager 

↝ i’ve always craved to have deep, spiritual connections with people, and ever since i was a kid i’ve been extremely intuitive and had the ability to read a room and everyone in it without anyone having to speak, but i typically attract people who are either emotionally unavailable, or emotionally unstable in some way, probably because i come off as “closed off” on the surface. 

in terms of my relationship with my mom, i love her but i could never be vulnerable with her about a damn thing, like i never really felt “heard” by her. she was a taurus sun, scorpio moon, with an aries stellium, as soon as she had her mind made up about something it didn’t really matter how i felt (pluto also falls in my 10H, and i definitely viewed her as an “authority figure” more than a mother at times). y’all remember this scene from lady bird where her mom tells her she wants her to “be the best version of herself she can be” and she asks “what if this is the best version?” - it was very much so that.

and i don’t want to give the impression that my mom didn’t love me because she definitely did. i think it was just a matter of what a lot of us eventually come to understand about our parents; that they’re products of the environments and the people they were raised by. and in my mom’s case, she did her best with the cards she was dealt and showed up the best way she could. it doesn’t make my feelings any less important, but it helps to maintain the balance between recognizing her humanity, and also validating my own frustration and trauma regarding our relationship. 

༄ venus conjunct ascendant in aquarius

i didn't wanna end this post on a depressing ass note so i'm adding this last aspect lmfao. honestly i struggle with some of the venusian energy in my chart because i honestly never really felt "pretty" growing up. it might be neptune in my 1H that effects my self image, because it wasn't until my 20s that i actually started to genuinely recognize my beauty. i feel like growing up i only viewed my beauty through the lens of the "male gaze" (it didn't help that i felt objectified from the boys around me), or through the lens of euro-centric/white beauty standards, and in adulthood i'm finally approaching the way that i view myself from my perspective.

i do notice that i attract people very easily, both in a friendly and romantic way. i know this aspect has to do a lot with love and romance, but honestly, i'm not too concerned about being in a relationship at this point in my life (with the way the economy is set up i think we all got bigger fish to fry rn but that's neither here nor there-), but like i mentioned i've always been an artist at heart and the art that i create plays a really big role in my identity. i've always found it easier to express myself through my paintings or my writing rather than my words.

aesthetics and comfortability are pretty big for me too, more so now in my 20s. this aspect has a lot to do with sociability and being inclined to uplift and help others, and i can relate to the latter but when it comes to other aspects in my chart i do struggle with being "outgoing" and coming across friendly, but we'll get to that in part two.

as always, if y'all have any of the aspects/placements mentioned in this post let me know how they manifest in your life and personality, and if you have any insight or questions in general feel free to reach out!

[lover-of-mine]

Me? Wanting to talk about the locker room scene in comparison to the cemetery scene to make a point no one asked about? Raise your hand if you saw this is coming 🙋‍♀️

Anyway, this is madness written by a gifmaker/video editor who hates coloring the cemetery scene with a burning passion and who spent the better part of the past 2 days trying to make a coloring work for the locker room scene, who also did some asking around with other editors who also seem to be having issues with the scene, and who spends way too much time thinking about Buck and death (someone drown that man, please).

I'm gonna start this off by saying that I don't really believe the cemetery scene will be directly addressed on the show no matter how much I wish it would. But something about the cemetery scene besides the actual content of the scene that keeps me up at night and had me writing multiple fics dealing with it, is the fact that the sky is only blue behind Eddie.

Why is that relevant in any way, shape, or form? The colors when the focus is on Buck or both of them have this almost yellowish tone that the focus on Eddie doesn't have. The sky and colors strongly imply that they added a filter to it in post-production to ensure the colors looked like that, along with the fact that it is a scene that's really weird to color something that happens when they go too hard on the filters *cough* crossover *cough* pilot *cough*. What does that have to do with the locker room? The locker room also has this almost yellowish tone that makes it hell to color. But based on my 2 days of testing different colorings and techniques, it seems to be a hell of a lot worse when the shot has that wall over there where the sun is hitting as a background.

That suggests that they wanted the scenes to have a specific lighting that they achieved later. Considering the way that the tendency of the cemetery is that the colors get muted or weirdly blended together and that the locker room goes YELLOW, I am assuming that they messed with the colors on the cemetery to make the colors look faded, giving it that gloomy feeling, which in turn made the sky almost white, and that they needed that sunlight reflecting on the wall to look that bright, which made the scene look a lot more yellow than it should. Seriously, trying to work this out I legit make it look like Buck is a Simpsons character.

Okay, but Anna, why did you make this particular connection? Well, the word is muted when Buck is talking about starting to date Natalia and then the sun gets brighter when he talks about them breaking up? COME ON. He's calling the relationship boring and the word literally gets brighter as he says it, madness.

Buck talking about dating Natalia -> Buck talking about breaking up with Natalia (please don't judge the gifs I don't want the stress of coloring them combined right now lol)

But that's the same reaction. Dude is smiling going in, he's smiling going out.

And considering Buck's relationship with his own death and the way I strongly believe that what drew him to Natalia was the fact that she didn't think his death was a tragedy and he wasn't ready to deal with the reality of had happened to him yet, to get him to the point where death is boring is progress. Makes me fear for my Buck breakdown wishes, but it is progress for that particular aspect of Buck, considering he has a very intricate relationship with death down to the fact he was born as a hail mary to prevent it. We have multiple near-death experiences, we have him saving the lives of people loves multiple times, the first time we see him he's saving a kid who drowned, his first big conflict is the fact that he's not handling not being able to save someone's life all that well, I can keep going, but you see my point, right?

The arc with Natalia, even though we didn't see the originally planned conclusion since the actress couldn't come back, had this point of Buck looking at what happened to him through the eyes of someone who didn't know him before and was actually excited about that happening, so he could distance himself from what happened and look at it from a "safe" distance. That distance also allowed him to ignore the very important "I need to do this for myself" thing from the coma dream because Buck is terrified of being alone, and that definitely includes the fear of finding out who he is by himself. Buck is bad at being alone, from meaningless sex, to hanging on to Abby too long, to hanging on to Taylor too long, to jumping in with Natalia, the first pretty girl who looked his way, it all makes this part of him very clear (parenthesis because I just had a thought, yes, Buck latches on to Taylor out of fear of being alone triggered by Eddie almost dying, but he thought he could have died himself considering the crane and everything about it and also the way he could very much have been shot at the same time as Eddie, he latched on to Natalia because he did die, he also almost died on his first date with Abby and Abby actually reached out to him when he was feeling all sorts of bad over someone dying, and he is held at gunpoint and watched a death that deeply affected him before he started dating Ali, so we have death as a connection here too, if that makes sense, I might have to come back to this thought later).

But the thing is, when you look at 6a for Buck considering the fact that Buck is passively suicidal, in a very I'm not trying to get killed but I don't think I don't care if I do die way, and how he probably thought he was going to die in a blaze of glory saving someone, and how he actually died in a pretty run-of-the-mill call, by something no one has any control over it, Buck's relationship with what he thought death was and would be for him changed. For one, Buck was not ready for how much it affected everyone around him, he never considered what the grief of losing him would do to the people he loves, but also, Buck's main excuse for his near-death experiences/impulsive behavior that puts him in mortal danger was "but I didn't actually die" like with the blood clots or "I didn't get the worst of it" like with the shooting, I think even the tsunami a little bit with how he felt about losing Chris. But he did actually die, and considering the fact that he went up that ladder when Chimney was ready to go up and Eddie also got hit by the lightning, he also got the worst of it. So he lost his own coping mechanism.

So he arrived at a point where death is boring and he is smiling like an idiot at Eddie welcoming him "back to the world of the living" and that could have fun implications going forward. Because, one, he still hasn't dealt with a big emotion in a healthy way, and two, Bobby is in mortal danger. Considering his reaction to Bobby being dead in his coma world and the fact that he has no coping mechanism left when it comes to death anymore along with his own relationship with water and danger we could have some fun reactions to these types of triggers for him there.

And thinking about the way Oliver keeps talking about Buck learning more about himself and also about Buck leaning on Eddie, someone who had his own journey dealing with multiple layers of his relationship with death, they have a fun space to play with there, with Buck's relationship with death, Eddie's relationship with Buck's death, and everything else that could happen with Eddie fully dealing with Shannon's death, and Buck dealing with anything really, Daniel, his own death, his fear of being alone, all as someone who actually wants to live, who's not just moving because he's alive and has no other alternative.

That's it for today, as always, if you reached this I love you 💜

[gold-snek-hoe]

Hello and welcome to Opinions from an Internet Nobody. Today's essay:

"Ger therapy" is the new "You need Jesus": One Weirdo's Navigation through Cultural Shame

This is a supposedly well-meaning sentiment that is often weaponized against people who are behaving outside of perceived cultural norms. It's a favorite of homophobes who see queerness/transness as a mental illness, but I've been seeing it used to demonize kink (which historically is often linked to queerness), and more generally any "weird" behavior that makes people uncomfortable.

For example, otherkin, systems (especially those with fictives), and people who take fictional characters as partners. Y'know, "weirdos" who "can't separate reality from fiction." And, sure, sometimes there can be a problem with that distinction, but I know as well as you that most internet strangers saying "get therapy" don't actually give a shit about the mental health of those they target. It's code for "your behavior makes me uncomfortable, stop it."

Same sentiment as "you need Jesus."

This has actually taken me a long time to figure out. I've been in therapy for my entire adult life, working through various traumas, severe depression, anxiety, all that. Those were the biggest problems as they negatively impacted, and often endangered, my life. It was only after my hospitalization in 2020, where I was finally put on much needed medication, that I could start to grow into myself.

I changed my name. I top surgery. I came out as polyamorous. I finally got my official autism diagnosis. Now I'm fuckin' married! But... there are still things I'm working through in therapy. Mainly, shame over my "weirder" behaviors. My current therapist has been a huge blessing in helping me accept the things I was too ashamed to admit.

Now, I feel comfortable enough to share.

I'm otherkin. Always have been. My connection to my humanity is tenuous, and I'm sure that's connected to my autism. When mad, I feel phantom horns sprouting from my forehead. I have a tail that swishes back and forth at the base of my spine. In my soul, I am monstrous, and years of therapy has not erased that.

I feel like I'm only half in the physical world most of the time. This doesn't hinder my real-world success (I graduated college Summa Cum Laude, have an IMDB page, and am on my third book), but informs the way I look at the world. There's a whole other universe in my head that hums along with me in my day-to-day. That's part of why I'm so skilled as a writer. To ask me to divorce from that is to tell me to stop existing. Sorry, it's how I've always operated.

Lastly, and this is the one I'm really anxious about, I have a fictional husband. Now, looking at my blog, you might say "yeah, no shit," but I don't just ship myself with him. I mean I practice pop-culture Witchcraft, and the Goblin King is my patron. I mean I have a Labyrinth-themed tarot deck that I talk to him with. I mean I held a ritual to spiritually marry him. Basically, I Snape-wived myself.

And guess what? My therapist isn't concerned. It's not hurting my ability to live my life. I have other interests, hobbies, and goals outside of him, which he actively encourages in all our tarot sessions! I wouldn't be doing this if he didn't support me. My IRL spouse is usually there for whatever magical shit I'm doing, and supports me! Some of my closest friends know, and the only complaint I've gotten is "this guy seems important to you, I wish you told me sooner." Hell, my MOTHER knows and supports me, which is huge, because our relationship was pretty damaged after I came out as trans.

If you have a problem with the way I live my life, when literally nobody else does, take a good long look at why. You don't give a fuck about my mental health. You just don't like that I'm weird.

Tl;dr: My mental health is better than it's ever been since embracing the weird, so leave me and my imaginary husband Marak Sixfinger alone.

[lestappenforever]

My ask is maybe a bit silly, and would probably go in 'sanity check' category. It is about Max, and how he is perceived. If I understand correctly, it is said he is mad max, bad guy, aggressive… and similar. Now, I know teenagers are sometimes a bit crazy, and from what I read he was actually very badly treated by freaking adults, fellow drivers, when he first joined F1, so maybe then he was a bit aggressive, and it would be even understandable… but still it is difficult to even imagine that. Because Max I see (I am only following racing since last year) is nice, soft, funny, polite guy, still more looking like an innocent kid than an adult, even appearing naïve (unlike the sweet, adorable devil that is Charles!), and obviously so nice towards rookies (Oliver and Liam-who himself said it). So am I delusional and see what is not there or for some reason he is so vilified (I guess most coming probably from jealousy and Netflix crap…). Oh and one additional observation, he always looks so much softer and somehow cuddlier and cuter on photos from his streaming at home… What do you think? One final observation, then I will shut up  Sometimes it seems to me that all the Lestappen moments and specila connection maybe come from the fact that when Charles came to F1 Max finally had kinda his person there. Because he went form father abuse to fellow drivers abuse, but when Charles came to F1, he had someone he could have a real relationship with, even if they fought and were a bit sulky almost teenagers still in the beginning, they got over it as they grow up. But Charles is his genuinely healthy, good, fun, friendly relationship. Having spent time as kids growing up of course also deepens the bond and friendship, but also mutual respect and understanding each other’s qualities. I don’t know if explained it well enough… P.S. I LOVE your fics!!!!

Hi anon, and thank you so much for this ask! I don't think it's a silly ask at all.

All these "Mad Max", being too aggressive, being mean claims etc. stem from two things:

1. When Max made it into F1 almost 10(!) years ago, he was 17(!!) years old. He was a kid — a literal child. And he was a cocky, arrogant little shit at that, as any kid would be making their debut in such a prestigious sport at such a young age.

2. Max haters who will hate him forever, no matter what, no matter why. They don't even need a reason; they're just determined to hate him and will do so forever.

But the thing is, and his haters especially seem to love to ignore this fact, Max was seventeen years old when he made his F1 debut. He was, for all intents and purposes, a child. I watched Max make his F1 debut, and I watched and read the way he was viewed and the reception he received from his fellow drivers, the media, and fans alike. And I watched these grown-ass men already on the grid when Max joined welcome him by treating him like shit. These adults were so threatened by this kid who came into the sport without having to go through the same ranks almost every other F1 driver has to go through to get there, such as several years in F3 and F2 (Max only spent a year in F3 and skipped F2 altogether), that they did virtually nothing to make him feel welcome. Quite the opposite, in fact. It was so fucking sad and infuriating, and I lost a lot of respect for many drivers because of it. And if I'm being honest, anon, that's what made me decide Max would be my favorite driver. I can be incredibly spiteful when I want to be, and watching Max get slammed and slandered from so many directions from the very beginning made me want to be very spiteful. That's what made me decide that I was going to support that kid like hell. And I haven’t looked back or regretted it since.

I cannot stress this enough, and I know I've said it so many times before already, but: Max Verstappen was a child when he made it into the world of F1. But he's not a child anymore, which a concerning amount of people seem to be blissfully and willfully ignorant to. Max has grown and matured so much in the years he's been in F1. And, like most other people, Max Verstappen the adult is not the same person as Max Verstappen the teenager, or Max Verstappen the child. And he hasn’t been anything like his 17-year old self in a long, long time. But this, of course, is something his haters will never accept or acknowledge.

I truly believe, from the very bottom of my heart, that Max is always so nice and welcoming towards rookies, always willing to lend a hand or giving them advice, always going out of his way to praise and support them, because practically no one ever did that for him when he was a rookie. And that speaks volumes about his character and the kind of man he has grown into since making his debut.

You're not delusional at all, anon, and having only followed F1 since last year means it's not surprising that you don't see the very outdated and frankly incredibly incorrect persona the people who dislike Max will always keep trying to convince themselves and others is still him. Because it isn’t — not even close. Practically every single person who has worked with or been around Max in the past few years all say the same thing: that he's funny, easy-going, and one of the genuinely kindest people on the grid. And that means a hell of a lot more than the opinions of people who have never and will never know him, and have made it their personal, sad mission to hate him. So you keep holding on to the impression you have of him, anon, because that is a far more accurate representation than the image some people are so hellbent of painting of him. (He’s definitely not naïve, though, not even close.)

And I absolutely agree: he looks even softer and cuddlier when he's streaming at home! I love streamer!Max so much.

"When Charles came to F1 Max finally had kinda his person there". <- You are spot on with this, anon! I've talked about the special bond I think these two share in the past, like in this post, and so have many others. (@tsarinablogs @valyrfia @thearchercore to name a few - highly recommend checking out their blogs if you haven’t already!) It truly seems like they have never, and will never, see any other driver as a big a rival as the other, and the numerous accounts of their karting days from people who got to watch them battle first-hand from such a young age definitely backs up that claim. And I think that's so beautiful, and it's one of the many, many reasons why these two are so dear to me, and why other F1 ships will never be able to come close.

P.S. That makes me so happy to hear, anon, thank you so, so much. 🥹❤️

[aurora-sturniolo]

Best Friends Boyfriend Pt. 1

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜:  y/n x chris sturniolo 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: chris might be a bad boyfriend, but y/n becomes a much worse friend after falling for her best friends boyfriend. 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: no smut yet - swearing/suggestive?

*not proofread*

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“This dress would make your boobs look great”

Ever since Hazel started dating Chris at the beginning of our Senior year, she has been all over me trying to find me a boyfriend. Every single party we have gone to has consisted with her throwing random guys at me hoping i’d connect with one eventually. I can’t blame her, she was my bestfriend and I knew all she wanted was to see me happy. 

“I am absolutely not wearing that dress, and I am not going out tonight come on” I groaned, rolling onto my back on the bed. “Look Chris invited us and it’s going to be huge, everyone is celebrating the beginning of winter break” she grinned, pouting her lips and starring at me. “You know I don’t like to drink, plus every party ends up with me driving all of you guys back home drunk while you and Chris are practically fucking in the backseat of my car” I sighed sitting back up.

While I wasn’t necessarily best friends with the triplets, I would say we were friends considering how much time i’ve spent dropping off Hazel at their house. She refuses to drive so that automatically makes me her designated driver. 

“Please, tonight will be different y/n I promise you and if you really aren’t having fun you can leave or never come with me again. Come tonight, for me” she smiled looking up at me from the floor. “Fine” I groaned as she squealed and instantly jumped up. “Only if I can borrow that dress” I smiled. 

I can’t even lie, the dress did make me look great. It was light pink with a small bow attached to the front. The dress was extremely tight, but it fit me perfectly. My hair perfectly clashed with the dress and I knew the perfect heels to wear with it. If I wasn’t going to have a good time, atleast I was gonna look hot. 

“Hurry up they’re waiting for us” I screamed at Hazel from downstairs. My phone was already blowing up from the groupchat with the guys. They were wondering how far away we were and when we would be there. “They can wait” she smiled as she came downstairs, still trying to put her shoes on as we were walking out the door. 

It didn’t take long until we were outside the Sturniolo’s home. The sun was just beginning to set as we walked up beside eachother to their door. Before I could even knock, Chris was opening the door reaching smiling. “You look so good baby” he grinned, scooping Hazel up showering her in kisses. “Okay okay, I get it you guys are young and happy and in love no need to make me more jealous, now let me inside” I groan, pushing my way inside. “Someones mad she gets no dick” Chris blurts out laughing. “Chris!” Hazel giggling, slightly hitting his chest as she laughs.

I walk inside, greeting Matt and Nick who waiting inside ready to go. They were dressed way more casual than Hazel and I, only wearing some shorts and a t-shirt. “I feel overdressed” I say, crossing my arms in front of me. “You look good y/n, relax” Matt assures with a slight smile. 

While Chris was off limits, that didn’t mean Matt wasn’t. I couldn’t lie, they both were really hot but with my best friend dating one of them, it felt awkward inserting myself or trying to flirt with them. That’s why I was strictly friends with them, always just kind of existing alongside Hazel. 

“Who’s driving” I question as everyone finally makes their way inside and into the kitchen. “Me” Chris says, walking over and grabbing the keys out of my hands. “Not so fast, that means your not drinking, since when do you not drink at a party, let alone the biggest one of the year?” I chuckle. “Since I decided I didn’t want to drink tonight, got any more questions?” he spits back. “Nobody cares, let’s go it’s getting dark” Nick blurts out, walking towards their car in the garage. Everyone makes their way into the garage while I run back to my car in the front to grab my purse and lipgloss I forgot. When I walk back inside, Chris is standing by the front door waiting for me.

“God you scared me, why aren’t you in the car I just had to grab something” I say, closing the door behind me. “I forgot something in my room, I heard you coming back inside” He shrugs. I begin to walk away when I turn to hear Chris say something. “You do look good y/n, i’m sure you’ll find someone to fuck wearing that dress” he grins walking towards the garage.

[desert-fern]

A Gun Amongst Daggers - Jake “Hangman” Seresin X Fem!Navy Seal Reader

Part 11: Operation Hellfire

Summary: When Jake meets a woman at the Hard Deck, the last thing he expects is for her to be a Navy Seal. And not just any Seal, the Commander of Seal Team 3. She’s beautiful, smart, dangerous, and everything about her just makes him want to get close. Her name? Bear. When the Seals need backup, Cyclone puts the Daggers on their radar and now, Jake has to work with Bear and her team, all the while trying to stay professional. Can he do it? Or will he end up falling for the Navy sniper and mission Commander?

*Image is not mine, found on Pinterest*

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE! 18+ ONLY. MINORS & BLOGS WITH NO AGE/EMPTY BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Warnings: DEATH and lots of it, explosions, guns, descriptions of dead bodies (not graphic but enough of a mention), blood, knives, stab wounds, fighting, missiles, bombs and bombing, downed plane, probably really terrible descriptions of military movements (I am not American or have any military connections, don’t fight me)

Word Count: 4.4k

Masterlist >> Part 10 >> Part 12

A/N: I’m sorry in advance…

===

The sky had darkened considerably as Bear checked her gear again. Her mask had slid back into place and she watched with keen eyes as her platoons assembled in front of her. One platoon was staying back as reserve, Fireball having volunteered to fill that position. “Allows me to listen to what the recon teams are saying,” he’d told her, squeezing her shoulder.

A sharp gaze swept over the people before her, and Bear couldn’t help but grin a little. They had trained for this and she knew that they had one hell of a group for aerial and terrain backup if needed, but she was still uneasy. The same feeling had been bouncing around in her head since they’d arrived in Riyadh and she was over it. All she could do was push it away for now, but not so far back that it would be forgotten. “So, does everyone have everything?” Bear shouted.

“Yes ma’am!”

“You all know your roles?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Do you have any last minute questions to ask?”

“No!”

Bear clapped her hands together, the sound echoing off the buildings next to them. “Alright then. Load it up. We move in 10. Move your asses. Let’s go.”

The sudden flurry of movement made the pilots dizzy. People streamed back and forth between the choppers and supply bags, loading extra gear into the back of an armored vehicle, and in the middle, stood Bear who seemed unfazed by the chaos surrounding her. She had become the eye of the storm, making it seem like you had to fight like hell to get close and she’d make you fight for every step to escape her pull. It made her dangerous, and if you were a certain blond aviator, beautiful. This was the first time the pilots saw her in action. Sure they’d seen her fight and command her team, but watching her lead her team before an operation came as a surprise to them all. “Damn,” Fanboy whistled under his breath. “This is some serious shit.”

Sounds of agreement were heard around the WSO as they all watched Bear supervise her team. “Should we help?” Rooster asked, glancing around.

“Bear is pretty particular,” Hangman told them. “She might get mad if we try to get involved. We should probably stay out of it.”

“And you would know how?” Phoenix questioned him, grinning as the tips of his ears pinked.

Jake said nothing, knowing full well that anything he said would only give Phoenix more material to tease him with.

Bob nudged him gently. “It’s going to be okay. We have the easy part,” he tried reassuringly, but quickly added afterwards “Bear is a professional. Trust her to do what’s right.”

“That’s the part I’m worried about,” Jake mumbled to the WSO. He watched Bear tap FAK’s medic pack as they strapped it on and mumbled something to the young Seal. “How do I know that she’s going to keep herself safe as well?”

Bob nodded silently. He knew that Jake cared deeply for the Commander. Hell, he was probably one of the few who truly knew what the other man was going through. Bob’s wife flew med-evac for the Navy and his heart beat a little faster every time he saw her take off. So while he saw a little of himself in Jake right now, he also saw the hidden, unspoken love that shone through Jake’s eyes as he watched the woman in front of him. “You have to trust her, Jake. She trusts you to protect yourself. Extend that to her, and if you can’t, then you need to start,” he advised quietly.

All Jake could do was nod, opening his mouth to speak but was cut off when Bear held up a closed fist and the movement and voices around her stopped. “I trust that you all are ready to go?” Sounds of affirmation broke out across the tarmac, and the pilots watched one last equipment bag get tossed into a helicopter before it all went quiet again. “Great. Dagger team 1, get ready. My signal is your cue. You get one preemptive cue for when to be airborne. Am I understood?”

“Yes ma’am!”

Bear clapped her hands together and did one final glance around the area. “I will see you all on the other side of this. Let’s go!” Her team filed past her, grabbing their seats in the Blackhawk helicopters at the edge of the tarmac. But Bear strode over to Maverick, handing him a piece of paper. “Your radio channels. Make sure the pilots are on the top one.”

“Can do, Bear,” the older man replied, tucking the paper in his pocket. “Safe travels.”

“Thank you. Good luck aviators. Fly safe for me, will you?”

Rooster nodded. “I think we can manage that, Bear,” he told her, tapping her shoulder once.

Bear chanced a look at Jake and smiled softly when she found him already watching her. “Good,” she told them gently, “I need my flyboys and gals for this. Stay safe, okay?” When she got a few nods, she turned and walked back off towards the helicopter that had her seat. Once she was situated, she tapped her hand on the outside, and off they went, flying into the desert.

===

Under the cover of the newly fallen darkness, the Seals exited the helicopters, guns drawn and scanning for any threat. Two helicopters had hovered over the roof, their occupants repelling down before flying off, landing a safe distance away.

Bear had heard confirmation of the Alpha pilot team’s take off just before they landed, and was waiting for her team’s entry preparations to be completed. “Copy eyes,” Fireball said over coms. “Echo 5 recon has eyes Bear, how copy?”

“Copy Fireball,” Bear replied in a low tone. She caught a glimpse of Bug giving her a thumbs up from the rooftop. “Marshmallow, how copy?”

“Copy.”

“Electrical ready to blow?”

“Affirmative, waiting on your command,” came the man’s gruff reply.

“Alpha squadron how copy?” One final location check was all she needed from the aviators as she stepped into her position by the door.

“Copy Phoenix.” Chiming in shortly after the woman’s voice, Bear could make out the replies of the other pilots.

“Location status, Phoenix.”

Up in the air, Phoenix checked her screens. “Less than 12 clicks out. Awaiting order to drop,” she told the other woman on the ground.

Bear nodded. “Copy that. Alpha squadron. Banshee. Banshee,” she said loudly. “Go get them.” To her team, she gave the breach order and the lights in the compound shut off suddenly, plunging its occupants into darkness.

A minute later, a burst of light and noise echoed through the desert miles away, signaling the successful hits from the pilots. But that wasn’t her problem. Into the darkness she went, her team fanning out around her.

The building was soon filled with the sound of bullets flying accompanied by the shouts of dying men, enveloping them in the chaos of warfare as multiple teams advanced through the darkness. Creeping towards the middle floors where they knew al-Hameed, Khrushov, and Osmund were staying.

At the end of a long hallway, Bear held her hand up, fist closed, stopping her team in their tracks behind her. Giving the signal to split up between the two new halls, Bear felt the taps of her team as they passed her, the commander bringing up the rear as they moved down the left hall.

“Grenade!” Raptor shouted not even a full 20 seconds later, as he dove off to the side. The bomb bounced down the hall, its path cleared by the Seals taking cover and stopped inches from Bear’s feet.

Eyes wide behind her mask and her heart in her throat, Bear snatched up the grenade and launched it back down the hall, ducking for cover as it flew back the way it came.

The sound was deafening, and the explosion brought down the wall a ways ahead of Bear’s team. She stood shakily, ears ringing from the blast and grasped Flare’s outstretched hand. The pair provided cover for the others as they picked themselves up from the debris, before moving slowly forwards. Any survivors of the blast were swiftly dealt with, silenced abruptly by single shots to the head.

There was a sudden shout over coms, and a panicked request for their medic, who had gone in with Shrike. Bear heard FAK’s calm reply, requesting details, followed by Shrike’s order for two of her people to cover the young medic, and she made note of it as they approached the corner of the next hallway.

A doorway stood to the left, and Bear and one other ducked through it, weapons raised and scanning the room. “Clear,” her partner said and turned to leave, but as he did, a figure jumped out of the darkness, knocking the weapon from his hands.

Bear sprang into action, her gun left hanging from its strap and pulled her secondary weapon from its holster. By this point, the attacker had been flung off the Seal and was rising to his feet, knife in hand.

His attempted lunge forward was futile. With a blank expression, Bear fired off two shots to the head and heart, killing the would-be attacker instantly. A narrowed glare had the younger Seal shrinking back, eyes wide. “Clear,” Bear snapped, pulling the tape from her belt and slapping a mark on the now empty room.

They advanced down the rest of the hallway, finding a few more insurgents who were quickly dispatched with a hail of bullets as they went down.

“Bear, how copy?” Bug said over coms.

“Copy Bug.”

“Reaching second floor. No sign of targets. How proceed?”

“With caution,” Bear replied as she filed after her team down a set of stairs. “Team three descending to lower level one.”

“Copy.”

The sweeps of the lower levels were silent, except for the hum of generators providing power to what was essentially a bomb shelter. Down here, the white walls made the dark blue of the Seals’ gear stand out, making them clear targets.

They wove quietly through the halls, pausing at each corner before slipping down yet another blank hall. A creaking sound ahead had Bear signaling for her team to stop, but it was too late and a large man barreled around the corner, screaming in Urdu as he tackled Bear to the floor.

Her team froze, unsure how to proceed. The man was right on top of Bear, any shot they fired could hit her by mistake and they were left unable to help as they watched Bear fight.

She squirmed under his grip, fighting back with a ferocity he clearly wasn’t expecting. He grunted as Bear drove her fist into his side repeatedly, trying to dislodge his grip on her. It was futile though, once he got a grip on her throat. She kicked her feet, wriggling and grasping at his clothing. Spots started to appear in her vision and by a stroke of luck, she was able to draw her knife and drive it repeatedly into the man’s chest.

Blood poured from the wounds and Bear rolled out from under him just as the man fell to the floor. He hissed out one last curse in Urdu before falling still as Bear sat gasping for breath a few feet away. The front of her uniform was soaked with his blood, not that it showed, but she could feel it seeping into the shirt she wore underneath.

Flare knelt next to her Commander, pulling her mask up to inspect her throat. The younger woman winced at the red marks he had left behind, knowing full well that they would bruise horribly. “Can you speak?” Flare asked, her eyes filled with concern.

“Yes,” Bear rasped out. It hurt to draw in a full breath but she would take the bruises and the bloody knife over the death that the man had promised her. “I should be okay in a few minutes,” she managed to wheeze. “Just give me a little bit.”

Flare nodded, sitting back on her heels. She knew that there wasn’t much she could to help, but figured that her presence might help a little. And sure enough, five minutes later, Bear pulled herself to her feet. She pulled her mask back down, tucking it into her uniform before rolling her shoulders and motioning for her team to follow her down the hall.

Minutes passed but it felt like hours. Each room turned up empty and it only served to make every Seal in the vicinity nervous and on edge. There weren't nearly enough people as expected for a compound that held a known jihadist leader and an international weapons dealer. People like them traveled with a large group of soldiers, guards, as well as loyal followers. A few people here and there did nothing but increase the overall anxiety of the Seal team creeping through the building.

Bear had just rounded the corner when another scream of indecipherable Urdu echoed off the sterile walls. A knife was thrust into Raptor’s arm, blood splattering the floor. He grunted in pain, grabbing his rifle with his uninjured arm and fired a stream of bullets into his attacker even as the man fell dead at his feet.

“Shit,” Bear swore, lowering her weapon and moving to Raptor’s side. She pushed up his blood-soaked sleeve, grimacing at the wound before rummaging for her first aid kit. She passed him a large piece of gauze, telling him to press it against the slash. Her team had immediately swarmed around them, guns up, watching closely for any other men who thought they could launch an attack, while Bear was distracted.

Raptor hissed at the pressure, but he did as ordered, his blood staining the compress almost immediately. “Fucking hell,” the man grunted through gritted teeth. “That fucking bastard.”

“Hold still.” Bear’s voice was quiet but firm as she placed another several compresses on top of the blood-stained one before bandaging it tightly. “Can you still use your weapon?”

The man before her nodded, reaching for the weapon with his injured arm. He hissed softly, but quickly assured his Commander that he was fine.

“Okay. Get in the middle,” Bear ordered. “Let’s move.” They continued on, running into a few more guards, but again, nowhere near the amount they had expected or trained for.

Their coms crackled, Bug’s voice informing the Seals that Osmund was down. “Maybe 10 people protecting her. Advising caution in search of al-Hameed and Khrushov.”

“Copy,” Bear replied. Her heart sank, knowing that she could be walking into an ambush. She had written her letters, and was prepared for death, but that didn’t mean she wanted it. Her thoughts flickered to Jake and the soft plea that he would carry on if she were to die tonight. But she pushed every thought of him out of her head. Bear couldn’t afford the distraction right now. Her team needed her and she would fight like hell to get them out safely. “Stay liquid,” she ordered her team, before Flare tapped her shoulder, encouraging her forwards.

They traveled down hallway after hallway with no sign of anyone, friend or foe. Bear hardly heard Shrike’s voice saying that her team had joined the party on the basement level, she just kept moving. Each room was swept, reflective tape slapped on the doorframes, marking it as clear.

The halls were silent. The pristine white walls showed no sign of life, or death for that matter.

A noise up ahead had Bear freezing, hand held up, ordering a stop. The sound grew closer, stopping just out of sight from where Bear stood. She lifted her foot and brought it down in a rhythmic pace, never moving from her spot.

It must have been enough for whoever was on the other side because seconds later a group of six or so men came out from behind the wall, guns raised and firing at the Seals before them. Bear’s team reacted immediately, weapons firing off round after round. Seconds passed and the group before them lay dead, bullet holes pock-marking their bodies as the floor was slowly stained crimson.

Flare led the next advance, stepping over the blood to avoid a trail, and rounded the corner, Raptor close behind her.

They continued on. Taking out small roving groups of sentries, but nowhere near the amount expected for a warlord and a weapons dealer to have on their staff. The air in this lower level was frigid, a result of the generators being forced into action. It made the environment just that much more unsettling.

Beads of sweat rolled down Bear’s spine, soaking into the material of her pants as she swept yet another room. Her nerves were fraught with tension, each hair on the back of her neck stood on end at some unknown feeling that raced down her spine like a gust of wind. Something was about to happen, what it was, she didn’t know. But she couldn’t let herself get distracted. “Bear,” Flare whispered from her left.

“What?”

Flare held her thumb up, a look of curiosity on her face. She was silently asking if her commander was alright, having picked up on the unsettled nature of her commanding officer and based on their conversation before leaving, the younger woman was concerned.

Bear merely nodded, her mind elsewhere as she spoke with Shrike over the coms, confirming her Lieutenant’s location. “Shrike says that there seems to be a reinforced door near them. She suspects al-Hameed and Khrushov are holed up inside but is waiting for us before proceeding,” Bear spoke in a low voice.

A tap to the back of her vest made Flare turn, eyes narrowing as she followed the gaze of one of her soldiers. Behind a corner, she could just make out the face of a little boy. “Bear.”

The woman turned to look and her heart sank. al-Hameed had resorted to child soldiers. To her, that was the lowest of the low. Forcing a child to fight in a war fought between adults, exposing them to violence of this kind was cruel and unjust. All this did was ignite a fire in her soul, burning hot and bright, she made a silent vow to bring these horrific men to justice for their crimes. “Keep an eye out,” she said quietly. “We have to meet Shrike. Watch our six, Flare.”

The corridors passed in a haze of white polished metal. Nothing to distinguish one room from the next and it only added to the tension woven into the hearts and minds of the approaching Seals. They had come around a corner and Bear caught a glimpse of the US flag patch on one of the soldiers up ahead. She knocked on the wall twice, waiting for the answering taps and when she received them, Bear led her team around to meet Shrike.

“What’s the situation?“

“A camera through the vents says that both targets are inside, along with at least 30 men. All are armed,” Shrike informed her, having stepped closer.

Bear nodded. “Any children among the soldiers?”

“None that I could see. Why?”

“We had one following us a ways back. Unsure if they were a soldier or the child of someone inside the bunker, but I have two people monitoring,” Bear told her Lieutenant. “Do you have a plan?”

Shrike nodded and motioned for a few of her people to come forward so they could discuss their proposed method of entry. The conversation took less than five minutes and soon, everyone had their roles. Their targets were barricaded inside so they had to be quick.

Taking her position, Flare signaled to Chip, who gave the breach command. The explosives that had been set were detonated and stun grenades were thrown inside. The sound ricocheted off the walls, deafening anyone caught unprepared. This gave the Seals their advantage, they entered through the smoke, firing shots into those who raised weapons in attack.

Soon, Bear had al-Hameed bleeding out at her feet. Khrushov had been taken down as he tried to escape through the open door and his glassy eyes stared unmoving up at the ceiling. The scent of blood, smoke, and drywall mingled together, creating a suffocating cloud that had a few of the younger members vomiting. This was their first combat experience and they had done well, despite the brutality of the last four minutes.

Shrike met Bear’s gaze and nodded once. “This is Bear. The Snake and the Weasel are down. I repeat, Snake and Weasel are down.” Whoops from the other teams filled the ears of those still deep in the bunker, joy at having completed their mission. “Bring them topside. Keep your guards up. We have no idea who is still lurking.”

No sooner had Bear spoken those words when a hail of bullets were fired into the room. Bear caught six in her vest, the force knocking her down as she gasped for breath. Shrike had been able to get behind a knocked over chair, and was firing back, wincing as bullets tore through the upholstery.

Screams echoed and Bear dragged herself towards Shrike, grunting as she forced herself to sit up and return fire. “Bear requesting back up. We are pinned down!” She called through her coms, hoping and praying that Bug heard her over the noise.

“Rally! Rally!” Bear yelled over the noise, trying to regroup her team. Bullets flew back, halting the attackers’ advance as bodies began to pile up at the entryway.

Bullets ran low and Bear knew that her people were struggling to fight back. She patted her belt, hoping to find something, anything to help her team get out alive.

Nothing.

Not even a bandage to wrap around the gashes on her arm and the bullet graze on her hip. Bear’s eyes slipped shut and she let one tear fall. This wouldn’t be it. It couldn’t be the last stand. “Please…” she whispered as Shrike fired her last round.

“Get down!” Raptor yelled from across the room, launching a grenade out the door and into the hall. Seconds passed before the explosion shook the room, shouts of pain and the final prayers of dead men following in its wake.

And just as soon as the chaos had begun, just as soon as Bear had sent her prayers up to a god that may or may not be there, it stopped. Silence filled the air as Seals popped up from where they had taken shelter, slowly taking stock of weapons and casualties. Only one man on her team had been killed. A cluster of bullets littered his lower body, one having passed through the femoral artery. He’d bled out as suddenly and as violently as the attackers had appeared.

Bear’s heart sank. One casualty that she could have prevented. A man with a family lay unmoving, his uniform marking him as her soldier. A man who served with honor and pride. She made a silent vow to never forget him. “Let’s get out. Team 1 should be heading out again soon.”

===

The Seals had slowly left the compound; the bodies of their targets dropped unceremoniously in the sand in front of the landed Humvees. The fallen soldier, a man known as Wasp, was placed in a bag and laid in the vehicle, Flare choosing to stand guard over him. She would honor tradition as he had come from her team.

Bug and Bear met on the sand a ways off from the compound, exchanging a handshake and offering their sympathies to one another before they moved to organize the search teams.

“Okay. Listen up. Bug has informed me that her team has searched the upper levels and gathered the evidence they deem important for our purposes. Shrike will take a secondary team up to ensure nothing was missed before we send for the second round of pilots. Shrike, form your team,” Bear ordered, as she turned to inspect some of the papers collected from al-Hameed’s office. She had sent Raptor over to FAK almost immediately, the medic doing their best to tend to both him and Finch, who had been shot badly early on in the breach.

Minutes passed before a shout told her that the second search team was reentering the building. It gave Bear a chance to check in with the pilots. “Bear to Maverick, do you copy?”

“Mav copy.”

“Has Alpha team departed on the second bombing run yet?”

Back in Riyadh, Maverick leaned over to look out the window in the command tower. “They departed only a few minutes ago, should be over your location in a few.”

“Copy that. Thank you.” Bear returned to her papers but glanced up when she heard the roar of planes overhead. Since they had entered the compound, light was just beginning to creep up on the horizon once again, and Bear caught a glimpse of the four planes that raced by. She noticed that one was falling behind, almost like something on the aircraft wasn’t working properly. But she couldn’t be sure.

“Flyboy, what’s your ETA to target?“ Bear asked.

“Not too long now, Bear. About 45 seconds to drop,” Jake’s voice sounded over her coms. There was a tightness in his words, like he was focusing hard on something.

“Are you okay up there?”

Up in the sky, Jake swore under his breath, flipping switches, trying to figure out what wasn’t working properly. “Just peachy, Teddy. A couple of lights are flashin’ but it’s nothin’ I can’t handle.”

Coyote was the next to respond. “Anything we can do to help?”

“Just keep going. I’ll be there soon,” Jake replied. “Just give me a few min-”

Bear’s mouth fell open as she watched the fiery tail of a missile ascend higher and higher until it made contact with the last plane. “No…” she whispered in shock. Her heart felt like it had been put in a vice, squeezed tighter and tighter until she was sure it would explode.

Her coms were a flurry of noise and panicked voices all speaking over each other. No one seemed to notice that Bear had sunk to her knees behind the Humvee, silent tears falling from her eyes as she watched the plane crash back down to Earth. Jake was gone. The man she spent so long denying her feelings for was gone. Taken from her in a singular moment that happened as quick as a breath.

She let out a single choked off sob, her hand coming up to muffle the sound. Nobody could know of her grief. This was personal, and she didn’t let personal get in the way of her job. She had to keep her composure, no matter how much her heart was breaking as she watched plumes of smoke rise up into the sky.

Nothing would change the fact that her Jake was gone.

===

A/N: I’m going to hide now. Thank you @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s and @dakotakazansky for proofreading.

Taglist: @horseshoegirl @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @lavenderbradshaw @roosterforme @bobby-r2d2-floyd @footprintsinthesxnd @twsssmlmaa @fandomxpreferences @dempy @gizmodear @fighterpilothoe @eli2447 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @djs8891 @rhirhikingston @sisterslytherinog @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @thegoddessc @sgt-barnesveins @taytaylala12 @urmom-999 @formulapierre @pinkpantheris @havlindzk @a-beaverhausen @alana4610 @killcomet @buxkybxrnes @topgunruinedme

[androgynousblackbox]

Types of sex [Radioapple, Appleradio]

A03 link

Up until being with Lucifer, Alastor only knew about sex like a transaction at the absolute best. Something you do because it will give you something in return or something expected by another party. If there is not an actual motive for it, it's completely worthless and irrelevant to the rest of his life.

After Lucifer enters his bed, he starts learning about all the different kinds of sex there are.

The lazy sex in which he wakes up to a morning wood already poking him from behind and Lucifer whispers if he can use his ass or thighs to relieve himself, and he says yes, the build slowly making him grind back. He doesn't always finish or touches himself, but it feels nice all the same. The quick and messy sex of the "I have to have you right now, right here, or I will go insane" variety that is like a whole hurricane trapped in a jar, contained to this one moment in which he truly could not care about the rest of the world. His head is still spinning when he has to try to fix his clothing. The passionate and full of hands everywhere sex that turns into slow and full of soft kisses sex that burn his skin all the same. The slow one sex that speeds up to the point he has to grab to the head of the bed and leaves his legs useless, his body electrified as every blood vessel is fighting to come down to a normal rythm. The casual sex in the afternoon when they have nothing else better to do, so might as well do this, usually with some giggles involved because Lucifer keeps saying he looks so pretty like that and he has to hide his face on the shoulder of the fallen angel. The "we had a fight and I am still a bit mad, but I mostly just want to be around you and that somehow turned into this" sex that no matter how many times does he play it on his mind, he can never understand how it happened. They don't remember either why they were fighting in the first place or decide it wasn't worth it anyway. The failed sex that seemed to be going there, but then something happens. A problem with the hotel, people needing their attention, Lucifer deciding to talk about something and he won't stop, so Alastor stays on his lap and listens. The little touches and kisses that don't leave him feeling like he is actually missing anything.

The continuation of the failure sex that always feels like a relief and a secret promise that, even if the world does keep existing and demanding attention, this is also important.

The foreplay that very well could be sex with how good it feels and he is later shocked to realize that it wasn't technically sex.

The sex where Lucifer fills his ears with soft words of encouragement, compliments, little secrets about how he thought about him during the day, and doesn't shut up except for kissing, making him feel small and vulnerable in a way that he has no idea how to properly understand, so when they do reach the sex there is an element of comfort there, because this at least he can handle.

The ridiculous and silly sex, because they both can't be serious for too long, so someone makes a stupid joke or something goes wrong and they giggled about it like two idiots while their bodies are still connected. The snort of Lucifer just makes him laugh even more. This one never feels like a failure, even if none of them finishes and the mood changes entirely.

The sex through the radio because fuck phones when Lucifer has to attend some issue in any of the other rings where Alastor isn't allowed to accompany him, so that is the only way for them to communicate. It doesn't really do anything for Alastor, physically at least, but he loves to hear Lucifer moan on the other side while talking about what he imagines doing to Alastor if they could be in the same room. Lucifer's voice was already beautiful, but it was extra lovely then, hoarse and worked up, going deep when he was reaching the climax and in the end saying his name with a low curse that almost felt like a claw running down his spine. The only sound that he wished he could record to repeat it over and over again.

He still doesn't understand why people obsess over sex overall. Alone or with someone else. In his opinion, it's not about sex at all. Lucifer is the real difference and he will the only demon in hell to know about it.

[bonefall]

How are we feeling at the book finale? Because outside of the Sunbeam girlboss moment telling Berryheart just how bad of a family she was AND maybe possibly foreshadowing her rejecting Nightheart, I think we miiiight get some more Dark Forest cats than planned before :D (also I may be wrong but- didn't Podlight have children? Would he even be eligible as Medicine Cat in BB?)

Podlight's totally eligible in BB! He has no canon children and I didn't give him any. In BB there's also an interesting quirk in that Podlight is notoriously Mistystar's... not EXACTLY a good-for-nothing grandson, but a bit of a "fratboy" working through daddy issues. Is is extra funny for this cat to be a villain lmao.

Also: Better Bones RiverClan Family Tree

Anyway... my thoughts on the spoiler thread's ending. Mostly negative, unfortunately. I am really hoping that a lot of this is misrepresentation.

I've enjoyed every book of ASC that's come out so far, but if this thread is accurate, this is going to be the first one that I actively dislike. It sounds like there was a serious nosedive in quality.

ON THE ENDING; Park Cats, and The Berryheart Gathering.

Park Cats.

It is profoundly frustrating to me that we had TWO traveling books in this arc. Do they not know by now that traveling books are widely detested for a reason??

Frostpaw and Nightheart were AWAY FROM THE CONFLICT for most of this book, what the fuck?

The plot barely advanced at all. There's been one major conflict in this entire arc, the invasion of RiverClan, and we are 4/6ths of the way through without any other major battles. This is boring.

Riverstar is a major character through this bullshit, now with a magical perfect connection to Frostpaw through plot convenience so he can give her tutorial tips, because GOD FORBID we have a more grounded story for once. I'm so sick of DOTC fanservice. Was a super edition not enough?!

And speaking of Riverstar's Home, they pretty clearly ripped a lot of inspiration out of it. Frostpaw and Nightheart go on a journey with random human-related shenanigans before finding a cardboard cutout of a culture

I'm not gonna lie guys. I do not like the Park Cats. I HAVE TO SAY; It's a step in the right direction

They are not demonized. They are treated as good and legitimate. They are seen as having wisdom and living peacefully.

This is Good. This is Fine.

(im still kind of mad they needed riverstar to come save them back in riverstar's home, like every non-clan culture does apparently, but HOKAY fine ok it's fine)

.....butt.

They're boring. guys, they have one thing that is unique to them, and it's meditation. They live in perfect peace and harmony. there's nothing there.

It's easy to be a perfect, peaceful society if you have no conflict ever.

IF THE SPOILER THREAD IS ACCURATE, we don't see them address strife, how they DO handle disputes, what DOES happen when a cat engages in "criminality," or even really see what their spiritual beliefs are besides "meditating"

And that's why the idea of Frostpaw taking away a good lesson from living with them strikes me as so hollow. WHAT is she taking from them? JUST vague, quiet meditation?? Why couldn't Riverstar just magically teach her that?

It also bothers me that this culture is exactly the same as it was in Riverstar's Home. It's in stasis. Nothing has changed, nothing has grown, they haven't picked up new customs. They don't even seem to have their own history besides remembering that Riverstar showed up generations ago.

It's not a culture, it's a plot device.

I swear, I'm really trying to like them, but RH left this really sour taste in my mouth and them showing up again in this book has only made me more frustrated.

I AM happy that we're going to maybe start trying to address the violence of Clan Culture, but it is coming in the middle of a book where nothing fucking happens, and they're starting to fumble the bag on the xenophobic radicalization that I'd been praising in the past few books

And by that, I'm referring to...

Berryheart's Gathering

through the books so far, I've been praising the slow rise of tension coming from the radicalized members of ShadowClan.

I think the way that Berryheart and her little Concern Club had been slowly escalating in their bigotry and violence was (and remains) unironically fantastic.

We had started off with it just being a group to "discuss the issues," which evolved into active bullying and harassment, progressed into attempted murder, and we left off on the idea that Berryheart's Hate Group was planning something with RiverClan's murder party.

And we are reaching a turning point in that arc, the payoff of a long and well-laid escalation, with...

normal democracy.

berryheart and her supporters approach puddleshine reasonably with their concerns and intent to call for a vote to depose tigerheartstar. doing the thing the fucking code addition was made for

This comes AFTER Sunbeam has a Girlboss Moment telling off Berryheart for being a bad mom in front of the whole gathering and everyone claps, mind you, so this is clearly supposed to be the narrative's big "oooo consequences for Berryheart" moment

So anyway Berryheart brings up that they want tigerHeartstar deposed, and then Puddleshine's like "haHA THIS WAS A ROUSE"

"Actually I only told you i agree to point out how this code addition can be exploited over a disagreement with ONE issue!!!!1"

i just...

im......

would Brokenstar training babies be One Issue? Would Bramblefake being a bully to his entire clan be One Issue? Would Leopardstar allowing Tigerstar to take over RiverClan be One Issue?

One Issue....

And MIND YOU I'm Pro-tigerHeartstar, actually, but the WHOLE fucking point of the rule is that you can depose someone who is not acting in the best interest of the Clans. Fym ONE ISSUE??

IT'S A BIG ASS ISSUE!

So anyway Berryheart is embarrassed in front of everyone, tigerHeartstar tells the group, "You're going to support me or get out of my Clan"

All of her supporters fall in line, but Berryheart chooses exile.

So Berryheart and her group isn't punished for the hate crimes, it didn't lead to anyone getting actually hurt, this faction of cats just settled back down and Berryheart alone was exiled for political opposition to occupation.

not the hate crimes

GOTTA STRESS

The hate crimes did not cause lasting damage, the radicalized group did not cause any violence at this gathering

Berryheart is exiled for political opposition to occupation.

The consequence she faces for the hate crimes was simply not having her son Spireclaw back her up because she caused trouble for Fringewhisker. Like it's on the same level as being a bad in-law and not ATTEMPTED MURDER BASED ON BIGOTRY

And tigerHeartstar, jesus christ

His consistent trait has been becoming unreasonable WHEN HIS FAMILY IS THREATENED. WHY are we tossing this out the window now?

I REALLY REALLY hope that the spoiler thread is misrepresentation, and tigerHeartstar didn't ACTUALLY exile her but said something like, "this is what we're doing. don't like it, leave. you don't have the votes"

SO FOR NOW; I'm going to reserve judgement on what the writers are doing with tigerHeartstar.

This seems like the exact sort of thing that may be worded in an inaccurate way

But that said,

I'm beside myself with disappointment in this turn of events. Why is this about legitimate political proceedings? Why did they make the CULMINATION of this arc about bigoted violence and radicalization a legitimate, peaceful attempt to use the process THEY JUST ADDED, FOR THIS EXACT PURPOSE?

Anyway, then it ends on a cliffhanger

Podlight claims to be the new medcat, pointed out as just being a political maneuver, to appoint Splashtail as the new leader.

Frostpaw watches on in shock and thinks about how bad it is that a murderer is now in charge of RiverClan, and how no one would believe her if she told them all now

I sure hope the next book contains something worth reading. like a fight or something. in the battle cat series. in the arc where theyre trying to say something about violence.

[peaceofflights]

Being in a Relationship With Wally Clark Would Include:

A/N: Someone asked me for a part two to “Falling in love with Wally Clark” where reader confesses their feelings to Wally. For that, and to understand some of the context I suggest going back and reading “What’s Three Years in the Eyes of Eternity.” which is bookmarked on my page!

Warning: this one delves a bit more into your physical relationship, nothing is too explicit. However, if you don’t like don’t read.

Being in a relationship with Wally Clark would include:

•You expecting things to change a lot, but in reality they don’t. You still do pretty much the same things as before… with some added perks.



•Holding hands everywhere you go. If Wally thought you were a hand holder before, he had no idea. It makes you feel connected to him to hold his hand, even if you’re doing absolutely nothing.

•If you’re in a conversation with other people holding pinkies, that way you aren’t too on top of each other.

• Coming up with the most ridiculous nick names for each other. They start off cute, but eventually just start getting really weird.

“Awe, my honey bear”

“Life is short puddin’ pop.”

“My adorable little doo doo”

“The cutest Sasquatch in town.”

•All of the forehead kisses. It started because your friends wouldn’t stop making gagging noises every time you two kissed. So now every time he has to part from you he leaves a very sweet but overly dramatic kiss to your head.

•He’s kind of the obsessed with you. When you’re across from each other either in the cafeteria, Football Field, or Theater you can often catch him staring at you. I mean he did this before your started dating, but instead of pretending to look away or do something else if you catch him; now he’ll give you a wink that of course leads to a lot of blushing on both ends.

•You’ve taken to calling him your puppy dog, since of course he is! At first it was just to other people but once he accidentally heard it come out of your mouth he couldn’t stop beaming. So from that moment forward he was to referred to as puppy.

•If you don’t call him puppy when your alone he’ll get mad.

“Um excuse me!? Who is Wally? Do we know a Wally? I am your puppy? I’m a good boy.”

It’s absolutely ridiculous, and he’s mostly kidding, but it’s just really adorable.

•The two of you do a lot of the same activities you did before you started dating; trying to find good movies to watch in the library, playing endless games of hide and seek, creating your own secret language. However, there are also some new things you do too…

•Yeah… LOTS of new things.

•It starts out pretty innocent, but after the homecoming dance things moved a little faster than they should have.

• Clothes were removed, hands were found in inappropriate places.

•Which brings you back to today. Neither of you by any means are blushing virgins, your college years were good to you. But you both agree that you have your entire after after life to spend together, you don’t need to spend every moment jumping each other’s bones.

•However, you two definitely aren’t saints and your new found physical relationship is one you love exploring.

• Though sometimes Wally’s age and slight less experience leads to some interesting situations. It doesn’t matter how many times you remind him, it feels like every morning you wake up to find some sort of new bruise highlighted on your skin. Which then leads to the never ending bullying of your friends.

•Look he’s your puppy and adore him, but also it would nice if you could go anywhere without being covered head to neck in hickies.

•Though his smirk when you bring it up you helps you realize it was in fact NOT an accident.

•He brings you gifts to make you smile. Sometimes it’s a poorly painted canvas he made in the art room or him serenading you to your favorite song, but it made you realize that you need to step up you girlfriend skills. Which leads you to finally letting him teach you to play football.

• It’s the first time you really focus and attempt to learn the rules and even if you aren’t very good you’ve never seen him so happy.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

angst w happy ending/fluff + fake dating + “was any of this even real” with stewy PLEASE 🙏 honestly i will take ANYTHING stewy but i feel like this fits him…

Play Pretend.

44. "Was any of this even real?" + h. Fake dating + 4. "Marry me."

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. this is a part of my campaign to become your favourite stewy writer x

Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - cursing

Word Count - 810

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

You never meant for it to go this far. Neither of you did.

Stewy had cruised into your bar one night, and you'd hit it off. Several whiskeys later, he's making you an offer you can't refuse.

He proposed that you be his girlfriend for any and all events that he had to attend with a date. In return, he promised to help connect you with some important people in the art world. You'll have a gallery of your own in no time, he'd said.

That was 8 months ago.

At first, it was fun. He'd send a fancy gown to your apartment, request that you be wearing it by 8pm sharp. He'd pick you up in a shiny car, and keep you on his arm all night. It was like you were living in a whole different world. You enjoyed it.

But the more you two pretended, the realer it became. You spent hours laughing, teasing each other, talking the nights away. You got to know each other, bared pieces of your soul. Now, it's bordering on something more.

You've fallen head over heels in love with him, and he sees you as a fake date.

You're stupid, and you know it. You should have known from the moment you met him that his charm would wear you down. That beaming smile, the grey streak in his hair, the way his hands were always warm. You'd fallen hard, and there was no going back.

You're panicking. You're scrambling around, looking for the eject button. You know if you keep going, you'll reach a point of no return. So, you do the only thing you can think of. You cut it off.

Can't do tonight, you'd texted. No explanation, no apology. You felt guilty, of course you did - you know he needed someone at the gala with him. But you were trying to protect yourself.

You'd expected him to reply fuck you then! and be done with it. But when has Stewy Hosseini ever been predictable? Instead, he's banging on the door of your apartment so hard you're worried he's going to break it down.

"Sweetheart, what the fuck is going on? Open this door before I kick it down!"

"Don't kick it," you yell back. "You'll ruin those Louboutins I know you're wearing."

"Open. The. Door."

"Aren't you supposed to be at the gala by now?"

You know it isn't exactly mature to be yelling through the door at each other, but it feels easier, somehow.

"Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong? Just tell me what I did and I'll fix it!"

That's your breaking point. You swing open the door to be met with Stewy in a navy blue suit, dressed up to the nines.

"You can't fix it," you murmur.

"Let me try," he begs, moving closer to you.

"Look, Stewy. Thank you, for everything, really. But I'm done. I can't do it anymore."

You sound so sure of yourself. His heart shatters so hard, he wonders if you hear it break.

"Was any of this even real?" he whispers, looking at you intently.

"... What?"

"Was any of this even real? I mean, I know it wasn't at the start, but I thought... I just... Nevermind."

"What did you think?" you ask gently. He isn't making sense, and it's putting you on edge. He's usually so assured.

"I thought - I thought this was something. I know you were my fake girlfriend, but I thought you were at least my real friend."

"I am your friend," you reassure, wrapping your arms around his middle instinctively. "That's why I can't do this anymore. Because we're friends. It's not fair."

You're holding onto each other for dear life. You both think this is the last time you'll get to do this.

"I thought you loved me," he whispers into the top of your head. "How stupid was I?"

You pull away to cradle his face in your hands, looking at him carefully.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"No, Stewy. Say it again. Please."

"I said, I thought you loved me. Guess it was all just pretend," he laughs dryly, no real humour in it.

"Oh my god," you chuckle. "We're so stupid."

"Speak for yourself," he mutters.

"I do love you," you laugh. "I thought you didn't love me. I thought you were just pretending."

"I don't think I was ever pretending."

With that, you lunge at him, smashing your lips to his. He tastes like peppermint and smells like his woody cologne and it's everything you've ever dreamed. He pulls back to wrap his arms around you, spinning you around the living room.

"You know, I think we should just skip the rest. What's the logical next step? Marriage? You wanna marry me?"

"Easy there, Casanova," you tease. "Take me on a real date first."