#anyway this was completely self-indulgent 1000% | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writing-for-marvel · 1 year

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Every Step of the Way

Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: After struggling through the entire week, Steve’s there to comfort you when you need him the most.

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: severe depression is depicted, Steve and reader being naked in a shower together but nothing sexual, major hurt comfort vibes

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: this is 1000% self indulgent, I wrote this when I was in a really dark place, struggling to even just get out of bed every day and I needed Stevie there to comfort me. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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Opening your eyes seems like an effort too great for the amount of energy in your reserves.

Every breath is a heave, as if trying to gasp for air with an anvil sitting on your chest.

The backs of your eyes sting with tears at the thought of needing to get out of bed. You don’t want to face the day, don’t want to be the early bird catching the worm. You want to stay under the covers and sleep, that’s all you have the motivation to do.

Dirty dishes are stacked next to your sink, they’ve been accumulating since early in the week and you’ve just not had the energy after working and making dinner each night to actually wash them yet.

Clothes litter the floor of your bedroom, but you’ve put off going down to the laundry room for the past few days, with each new sunrise promising it’ll be tomorrow you’ll find time to do it, but that tomorrow never comes.

The bathrooms need cleaning, the floor needs vacuuming, surfaces need dusting - you put off doing them last weekend to focus on other household chores, but this weekend has come around and you’re not any more inspired to complete them.

You hear keys rattle in your front door, the sound startling you enough to finally open your eyes, but not sufficiently concerning to warrant leaving your bed. The only person who owned keys to your place was your boyfriend and though you didn’t want him to see the mess you were living in, there wasn’t anything you could do in the two seconds it would take for him to open your door.

As if instinctually he knows you’re still snuggled up in bed, you hear his heavy footsteps striding steadily towards your door.

Bracing for the furious displeasure you have been conditioned to receive from ex partners when they discovered you in a relapse, you pull the covers tighter around yourself as if to shield you from what was about to happen.

“Stevie…” Your voice is soft, vulnerable as he enters the room, but it’s not pity nor annoyance you see in his eyes, which you had been expecting, but instead they are brimming with concern.

“Hey darling.” His honey voice is slow and smooth, soothing the jittery anxiety ricocheting through your mind and chest. “Not feeling too good?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you shake your head anyway, clutching the duvet closer to your chin. Steve pulls his shirt over his head, rounds the bed and climbs in next to you.

“C’mere.” His strong arms envelop you and pull you into his strong chest, the weight of them on your back and his musky scent, which now consumes your senses, is the secure reassurance you’ve been needing all week that you’re not completely alone in this brutal world.

He doesn’t ask what’s the matter with you, doesn’t ask why you’ve barely answered his messages all week, why your home is a complete mess or why you’re laying in the dark at noon on a weekend. He doesn’t make you justify your change in behaviour, why you kept him at arm's length, doesn’t scold you for your absence as other people have done in the past. Instead, he kisses your forehead, whispers that you’re safe with him as he gently rubs his hand up and down your back.

He could have easily chastised you for withdrawing into yourself and not seeking help, could have pointed out the state your home was in, or mentioned that you smelled in need of a shower, but he does none of that. Rather, he tells you over and over again that you’re loved, ingraining the notion in your mind so that you won’t ever forget, placing kisses over every inch of your face he can reach while still holding your body close.

The sound of his beating heart lulls you to a peaceful sleep, feeling safe and treasured, and for the first time this week like you don’t have to carry the weight of expectation and hollow desolation all on your own.

* * *

When you wake, the warmth provided by your sturdy boyfriend is missing. Distress fills your chest for a moment, thinking perhaps Steve coming to soothe you to sleep was a figment of your imagination, until you hear the faint sound of movement from the main living area.

With an effort you believe rivals running an entire marathon, you push the sheets off yourself, heave yourself out of bed and trudge into your kitchen, but not before noticing that the clothes that were strewn over your bedroom floor this morning were no longer there.

Once your eyes adjust to the light you notice Steve hunched over your sink, elbows deep in soapy water doing your dishes. Part of you is thankful, you’ve been needing to do them all week and just hadn’t found the energy or motivation. But another part of you, deep in your chest, feels ashamed - you have to rely on your boyfriend, who has a hectic enough life of his own, to do something as simple as washing your dishes. How pathetic.

“Steve, I can do them.” You declare, lumbering over to the counter, feeling somewhat relieved to see there’s only half the number of dirty pots and pans as was there when you left them last night.

“It’s okay darling, I’ve already got my hands wet…”

“I don’t want you doing my dishes for me, Steven.” You don’t know why those particular words leave your mouth, because seeing the dishes you had failed to clean the last few days finally have the grime scrubbed off them alleviates some of the hefty gravity pushing you chest so tight you almost can’t breathe. But it also makes you feel incapable, worthless and weak.

You’re not sure what quality it is in your voice that indicates it, but Steve immediately removes his hands from the bubbly water, dries them quickly on the back of his pants and pulls you into his chest just as tears you didn’t realise were coming start silently streaming down your cheeks.

“Shhh, it’s okay, deep breaths for me baby.” His large hands rub soothing circles around your back as your tears dampen his shirt. You try your best to follow his instruction, slowly take deep breaths and calm the flow of untameable misery pouring out the corners of your eyes, but your throat starts constricting and each new tear running down your cheeks evokes two more.

You just want it to end. You want to be able to function like a regular human being without exhausting all of your energy reserves by simply getting out of bed.

You just want to be normal. Be someone Steve can be proud to call his girl. Not someone who struggles to do the simplest of tasks.

When Steve senses that your flood of emotions isn’t subsiding, he shuffles with you in his arms towards your bathroom, whispering that the warm water of your shower will help refresh you.

He helps lift you onto your bathroom countertop, kissing away the stray tears on your cheeks before turning on the shower. While he tests the temperature of the water with one hand, his other maintains hold on yours - even just the connection to him helps in your attempts to calm yourself down. He’s here for you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

When the temperature is just how you like it, Steve helps you strip off your clothes and directs you under the stream. You let the water wash over your face, taking some of your worries with them, as Steve steps in behind you.

You can’t tell the difference between your own teardrops and drizzle of the shower as you look up at your boyfriend, grateful for the care and tenderness he’s shown you while you’re at your lowest. No one else has stuck around when they’ve seen you like this, but in this moment you feel nothing but pure love.

You place a gentle kiss to a scar on his bare chest and Steve kisses your forehead in return - a silent message to thank him for being there for you, and him to acknowledge that though you’re unable to voice your gratitude at the present moment, he understands it’s there.

Once Steve washes your hair, knowing the steps of your routine perfectly, and the rest of your body, you step out of the shower feeling like the load you’ve been carrying for the past few weeks has been washed off your back.

Steve smiles as he pulls his own shirt over your head, kissing your nose once your head pops through the hole. Now your tears have settled, you can appreciate the affection overflowing in his baby blues, fondness you don’t believe you deserve, but cherish nonetheless.

Forgetting all about the dirty dishes in the cold, soapy sink, Steve directs you back to your bedroom, climbing in after you and pulling you once again into his strapping chest.

“Darling, you don’t have to carry this burden alone. I’m here for you, and I love you, you don’t ever have to face this by yourself again.” Steve speaks softly into your hairline, the intent and conviction in his voice enough to drive you to tears again.

“But it’s not like I have that much on my plate, I should be able to do simple things like housework. I just… I just can’t. I can’t explain it, my brain just doesn’t allow me to.”

Steve pulls away from you slightly so he has an angle to look at you directly in the eye. It looks like it physically pains him to see you struggling so much.

“My love, you are the strongest person I have ever met. I am so proud of you everyday that you are here with me, that you keep battling your own mind. You’re my fighter, my best girl, and I’m here to help you through this difficult patch. For better or worse. In sickness and in health, I love you.” He punctuates his declaration with a sweet kiss, reinforcing his words.

“We’re not married Stevie.” You point out, but he simply smirks at you.

“Not yet.”

Before Steve Rogers you believed love was tumultuous and torture, that it was meant to tear you in half, because you cared about the other person so ardently it left you bloodied and bruised. But Steve proved to you that wasn’t love - love isn’t supposed to feel like you’re going to war, instead it’s comfort, it’s a reassuring embrace of someone who has seen your battle scars and tells you it’s time to rest.

Love is solace.

And Steve Rogers is certainly your solace.

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soleilnomoon · 1 year

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⋆.ೃ࿔*:･titled — “lady(bug) killer.”

9k words (shh i know i know), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; angst city, there’s fluff somewhere somehow i think, smut obviously; shanks is a bully and an ass but that’s why we love him, reader has no self-preservation (when has she ever lbr); feat. cute stuff like making out, alcohol, some smoking, oral (f receiving), biting, reader being shameless; shanks is mean when he’s jealous and reader is equally as ridiculous, also benn beckman, yasopp, and lucky roux make a tiny cameo. anyway this was 1000% self-indulgent, but idc.

this is for @strawhatsoraya, and even though it’s *calculates* 7? months late ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ lmaooo i finished bb, a labor of love for u because i’m absurd and u enable me. don’t blame me for nothin, i did what i could!!! (if u see typos/grammatical errors no u didn’t.)

DELUSION X IS X INEVITABLE

the seas are not, and never have been, kind — nor are they patient. weakness is rarely tolerated, so to combat that, to give yourself some semblance of strength, you tell yourself stories in the hopes of extracting a bit of courage. there’s one in particular that you like to tell yourself when things get to be a little too much.

it’s about the impossible love between the sun and the moon — the two seemingly trapped in an endless cycle of cat and mouse, chasing one another across the skies for eternity.

golden-hued, dazzling, brilliant; a deity above all others with a kingdom as expansive as its reach — grand and all encompassing. the sun is a powerful, overwhelming force of nature, able to disrupt the earth as he sees fit, his heat infiltrating any crevice it can find with each new day. the stars serve as reluctant guides, leaving behind crumbs for the sun to follow. they’re much too quick, twinkle out of sight, and the moon is nowhere to be seen. she’s a shadow, a mirage, an entity that’s completely out of the sun’s reach no matter what he does.

the moon, in contrast, is serene when in rest, shimmering proudly in the dark sky — illuminating the seas for wayward sailors, dreams, and the like. calm, the epitome of grace, yet unyielding; forever dictating the tides as she sees fit. there’s a sharpness to her beauty; it’s cold and unapproachable — a single rare flower that blooms nightly in the sky, her spores a sweet poison that serves to ensnare unsuspecting stargazers, adding yet another devoted follower to her massive collection. a hopeless romantic deep down, admiring the blazing trail that the sun leaves behind. fear forces the moon to hesitate, never to embrace the sun’s brilliance and warmth.

despite being the biggest star hanging in the sky, the sun remains out of the moon’s reach; and despite priding herself on her uncanny ability to pluck the truth from anyone, she conveniently evades revealing her own dark truths.

the ocean is a reluctant playground, her mirror of truth; if the moon looks hard enough, she can see the golden light from the sun touching the water. if she hangs back, then maybe she might be able to grab onto some of that warmth. she’s always so cold. it’s evident in how she approaches life. her rage is frigid, hidden, forbidden from ever coming out; a stated beauty from afar, breathtaking and life changing up close.

everyone is too afraid to approach her; no one wants to risk her wrath — except the sun.

where the sun chases away his own shadows, the moon welcomes them. there’s poetry in the dance they do; a ballet in several parts — steps light and well-rehearsed, as the stars play a sweet, melancholic melody. it’s indescribable; a work of art fit to inspire the masses.

ascending along the expansive sky, the sun begins his rhythmic march, reveling in the sparkling remnants of light that moon has left behind. it’s always been said that the sun lusts after the moon, but it’s not quite as simple as that. the moon leads the dance — measured, practiced, perfect; while the sun clumsily follows along, sure-footed, and honest. a never-ending cycle of what ifs and maybes; a love affair that is in a deadly, hypnotic loop.

yours is a story about love, about life, and about losing bits of yourself in someone else.

shanks has always been fond of the sun, of its power, its size, and its impact on life; he’s always reached his arms out every morning, soaking up as much of the warmth and heat as he can, forever rejuvenated by its light. you have always favored the moon — its eerie silence, the way life seems to hold its breath for it, how you can gaze at it without consequence.

both of you are fueled by the whims of their love — the former a frenetic storm, hounding islands and ships, dangerous when provoked; the latter a frozen lake, one step and the ice cracks on the shallow surface, pulling bright-eyed victims deep under, freezing them from head to toe.

in stories of antiquity, the two never truly meet, but somehow in this story, you and shanks experience what may be considered the most difficult sort of love to bear. potentially ill-fated and destined to fail, you delude yourself into thinking that you can have the entirety of his heart and not suffer any consequences. there’s no greater love than the one you desperately want to attain and can’t; it’s an addicting cycle that neither of you want to break.

PASSION X NOT X PAIN

from your father you learn obstinance; it’s carefully woven into your daily routines, each stitch tighter than the last, the thread unbelievably strong even as it’s pulled taut underneath your skin. by the time it reaches your bones, you’re already well into adulthood, fragility and naivety carelessly discarded, the remains intentionally desiccated, crumbling underneath your feet as you navigate through life. a never-ending labyrinth of torment and desire, a hunger for the unknown gnawing continuously in the pit of your stomach.

from your mother you learn humility; a tradition, she tells you, but adds as an afterthought: an eternal obligation. it sits on your shoulders, weighing you down, making you question every decision and thought. you never say what you truly mean, never ask for the things you want; resentment lines the crevices of your teeth, dictating your tone and choice of words. your tongue a maestro, pushing out each phrase with purpose; every word pinpricks your skin — a dull, cumbersome pain chipping away at your sanity.

you become obsessed with spontaneity, rejecting routines, and deviating from the norm. they can never keep you indoors long enough; you’re usually climbing something, running somewhere — enticed by the possibility of adventure. you leave your hometown to travel across the grand line, staying on various islands for months at a time — to learn about regional dishes and cultivate your skills.

your heart, unfortunately, has always been a flighty thing — falling in and out of love, leading you down a treacherous path, one that leaves a deep scar you can’t seem to heal no matter what you do. still, you fortify yourself any way you can; it’s not permanent, but it does the job somewhat effectively.

like clockwork, you find yourself in the middle of a busy street, perusing the market. you look over a round, shiny apple before buying a few to take home. unbeknownst to you, your day will quickly derail, bringing about impossibly rash decisions on your part.

as usual, it takes forever to dock the ship; he doesn’t even bother yelling t the new recruits, because he’s trying to ignore the hangover that’s kicking his ass right now. yasopp is cackling off to his right, tears flowing freely as he recants drunken tales from last night. he’d love to join his friend in all that revelry, but there’s a pounding in his head that won’t quite go away.

shanks downs another cool glass of water before loudly announcing that they need to find provisions before heading to their next destination.

the island isn’t hard to navigate, so they wander until they reach the lively town. it’s when you’re fussing with a vendor over the outrageous price for a small bottle of seasoning, that shanks notices you for the first time. as someone who takes pride in swallowing a great deal of pain without complaint, he’s finding it very difficult to not rub his chest — to somehow calm down that foolish heart of his.

it’s doing things it’s never done before; beating much too loudly, making his thoughts scatter around — it’s bothersome and he doubts he has time to deal with it. he almost voices that very sentiment out loud, but is distracted by your smile, which makes him take another step forward. then you’re laughing, another ordeal for him to suffer through — your voice melodic and hypnotizing.

shanks rubs his eyes repeatedly, blinking away any residual fatigue; surely it’s the fault of the bourbon they drank, because he must be dreaming. it wouldn’t be the first time he’s mistaken a dream for reality, although this strangely feels real to him. he’s not sure if it’s the shape of your jaw, or the roundness of your cheeks, but there’s something wholly familiar about you. he frowns at that, brings his hand to his chest to rub the ache away. it’s beckman who catches up with him first, dark eyes landing on shanks for a moment before following his line of sight.

throat dry, head a little fuzzy, shanks asks, “do you see her?”

the question is absurd, but he has to know; and even though it takes a moment, beckman finally answers him. “yes,” he says, voice low but certain, “she’s real, captain.”

he has no need to shop for vegetables, but winds up at the same stall as you. if he wasn’t so damn obvious, you probably wouldn’t have said anything — except, he’s crowding your space a little too much; but when you turn to tell him off, you hesitate. there’s no reason for him to be that tall, no reason for his ruggedness to add to his overall attractiveness — enough to incite irritation, that makes your face burn and siphons all your logic. his voice is doubly offensive — deep, husky, and gravelly, touching parts of you that you don’t want to think about.

what starts as a friendly conversation — of him asking about local cuisine, of you giving him recommendations on dishes to try — somehow morphs into shanks teasing you as if he’s known you for much longer than ten minutes. you’re not normally this social, preferring to keep to your own so that you won’t be bothered by people in general. the townspeople are more than friendly, and a little too overwhelming to be around; yet you don’t mind talking to him and find that it’s nearly impossible to pull yourself away.

fear — of vulnerability and intimacy — threads itself around your fingers, makes your hands shake as you hold onto your bags.

eventually, you give in and grace him with your name. he says it a few times, mostly to himself and you dislike the way you stand there, listening to him — caught in a thick net, completely unaware that the fortress you’ve built over the years has completely fallen apart. a terrifying feat, you think; one that makes you want to run until your legs give out. intrigued by your stubbornness and insatiable curiosity, shanks decides to stay on the island a little longer. his crew doesn’t mind, they like the break. yasopp tries to pry for more information, but shanks simply says he wants to relax for a bit.

it doesn’t take long for them to chisel away at your reluctance, a friendship that buds and transforms quickly. against your better judgment, you grow fond of them — with their rowdiness and frank manner of speech, with their crude jokes and ability to turn any gathering into a large party. adventurers and treasure fiends, a group with monstrous strength, not the sort of people your parents would’ve expected you to hang around.

and maybe that’s why you hardly resist their charm — or, his charm, you should say. because that’s what it really is, much to your disapproval.

you offer to cook for them one night, and after the first bite shanks asks you to join his crew. your initial refusal is met with a frown on his part; he insists that you join them — one can never have too many chefs on board, and lucky roux has already taken a liking to you. still, you refuse; and when shanks asks you the following morning, you refuse again.

there’s no real reason why you keep saying no. it’s mostly because you like seeing how frustrated he gets, where he huffs about it all damn day, claiming you’ve broken his heart for the fiftieth time that week. the best part is how his crew mates make fun of him for being rejected by you again.

he takes it all in stride, though — laughing along with everyone else, ordering another round of drinks. as wary as the townspeople were by shanks’ presence initially, they’ve come to appreciate his generous patronage. it’s not often that pirates settle in a specific area for longer than a few days, but shanks is determined not to leave without you. he’s not exactly sure why he feels compelled to take you along, and while a few of his crew mates have some sound theories as to why that is, he ignores them completely.

it's beckman who manages to convince you after eating a third lemon square; he’s impressed by your talent for creating delicate and delicious pastries, even more so by the fact that shanks to enjoy eating them more than he should.

“he doesn’t really care for sweets,” beckman says carefully, sipping his tea slowly, enjoying the warmth wafting from the hot drink.

you know better than to ask, but the question rolls off your tongue anyway. “who doesn’t?” you feign ignorance, fuss with a stray curl, tugging and playing with it while he eyes you critically.

the vice-captain reminds you that you can only travel so far along the grand line alone; and he’s right, you came to terms with that a while ago. it’s an opportunity for adventure, and a chance to hone your skills.

“fine,” you say, while crossing your arms, leaning forward on your chair. “how much?” not that you really care about the money, but they’re pirates — notorious ones, at that — you won’t risk your life sailing with them if the reward isn’t worth it.

a small smile works its way onto his lips as he motions for you to scoot closer. you oblige without hesitation but end up hopping out of your seat when he whispers the amount in your ear.

“that’s a lot of fucking money.” you almost don’t believe it, but beckman isn’t the childish sort, nor does he lie for the sake of lying. you swallow hard and don’t bother acting coy. “when do we leave?” it’s not exactly the sort of job you’d place on a resume, but you can’t say you aren’t excited to traverse across the ocean.

shanks offers more gold than necessary, but you’re not one to complain, nor do you care about bleeding a pirate dry of his stolen treasure. he decides to spend one final night on the island, so naturally his crew throws a large feast in celebration. you doubt you’ll ever get tired of their impromptu parties, or the raucous way they laugh and sing, voices carrying out into the sleepy streets. the energy is addictive and hard to escape; you soak it all up, allow it to loosen your bones. you laugh and drink with the others but keep your distance from a certain red-haired captain. you’re not sure how to be around him, especially now that you’ve accepted his invitation after fighting him for so long about it.

it’s completely by chance that you spot shanks near the bonfire; you think you’re being subtle when you watch him from afar, admiring the way his throat bobs when he tilts his head back to down a full glass of liquor. the fire emits a deep glow, one that extracts a memory from the back of your mind — oranges and yellows draping over him, an enigma that will always remain out of your reach no matter how hard you try.

the truth of it sits on your tongue — raw and distressing — so you down a shot of whiskey and maneuver through the crowd of people to find a place to sit and rest.

yassop and lucky roux tease shanks mercilessly throughout the day, so much that he ends up smoking more than he means to. a light haze clouds his rationality, and he mumbles under his breath, which only makes them laugh louder, pointing out his plight for all to hear. no matter how much he denies it, or how much he tells them that they’re full of shit, the story remains the same: boss has fallen in love. it’s annoying, to say the least. just because he feels calmer whenever you’re around, and just because his heart continues to beat louder — heavy, relentless, and unsettling — doesn’t mean that he’s fallen in love with you.

if anything, it means he needs to get off this damn island quickly. “it’s probably something in the water,” he tells himself. no need to stay long enough to carry it with him elsewhere.

a few hours later, nearly everyone is passed out, either from drinking or eating or both — and shanks, unfortunately, can’t seem to sleep. neither can you. he finds you walking alone on the beach, sandals in hand, humming something soft and familiar. before he can even make his presence known, you look over at him and a smile tugs on your lips. you’re not sure what compels you, but the sight of him standing there, watching you like you’re some sight to behold — and if anyone asked him at that exact moment, he would say that yes, you are — invites a small warmth to circle around your chest. an irresistible flame that grows hotter the closer he gets.

OBSESSED X & X IRRITABLE

what starts as subtle flirting rife with teasing jokes and lingering touches, turns into something frighteningly intense. shanks routinely teases you in front of everyone, and while you’re embarrassed by it sometimes, you actually like it. there’s a push and pull, where you also have him backed into a corner that he can’t escape from with his sanity intact.

shanks starts being more bold when he touches you, kissing you randomly in hallways when no one’s looking, his hand roaming down to your ass and squeezing it playfully. the rush makes everything worth it; he likes the way you push him away, and you like the way he chases you. if he knew that you’d fallen in love some time ago, he’d never let you live it down. his touches make your skin hot and your head fuzzy, leaving you light-headed and wanting for more. after a few months, though, he’s still given you no indication on whether this is a casual thing or something more.

you’re too afraid to ask at this point, always losing your nerve when he sweet talks you late at night. you swallow back your questions, but they pile up eventually, until you can’t take it anymore. after that stunt he pulled in that pub, he drunkenly tells yasopp to make up a shirt for you that says “angry when wet” on the front. your face burns, both in anger and in embarrassment when you receive the gift, and shanks laughs loudly when you throw the shirt at his face. he confesses that he forgot he even asked for yasopp to do that, which only makes him laugh harder.

in a fit of fury, you tell shanks that you refuse to have sex with him and that he has to keep his hands to himself. for a month, at least. he figures you’re all talk and only agrees to it because you’re so determined and cute when you’re angry like that. when the others find out about the ban, they ridicule their captain mercilessly. he tries to act unaffected, but something about the way you insist on seeing this ban through rubs him the wrong way.

it’s been twenty-two — no, twenty-three — days, and you’re barely keeping it together. shanks thinks it’s hilarious that you believe he’ll cave before you do; and you’re determined to make him suffer. now granted, you are to blame for the predicament you found yourself in just a month prior — even now, you still suffer from that embarrassment — when shanks fucked you in the back of that dingy pub.

they’ve all taken to calling you ladybug — bug, for short; something shanks thought up in the moment, spurned by yasopp’s laughter at the matter. and despite fighting against it initially, the nickname grows on you. shanks appears every bit as unaffected as he always does, still flirting with you whenever he can, but respecting your wishes all the same. regardless of that, he still finds ways to get under your skin. it’s your hope that holding out will make shanks realize that he wants you in a deeper way than just physical intimacy.

you should just let him go and move on, but you can’t. he always pulls you back, always finds a way to make you smile — the warmth from his presence is enough to burn you alive most days — and you find yourself wrapped up in him without realizing. incidentally, shanks also can’t let you go, and never intends to anyway. he’s a selfish creature by nature, not cognizant enough to recognize his own role in that.

on a sleepy morning, you take your time and carefully bake pastries for the crew. last night you promised them something tasty and sweet — your specialty, really — and they’ve given you room to work without interruption. as a chef for the red-hair pirates, you take pride in your work; in feeding the crew, in ensuring that they eat well-balanced meals that give them strength and energy. shanks has always been in awe of your talent — your hands are delicate and exact, skilled laborers that make brilliant works of art whenever you’re in the kitchen.

you’re humming a nameless tune to yourself, cutting up strawberries neatly, as another person silently invades your small sanctuary. while you wash your hands in the sink, shanks approaches you and a sudden awareness makes you freeze. his body barely touches yours, but he reaches over you to crab a cup out of the cabinet above your head. given the difference in your height, it always seems like he’s crowding you without trying. although in this instance, he’s intentionally doing so.

a groan rolls out of your mouth, frustration eating away at the remainder of your patience. you’ve been giving him short answers lately, barely looking at him — although, that isn’t exactly true; you’ve stolen more glances than you can count over the past month — so whenever he can, he finds ways to tease you mercilessly.

“oops,” his hand lowers so he can rinse out the cup, “didn’t mean to interrupt you, doll.”

teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you count to ten, breathe out of your nose and smile tightly. “uh huh,” his body is still much too close for your liking, “just make it fast.”

a sly grin, one that you can’t see, drifts onto his lips. “you know i can never turn down a quick fuck.”

you slap his hand, make him drop the cup into the sink, and spin around to face him. your face burns painfully, the flush a permanent fixture now that he’s moved on from light teasing, to full out being insufferable around you. “shanks, enough.” you shove his chest, much to his amusement, his eyes gleaming with mischief, but you can’t exactly look at him properly, can you? and when you manage to get over a bit of your embarrassment, manage to look up at him through your thick, dark lashes, you struck by his stupidly handsome face. despite his rugged exterior, you know there’s a gentleness that periodically comes out when the two of you are together.

an unexpected ache plagues your chest and you ignore it; but you miss touching his scars, miss kissing him and being kissed by him. he already smells like smoke and bourbon, a scent that you’ve come to covet over the past few weeks.

belatedly, shanks realizes that he miscalculated; your beauty still takes his breath away, especially when you’re this close to him. his eyes drift along your soft, round features, linger on your plump lips — where he’s suddenly overcome with the desire to trace your cupid’s bow with his fingers — and stare a little too hard at your neck that’s been blemish free for a while. a shame, really, as he likes when your neck shows proof of his affection for you. if he’s not careful, he’ll get sucked back into your orbit; as always, your brown eyes — intense, unyielding, a fusion of dulce de leche and tree bark — keep him rooted in place. your dark, curly hair continues to remind him of a storm that he desperately wants to navigate alone.

caught in a daze, he almost forgets that you’re mad at him, until you roll your eyes and push past him. he watches you languidly, completely smitten with you all over again, eyes transfixed on your retreating form — round ass and thick, curvy hips captivating him entirely.

you stomp away and leave the pastries to their own devices, reeling over the fact that shanks had the audacity to say that to you. but as you keep walking, the brisk morning air whipping around you, you realize you’re not upset because he said it. you’re upset because he didn’t actually try to fuck you in the kitchen.

a shame, you know, but you can’t help the thought.

it’s becoming more and more apparent now that you might be the only one suffering from this ban. you decide you need a better plan, one that is strong enough to withstand shanks’ careless attitude, one that might just push him to the edge.

a childish impulse strikes you, and you opt to give him the silent treatment, which only further amuses him. he watches you lazily, grinning each time you turn your nose up and stomp past him. you make it so easy he doesn’t even have to try riling you up. you ignoring him isn’t much of a big deal — so he tells himself — but when he sees just how friendly the crew is with you, something sinister builds inside the pit of his abdomen and works its way up to his chest. when you head back to finish working in the kitchen, he tells his crew that he’s implementing a new rule.

“no one,” he says, after gathering everyone else, surveying his crew mates critically, eyes particularly landing on yasopp and benn beckman, “touches ladybug. understood?”

they all agree, although beckman, lucky roux, and yasopp pull him aside to ask what this new rule is all about. shanks being shanks, playfully waves them off and starts drinking instead. beckman exchanges wary glances with the others, but they don’t push the issue. every time you try to get closer to someone — whether it’s a crew mate, or an overly friendly resident of a sea faring town — he finds a way to sabotage, laughing as you eye him angrily, hands balled into small fists, which only makes him laugh more.

THREE’S X A X CROWD

part of your duties is to accompany the crew as they go into town to scope out any local fruits and vegetables that you want to try. you like talking with the townspeople, like getting their insight on their regional dishes. you just live for the thrill of creating new, exciting meals and want your crew mates to feel the love that you pour into everything you make for them.

on a particular island, the ship is docked far enough away to not attract too much attention. there aren’t any major navy bases nearby, but one can’t be too careful in the new world, can they? there’s a festival in town, one that they keep advertising for. you catch wind and want to go, but shanks decrees that only a portion of the crew is allowed to disembark, while the others stand by on the ship. too many pirates traversing through the island will set off alarms; thankfully, the island is partial to the patronage of pirates, so they aren’t too upset that shanks’ crew has docked there.

somehow, you’re part of the group designated to stay on the ship, much to your annoyance. you try to plead with beckman, even go as far as pouting your lips, but he doesn’t budge. “captain’s orders,” which seems to be the norm these days. and when he sees the way your shoulders drop, he says, a little quietly, “sorry bug.” you know they’re just going to drink and act foolish on land, so you wait and take your time dressing up. you have an actual reason for wanting to go into town; you need ingredients and don’t trust the others to shop properly for you, so you take matters into your own hands.

no one dares to stop you as you make your way off the ship; you tell the others you’ll be right back, and of course they believe you — why would you lie to them?

and you’re not lying, per se, you do want to get ingredients — although that isn’t your primary focus at the moment.

the festival is loud and seemingly merry with alcohol and food everywhere. thankfully the music makes the shitty alcohol taste better. shanks sits at a large table with the others, drinking, smoking, laughing as various people fawn over him and feed him cut up pieces of fruit. flirtatious by nature, he doesn’t even blink when they allow their delicate fingers to linger on his lips, or when they whisper things in his ear, or when they take turns to perch themselves on his lap.

for some reason, despite knowing that he should, he isn’t exactly stopping their advances.

guilt eats away at his crew mates at the sight of shanks on his usual path of self-destruction; yasopp tries to get him to see reason, beckman too, but he waves them off, saying he can do as he pleases. which only tells him that he’s still annoyed about you not talking to him properly these days. and, despite him not openly saying it, he’s suffering too.

you have fun watching the fireworks for a while, mesmerized by the loud explosions of color decorating the sky; before long, you find yourself in the middle of all the festivities, humming to yourself as you scope out the stalls. you get swept up into a small crowd of people and get turned around when you slip away. as you try to catch your bearings, you hear a familiar laugh and, on instinct, follow the sound of his voice.

while standing off to the side, you watch shanks and the others, heart beating far too loud for comfort. your hands ball into fists all over again, and you sink your nails into your palms when another woman drapes herself over shanks, giddy and tipsy, blushing every time he smiles her way. you know he’s just doing this because he’s pissed off at you, and rather than get sad, you decide to head to the pub and drink.

three drinks later, you saunter back out into the night and join the festival. you enjoy the way the music thrums underneath your skin, the beat thumping in your veins; a cool breeze travels nearby, making you feel light-headed. you forgot how freeing it is to be on your own — without a group of people to worry about, and a selfish captain who tramples over your heart and feelings repeatedly with his blasé attitude. maybe it would be better to just leave? but, the more you think about it, the more your head hurts, so you decide you’d rather enjoy yourself for a bit before heading back to the ship.

the alcohol makes you bolder than usual, and you’re all smiles with flushed cheeks when the vice-captain runs into you on his way to get more food. an incredibly foolish, petty idea crawls into your mind — it barely sits long enough before you act impulsively again.

“what are you doing here, bug?”

you simply shrug, as if you’ve embarked on an innocent expedition and didn’t expect to see him. beckman doesn’t buy the act one bit and pulls you into a nearby alley to talk with you privately. sighing loudly, he fixes you with a steely glare. “you’re suppose to be on the ship,” he says carefully, “d’you know how much trouble you’ll be in if shanks sees you here?” there’s no reason for him to tell you that, but you can’t fault him for trying to be nice. still, the idea of shanks thinking he can just dictate how you live your life, pushes you closer to the edge with your sanity barely intact.

and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “i am not a child,” you say angrily; your annoyance has reached the point of no return, so you let the irritation flow freely and allow it to fuel your pettiness. beckman pauses for a moment before chuckling darkly, shaking his head at your antics. from the determination on your face, and the way you don’t seem to want to budge on the issue, he can understand why shanks is so smitten with you — in fact, everyone on their crew understands — so he relents.

“fine, i’ll accompany you, then.”

you hadn’t expected him to offer, and you feel the tension leave your body slowly. maybe you were overreacting a bit, and maybe you just need to relax and enjoy the night like everyone else. you visit several stalls and shop around for a bit; you like the vice-captain’s company as he doesn’t say much, nor does he complain when you make him try various sweets to see which ones you should recreate. and while you might not intend to, you can’t help but flirt with him a little — touching his arm, laughing at his dry humor, standing much closer than necessary. beckman knows what you’re doing, but he doesn’t stop you; maybe shanks will get his act together if he thinks he has competition. you doubt he will, but it’s always worth a try, right?

DIAMOND X IN THE X ROUGH

after a while, the merriment feels stale; shanks’ laughter is hollow, forced, and unbecoming. and while on the surface it looks like he’s soaking up all the attention that’s being given to him, he’s not happy about it at all. a small frown works its way onto his lips as he tries to work out the cause of his unhappiness, completely ignoring his role in all of this. he’s not sure what’s missing — or, rather, he’s sure, but he just doesn’t want to say it out loud. that would make it real, and while he doesn’t want to make a habit out of it, shanks has been lying to himself for some time now. he knows that if he’d let you come with them, he’d be having much more fun — that thought alone makes him reconsider how he’s handled everything between you two.

the universe, it seems, has a cruel sense of humor. as his thoughts continue to berate him, he spots you walking with beckman. he narrows his eyes at you both but offers a smile — one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes — once you approach the table.

jaw clenched, shanks manages to greet you without fail. “hey there, lovebug.” there’s tension in his shoulders, and that amiable demeanor of his is shed, which makes the women near him a little reluctant as they squirm awkwardly in their seats. “thought i told you to stay on the ship,” he says lightly, as if this is the most casual conversation in the world. beckman sighs, knowing that shanks will most likely read into the situation incorrectly; but before he can explain himself, he sits back down in his seat and pours himself a drink.

“you don’t own me,” you say with a slight huff, glancing over at shanks from the corners of your eyes, “i’m allowed to go where i please.”

shanks almost laughs at that, but keeps it inside; he wants to tell you that you’re wrong, but he knows that this isn’t the right time or place for that sort of discussion. lucky roux offers to make some room for you, but you smile sweetly and announce that there’s no need. they all look at you, confused and a little intrigued, and before lucky roux insists again, you say, “i have a seat already.”

without warning, you gently perch your round ass on top of beckman’s lap, effectively silencing the group around you. it suddenly feels as if time has slowed down for shanks, who shifts in his chair as he watches you and beckman.

the vice-captain sighs again and playfully pinches your side, a move that does not go unnoticed by shanks, of course. you let out a small shriek, cheeks burning, and swat his hand before scooting up higher on his lap. the move alone nearly sends shanks and beckman into an early grave, for different reasons, obviously. meanwhile you’re smiling like a cat — mischievous and proud, as if you’ve cornered your prey and you’re ready to pounce.

you look so damn smug and shanks wants to fuck your mouth for all of that insolence.

beckman holds onto your hip as you cross your legs, revealing the deep slit in your skirt. your legs are on display, catching the eyes of everyone at the table and the random party goers passing by. shanks clenches his jaw so tightly, it’s a miracle he hasn’t cracked his teeth. he knows that you’re provoking him into acting out, and while he doesn’t want to feed into it, his jealousy knows no bounds right now. especially since he knows you’re not wearing any panties — it’s why you chose that particular skirt.

you really only wanted to tease shanks a little, so you’re on cloud-nine when you notice how bothered he is over your little act.

it takes an inordinate amount of strength, on shanks’ part, to not split beckman’s face in two for his complicit behavior. he’s being unfair, he knows that — but he doesn’t really care. yasopp and lucky roux try to diffuse the situation with lighthearted banter and jokes — they also tell their guests to leave, because knowing shanks this might not end well.

beckman leans forward, lips ghosting along the shell of your ear, making your body warmer than necessary. “settle down, bug, we don’t want to cause a scene, do we?” you shake your head at that and swallow back whatever complaints you want to say when you see the hardened look on shanks’ face. you’ve only ever seen him that serious when his anger reaches a certain point — so you know you’ve fucked up pretty badly. you have the decency to act ashamed as you slide off beckman’s lap and grab your bags. you should probably say something to shanks, but you don’t bother looking back at him and instead head back to the ship.

you’re absolutely furious right now and so is shanks.

beckman rubs the back of his neck before leaning forward. “i told you, captain,” he keeps his tone friendly, yet firm, “if you’re not careful, one of us will take bug away.” at that, shanks casts a sharp glance at the other crew members seated at the table — the intensity behind his gaze forces them to turn away and look at other things. shanks motions for one of them to slide the bottle of vodka his way, and beckman groans audibly.

“not again, shanks, let—”

as shanks isn’t in a negotiating mood, he cuts his first mate off quickly — maliciously, even — with venom sifting along his tongue, the layer thick enough he almost chokes on it. his voice is much too hoarse, but he spits out, “drink.”

it’s not a game that the red-hair pirates ever like to play with shanks, and he knows it; which is why he keeps insisting, and why his best friend keeps refusing. shanks’ anger reaches a tipping point; it transforms into a fire that steadily burns along the back of his neck, hot enough to make impulsive thoughts gather around him. the idea of extinguishing it never crosses his mind, although he knows that eventually he’ll need to face it head-on. and as he grips the bottle of alcohol tightly, a sharp moment of clarity hits him.

it’s by chance that he swallows it back, not wanting to make this even messier than it already is.

beckman shifts in his seat, a disapproving frown settling comfortably on his face. “it won’t be fair, i’m practically drunk already.”

“spare me the bullshit,” shanks says with a smile that serves as a small warning; he places a glass in front of beckman. “drink.” beckman pinches the space bridge of his nose and exhales a bit of his irritation. but when he picks up the glass, he recoils from the strong scent.

“this is practically rubbing alcohol.”

shanks only hums while shrugging lazily, before knocking back the drink; the burn revitalizes him, the pain reminds him that he’s alive. in a game of endurance, shanks always comes out on top. so it’s no wonder that beckman taps out after two shots.

“i value my liver, unlike you.”

this time, shanks’ laughter is genuine; he hops out of his chair and claps a hand on beckman’s back. “you’re forgiven,” he says when he leans down. as an afterthought, he adds, “this time.”

you’ve done a good job derailing his night — not that he can really blame you, he was being absolutely shameless in the worse way — so he’s decided he’s had enough. somehow, he’s rationalized that you’re the only childish and ridiculous person in this situation because he intends on stamping that attitude out.

SUN X STARS X MOON

you peruse shanks’ room while sipping from the bottle of rum you found. although you count tonight as a small victory against shanks, you didn’t think he’d get that mad. was all the teasing worth it, in the end? you leave the rum on the nightstand before climbing onto his bed and enjoy the softness of the mattress. maybe you overreacted, or maybe it’s all his fault. the guilt sits with you, until shanks enters his room.

“the hell are you doing back so soon?”

it’s not a proper greeting in the least, but you’re not exactly ready to deal with him just yet. but, since he’s already here, you might as well have it out. shanks closes the door and leans against it, partially obscured in the shadows as the moon bathes you in its light through the window.

“in case you’ve forgotten, this is my room and that’s my bed that you’re lounging comfortably on.”

he’s got you there. you roll your eyes in response, which draws out a chuckle from him once he pushes away from the door and goes to sit near you on the bed.

your emotions swell inside of you and become too heavy for you to keep hidden. “fine, whatever, i’ll leave.” you hop off the bed but then turn around. “you’re an asshole, you know that? you string me along for months and then anytime anyone else wants to talk to me you suddenly intervene.” the words tumble out of your mouth fluidly, you’re surprised your tongue could keep up. blinking back tears — because you refuse let him see you this vulnerable. “you piss me off so much, i… can’t do this anymore.”

it’s the first time that you’ve properly articulated how you’ve felt about this whole stupid situation. you feel a bit lighter but then sense of dread overcomes you, gnaws at your stomach — twisting and creating knots that make you want to run away forever. shanks takes a moment and mulls over your words, but his long silence is all the confirmation you need. you’re halfway to the door when he calls out to you.

“wait, come here.”

against your better judgment, you turn around and head back to his side. he sits on the edge of the bed, pulls you in between his legs, and warms an arm around you. “i hear you, bug, i really do.”

this is the first time he’s ever willingly said anything to make him vulnerable like that, so you relent, soften in his hold, allow your shattered heart to repair itself piece by piece. you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him softly. he’s normally much hastier with you — being a pirate captain, he barely has time to himself, so whenever he does get a moment to touch you, he’s always in a rush.

but tonight — the moon full and pink, hanging heavy in the sky, stars shimmering brilliantly around it — he opts to slow down. shanks takes his time memorizing the shape of your lips, tongue gently caressing yours as you sigh against his lips. he kisses you like he has all the time in the world, like he’s afraid you’ll leave him if he doesn’t. you’re certainly in no hurry to finish anytime soon. by the time you’re done kissing, you’re a little breathless and can barely hold it together. shanks, unsurprisingly, is in a similar predicament, as his cock hasn’t given him a day of peace since your ban started.

but he decides to let go and mumbles, “thirty days is a long fucking time,” and you laugh, surprised at his words.

you climb onto the bed with him, laughing as he drops playful kisses along your neck, and straddle him once he lies down on his back. you rub your ass against his stiff length, forcing him to groan audibly. he’s always more vocal when he’s tipsy, and the rum has you feeling bolder as the minutes pass by. before you can do it again, shanks slaps your ass hard and you let out an involuntary shriek.

he laughs at you, laughs at the way you’re suddenly acting demure, as if you weren’t the one who started this. “i thought you didn’t want anyone to hear you?” he gives you a knowing look and a sly smile crawls onto his face. heat travels along your skin, making your cheeks burn in the worst way; you place a hand over his mouth on impulse.

“shut up, what is wrong with you?”

you hate the way you’re suddenly embarrassed about all of this. shanks, however, takes it all in stride, laughing behind your hand and mumbling something unintelligible against your palm. he knows he needs to act quickly before she makes him cum in his pants without trying. so when you pull your hand back, he says, “come on, put your pretty pussy on my mouth.” you stare at him wide-eyed, but he doesn’t relent. you mumble something about possibly being too heavy, which makes him laugh at your ridiculous excuse.

“how many times do i need to show you?” his strength, he means.

before he can do anything too rash, you pull your skirt up and position yourself over his face, pussy already slick with your arousal. shanks runs his tongue along your folds, slipping it inside to give you a firm lick; he takes his time to eat you out, his pace tortuous but electrifying. you can barely keep quiet and moan louder than you mean to as you shamelessly ride his face. holding onto the headboard, a whirlwind whips about inside of your lower abdomen as he slurps your pussy sloppily. he pulls you closer, and your arousal drips down his lips and onto his chin. your pussy is always so eager for him, so naturally he wants to treat her right.

you lose a bit of your sanity when his tongue slips inside your hole, thrusting in and out, your whimpers and moans circling around him — the best sort of lullaby he could ask for. he flicks his tongue against your clit and you buck your hips, feverishly grinding your pussy on his tongue. he likes it when you let go like this — when you’re uncaring and free. you place so many barriers in front of your own happiness, so he’s determined to knock them all down while he can. you know it’s reckless to give in to your inhibitions like this, to fly this closely to this personified version of the sun. although, you do feel a surge of power, seeing him underneath you like that, in between your thick thighs.

if shanks is apollo, then you are a nymph with ties to the moon and the sea.

it’s when shanks swirls his tongue around your clit, mercilessly stroking it, sending tiny jolts through your thighs, making you tremble above him. the orgasm is transformative — you have tears in your eyes as you whimper pathetically, your pussy puffy and sensitive; but he doesn’t care. he licks your arousal off his lips, thinking you look divine and goddess-like in the interim following your orgasm.

time slows for you both, and maybe you’re imaging it, but your heartbeat matches his once you climb off of him. of course, as usual, shanks is smug and proud of himself, but when you start taking off your clothes and tossing them onto the floor, he follows suit. pre-cum drips slowly from the tip of his cock, and when you rub your wet pussy up and down his length, you let out a breathy moan. shanks watches you with lowered eyes, inhaling sharply once you sink down onto his cock.

your pussy swallows his girth with a slow descent, and he’s losing whatever sliver of control he thinks he has over himself when it comes to you. when his cock hits a particular spot, you shudder and moan his name; he could cum from that alone, he realizes, and it shocks the hell out of him. in retaliation, shanks thrusts into you once, then twice, as you claw at his chest and cry out for more. your pace quickens as you bounce on his cock, thighs trembling as you try to keep strong; the orgasm weakened you, but rather than give in, you keep going, rolling your hips against him, hypnotizing him without completely meaning to. he won’t last much longer at this rate, which is completely your fault, he reasons.

you ride him as long as you can, before frowning and slowing down. shanks looks at you slyly, unable to stop teasing you. “need some help?”

it’s your pride that doesn’t want you to ask for help, but you know that if you don’t, shanks will edge you until you’re on your knees in tears. “please.” if he wasn’t already teetering on the edge, your desperation would make him tease you more. he rolls so that he’s on top of you and leans forward to place kisses along your jaw and neck, loving how smooth and soft your skin is. because he’s obnoxious, he sucks and bites, leaving behind bruising marks on your neck and chest. he’s burning you alive, but you want more.

you drape your leg over his shoulder, and he kisses the inside of your thigh before flicking his tongue against your skin, enjoying the way you squirm underneath him, your heart beating much too fast in your chest, making you think seemingly impossible things. shanks slips his cock back inside of you, burying it completely, letting out a shaky breath at the way your plush walls suffocate him. the angle makes you buck your hips off the bed; he laughs darkly at your enthusiasm, but doesn’t move. the frustration alone could kill you; you want him to fuck you hard enough to shake your doubts, to combat all the warmth that keeps sliding through the cracks around your heart.

he moves his hips at his own leisure, giving you broad, powerful strokes — hard enough, that his balls slap against you, pussy squelching as he powers into you repeatedly. you should be embarrassed from the sounds alone — your pussy is wet enough for him to drown, but thankfully he’s got enough stamina to handle it.

each time his cock sinks deeper into your pussy, he feels reborn; like the sea — tumultuous, dizzying, captivating, and greedy — you suck him back in each time he tries pulling out. eventually, you wrap your arms around your thighs and he feels like you’re squeezing the remnants of his soul out of him. shanks rocks his hips against yours, rough and determined, sweat gliding along his skin. when he moans your name, your heart expands faster than you thought it would. shanks keeps his hips closer to yours, giving you short, quick thrusts, fucking you to remind you that he has no intention of letting you go. his breath is warm against your skin and you kiss him again, giving him ardent, sloppy tongue kisses that do nothing to calm you down. he swallows your moans as another orgasm grips you by the throat and nearly claims your life.

your pussy clenches around him tightly, so he takes that as a challenge and fucks you harder, giving you brutal, punishing strokes — frenetic and dizzying, making your mind spin too fast for you to keep up.

“shanks, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

whatever else you say after that is lost on you, incoherent babbling that makes him laugh at you again. it’s out of adoration, you know it is, even if he won’t openly say it. shanks e works you through your orgasm, hips jerking against yours, before his own pushes him completely over the edge. after giving you a few lazy thrusts, he cums inside of you, messy but satisfying. shanks slows down and tries to catch his breath, as you push your curls away from your face. he doesn’t leave your side after he pulls out, instead he pulls you close to him, his hand rubbing up and down your back, his subsequent kisses intense and possessive.

you don’t exactly know what will happen tomorrow, but for now you’ll cherish this moment and commit it to memory. with everything that’s happened, he doesn’t want to see you in the arms of another, and you don’t want to keep pushing him away. you’re sure something’s shifted fundamentally between you two, especially when you lay on top of him and listen to the steady, powerful beats of his heart. you suppose you can give him a little leeway, but you won’t tell him that right away. there’s a warmth that cloaks itself all over you, keeping you moored to him for the rest of the night; he enjoys the silence that accompanies your presence, and decides that he’s going to keep you for as long as he can.

#it's finally done jfc #fic request #one piece imagine #one piece angst #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #shanks angst #shanks smut #shanks x reader #shanks x y/n #*washes hands*#‘i can change him’ 🥴#no tf i can’t!!! am i kidding?!#also… beckman… ur day will come don’t worry

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divorcedwife · 6 months

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hi! i love your art SO MUCH and i check your blog like the morning newspaper to see if you’ve uploaded anything new (you always have and I LOVE IT!!! thank u for keeping us fed) anyway i was just wondering if you had any advice for actively creating so much? i used to draw all of the time but i find it so hard lately to make even one tiny thing, especially something that i like…..but when i look at your work and how much you create i am always so inspired! i hope this makes sense eeeek anyway have an amazing day and thank you for sharing your incredible work with us!!!!

thank youuuu thank you so much!!! ;___;

i totally get that, and it used to be my number one problem, creating at all. i remember being in art school surrounded by people who were always drawing, and me, i just couldn't, and i couldn't explain what made drawing so difficult for me

and i think what blocked me is that i was paralyzed by indecision - too afraid to waste my time making "bad art" to do anything, or the wrong type of art, art that' won't look good in my portfolio, art that's too silly and specific to me. so in the end i made nothing

what's really been helping me lately is that i have dramatically lowered my standards for myself. i sketch every idea i have, even if it's just putting down three lines, even if it's self-indulgent and silly. anything that excites me and makes me want to draw, i follow that excitement as far as it will take me. maybe that's a fully completely illustration, maybe just a sketch, or maybe somewhere in between

if the goal is to have fun and not making a masterpiece, i feel less pressure and i end up drawing more. and drawing more leads to drawing better! if you make 10 sketches and really pressure yourself to make them great, that's torture. if you draw 1000 sketches, some of them will turn out amazing

when i have ideas i sketch, and when im low on ideas, i have all these already made sketches to revisit, and as i draw i find new ideas! this avoids me having to face a blank canvas and desperately scratch around my brain for ideas. creativity does not like being scrutinized like a bug, it vanishes under pressure in my experience

i find that creativity can be a negative or a virtuous circle. not drawing leads to less ideas and more pressure to deliver something good which will keep someone not drawing. but if you find something that gets you excited enough to draw again and keep going, then you will get more ideas along the way. follow them! draw the same character 1000 times in a row. i tend to focus on mostly one of my characters at a time - i draw her, i think about her, so i want to draw her more, and so on. that's fine

if there's any part of drawing that you like more than others, maybe try leaning on that more, and remember you don't need to do anything you don't want to do. if doing lineart sucks, don't do that. if coloring makes you want to stop drawing, use black and white

but also, where i've also been very lucky is having people like you around! :-) having people respond and connect to my art with such enthusiasm and such kindness, it's incredible

genuinely i owe more to people online who like my art than anyone does to me for making it. i would probably still make art if i had no one to show it too (which is what i did in middle school lol), but it's very lonely. it's harder to create something if it feels like no one will care. and i've been there, i spent years on deviantart having zero followers and attention. so i think every artist needs supportive friends they can show their art to for encouragement

some people feel shame that they don't do art just for its sake, that they want followers and likes and all, so i just want to say it's normal to want that :-) like i do make my art for an audience, if it was just for myself, i'd look at it in my head

i hope any of that helps!! in conclusion, i think any kind of art is worth making. and it should be fun. i also hope this makes any sense - i have to go to work soon but i wanted to reply before that. and thank you again for your kind words!!!!! <33333333

#anon #answered

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enid-rhees · 1 year

Text

Getting High with Enid Rhee HCS (Fem!Reader)

warnings: weed, smoking, getting high.

A/N: this is kinda self indulgent tbh . getting high is something i do a lot and tbh i just thought this would be a little funny. hope u all enjoy!

okay ik what some of you are thinking

is it even possible to find weed in the middle of a zombie apocalypse

that,,, does not matter in this case

but getting high with Enid is truly an experience

but brief backstory

you and Enid snuck out of Hilltop to explore and you ended up in a neighborhood. in one of the houses you walked into, a bedroom drawer ended having an entire stash of joints hidden away

you took literally all of it

when you got back home, you asked if she wanted to try and it she said yes

so you stole Daryl’s lighter and lit a joint for the two of you

you told her how to do it carefully so she wouldn’t cough so much

her first time was a lil rough but like whose first time getting high isn’t rough yknow

but anyways

i see Enid as the type to either be really quiet and spaced out while high

or just be a complete MENACE

a bit of both actually

she gets really giggly and it’s the cutest thing you have ever seen

like ANYTHING u say will make her laugh

she also gets extremely touchy

all she wants to do is sit on your lap, play with your fingers and kiss u

oh my god

do not get me started on how HORNY she can get from getting high

like that shit ignites something in her

you’ll just be chilling in your bedroom after smoking and suddenly she’ll start slowly kissing your neck and running her hands down your body

it will always end in sex

and honestly sometimes the high can make everything feel 1000% percent better like u genuinely feel like you are floating

you guys have a secret stash of snacks that you hide under your bed for when you guys start craving anything and everything

and you guys take the absolute best naps after smoking

like your limbs are tangled together beyond belief but you guys are just so comfortable that you don’t care at all

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

#enid rhee #enid twd #enid rhee x reader #enid rhee x fem!reader #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #twd

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laurfilijames · 1 year

Text

In The Dark Of Night

Pairing: Will Johnson x female reader

Words: 1,480

Warnings: Rated E, 18 +. Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: A sleepy Will wakes you up in the middle of the night, needing more than just a good night's sleep as he initially thought.

A/N: Yes this is sleep intimacy and smuff and yes this is 1000% self indulgent and I'm not sorry. Will is so soft and needy here and it's everything I need right now.

Prompts used for @deanobingo were Will Johnson, Slow and Soft and Sensory Deprivation.

---

Will had turned in before you tonight, feeling the weight of his long week catching up to him after going non-stop for days. You could see it in his face long before he mentioned wanting to go to bed early and that a lie-in in the morning was the top of his priorities; his eyes were ringed with dark halos and the skin on his cheeks that weren't hidden by his beard appeared bleak.

The old clock that hung on the wall read nearly half-past ten, and Will's snores had been your soundtrack for hours now while you quietly tidied up the kitchen and sat down to read with a glass of wine before an incessant streak of yawning plagued you.

You stood from your cozy spot on the chair beside the stove, leaving the wool blanket that had Will's scent clinging to it along with your book and empty glass behind for the night, using the lifter to open the lid as carefully as possible to prevent making any noise as you dropped more wood into the dying fire.

It was late-spring and the temperature outside was steadily rising, meaning neither of you would need to wake up in the night to stoke it in fear of freezing, not that you ever did anyway with how much heat Will radiated.

After washing your face and brushing your teeth, you treaded lightly over to the bed and undressed, slipping beneath the covers where that intense warmth greeted you just as you thought it would. Scooching your naked form as close to his as you could without disturbing him, you tucked your arms up beneath your chin and instantly felt yourself relax, a smile creeping out on your face when Will sighed and dropped his arm from above his head to drape over you, turning his body toward you automatically. His hand splayed open on your back and pulled you closer so your face was nestled in his warm, furry chest, allowing you to breathe in all the effortless comfort he provided to lull you quickly into sleep.

The cabin was cloaked in complete darkness when you woke up, unsure what had roused you, the fire having extinguished what must have been hours ago. The moon was covered in thick clouds tonight, eliminating any sort of natural light from shining in through the curtains, making a sense of euphoria wash over you at the thought of being safe in bed with your lover holding you tight.

Will must have sensed you having woken, shifting so he was pressed even closer to you than before, his large hand roaming up your stomach to your chest where it emitted a lazy, sensual heat everywhere he touched. He sighed into your hair, adjusting his body more until he was rubbing his groin gently on your backside, his mouth moving against the skin on your shoulder as he mumbled quiet whines in his sleep.

You were nearly fully awake now, the protrusion poking your bum unmistakable and undeniable, having roused your desire now more than any other part of you.

His belly pressed against your back as he exhaled deeply again, his hand still groping at your wanting flesh leisurely, and he hummed as he moved his face back and forth as if to shake his fatigue away.

"I thought you were tired," you whispered, smiling into the darkness.

"Hmm, I was…" he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

His hips were now rolling against yours languidly, his exceptionally hard cock demanding attention as he slipped it between your cheeks and began sliding it in and out, his head probing your entrance until a wetness greeted him.

Will's hand continued to paw at you, massaging your breasts and hips until your quiet moans mixed with his and the lazy kisses he placed on your shoulder and neck had you gyrating back against him.

You turned your head to blindly find his lips with yours, meeting them sluggishly as the drowsiness of sleep still clung to him. The heat from his skin created the most intoxicating scent as you breathed him in, making a needy whine escape your mouth as his leaking head pushed through your folds slightly and back out again.

A guttural wail reverberated through you as he hovered beside your ear, his breath shaky on the sensitive skin on your neck, his ability to control filling you to the hilt fading faster than normal.

He slipped inside again, still only the tip, making you push back to take more of him before he pulled out again and his hand tore at your flesh in a clawing grip.

The lack of sight had you more honed in to his noises, making you increasingly more salacious for him, the soft sounds of pure want pouring from his lips unashamed and completely addicting.

"Mmm, baby, I need you," he cooed, his voice breaking ever so slightly to show just how desperate he was in his fatigue.

You twisted your body, laying flat on your back now, continuing to kiss his parted lips as you shared the same breath. Will crawled over you, the weight of his body pinning you deep into the mattress, his thick thigh wedging between yours to kick them apart with his knee as he settled against you.

Your hands trailed up and down his back, feeling his muscles ripple and flex as he adjusted to line up to you, and grabbing a handful of his plump ass in encouragement, Will slowly sank into you with a low groan.

He paused once he bottomed out, moving his arms so he leaned on his elbows for support, his hands carding through your hair to send shivers down your spine. His lips found yours, teasing them lightly until he felt the overwhelming need for more and claimed your mouth slowly with his tongue. Listlessly, he moved within you, tantalizingly slow in and out, each drag making that deliciously familiar pressure build deep in your core.

On any normal night Will would have picked up his pace by now, keen on sending you to your high right off the hop so he had the opportunity to do it again and again, but tonight he was set on taking his time. Each thrust was calculated, aiming at the sweet spot inside your cushiony walls that he could find without effort, rolling his hips just so in order to brush his bulbous head against it.

Your response wasn't to move faster against him to try to capture the climax that felt so close to your reach, but to indulge in the slow, careful tempo that made you feel delirious with pleasure.

You vocalized your plunge into ecstasy in turn with hushed cries and heady breaths, only allowing for your kisses to increase their rhythm along with your hands that cradled his torso lovingly, creating red patterns on his back with your nails.

Feeling your walls contract around him, your mewling increased an octave in his ear as he dipped his head into your neck, subtly demanding Will to follow suit and let go of the knot of tension that had built itself up promptly in his lingering drowsiness.

His long curls tickled your neck, adding to the plethora of intense sensations that assaulted your body all at once, feeling him empty inside your choking walls with a strangled growl as you met his hot spend with a rush of your own wetness.

Will created a path up your neck to find your lips again, his kiss soft but at the same time rough as he fought to steady his breathing, his belly pushing down on yours with every ragged exhale. Breaking your kiss, he laid his head on your chest, allowing you to play with his waves with your fingers, remaining nestled inside you with his full weight being supported by your body.

Finding your other hand in the dark, he entwined your fingers, giving your palm a gentle squeeze, listening to your constant heartbeat until he let out a long sigh and closed his eyes.

Without needing to see, you could vividly picture the calm expression on his face; the lines around his eyes and on his forehead slackened with relaxation, his lips slightly open as his growing snores passed them, the sheen of sweat layered on his skin making him glow even in the absence of light.

As you began to succumb to the grip of sleep again, you felt Will slip from you, his arms holding onto you tighter in an inadvertent response to his reluctant release from your haven.

You were thankful for the darkness shrouding the cabin, happy to know you still had hours ahead of you to indulge in sightless intimacy; the heaviness of Will's sleeping form sinking yours further into the sheets to add to the protection from the inevitable light.

---

Taglist:

Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea @enchantzz @blairsanne @legolaslovely @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @sketch-and-write-lover @jotink78 @medusas-hairband @feeweeeee @missihart23 @fortheloveofdurin @i-am-still-bb @roobear68 @ichoosechoasandbeingqueer @legolasbadass @spngingerbread21

#deanobingo2023 #deano bingo #will johnson #will johnson smut #will johnson fluff #will johnson x female reader #wanted #wanted (2016)#dean o'gorman

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averysmolbear · 1 year

Text

CW: this is 1000% self indulgent and is a selfship post so feel free to skip over it if it's not your cup of tea or you just don't care about my selfship. Also it's about Mother's Day so if that's a sensitive subject for you, it's okay to pass this one by for that reason as well. And it mentions pregnancy but it's really sort of brief little mentions. (In fact I really don't expect most people to read my selfship stuff anyway but here we are.)

Reiner was not going to let Mother’s Day pass (although I was heavily pregnant at the time) without us celebrating for the first time. He had jokingly bought me bouquets before this saying that I was a mom to our cat, the stray that had followed Reiner home one too many times, but this time was different. This year I was on the precipice of being a mother to our first child and there was no way Reiner Braun was going to let the holiday pass without making a fuss over me.

It didn’t matter how much I protested about it. We were going to celebrate. The day started with a delivery from the local florist. The bouquet wasn’t as large as some of the arrangements Reiner had brought home for me but it was still beautiful and he pointed out that he picked out every type of flower that went into it. He had read some things online about the language of flowers so he picked each flower out for its meaning. And then he told me that wasn’t going to be the last gift I received that day.

We took his mother out for brunch a bit later that day and gave her a nice little gift. Much to Reiner’s chagrin, Karina talked incessantly about when she was pregnant with Reiner but she did throw in the occasional jab towards me, something her son didn’t miss. More than once he had to remind his mother that she was going a little too far and on the ride home, he apologized more times than I could count but he promised that the rest of the day was going to be special. I didn’t mind because I knew his mother didn’t hate me. She just thought that Reiner and I were moving “too fast” and she blamed me for it. (It was something she would get over at least.)

That afternoon he and I had a video chat with my mom, which went really well. She offered some advice about the coming baby and embarrassed me by showing off some of my baby pictures and telling Reiner silly stories about me when I was younger. Reiner, of course, loved it and would ask him to tell her more while I sat there blushing and trying to hide my face as she told each story. My mom even happily showed off the flowers that Reiner had made sure to send her (which I didn’t know about), thanking us both.

When he said there was more, I scolded him but honestly I didn’t hate the idea of being spoiled a little bit. And that was exactly what Reiner did. The next gift he gave me was a charm bracelet that had only a couple of charms on it at that point, telling me that he would get me a new charm every Mother’s Day to add to it. He doted on me pretty consistently as well, rubbing my feet and letting me pick whatever shows or movies I wanted to watch. He wouldn’t let me lift a finger if he could help it, gathering snacks for us and then announcing that he would be making dinner. After we ate, he made sure to set up the bathroom so I could soak in the tub in candlelight while he cleaned up the kitchen.

After the bath, he offered to rub my back which I accepted almost immediately. Before we made it to the bedroom, however, Reiner made sure we stopped at the nursery so he could show me that it was put together exactly how we had talked about doing it, complete with a comfortable looking rocking chair that I hadn’t known he had gotten (my last Mother’s Day gift for the day). We then curled up in bed and he rubbed my lower back, making sure I was comfortable. Even though it was still fairly early, we stayed in bed the rest of the day.

We spent most of the time talking, with both of us admitting some of our fears about becoming parents but both of us reassuring the other that we could more than handle the coming challenges. He also didn’t keep his hands to himself the whole time although most of the touches were fairly innocent (Reiner was still convinced he could hurt me or the baby if we did “too much” in his words) but we did spend more time making out than we had in awhile. Eventually I fell asleep in his arms while he pressed soft kisses along my shoulder, keeping my back firmly pressed against his chest while he whispered promises of my next Mother’s Day being even better than this one.

#tessie selfships #tessie x reiner #reiner selfship imagines #reiner braun selfship imagines #reiner braun selfship #cw pregnancy #cw mother's day

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kiss4kazu · 4 years

Note

ooh! can i request something spicy?? maybe headcanons of claude, dimitri, and felix’s kinks?

spicy hcs | dimitri, felix, claude

this is combo between just kink hcs and also how first times being freaky w these three go hahhahahahhahah screams. this is not safe for kiddos so proceed with caution folks

felix <3

whew, okay. sweats. um

so the first time u and felix do the do was definitely not planned. things tend to escalate a lot with felix when it comes to intimacy. pecks goodnight lead up to make out sessions and all of a sudden his hand is down your pants and you’re honestly not complaining.

felix is definitely more of a giver than a receiver, not because he liked giving, but because he liked being in control. he liked seeing you writhe beneath him and all that jazz.

he’d definitely deny you from reaching your high multiple times, partially to draw out the activity since you tend to come quite quickly beneath his touch but also because hearing you whine his name helplessly was a really big fucking turn on and he always swelled with pride knowing he was the only person who can turn you into a sobbing mess.

felix has 2 moods. his soft and pliant types of fucking, and his arrogant, i’m big bad felix fraldarius and my cock is 30inches long type of fucking. he knows hes hot, he knows he has a pretty dick, might as well utilize it.

he hates praise when it’s ingenuine, for things intangible that he hadn’t earned himself. when it’s people praising him for his title or the power of a fraldarius battalion.

but praise when it comes from you? when it’s you letting him know just how amazing he feels inside of you, how with every thrust of his hips your brain short-circuits and your eyes water with unspilled tears? when it’s you not being able to even form coherent words anymore because felix fraldarius is throbbing inside of you... yeah, that kind of praise. it does wonders for him and his dick.

he’s also into hair-pulling

and overstimulation

hes also rly rly easily jealous like if someone else was making eyes with you or perhaps you were giggling a little too loudly with some handsome noble he’d just yank you away and march u up the stairs to his dormitory before kissing you hard

he’s the type to make u beg and be rly possessive he’d just fuck you so ruthlessly hair stuck to his skin, panting “you’re mine. mine. say it” and u would just cry bc why tf he so sexy hello-

as mentioned in my kissing post, felix sucks the life out of you when he kisses you so it’s only logical that he fucks the life out of you too.

im kidding ofc!! not rly

although he’s on the giving end of things, it’s still completely self-indulgent, felix gets off just knowing he’s getting you off because he’s a sexy narcissist like that.

but on some days, he really really wanted you to know he cared a lot about you.

felix isn’t the best with words, but he was really good with his tongue, so things usually worked out okay. he’d kiss you, everywhere. every inch of you, leaving hickeys in even the most visible places because who fucking cares. you were his, he needed you to know that. he needed everyone to know that.

he can be sensitive sometimes too, make love, if you will.

he has to be rly emotional tho, so it’s probably after something eventful happens in his life. like when the kingdom takes back fhirdiad, or wins the war. or when he’s sleepy and tired and wakes up hard and is just too lazy to put on his big bad scary persona.

sleepy felix is submissive felix, aka my favorite felix. sleepy horny felix is all whiny and blushy and just wanted to come and he absolutely despised himself for it

you were well aware of how much he hated himself for being soft and needy, but that made teasing him all the more fun.

so yes, some nights felix would fuck you brainless and soak in the sound of your voice crying out his name helplessly. but on other nights, felix would lay down, his hair splayed against the pillow, your fingers twirling his locks and tugging gently as your other hand jerked him off, lips pressed against his as you breathed in his whines and grunts.

hearing him whine was a really rare sight, but it did slip out occasionally, when you squeezed the base of his member unexpectedly or when you took him deep into your throat and swallowed around him. felix really likes fucking your mouth.

yeah felix is an emotionally constipated sex god

claude !

whew lord.

ok so claude, my sweet, cheeky, little shit <3

the first time probs wasnt even intentional with him either he was just teasing you a little too much and things got a bit carried away but it’s a great time nonetheless

doing the do with claude is probably a rollercoaster ride, he would literally never shut up and would just say the most stupid things and you’d hate yourself for still being so desperate for his touch because somehow in between his terrible jokes and merciless teasing he whispered complete filth into your ears.

he’s a master of dirty talk, chuckling against the shell of your ear at the sound of you choking out a sob at his words, tugging at your earlobe just to spur you on even further.

“don’t tell me you’re clocking out already?” you’d just glare at him in frustration despite your flushed cheeks and he’d kiss you on the tip of your nose and laugh in amusement at your misery

he’ll literally do everything but fuck you, covering every inch of your skin in love bites, especially your chest. he’d literally eat you out or suck you off until you were dizzy but if you want him inside of you, he’d definitely make you beg.

if you ever tried to get smart with him… um, he’d uh .. p-punish you

not like in a pain kink type of way he’d just pull out right before you could nut and would laugh maniacally in your face afterwards because that’s what you get for being a smart ass ! denying u from coming is basically how he punishes u so its a pretty long night but claude’s really really good with his tongue so you’re guaranteed to come like 3 times at minimum anyways

he’d devour you, all smirks and with eyes filled with mirth and he wouldn’t give in until you were absolutely wrecked under him.

he’s very um… dominant, i would say

but not an aggressive dom, definitely a playful dom who enjoys edging and teasing a bit too much

he’s also pretty experimental, i can see claude as a bit of an exhibitionist also, he’d probably fuck you in the cathedral just for shits and giggles

but he is human and despite how much of a little shit claude is he’s just as wrecked as you he’s just much better at hiding it

he’d probs quit the teasing once he himself can’t handle it anymore

and wow uh thats when claude gets all sensual

when claude’s kind of in overdrive and completely uncoordinated just messily thrusting over and over again to finally get you both to that place thats when he becomes all romantic and lovey

would compliment you to no amounts end, call you all sorts of pet names like honey, sweetheart, baby, etc.

his messy curls would stick to his skin, his forehead pressed firmly against yours, verdant eyes blown wide maintaining eye contact with you just for that extra level of intimacy because watching you when you’re like this really drives him over the edge.

he’d pant against your lips, kiss you roughly and somehow find it in himself to even let out an amused laugh because he’s having sex and that’s kind of funny for some reason

claude’s pull-out game probably a1 but idk he’s possessive in less conventional ways so i feel like he’d get off to the thought of releasing inside you and watching him drip down your thighs bc yea

claude is also the king of aftercare let it be known

he’d have so much energy after sex for some reason like he’d just hop right up clean your bodies, fetch you tea if you wanted some and curl up with you resting on his chest, running his fingers over the skin of your arms tenderly and smiling softly to himself when exhaustion takes over you and you slip into a warm slumber against his chest.

i love him bye

dima

ok so dimi is a busy busy boy and even when he does have free time he’s never entirely there his mind is always kind of somewhere else u know

he’s always struggled w getting a proper night's rest and always overworks himself into hysteria

so, as his lovely s/o, you presume a nice session to destress will help loosen those knots in his muscles and all that chaos whirring around in his mind

you were thinking a nice trip to the sauna or something

but dimi had other ideas

he’d just look at you and his gaze would darken all of a sudden and with just a glance at him you already feel the wind being knocked out of you

it would be rly sudden, like dimitri’s just rly needy all of a sudden and he’s taking whatever you’ll give rly he has so much pent up stress and needs some form of release and he’s so so emotional and touchy and won’t stop kissing you with so much fervor and desperation

dimi is 1000% a lovemaker im sorry u cannot convince me otherwise. unless he is feral. if he is feral then understandable have a good day.

he’s all about pampering and kissing every inch of you and asks every five minutes is this okay? are you comfortable? does that hurt? are you sure? because he’s terrible with fragile things and if he ever hurt you he’d never forgive himself poor baby

part of you just wants to grab his face and say !!! im fine !!! you big idiot !! but you just pull him to your chest and nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe him in deeply, kissing his jaw gently before reassuring him i’m fine dimi, stop worrying

he’d calm down instantly and focus back on the task at hand, pleasuring the love of his life hehe

BODY WORSHIPPING non stop praises just kissing everywhere his lips come across you’d love it but hate it at the same time bc part of you just wants him in u already and the other half of u is just so so enamoured by him and feels so warm and loved and appreciated

he’s more of a giver than a receiver as well though for opposite reasons compared to felix, he worries about your comfort so much to the extent where it distracts him from his own pleasure, and it isn’t until he’s inside of you that he remembers and is like oh wow fuck and yea things dont usually last very long for him since he always neglects his own pleasure in favor of yours. he gets so focused on making u feel good because he loves you so much and he needs you to know that so yeah he doesn’t remember to even touch himself lmao

you’d probably come like twice before dimi even whips his schlong out

at the peak of his pleasure tho dimi gets kinda rough ngl. he’s a person whos very emotionally driven so when everything gets to be a bit too much he’s just slamming into you with so much force your skin stings, grip so tight on your hips there’s sure to be bruises in the morning but despite how rough he is his eyes are nothing but gentle and so so loving

probably says something like oh seiros when he’s about to come LMAOOO

dimi is also a king with aftercare but he’d probably knock out like a log afterwards and it’d be like the best sleep he’d get tbh all warm and satiated and just content

dimi sex god

#fe3h #claude x reader #fe3h fics #fe3h requests #fe3h imagines #claude von riegan #claude imagines #claude scenarios #fe3h scenarios #fire emblem three houses #dimitri x reader #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimitri imagines #dimitri scenarios #felix fraldarius x reader #felix fraldarius #felix fraldarius scenarios

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sashannarcy · 3 years

Note

hi op what are your thoughts on uhhhh *spins wheel* sasha's season 2b arc (hope that's not too broad a subject)

edit: putting this under a cut bc it got LONG but. enjoy (???)

okay I gotta start by saying I didn't expect the depth of it at ALL; I knew Sash was featured prominently in the ending episodes of s2 based off of what my friend informed me, but like. I was not expecting 4.5 episodes to be almost ENTIRELY centered on their character arc and design (the .5 being the first half of True Colors).

that being said, I think Sash's 2b arc is PHENOMENAL bc of the way the nuance in it is written so incredibly well. this character is about to perform the most antagonistic move that they've pulled in the whole series so far, which is the act of betraying both Anne and Marcy in order to support Grime and get them home safe, if they so choose to go home (as an aside, I think at this point Sash has probably decided that she likes it more in Amphibia than back home, and there's one line that I'll get to that seems to be VERYYYY indicative of that. and if this is the case, it makes sense to me why Sasha would want to help Grime at all and why they don't really seem quite eager to follow Anne and Marcy back home. but! important to note that they still give those two the choice to go back if they wish, because at the end of the day Sash loves them and wouldn't try to force them to stay). and yet we see!! this back and forth!! this FIGHT that's happening in their mind, the way there's a flash of guilt they express at the very end of The Third Temple directly after confirming to Grime that things are still going according to plan, their convo w Anne at the end of The Dinner, the entire plot arc of BotB, and ofc the Sashanne duel in True Colors. I want to make an analysis post for each of these episodes because they're so fucking PACKED w shit to analyze, but I'll try my best to touch on all points here.

obviously we first learn of Sasha's plans to betray Anne and Marcy in The Third Temple. but what's important is that throughout the entire episode, there's several points where Sash switches back and forth between manipulation and honesty. I can talk abt this w confidence just based off of the whole. *gestures vaguely at myself.* but Sasha's initial apology in this episode was sheer manipulation, I think we all know that. however, when Sasha has to do their final test in the temple, those few lines they exchange w Anne in the moments before they raise themself up off the floor and launch themself into battle... those were genuine. they know they've been a shitty friend, and they're willing to accept that. so you have this game, almost, where Sash keeps flipping between putting on a mask to ensure they can keep up their facade until Grime secures the city and genuinely acknowledging their behavior and knowing that what they are doing is not going to sit well w Anne and Marcy.

so with that, The Third Temple sets the premise for the rest of the episodes of the season as far as Sasha's character arc. The Dinner is such a good fucking episode to follow with, because it hammers in the fact that Sasha has not changed. what it ALSO hammers in is she is still acting in her own self-interest - to put it in her words, she wants to get the friendship back under control. they still lash out, they still have a short fuse, they're still heavily opinionated and rough around the edges and prickly because this is an environment where they feel threatened. they're finally reuniting with the two people that mean the absolute most to them, only to realize they've been left out of the narrative. also not for nothing, but their trauma in Reunion got joked about in this episode which led to them blowing up over it, and like. I'm giving that one a pass bc man. anyway. at the end of the episode they say they like who they are, but it's said with a frown, which I think is fucking GENIUS. because there's an actual meaning to this line - they don't ACTUALLY like who they are. we have plenty of evidence that they don't like themself. what they MEAN is that they don't want to change, because that would mean giving up a security that they need in order to keep themself together. AND THIS IS DEMONSTRATED CRYSTAL CLEAR IN BOTB. they literally PURPOSEFULLY detach themself from Anne and Marcy bc they know they want control but they ALSO know that their behavior is just going to hurt the other two, so instead of compromising, they just go hey I'm gonna do my thing and you guys can do yours. and we'll both get what we want. and if that's not evidence that this character is fucking GRAPPLING with how to grow and change as a person, idk what is

and then. sigh. we get to True Colors. ofc Sash goes through on their betrayal - they're loyal to a fucking T once you dig beneath the surface, and they wouldn't just not follow through for Grime. what is absolutely KEY here is the fact that they are still leaving room for their friends' best interests, as in they're not trapping them in Amphibia but rather explaining how they're gonna help Grime take over, implying they'll go back home once they're done, but if Anne and Marcy wanna go back now, that's cool. if she didn't give a fuck abt their wellbeing, she'd just keep them there w her. but she doesn't. and then Anne starts retaliating, and. well. we ALL know Sasha does NOT do well with criticism of any kind. so they just go okay I'll send you back now then (and this is STILL an action motivated by what they think is best for Anne). BUT THE LINE. OHHHH THE SUPER IMPORTANT LINE THAT MADE MY HEAD SNAP UP AND MADE ME PHYSICALLY GO "YIKES" OUT LOUD. is Sasha saying "say hi to your parents for me." it's like a goddamn full-on sucker punch packed into one sentence - seven words, and all of a sudden we know for sure this kid does not have a good home life. I could go into elaboration on Sasha and the way she views familial ties throughout the show, but I won't bc that's gonna take this already super long answer and make it even worse. regardless, Sasha has once again flipped the switch and is indulging in their worst behaviors, which is full on controlling and holding power to act on what THEY think is best in the moment. and the moment Anne snaps, the moment Anne yells about Sasha being a horrible person, literally EVERYTHING shifts and the reaction from Sasha is VISCERAL. and what I mean by that is. it's not just the look in their eyes at those words. it's not just the sudden and complete loss of meaning, of self, of motivation after they've lost Anne's support. it's not just the way they stare at their own reflection in a sword that represents the color of the person they're trying their hardest to protect. it's the way that for the rest of the goddamn episode, they spend it trying to do the one thing they fear the most: giving up control. I'm gonna elaborate on this whole aspect in a different ask bc I was asked abt it, but the way Sasha acts towards Anne after the fallout, especially at the beginning of the duel and during the confrontation w Andrias, is fucking monumental. they struggle so much with how to change their own behavior, yet the very moment they lose the support of the people they've been trying so hard to love and care for in their roundabout way, they can change the way they act. because who the fuck is Sasha Waybright without Anne Boonchuy and Marcy Wu? in her mind, no one. she doesn't have any idea of who she is outside of this, so ofc she can act differently when she's thrown out in the cold. after all, it doesn't take much to warp an identity that doesn't exist.

tldr; god. how do I sum this up. Sash's 2b arc is smth that's incredibly intricate and complex from the way they constantly flip between desperately needing control and feeling guilty that this is the way they need to live. and True Colors is able to finally demonstrate to us the final piece in how they operate - without their friends, they lose sense of who they are, and their personality comes undone. in 4.5 episodes the writers managed to give us 1000 aspects to their character that we hadn't gotten to explore, and we can see that Sasha was never meant to be the villain. so. final review is that's some good shit👍

#this is so so so so long holy shit anon I am sorry #but the s2 2b arc is like. oh my god it sure is smth #PLEASE GOD IT'S 2:56 AM. I HAVE CLASS AT 9:30 GMFMDMDM #why do I do this shit to myself #sasha waybright #amphibia #anonymous #ask #long post

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ugh-yoongi · 9 months

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if you could style each of bangtan what kind of style would you put them in and which fashion house do you think fit them

oh, what a fun question!

note: please take this with a grain of salt, bc i don't really know shit about fashion, really. so this is just a bit of fun, and definitely something i'd love to hear others' opinions on!

namjoon — i love namjoon in more traditionally-feminine clothes. the juxtaposition of his size (tall, thick thighs, etc.) with the skirts/flowy pants and tops just... really works for me.

so, for namjoon: moschino. for better or worse, they're always doing something different, and i think they could actually do something really inspired and cool with namjoon's vibe. even though i get the vision, bottega is just... so boring to me.

seokjin — hard to choose here, when he canonically looks good in everything. but me, personally? i love him when they style him edgier. perhaps it's because he's my bias, but he's just so soft and •ᴗ• so looks like this really work for me, bc it's not really what you'd expect him to wear??:

so, for seokjin: alexander mcqueen. one of my favorite designers for my favorite boy. there's structure, but it's still visually stimulating. edgy but not so much that it'd distract from the person wearing the clothes.

yoongi — i'm getting lazy with the pictures here, but i actually really like yoongi's deal with valentino. there's a nice balance of soft and bold which really works for him and fits with his vibe. however, i think we can (and should) make yoongi weirder.

so, for yoongi: ichiro suzuki. very, very weird (affectionate) clothes, and i think he'd be super into it. also highly inspired by art, so maybe yoongi and namjoon will be sharing clothes.

hobi — already a fashion icon. doesn't need any input at all from me, but i'm a mission to make bts as weird as possible, so we're going full send with this choice. hobi can truly pull off anything, and someone with that kind of power should embrace it.

so, for hobi: moncler. there's a little bit of everything here. there are more traditional options, and then there's weird as fuck, and i think he'd have a lot of fun working with that kind of scope.

jimin — another one that doesn't need my help, but alas, here i am to offer it anyway. gender seems to be a bit of a spot for jimin, so i'm hesitant to push him too far in either direction. something right in the middle would be my pick, because he can already pull off anything, might as well have fun with it.

so, for jimin: peter do. there's just... layers to this for me. it looks soft but it isn't really, and that's what jimin embodies to me. anyone can wear these clothes.

taehyung — i just get less useful the further we go down the age order, huh? he's got an aries moon, so taehyung's going to do what he wants, and he needs fashion that's going to reflect that. something stubborn, fiery, cool. something you can wear to a jazz show but also a gay club in paris, you know?

so, for taehyung: walter von beirendock. my weirdest pick yet, but this is fashion anarchy, imo. this is designing whatever the fuck you want. this is self-indulgent. this is complete disregard for the rules, and to me, that's taehyung 1000%, and i need to see him in these neon yellow pants.

jungkook — alright, last entry. what i love about jungkook is that he's grown up so publicly and had to do all that awkward "figuring out who you are" shit on the biggest stage in the world. that shit sucks, so he's really brave and cool for doing it, and he says endlessly that all of his members are reflected in him, so that just means he gets the weirdest choices of all.

so, for jungkook: because he's brave and cool, loewe. most people would probably not want to wear a grass jacket with grass shoes, but jungkook is brave and a little rebellious, so i bet he would. and he'd look damn good in it, too.

#bts #bts fashion #thank you again for asking this was really fun!!#jewel answers

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thebigoblin · 3 years

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F, G, & H 🧡🌻

Wow, this was quick huh ❤

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

The following snippet is from my fic - Post-Coital Confessions

"Being with you isn't just hot or sexy. It's more like being complete, like I was drifting alone for so long and now I suddenly have this piece, this part of me back that tethers me. Anchors me. And being with you—joining our bodies together in the most intimate way possible for two people—It's even better. I don't know how, it just is.

"We've been happy these past five-months. We've been together. Like, actually together and not just pining away while we spend every possible moment with each other. But I think I wouldn't have minded either way. I just want you, Derek Hale. I just want you in my life. Anyway I can have you in it.

"You mean so much to me, Der. You mean everything to me. And I know what I'm about to say, it will sound cold and dismissive of our past, your past, but I just—I can't help but think that this was supposed to happen. Me and you. I want it to be true. I want the world and fate and whatever else to have conspired for us to be together—no, not together. Beside each other. Beside each other, at each other's back, protecting each other.

"I love you. I love you so much, Derek. And I think we would have gotten here, one way or another, no matter what, because I just can't—I don't want to think about a universe where I don't love you. Because that universe's Stiles would be the most miserable Stiles of all, and because that means you'll be miserable, and that terrifies me more than anything else in my life ever has, Derek.

"I know you love me. I know you do. It's written in every thing you do. Every single thing. From waking me up with your world famous stealing the blankets maneuver to letting me talk so much, oh my god you dork, I think I have finally found my limit!"

I don't normally write smut. But I wanted a love confession between Stiles & Derek while they made love and this is exactly it ❤ Well, not exactly, since Stiles actually talks more before this, and because this is less smut and more feelings, but you get the point! Which is a very sappy, Stereky love confession that is 1000% self-indulgent!! xD.

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I write from start to finish. I could write out of order, but then I'd mess up the timeline and nobody wants a messed up timeline. Teen Wolf did that, and as profoundly confusing and amusing as it is, I'm just built different ;)

H: How would you describe your style?

Hmm. Honestly? I feel like I'm still finding it. Sometimes I write very purple prosey stuff, but then I just write as simple as I can?? Idk. Sometimes I write with a focus on emotions and sometimes I just want to focus on the plot... it's all over the place lol. But if I had to say it in a word: Experimental. Yup, that's it. Experimental is my style!

I'm answering this fanfic writer ask game, btw, if anyone else is interested is sending some to me <3

#answered ask #thank you dear anon for asking!!!

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years

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hello! thank you so much for doing my matchups (you matched me with aphelios and sero). i really liked them uwu! but anyways, can you do some cuddling headcanons for taliyah and neeko from league of legends? i love them both cause they’re so adorable and they deserve more love imo.

I’m so glad you liked it!!!

---TALIYAH

Taliyah is an adventurous person that has so many things to do and so many places to explore all the time, that she tends to get herself exhausted without realising, so she most often than not needs a huge dose of battery recharge...

IN THE FORM OF WARM CUDDLES!

She would get everything prepared in advance, as in enough food, snacks, drinks, movies to watch and you to have enough free time for her little self-indulging.

When everything is perfectly set up, she’ll turn off the light, close the curtains, start the movie and cuddle up to you and won’t let go unless she needs to go to the toilet or something like that.

Everything is so calm and peaceful, she doesn’t run on 1000 km/s, her heart isn’t beating like she’s surfing on a rock down a huge mountain and she has no responsibility to stress her out.

Her mind is completely set on you and your time spent together.

When she feels like it, Taliyah would like to chat with you briefly, ask about your days when she wasn’t around, and in turn, she’ll tell you about her adventures and what cool things she encountered on her journeys, which is when she’ll remember the souvenir she wanted to gift you.

All in all, she’s incredibly grateful to have someone as understanding as you, who also loves cuddles and doesn’t mind having chill days in spent with doing absolutely nothing and just being lazy.

---

NEEKO

Neeko is...A lot less organised than Taliyah, and a lot more talkative than her, so be prepared.

As soon as she gets home to you, she’ll jump on you, latching her arms, legs and tail around you like a koala would, nuzzling her nose in the crook of your neck, giggling a lot, potentially tickling you.

When you take her to bed so you could chill, Neeko would keep on ranting of what super cute things she found while out, what new colours and emotions she discovered-

And oh, how could she forget!

She’ll take out a beautiful flower and out it in her hair, so you two could match!

It will take a while for Neeko to calm down and completely get drained of energy, but when she does, she’ll just cling on to you with a serene and tired smile on her face, her eyes barely half open.

She’s practically begging you with her eyes to play and stroke her hair and when you do that, she’ll wag her tail a bit and would fall asleep faster than ever before.

You won’t be able to escape Neeko’s grasp no matter how much you try, or need to go to the toilet, but honestly, she’s so cute, it doesn’t even matter anymore.

Just before she falls asleep, she will give you a cute eskimo kiss, rubbing her nose to yours, and then it’s basically all systems shut down, she’s asleep and she’s muttering soft words.

Mainly your name and how much she loves you and wants to go out with you and explore the world more.

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maidenxfmight · 4 years

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freefall

Tagging: @luthorforgood & Supergirl When: August 1st, 4:30 am Where: L-Corp What: Kara pays Lena a visit in the aftermath of Magneto’s attack. Lena can’t stop thinking about seventy stories, and that one second. Warnings: Injury Word Count: Not atrocious, 2,481

LENA: The clock on her tablet read 4:43am. Lena stood alone at the top of the staircase, observing the silent wasteland of the upper floors of L-Corp. Her tablet chirped. Digital scan complete, an automated voice spoke and then the floor plunged back into silence.

Her mind screamed. The gravitational constant: 9.81 meters per second squared. Free fall time: 7 seconds. In free fall without air resistance, h = .05(g)(t)^2. Calculated, h = 240.263 meters. 1 meter = 3.281 feet. 240.263 meters = 788.264 feet. L-Corp stood at 848 feet. The 29th tallest building in New York City. Two feet shy of 30 Rockefeller Plaza. 70 stories tall.

Supergirl reached Lena on the 38th floor at the 5th second.

402 feet of freefall in 5 seconds. 2 seconds to go from 109 miles per hour to zero with 446 feet of space and 500 feet required... her foundation had hairline fractures and her body ached from the pressure. After 6 seconds of freefall... 1000 feet required to stop from a speed of 150 miles per hour that her body would have then reached. The difference of a second.

There’s this world on my shoulders, and if anything happens, if that’s ever too much, if I’m ever too weak to hold it…I can’t bear to think about what might happen. One second later. Lena could only think of what might have happened.

A breeze brushed against shattered glass and a siren wailed in the distance. Ribs ached and joints protested the slightest movement. A flash of red. Lena's jaw clenched impossibly tighter, eyes shifting. "Supergirl?" A rasp in the air, hating herself for the grating sound of its uncertainty. Lena straightened her back and cleared her throat, but she couldn't hide the red haunting the corners of her eyes. "What can I do for you?"

KARA: Her apartment felt tight. It had been a while since she'd felt so restless in the space of her bedroom. Soft moonlight played across her comforter, outlining Lar's profile on the pale blue pillows. The steady in and out of Donna's breathing could be heard across the apartment, and it was supposed to be comfortable.

But something itched just beneath her skin. Her thoughts bounced from one to the next wildly and she couldn't bring herself to lie still. It's not like she actually needed sleep. Not since landing on Earth. No, that was another thing she'd lost with her home–

Rao, what was wrong with her? Her hands curled into fists and she suppressed a frustrated groan. The last thing she needed was to wake up her roommates and endure the third degree. Quietly, she lifted her window and floated out into the night sky. She hadn't felt quite right since the attack at L-Corp. Since she'd landed with a thud with Lena Luthor at the bottom of her elevator shaft, and the twist of metal around her had burned her palms.

Her gaze turned to L-Corp tower, where she could make out the skeletal outline of Lena moving shakily around her office. 4:43 am and of course she was awake. Doing what? Playing with more kryptonite? Kara thought of what could have happened.

It wasn't hard to imagine. She could imagine the dry scratch at the back of her throat, the way her own blood seemed to scrape through her veins, how her skin burned. She could imagine hovering over the elevator shaft and Erik finally revealing his cards, green and glowing as they both plummeted eight-hundred-forty-eight feet.

She could feel Lena's fingertips slipping through her own. All those worlds on her shoulders and Lena consistently decided to gamble with them.

She found herself drifting through Lena's office window, feet skating across the remnants of broken glass. It was still a battleground. She twitched, fingers flexing, breath catching. Something burned but she brushed it off. Lena moved tenderly, her voice not much more than a scratch.

Just seconds. Just one.

She thought are you okay, but found herself asking "Do you get it, yet?"

LENA: Two steps forward and one step back. The difference between five seconds and six. She should have expected Supergirl's words, the clip of something just beyond frustration in her voice. How many times had they been here before? How many times would Supergirl have to swoop in and save her life before Supergirl finally decided that a Luthor's life was no longer worth saving? Lena shouldn't have hoped for understanding.

"I warned you," Lena said, hand itching to run through her hair and tuck it behind her ears but body too stiff to think about uncrossing her arms and indulging in the anxious habit. She closed her eyes and a grimace turned into a frown as she turned to face the Super, eyes and jaw clenched shut for a second before both opened again. "You still came anyways." And maybe that hurt substantially more than if the Kryptonian had stayed away in some inexplicable way, because Supergirl hurtled through an elevator shaft without knowing if she would still be invincible when she hit the bottom. "You shouldn't have come." Come now? Come then? Ever?

KARA: Something was slipping, but Kara only just managed to catch herself.

I promised you always.

And she kept her promises. It hadn't mattered what would happen to her, if Erik had used the kryptonite. It hadn't mattered what Lena had said or done, how many times she could shove the device into her articles. It hadn't mattered, because Kara loved Lena, and she had promised her always.

But telling her as much would show her hand, and even feeling as though she was standing on a precipice in Lena's doorway, Kara couldn't quite bring herself to tell her the truth.

Maybe, maybe she doesn't deserve it.

Kara's mouth opened and closed again, her hands twitching at her side. Her toes were hanging off the edge, ready to plunge her into something, but she couldn't quite tell what. "Of course I came. I'm always going to–" She paused on a breath, raking a hand through her hair. "Don't, don't do that self-sacrificing song and dance. A lot of people worked really hard to keep you alive today, don't pretend like that means nothing."

LENA: Something in Supergirl's demeanor made Lena take a second look at the Kryptonian, really trying to look past the steely gaze and strong exterior.

Supergirl was tired.

"I didn't ask them to," Lena answered, her tone just a bit too sharp. 'I didn't ask you to' was implied, but Supergirl kept showing up time and time again. Lena had done nothing to earn that kind of loyalty, especially not with the past the two shared, but it was still freely given. "I dug this grave for myself. No one else should have to lie in it." The words were softer now, approaching vulnerable, and she had to look away. Glass littered the floor and severed cables still sparked at random in the gaping shaft of the elevator, wind twisting through the gaps and whistling as it passed through. Lena should have died, but she hadn't.

She turned back to Supergirl. I do care. "It means something."

KARA: She had, she had dug her own grave.

The thought burst its way forward before Kara could temper it, before she could remember Lena had started at the bottom of a grave. Her family had been digging it well before she'd been given a shovel. That maybe she'd be throwing up pebbles of her own in bits and pieces hardly meant she was entirely responsible.

But then there was kryptonite, and alien detection devices, and how sometimes Lena stepped right into her family's footsteps, even if she didn't seem to fully realize it.

Or maybe she did. The tired, small tug to her voice was telling. Kara took a moment to fully take Lena in, the way she guarded against too many injuries, the way the breeze from the ravaged elevator shaft played at the ends of her hair. How she seemed to war between resignation at the bottom of her grave and embracing the strength to crawl her way back out of it.

"Okay." Kara's voice was soft in turn, giving a small nod before she looked away. Too many words danced on the end of her tongue. Confessions, anger, concern, love. She had to clench her fists against the onslaught. "Good, okay."

She looked up, taking great effort to force herself to relax. Something wasn't right. "You have to believe you're good, Ms. Luthor. The rest of the world, they won't believe anything until you start believing it, too."

LENA: Kara Danvers believes in you. Lena remembered hearing those words when the rest of the world was shouting the fall of the last Luthor. She'd been so tired then, and the fight had just begun for clearing the Luthor name. Then, she hadn't known how many times one person should have to fall from grace and redeem a name over and over again. Metallo. Cadmus. It had only been the beginning, but it could have been the end. She'd been set to die in her brother's vault then, but Supergirl had saved her then too. But that's when Kara Danvers had become her hero, inspiring her to keep fighting for what was good.

She'd never considered that she had to believe first.

Lena offered a stilted smile in return, brow still furrowed and a hand rubbing the back of her neck. "The last time Magneto paid L-Corp a visit, I had to make a phone call to tell a woman that her husband wouldn't be coming home again... that Anthony's baby girls were fatherless." She stared hard into Supergirl's eyes -- green meeting blue. "I don't want to make a similar call for you." Lena didn't think she could look Kon-el in the eyes again if it came to that.

KARA: "Haven't you heard? I'm the Girl of Steel. I don't bend, I don't break." The words fell out before she could stop them, an echo from a simpler time. She could bend. She could break. It wasn't invulnerability that kept Kara alive. It was a mixture of luck and determination.

And they weren't the right words, not in that moment. When Lena was meeting her eyes with a resigned determination, on the tail of a confession that hurt. She knew what it felt like, to make that call. To know that, despite all best efforts, not everyone could be saved. It wasn't even Lena's fault.

The thought caught, whispers of kryptonite and detection devices and 'he's coming after you over your inventions, Lena' bubbling in the back of her mind. Her fingers curled and for a moment she was shocked they were loud enough for her to even consider. She shoved them down, shifting on her feet. Stop, breathe, restart.

"What I mean is I understand the risks I take." I wasn't sent here to fall in love with a human... "So do the people who love me." There was Fort Rozz, Reign... "I do what I do because I love this planet, the– the people. It gives me a purpose here, after– after Krypton. If you ever have to make that call, Lena, know that it's because I was doing something I truly believed in, and I'm at peace."

She paused, more than she meant to say having already spilled out into the air between them. "That woman, she probably believed in you."

LENA: Her lips pursed for a moment, ready to argue with Supergirl. Lena knew that there was one thing that could make the Kryptonian break, and it was the very thing Magneto had stolen from Lena. The very thing Lena has created — against Supergirl’s warnings. But Lena was so tired, joints aching and a migraine threatening to form and arguments dying on her lips just as they were thought. Words would get them nowhere tonight. “You might be at peace, but the rest of the world would not,” she admitted in no more than a whisper. “Maybe it’s selfish, but I care Supergirl.” I do care. The same words spoken weeks ago when she’d tried to warn the woman about Magneto’s potential threat. So much had changed, but that fact had not. It would be easier if she didn’t care, but she did and it seemed after all their differences, the same was true in reverse.

“You have a family here Supergirl. A good one that still sits around a table and eats pasta together.” She paused, unable to remember a single Luthor dinner that resembled the one Kon-El had invited her too. “I would like you to continue to go home to that.”

KARA: Someone had once told her she looked beautiful, with the weight of so many worlds on her shoulders. Kara didn't need any more weight, but in that moment, she felt it settle heavy against her back.

'The rest of the world would not' fell into the air between them and she caught on it, let it tumble around in her mind for a moment while Lena continued. Like there was no falling gently into Rao's light with the rest of her family, there was no peace, there was an Earth and a family who cared too much to let her go. There was a Luthor who thought about that, who pointed it out.

Kara wondered if it was just the guilt. She almost spoke it allowed, but she already knew the answer. It was written clearly across Lena's face, in the tired slump of her shoulders, in the stories she told. It was Lena's kryptonite. It was the mark on her back that got her security detail killed. It was–

Not Lena's fault. The actions of evil people were not Lena's fault. For some reason, Kara had to repeat it to herself once, twice, again for it to fully stick. It still felt slippery, unsure, and suddenly Kara felt markedly uncomfortable. There was an itch beneath her skin, something only a few rotations around the Earth might fix, and she needed out.

She didn't need Lena's concern, certainly not in regards to problems she'd created herself. She didn't need to be reminded of all the worlds on her shoulders. She was plenty aware of them without the help. Words like 'worry about yourself,' and 'you're playing with the same family now' danced on the tip of her tongue. But instead she said "I need to leave."

Her head tilted, like maybe she was listening to something, but all she heard was her own heart picking up pace and the way Lena's creaked against themselves when she breathed. Her feet lifted from the floor and she was half a moment away from blasting through Lena's windows when she paused. "They're your family dinners now, too, Lena. Best you come home to them."

#ff: luthorforgood #ff: freefall

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laertesstudies · 4 years

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I got tagged in my first tag game by the awesome @study-not-procrastinating! Thank you so much!!

Rules: Answer 10 questions, the tag and pose 10 questions to 10 people.

Alright, here we go!

1. How would you like to be remembered in 200 years?

Honestly, I’ve never really thought about it! I don’t really have that same lust for immortality that i had as a kid. I guess I’d just like to be remembered as someone who was kind and loyal, and who helped someone achieve something amazing in their life. Maybe as someone who wrote a bomb paper about floral imagery in the Iliad.

2. If you could get any director for a documentary about yourself, who would you pick and why?

Tim Burton! Maybe not a traditional documentary, I would love to have it in his style of stop motion clay. Growing up, I was always attracted to the darker and more macabre aspects of life, and that made it a bit hard to fit in. Fellow goths, you know what I mean. Tim Burton’s art showed me that I wasn’t alone, that there were other people out there who saw the beauty in the same things I did, and that it was okay to embrace your individuality!

3. What would be a museum exhibit that would definitely catch your attention?

Anything about the reign of Mansa Musa! Or about the history of math in the ancient Middle East!

4. If you could commit any crime and not get caught, what would you do?

Steal and repatriate a sacred item stolen from an indigenous people and placed in a museum by people who didn’t respect its intended purpose. Or create a perfectly counterfeit copy of a lost Rembrandt painting and sell it to a billionaire and give the proceeds to local schools who had their art programs cut.

5. Which anime/movie trope do you want to be?

I don’t know the name for it, but the character who’s super sweet and bubbly and maybe a little naive. Like Mako in KLK, Tohru in Fruitsbasket, or Cat in Victorious!

6. Which anime/movie trope are you really?

Either the otaku or the crybaby.

7. At what age would you tell a child Santa isn’t real?

Whenever they seriously ask or start to show signs of disbelief. But I would 1000% make sure that they knew that Santa Claus is real, that those of us who know the secret become Santa Claus and it’s our job to continue spreading joy and belief to the younger kids.

8. Which artist, either dead or living, would you pick to create a portrait of you?

Oh! This is a really tough one. There are so many artists out there who are amazing. For dead artists, I would probably have to say Salvador Dali. For living artists, definitely the amazing @marina-does-things. Her knight Daisy filled my heart with so much joy and she’s so talented!!

9. You can turn back time and rewrite one book that you read in high school English class. What do you change, and why?

If I had to choose, I would have Shakespeare make Romeo and Juliet take place over 3 weeks or months instead of 3 days. It would maybe decrease the satirical element about teens being dumb and making bad decisions, but would that really be so bad? And it would still be an incredibly heartbreaking tale about how there is no place for love in a world ruled by hate and fear, about how that doesn’t matter and we have to love anyway because that is the only way to fight that hate. It would still be a story of how their love was so pure, it defied the rules that bound their lives. But that way when people say that Romeo and Juliet “loved” each other, it would actually be possible.

10. If you were a billionaire, what is the one totally self-indulgent and weird thing you would have and everyone around you would have to pretend is cool.

XD Oh, the choices!! If I could only have one totally self-indulgent thing, I think I would have a bumper car type thing installed in my courtyard, but instead of cars, it would be dalek suits that you could sit in!

Sorry for the long post! Here are my 10 questions:

If you had to choose one decade to erase from history in order to save the planet from extinction, what decade would you choose and why?

Which of your parents do you think you are more like?

What do you think are the 5 most beautiful things one earth?

If you could explore either the deepest parts of the ocean or the furthest reaches of space, which would you choose?

What do you love most about your culture?

Who is the one person you would talk to about anything?

Do you have a favorite sitcom? If so, what is it?

When you think of home, what comes to mind?

If you could do absolutely anything you want tonight, and money was no concern, what would you do?

What is something you learned today that was completely unexpected or just really interesting?

@jawnkeets @etherealacademia @thawinoakenshield @studylustre @languages-and-code @gildedstudy @studylikeathena @studyambitiouss @studydiaryofamedstudent @dionyrtal

#tag game #get to know me

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jewpacabruhs · 5 years

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hi guys! so this post is gonna be a rambly mess but fuck it, here ya go. if u dont wanna read all of it, u dont have to; skip down to underneath the tl;dr in bold text for the important bits :)

(there’s a brief & non-graphic mention of a triggering topic in the next paragraph. please be sure to skip this next paragraph if the thought of suicide is going to upset you.)

alright. so i didn't share this originally, but i spent some time in a psychiatric unit this month. suicidality related. 1000% unrelated from anything online, i've just struggled with depression for a very long time & shit happens. i didn't intend to share that at all & i certainly don't want pity; i'm telling u guys bc my time in the unit was extremely eye-opening, and i have some insight to share. since i've gotten out, with the help of my newest anti-depressant (fourth time’s a charm lol), i'm seeing the world in a better light & i finally have the energy to and the interest in exploring what it has to offer, which frankly i've never had before.

with that has come the realization that i’ve come to do something very unhealthy, and i want to break out of it. and that’s how much i’ve come to rely on my fandom life. i don’t want to get too candid publicly, but mental illness took a lot from me, and i lost most of my life, my future, and my options in the last few years. next year will involve a lot of working on rebuilding things. but in the time that i let things fall to pieces around me & i absolutely couldn’t get out of bed, i had a phone and i had a laptop. so when i couldn’t get up and physically face the world, i built up a new world online.

and i don’t think that’s a completely uncommon experience. most people are able to better manage things, and evenly juggle real life with an internet life (like i did back in middle school), because most people can’t abandon their real lives entirely like i managed to; but i do think a lot of people nowadays rely on their fandom life and their fandom friends when their irl situation isn’t ideal. and that’s an excellent coping mechanism in theory, but i think it’s debilitating in the long run.

forgive me for sounding like an old person, but i’m a heavy nostalgist and a bit of an anarcho-primitivist in that i resent modern technology's influence on society - but that hasn't stopped me from letting it be a big part of my life out of accessibility. the internet kept me occupied during my low points, and i became dependent, but i've realized i don't wanna live like that anymore. i’m vaguely grateful that it usually kept me busy enough that i wasn’t thinking the bad thoughts as frequently, but more than anything, i’m resentful that my grasp on reality got lost somewhere along the way, and i let time get away from me, too. because, again, an internet life should be a fun hobby, but when it’s a lifestyle and it becomes an excuse to avoid dealing with our real lives, bc our real lives aren’t as rewarding or as exciting, then it’s unhealthy.

everything’s at our fingertips these days, but i deeply believe human interaction, fun, and fulfillment shouldn't be spoon-fed to us through a screen. it's easy access, sure, but at the end of the day, is it any way to live? compared with how much world there is to see, i’m no longer satisfied with the thought of sitting behind a screen for another five years. i used to be, when i had no hope and no drive, but not anymore. i’m not gonna let myself settle for staying busy with the thing that takes the least amount of work & movement. not only because i’m a whole ass adult who needs to start sorting my shit out for the long run, but also because i deserve better.

and it’s fucking hard! especially for those of us who are neurodivergent. i dropped out of school three fucking times due to crippling social anxiety and utter lack of ambition and energy. i lost all my friends through that (making friends post-school is hard af); the thought of having to go out and remake friends makes me wanna fucking cry. i have a hard enough time making friends online, i’ve even come to struggle with correspondence thru text & email. phone calls? outta the question. but that’s therapy shit, and i know i’ll get there. i just have to stop putting life off by staying in a comfort zone.

and it’s interesting; depression and anxiety really took everything from me, and while i was dwelling in my own misery, my adhd worsened and decided to make my entire brain revolve around my fixations, so i didn’t have to deal with my own life. can’t think about how much you wanna die and how much you can’t function in society if you’re busy thinking about a ship you like or a character you find interesting. so i latched onto the safety of that. aggressively. problem with that is that once you let your “happiness” (as much of it as you can feel in the midst of your depressive episode, anyway) revolve around an interest, that’s all you have. so you become dependent and reliant, and that’s never good, especially if you’re someone like me who feels pathetic & ridiculous when you realize it’s all you can bring yourself to care about.

and i think that’s what i realized in the psych ward (where there’s legitimately nothing to do; i did soooo much more thinking than usual, and i already think too much haha); mental illness will try to fuck up your lifestyle, so you have to eradicate the things that’ll let that happen in the first place. for example, like i said, my adhd tries to counteract my depression by making me hyperfixate and/or hyperfocus on something else to protect me from bad personal thoughts, and that’s good in theory (doing something you enjoy when you feel bad, to distract urself, is the number one most basic coping skill you learn), but i can’t do it in moderation, i let it run my life, and that’s made me worse in the long run. so i have to force myself out of that completely and not let myself fixate on things that make me happy in the short term, but don’t ultimately further me as a person. having fixations helped me through some awful times, but now i need to force myself to grow up, you know?

and while tumblr and other social media is an excellent way to indulge those fixations, it’s an aggressive enabler, in more ways than one. what i mean by that... okay, so while i’m the type of person who self-destructs while unhealthy, i do occasionally lash out. and i know some people completely explode rather than implode when they’re not doing well. and that’s how you get discourse, i think. because when mental illness makes us care much more about our interests than we ought to, and someone has a differing opinion about that interest, the instinct is of course to attack, if you’re that kind of person. i don’t think i am, but depression and boredom go hand in hand, and i might be inclined to care more about discourse than i would if i were healthy, purely because it’s entertaining and something to do.

that’s a long winded way of saying, while i stand wholeheartedly by my past positions, i do regret starting shit in the first place. i’m not the kind of person who genuinely cares about much and i have little to no sense of morality (im a chaotic neutral bastard), so the fact i was bored enough to start shit really goes against my character and says a lot about how bad i’ve been. so i apologize for all that. but, again, i think that's just what happens when something is truly your everything. and i think the chronic negativity of modern fandom is a result of how damn seriously we all take it, because we care so much and we’re so dependent. fandom’s supposed to be fun, but it’s just too damn stressful this way.

idk my point in sharing all this, but i do think it'd be cool if this kinda got yall thinking. even if you don't engage in discourse, if fandom is just one of your only consistent sources of happiness, that's not healthy either. we all gotta break out & exist more & louder & more positively. and unfortunately i think tumblr fandom (and maybe all modern fandom) is no longer a place that encourages positivity and health.

but for all my criticism, i do just wanna say how eternally grateful i am that i was fortunate enough to meet the people i call my best friends through tumblr. they're my family, truly, and all the bullshit in this fandom has been worth it simply because it brought them to me. i love them to death and i always will, even if interests change, even if we grow apart, even if we quit speaking entirely in the next few years, i love them with my whole heart in a way that transcends a simple fandom friendship and i'm so glad we bonded over sp in the first place. that’ll never change.

i will also always love south park itself. now that the cat's outta the bag about my hospital visit, i can brag about my most pathetic and obsessive accomplishment; the fact that i've never let circumstance stop me from watching a new south park as it airs, and i've now watched sp on 1) an airplane, and 2) in a psych ward. i win for most dedicated fan tbfh. dsjkf & i'll keep that tradition, and i'll still watch this stupid show til it ends! it'll always hold a special place in my heart, & kyman's still my most meaningful & long-term ship. i'll never stop loving it.

tl;dr

so, to recap; for 2020 i'm making myself step back from fandom (not just sp fandom, but fandom in general) and quit letting my world revolve around my fixations so i can enjoy the outside world a little more, mental illness be damned, and the first step is gonna be quitting tumblr. this blog won't be deleted and i may occasionally post (maybe when next season airs) but you're absolutely free to unfollow bc this'll be a mostly inactive blog. i’m also unfollowing everyone, so mutuals, please don’t take that personally.

i will, however, try to write more prolifically, bc fic writing is something i'm able to do in moderation & enjoy, and i hope to get back into it. so if you'd like, you can keep an eye out for any upcoming fanfic i may post - my ao3 is leere. i also have snapchat, instagram, & twitter my mutuals can ask for asap (bc ill be logging out for good by the afternoon of the 31st, which is tomorrow) - though i'm not very active on any of them. still, if you wanna have access to me, i’ll be there.

i want some connection to the fandom still, albeit without letting my life revolve around it, so i'll be starting a new open-to-the-public kyman discord server! the post with the invite for that will go up soon. nvm im too anxious

thank you for reading, thank you for the good times (thnks fr th mmrs), and i hope everyone has a good 2020!

#txt #mine

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