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criminalamnesia · 1 year ago

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Not a request but NEW TRAITOR CHAP WHEN??? prioritize urself no rush Pookie just the ppl gotta know

part 7 is here 🙏

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

it was pouring rain as you slid from the taxi, the driver attempting to yell at you to shut the door as thunder rumbled overhead.

you paid him no heed; boots splashed in murky puddles as you pushed the door closed and moved towards the yellow cab’s trunk.

you could barely hear yourself think. the rain was battering the ground as if locked in a viscous war with the cracked pavement— puddles forming as the asphalt resisted with all its might. it wasn’t enough, water seeping into the ground and muddying the grass nearby, drowning it mercilessly.

you grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder before shutting the trunk. you’d barely stepped back from the car before it was speeding off, kicking up water and splashing your legs.

you didn’t mind— you were soaked through to the bone, anyways. besides, you didn’t mind the storm. it was comfort— a distraction from what lay ahead.

your new team. a small, covert operations group made up of the best of the best. two sergeants, a lieutenant, a captain— and they wanted one more soldier.

the opening couldn’t have come at a better time. you’d run your course with your old squad. they’d been fine— until they weren’t. carelessness and ignorance from teammates almost resulted in your untimely death, and laswell hadn’t questioned your transfer request after hearing the tale.

in fact, she’d recommended the one-four-one to you.

you thought you’d be meeting them on base, but the captain had requested you meet them here, instead. a run-down old diner, with its bright, neon pink sign blinking down at you through the rain.

you inhaled, then exhaled. clenched your fists, then unclenched them. it was a habit you’d had since you were a child. it forced you to slow down and think, to overcome the emotions you were lost in.

you blinked. rain ran down your face, creating false tears as it streamed from the corners of your eyes. you were sure you looked a sight.

another inhale, another exhale, and then you moved towards the diner’s door. you pushed it open, stepping inside and wiping your boots on the mat in front of the door.

“I think you’re gonna need to do more than that to dry off, sweetheart” a woman’s voice calls to you, causing you to look up towards the counter. she’s grimacing, looking you up and down. no doubt she’ll be following your path through the building with a mop in hand.

“sorry,” you tell her, trying to brush some water from your jacket. “forgot my umbrella.”

the woman gave a huff, waving her hand before turning and attending to an ancient-looking coffee maker.

you take the time to glance around the diner then, noting the substantial lack of customers. only two booths were occupied, one containing a young couple tangled in each other’s arms, and the other containing a man wearing a baseball cap with the UK flag patched on it.

he looked up from his phone as you approached, seemingly unsurprised based on the grin he gave you.

“glad to see you got here in one piece,” he says as you shrug off your bag, placing it on the floor as you slide into the seat across from him.

“one drenched piece,” you say, and he gives a small chuckle.

“im kyle,” the man tells you. “don’t know what laswell told you,” he clicks off his phone and places it on the table. “but im one of the sergeants.”

you nod. “callsign ‘gaz,’ right?”

he gives a nod of his own. his phone buzzes, the screen lighting up. his eyes glance down, scan the message, then meet yours once more.

“rest of the team got held up. price is in a meeting. johnny and ghost are on assignment, but they’re due back any day now.”

“so you’re the welcome committee by default, huh?” you say, and he laughs.

“guess i am. have i scared you off yet?”

“dunno,” you tell him. “but laswell sings your praises. the captain’s, especially.”

“she sings yours, too.” kyle says.

you give a small nod, your mind racing at what laswell may have told the task force. you weren’t bad at your job— you were great at it. a great shot, a reliable solider, a tireless sentry.

your emotions got the better of you at times, that was all. attachments and bonds that formed, linking you and your fellow soldiers together in the web of warfare. tying you around the wrist and dragging you along, for better or worse. little siblings or lovers evolving from what once had been just another set of boots on the ground.

this job was all you had. you found family where you had too, and it made you all the more loyal. but when you were spurned? when the fire leapt from the pit and scorched your skin?

you weren’t quick to forgive, and you found that reasonable in this line of work. mistakes by teammates could get you killed. who could blame you for holding a grudge against an ally who had almost cost you your life?

it’s why you were here now. a new start with a new team— a team of the best, you included.

kyle’s phone buzzes again. he picks it up, the screen illuminating his face as the lights flicker overhead. the storm wasn’t letting up.

“cap’s on his way— says he’ll be here in less than 30.”

“price, right?” you recall his name. kyle nods.

“don’t tell him I told you,” he leans in, a mischievous look in his eyes, “but he’s been lookin’ forward to meeting you. maybe even more than johnny has.”

“why’s that?”

“said the one-four-one is overdue for someone else who can kick johnny’s ass. wants you to knock him down a few more pegs.”

you laugh at that, giving a small shake of your head. kyle’s lips curl into a smile. “nah, he’s just happy to have some more hands on deck. always helps to have another person that’ll watch your back.”

as kyle starts talking again, you find your nerves settling.

maybe this team could be your new family.

you looked down at your hands, noting the slight shake of them. you don’t think they’d been steady since before everything happened.

your eyes glance to the ugly, scarred stump of the finger you’d lost. simon hadn’t chopped it off prettily, and it’d been stitched up hastily. you couldn’t blame the doctor, there had been more pressing injuries to attend to.

such as the bone-deep cut to one leg, growing infected from your time spent in the chair. the scar was long, stretching from the top of your thigh to your knee. it was still pink, a sign of your body still trying to put itself back together.

your torso wasn’t much better. jagged scars and puckered knots of skin marred your image. both from before and from after.

your eyes met your own in the mirror. you barely recognized yourself. the anger within you still burned, but its flame had reduced to a simmer. exhaustion, apathy, and shame had taken its place.

perhaps that was a good thing. it saved you the energy of fighting the men you inevitably saw every day. despite your numerous pleas and demands for them to simply leave you alone, they seemed to have a hard time listening. it made you want to scream. to hurt them, digging your fingers into skin until they understood the pain behind your words.

a knock sounded at the door. you didn’t move.

a knock again. you could hear the shuffle of feet outside the door. you wished whoever it was would leave you be.

another knock, accompanied by the soft timbre of kyle’s voice.

“love, you alright in there?” he was saying. you still stood before the mirror.

things had been different since you attacked the doctor. it had only been a few days, but word spread quickly through base. if people had avoided you before, you were like the plague now.

and the shame you felt was insurmountable. the pain and regret and fury were building like a tidal wave in your stomach, rising and choking the air from your lungs.

you wanted to leave this place. get away from the men you once called family, the one you once called yours.

but leaving meant the end of your career. you just had to hold out until kate arranged your transfer, that’s all. just a few more days, right?

and then this place and these people wouldn’t be a constant reminder of what had happened to you. of what it had done to you, physically and mentally.

“go, kyle,” you called out to him, breaking from your trance as you reached for the scratchy robe johnny had gifted you one christmas.

“not until i see you breathin’, love.”

you sigh, tying the robe shut and hugging the material to your body. you moved to the door, turning the lock before inching it open.

“breathing,” you tell him, watching as his eyes flick away from yours. god, it made you want to strangle him.

to yell at him, to yell at all of them— "you did this, and you should be able to look me in the eyes and see it.”

“now go.”

he looks at you again, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “will you let me in?” he asks, and you scoff as you move to slam the door.

“fuck off, kyle.”

but he’s quick, and his hand shoots out, grasping the door’s wooden edge and keeping it from closing.

“we need to talk.”

“whatever you need to say, you can say it from there,” you tell him, and he pauses for a minute before he nods.

“doc is asking about you again. she’s up and runnin’ around. said she wants to see you.”

your lips press into a thin line. you didn’t deserve that woman’s kindness, not after what you’d done to her.

you hadn’t been in your right mind, but that didn’t excuse it. you had bloodied your fists; harmed an innocent in the war between you and your own mind.

you didn’t want to see her still worrying about you when you had assured her you were fine. you had left her supervision, and then you’d attacked her. and you hadn’t stopped until simon had pulled you away.

you would’ve killed her, you know that in your heart. you would’ve killed her, thinking she was one of the men who had wanted to kill you.

“tell her im fine,” you said, your hand tightening around the door’s knob.

“i think she’d rather see that for herself,” he says.

“im fine,” you repeat. “i’ll be out of everyone’s hair in a few days, anyways.”

kyle’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “you’re leaving?”

he knew this, they all did. perhaps they just didn’t truly believe it. all of them, every single one, still thought you’d turn around and run back into their arms.

bastards.

“as soon as laswell gives the word,” you reply. “should be soon.”

kyle doesn’t speak. he’s obviously biting his tongue— you’d seen the expression that was on his face enough to know when he was holding back, but you didn’t prod like you would’ve before.

let him keep his secrets, lies, promises, and sorries. you didn’t need them anymore.

“don’t bother me again,” you said before shutting the door in his face.

you hear him sigh on the other side of the wood, then hear the retreat of his steps. you turn back to the mirror, snarl, and grab the alarm clock from your nightstand.

you throw it into the glass, shattering it to pieces. seven years of bad luck, you think.

well, it couldn’t get much worse, could it?

kyle sighs, staring at your door for a second longer before turning away. simon looks down at him from where he was leaning against the wall, hidden from your view, his muscled arms crossed over his chest.

“surprised?” simon asks as the two of them retreat down the hallway. he makes sure they’re far enough from your door before speaking, so that you won’t hear his voice.

“we knew it was happening, price said as much after that whole thing with johnny,” kyle replies, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “just thought this might change things.”

“change ‘em how?” simon says. “if anythin’, this speeds it up. they’re a liability now.”

“they’re hurt, ghost,” kyle retorts, his eyes meeting his superior’s. “that’s ptsd. not everyone’s as forgiving as the doc. they attack someone outside and that’s a fucking felony.”

“that’s not our problem, sergeant,” comes simon’s baritone reply, and kyle stops.

“you’re a fuckin’ case yourself, y’know that, LT?” he says, and simon stops. “we all played a part,” kyle continues. “but you? you would’ve killed ‘em if we never knew the truth. i know you would’ve. i’ve seen you do it.”

the men stare at each other. simon’s expression is hidden underneath his balaclava, but kyle knows it’s unreadable regardless.

mean, old ghost. heartless bastard, loyal to the mission only. that’s what the others around base whispered to each other.

kyle had seen proof to the contrary. yes, simon was loyal to the mission. but he was also loyal to his team, his family. you.

he was loyal to you.

“watch yourself, sergeant,” simon speaks, his voice a dangerous rumble.

kyle scoffs and walks off, shaking his head.

simon watches him go, his breath steady.

kyle didn’t understand him, not really. not the way you had begun to. and that was his own fault, he knows it. forever holding those close to him at arms length for fear of the worst.

he’d let you in— let you invade that space he enforced so ruthlessly. and the worst had happened.

kyle doesn’t know this is tearing him in half; none of the team does. they don’t understand that simon wants you to stay because you’re you, but he wants you gone because he can see how this is killing you.

even when he’s the villain in your story, he’s still trying to look out for you— in his own, twisted way.

he doesn’t regret it. that is cemented in his mind. but as he grapples with his own emotions, his mind in its own turmoil, he knows he wants you to be okay.

“im sorry,” he had spoken to deaf ears.

sorry for the ripping apart of your life, but not sorry for what he had done.

deep down, he knew you would never forgive them. he knew that leaving this team would be the best thing for you.

he knew, he knew, he knew.

knowing and accepting are two different things.

hope this was worth the wait! i think the next part will be the end, unless my idea changes 👀

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wildehacked · 3 months ago

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im in the mood for hugs apparently. so "just really needed a hug sort of hug" for buddie :)

This is both true to the spirit of the prompt and a little dark, sorry. CW for grief, canon-typical death and violence. Classic h/c shit. * It’s Buck’s Kelly day, so Eddie’s partnered with Ravi when they get called out to the goriest scene they’ve been to in a while. Overworked Amazon driver fell asleep at the wheel; the van crashed through the front window of a Starbucks during the eight am before work rush. It’s awful, grinding, bloody work; Eddie digs the driver out of the wreck, and she has a concussion but she’s otherwise fine. He has to hold her back when she realizes what she’s done and starts screaming. He sends her to the hospital where the cops will be waiting for her, even though her shift manager’s the one they should arrest, and then he helps Chim bag a woman who went under the wheels, DOA. She’s white, brunette with bangs, and for a second Eddie’s heart seizes. He blinks again and his heart resumes its regular rhythm.

Cap takes them offline so they can decontaminate—they all got coated in various bodily fluids on that one—and of course after Eddie’s showered and changed and filled out paperwork, he gets a call from his mom.

Less said about that, the better. He has a pulsing headache for most of the afternoon. They go on two false alarm medical calls, transport a man with a broken ankle to the ER, and Eddie gets an email from Chris’s school letting him know that Chris got a D- on his big English paper, and that he’ll need to revise if he wants to pass the class. That’s gonna be a fun conversation. Eddie swallows three ibuprofen with a cup of cold coffee, ignoring Hen’s wince. So what if he’s giving himself an ulcer.

Bobby makes comfort food for dinner, because they all need it after the awful morning—spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, iceberg lettuce salad. Eddie eats, but his head’s still going, so the comfort’s a little sparse.

He tries to call Chris after dinner, but Chris doesn’t pick up. Eddie gets a text a few minutes later that reads hey were in a movie rn, and Eddie writes back okay mijo just checking in. love you, which Chris thumbs up. They get called out to the beach for a dog bite; Eddie chases after the dog in question, but can’t catch him. He does almost wipe out on the boardwalk, though. The night is just on the edge of too cool, not quite summer-perfect, but the moon is full and yellow over the ocean. Chim makes a crack about the full moon crazies, and Eddie rolls his eyes and twists to give Buck shit about it too, but of course Buck’s still not there.

You been in a mood all day, Hen says, nudging Eddie’s boot with her boot when they’re back in the rig. You good?

I’m good, Eddie says, just thinking about this morning, and everyone’s faces go somber as they agree. And it was a rough morning. But Eddie’s going to hell, because that’s not what he’s thinking about, not really.

It’s March 23rd. He could say that out loud, could remind everyone of the date, and no one would know why it matters. Because it doesn’t, to anyone else on the planet. They go check out an apartment building where someone burnt falafel. The problem apartment’s on the fifth floor with no elevator. Eddie’s phone pings as he’s putting the industrial fans back in the rig; it’s a text from Buck, a picture of him and Chris and Chris’s friend Dylan in front of three enormous burgers, looks like Islands. There isn’t really any reason for that to make Eddie’s chest go tight and aching, but there you go. He taps a heart onto it.

Saved you some fries, Buck sends, like it’s possible to save fries from Islands and have them still be edible the next day. Guess you didn’t see the email from the school, Eddie sends back, because seriously, Islands and a movie after a D-? 🍔💪📝🚨is what Buck writes back, which Eddie basically takes to mean: I have a strategy in place. He catches a few hours of sleep. The alarm wakes him from a dream about Shannon and Buck. The two of them were the leads in the school play, because Eddie was back in high school, and he was supposed to be in the play too, but he forgot his lines. Eddie, relax, Shannon said, smiling at Buck, who had his hand wrapped around her waist like he was her husband, not Eddie. We got this.

It’s a late night medical call at a memory care home; not much for him and Ravi to do, just playing support to Hen and Chim. He checks his phone, and there’s another text from Buck that came in while he slept: Chris and Dylan studying at the kitchen table, English books cracked open, Chris laughing at something Dylan said. It’s a live photo, so there’s even a couple seconds of Chris laughing in there, high pitched and silly. Eddie hearts it.

When they get back to the firehouse, the sun is rising, and it’s no longer Shannon’s birthday. Eddie should be relieved, but he just feels drained. She’d be thirty-four. No one warned him about this part—how every year you look back at the pictures and she just looks like more of a baby.

Cap claps him on the shoulder when he’s heading out to his truck, like he knows, even though there’s no way he could possibly know.

Eddie gets through morning traffic okay. He parks the truck, lets himself in. The house is pretty quiet, which means Chris is still asleep (typical teen.) Buck’s in the kitchen, doing last night’s dishes. He’s got rubber dish gloves on, and he gives Eddie a distracted smile over his shoulder as he comes in. Hey, he says.

Hey, Eddie says, and instead of any of the sane things he could say after that, like—how was your day yesterday, or is there coffee yet, or I think I’m gonna pass out for a few hours, he just steps in close, wraps his arms around Buck’s waist, and buries his face in Buck’s shoulder. Safe, familiar Buck smell in his nostrils. Solid Buck body in his arms, warm and pulsing with breath and heartbeat. Eddie exhales.

Buck turns off the faucet. He pulls off one rubber glove, then gives up on the other one and twists around in Eddie’s arms—Eddie participates reluctantly—until they’re front to front, and he can hug Eddie back. That is better, Buck fitting perfectly into him, holding him the same way Eddie is holding him. Eddie tilts his face into Buck’s neck, and Buck uses the hand that isn’t wearing a soapy dish glove to stroke over his hair. It feels good.

Bad shift? Buck murmurs, and Eddie doesn’t answer, frowning into Buck’s skin. Buck hums against his temple. That’s okay, he says anyway, soft and mindless. I got you, Eddie, I got you.

Eddie keeps breathing Buck in, keeps hanging on. Buck forgets about the rubber glove, and a wet soapy hand comes to rest over Eddie’s right scapula. A burst of fondness punctures the wall of relief.

Thanks, Eddie says finally, not letting him go yet, but trying to persuade himself that he’s going to.

Buck kisses his forehead. Anytime, he says, then uses his one normal hand and his other soapy hand to tilt Eddie up into a real kiss.

Eddie lets it happen, closing his eyes. He’s thirty-four. He was married for eight years; Shannon’s been gone for almost eight again. He has the best kid in the world; he has Buck, he has a meaningful job he’s grateful to still love. His best friend is dead, and he misses her. His best friend is kissing him right now, his heart beating fast and steady right against Eddie’s, and Eddie doesn’t have to miss him yet.

You taste like spaghetti, Buck murmurs dreamily into his mouth, and Eddie bursts out laughing, finally relaxes his death grip on Buck’s ribs. Guess I forgot to brush my teeth last night, sorry. Bobby made spaghetti? Buck says indignantly, like he was deliberately left out, and tries to lick the taste back out of Eddie’s mouth, which doesn’t work perfectly, because Eddie’s still laughing.

#eddie diaz #buddie #evan buck buckley #911 #grief #death cw #car crashes #to be safe

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cosycafune · 1 year ago

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— PUSSY’S CONFESSION!

you know that satoru gojo likes you, so you’re confused by why his stupid self avoids you. but after a while, you finally got the answer you’ve been looking for. the man’s smart, but he’s really an idiot in the face of love. maybe showing him other ways will make him confess?

synopsis of acts: unprotected sex, creampies, getting caught, angst, pinning, degradation, virginity losses, missionary, cumming, kissing, slight fluff & potential more. not proofread.

*#*<3

Pinned to the wall, you’re almost breathless — your eyes wide whilst an angered Satoru towered over you. He’s mean, his nimble fingers barely activating their flexibility — when it came to trapping your hands against the door.

It wasn’t your fault that you’re tightened against his bedroom door, your eyes watery as nothing more than his somnolent eyes met yours.

There’s not a hopeful spark. There are no colliding moons that boomed and formed fireworks with you there. To you, your heart pondered on the possibility of Satoru hating you — even after the two of you shared your first kiss.

“I-I know…that you hate me, Sato’,” Shortening Satoru’s name subconsciously, your eyes grow teary at his grasp tensing — your nickname ringing through his frazzled mind.

“Because you know that I’m not capable of loving you properly, without putting you in danger,” Anger adorns Satoru’s wavering tone, “I’m not the light that you’re looking for, even if we did share a kiss.” Your eyes collapse at his impactful let down.

“Am I so easy to give up on?” Mumbling innocently, you speak to him with longing. Longing that you had never experienced before him.

Satoru’s eyes are dead set on your own, even as you attempt to look away — saving your shredding dignity. Dignity whilst he has you at your most vulnerable, his lips inches away from your own as your friends’ laughter lingers against your warm ears.

“You’re going to die being with me,” Bottled, Satoru subconsciously tautened his hold — his eyes meeting your delicate curls of hair.

“Then, why do you have me pinned against the wall?” Sniffling, you avert your gaze to the photo of the two of you — on his brown desk.

“B-Because—”

“—N-No, you just wanted to have almost all of me until you made this stupidity known!” Shouting, writhing vigorously, you continue, “You didn’t have a problem when we were cuddling, talking everything out, comforting each other near death, so what’s changed?” Softening with detrimental hope, your lips contort with restricted freedom.

“Because we got close to having sex, and I couldn’t do that to you, knowing that I might leave you to save you!” Satoru’s bellowing causes you to wince, glancing at him with vast eyes — irreversible damage settled on you.

“You have me pinned to a wall! You haven’t tried, but have the audacity to assume that I’m weak!” Grumbling at Satoru not moving, your heart wavers at his knee settled innocently between your thighs.

“What are you going to do about that?” Satoru’s unfitting teasing leads you into gently grinding against his knee, your summer dress gifting access you’ve never dealt with before.

“I-I’ll grind until you tell me that you love me!” Lightly grinding against Satoru’s reciprocating knee cap, a light moan entwines with your bellowed statement.

“I know that we almost had sex before, but will losing our virginities now change anything?” Concerned, Satoru’s conflicted question sparks a flame within his pensive eyes.

“Only if you tell me that you love me, since you do everything but tell me that,” Halting, you attempt to speak to Satoru’s soul — unwilling to lose yourself if he held no love for you.

“I-I love,” Satoru grows nervous, stilling his confession, unable to fathom placing you in danger, “I don’t want to hurt you.” Satoru’s false anger envelops you, causing you to begin to weep — feeling unworthy.

“I-I’m not weak, and I can protect myself,” You admit, emotionally stuffy at Satoru’s patronisation.

“You’re weak, and you know that,” Heartbroken, you pathetically glance at a wordy Satoru, “But, I still love you, so get killed if you want to.” Muttering, Satoru glances around his dorm room — his lips drawing nearer to your pouty own.

“Don’t speak to me like that again—” Satoru presses his knee upon your clit, softly rubbing upon the area as you break into uncontrolled moans.

“Speak like what, Princess?” Scoffing, Satoru pushes himself into painfully toying with you, dropping a hand of his own to lift up your summer dress — observing your frilly underwear.

“Like I’m less equal than you are,” Standing up for yourself, your lips waver as Satoru uses his vacant hand to rub your clothed clit.

“You’re my equal, so let’s see if you can handle me, without alerting Suguru and Shoko,” Deviously smiling, Satoru cups your ample breast with a newfound intrigue — his fingers brushing over your taut nipple.

—

Dazed, stretched and completely pulverised by an inexperienced Satoru, your eyes are teary, your limbs engraved by Satoru’s ample cock. Satoru had grown greedy, speedily learning how to fuck you.

And, well now, he lingers moments away from making you cum for the first time. He remains towering over you, his girthy cock splitting open your pretty cunt with all of his might. A beautiful might that has you pathetically moaning, your cream upon his cock completely motivating him — leaving him into pushing you further into his bed sheets.

Even with all the bed creaking, Satoru didn’t care as the thought of departing from you like this doomed him. To confess, to him, was to reveal your fate of death. However, like this, a safeness emerged, even if it was through him fucking you gently — stealing away your hesitant breaths.

And there it was, an ethereal face you pose — unable to hold back your cum while he cums with you. It’s something so reckless, but Satoru’s heartbeat entwines with you own as he tenderly collapses upon you. Upon you while you glance up at him, attempting to process how the two of you had gotten away with raw dogging so loudly, your cunt squelching, writhing and taking him all in.

“Sato’, just a little bit more,” Satoru’s inspired by your pleading words, leading him to grow hard inside of you — beginning to thrust gently enough. Gently enough as you had mildly bled throughout, and he didn’t want to hurt you further.

As, seeing your face tighten at his girthy cock filling you out, shaky and close to tears, lead Satoru into almost stopping. But with you holding his ample hand, you encouraged him into pushing through your pain. Your shimmering, teary eyes paired with a jelly smile that crumbled with strain.

“Ah! Sato’! Yes!” Drooling, your eyes roll back with Satoru rearranging your moulding walls.

“S-Shit, never thought I’d learn this right now,” A blushing mess, Satoru’s eyes widen at the extremely lewd sight of you — never had he experienced or viewed you in this lighting.

“Y-You’re so beautiful,” Mustering nervously, Satoru’s eyes mature into a smitten state — finally appreciating you in all of your beauty.

“Ngh! Yes! I-I am!” Connecting your lazy lips with Satoru’s own, you moan into his mouth with each desperate, emotion-storing pounding.

Pounding you know Suguru and Shoko could hear, especially with the crazy amount of shaking that Satoru’s bed made. Satoru’s gentleness was also paired with this unfulfilled desperation, leaving him into basking in your unfamiliar cunt. Something he couldn’t long to let go, memorising the soppiness of your cunt, your ring of cum, your creampie that smears his cock, he just couldn’t let it go.

“Hm! Take it, Princess! Yes!” Satoru shamelessly shouts, pulling his thick cock out of you, all before shoving into back inside of a squeamish you so effortlessly.

“F-Feels…so good—”

“—S-Satoru! Y/n!” Shocked, panting heavily, you and Satoru glance at his dorm door in shock — grateful to have locked it.

“Only I’m here,” Serious, Satoru breathless spews his lies �� covering your mouth before he lightly thrusts into a tingly you.

“I can hear Y/n moaning, but make sure to at least get plan B,” At Suguru’s proud voice, Satoru feels you wrap your legs around his waist — subconsciously mewling loudly at his deep spurts cum within your abdomen.

“I love you,” Satoru shyly mumbles, observing the shyness you exhibit — covering your features with heavy shame.

“S-Suguru…heard us,” Close to tears, your choppy breaths distort your panicked words.

“I don’t care, since you’re all that matters and I said I love you,” Whining, Satoru collapses against your plentiful breasts — annoyed at the mentioning of his best friend.

“You have to earn it, since you were rude earlier,” Smiling, Satoru kisses your cushiony lips — glancing into your eyes.

To you, his eyes spilled a confession of genuine love. Through the heavens and the earths, his love’s something life-altering.

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reality-detective · 6 months ago

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Something To Think About 👇

UNDERSTANDING: "THE WIZARD OF OZ"

"The Wizard of Oz = The Crown Temple. This is not a mere child's story written by L. Frank Baum.

What symbol does "Oz" stand for?

Ounces... Gold.

What is the yellow brick road?

Bricks or ingot bars of gold.

The character known as the Straw Man represents that fictitious ALL CAPS legal fiction a PERSON - the Government created with the same spelling as your Christian birth name.

Remember what the Straw Man wanted from the Wizard of Oz? A brain! No legal fiction has a brain because they have no breath of life!

What did he get in place of a brain? A Certificate. A Birth Certificate for a new legal creation. He was proud of his new legal status, plus all the other legalisms he was granted. Now he becomes the true epitome of the brainless sack of straw who was given a Certificate in place of a brain of common sense.

What about the Tin Man?

Does Taxpayer Identification Number (TIN) mean anything to you?

The poor TIN Man just stood there mindlessly doing his work until his body literally froze up and stopped functioning. He worked himself to death because he had no heart nor soul. He's the heartless and emotionless creature robotically carrying out his daily task as if he was already dead. He's the ox pulling the plough and the mule toiling under the yoke. His masters keep him cold on the outside and heartless on the inside in order to control any emotions or heart he may get a hold of.

The pitiful Cowardly Lion was always too frightened to stand up for himself.

Of course, he was a bully and a big mouth when it came to picking on those smaller than he was. They act as if they have great courage, but they really have none at all. All roar with no teeth of authority to back them up. When push came to shove, the Cowardly Lion always buckled under and whimpered when anyone of any size or stature challenged him. He wanted courage from the Grand Wizard, so he was awarded a medal of "official" recognition. Now, regardless of how much of a coward he still was, his official status made him a bully with officially recognized authority. He's just like the Attorneys who hide behind the Middle Courts of the Temple Bar.

What about the trip through the field of poppies? They weren't real people, so drugs had no effect on them.

The Wizard of Oz was written at the turn of the century, so how could the author have known America was going to be drugged? The Crown has been playing the drug cartel game for centuries. Just look up the history of Hong Kong and the Opium Wars. The Crown already had valuable experience conquering all of China with drugs, so why not the rest of the world?

Who finally exposed the Wizard for what he really was?

Toto, the ugly (or cute, depending on your perspective) and somewhat annoying little dog. Toto means "in total, all together; Latin in toto." Notice how Toto was not scared of the Great Wizard's theatrics, yet he was so small in size compared to the Wizard, no-one seemed to notice him. The smoke, flames and hologram images were designed to frighten people into doing as the Great Wizard of Oz commanded. Toto simply went over, looked behind the curtain - the court - (see the definition for curtain above), saw it was a scam, and started barking until others paid attention to him and came to see what all the barking was about.

Just an ordinary person controlling the levers that created the illusions of the Great Wizard's power and authority. The veil hiding the corporate legal fiction and its false courts were removed. The Wizard's game was up.

It's too bad that people don't realize just how loud a bark from a little dog is. What about your bark? No matter how small your bark is - it can be heard.

Do you just remain silent and wait to be given whatever food and recognition, IF any, your legal slave master gives you?

Are you going to continue to follow the script by what they command of you? You are NOT a puppet so when they pull the levers to create their False Flags/Black Swan Events...

Ask: "Where is YOUR bark?" 🤔

What scares them? A "Pack of Dogs" removing the veil and all barking together, then the evil cowards will back down. They definitely do NOT want ALL of US standing TOGETHER barking.

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lunar-oceansong · 2 years ago

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my pitch for why Wanderer and Furina should be friends (and that they should meet through an interlude quest like Itto and Xiao)

"viewed as flawed for being too human" vs "viewed as perfect due to being human". (aka false god trauma yknow.)

they both wear blue (blue besties!!!)

half of their dialogue would be trying to say they're better than the other, but neither of them actually believe that

furina loves sweets. wanderer hates sweets. battle to the death.

in one of her character lines, furina says she loves to surf, so furina teaching the wanderer how to surf would be the funniest fucking thing ever and i will not take any arguments on this

BOTH OF THEM HAVE WHOLE THINGS INVOLVING CRYING??? FURINA'S PROPHECY VS WANDERER CRYING WHEN RAIDEN TRIED PUTTING THE GNOSIS IN HIM??? (this ones in all caps cause i realized it while making this post)

the only two characters to have received a vision on screen should get to be besties methinks

furina having to learn how to act inhuman vs the wanderer having to learn how to act human

"why did you give your hydro pets such complicated names" "I- you- well- uh- YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A NAME" "HEY-"

i just think it'd be both funny and angsty and bro thats the perfect combination when it comes to media. they are THE gap between a tragedy and comedy

#Genshin Impact #Furina #Wanderer #Genshin Furina #Genshin Wanderer #Scaramouche #listen i just REALLY need this to happen

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ladysleep51 · 2 months ago

Text

Ghost in the Shell

Negleted male reader x batfamily chapter 1

Probably bad English ⚠️

Prologue - cap 2

Y un montón de orgullo argentino la puta madre >:)

You certainly always were weird, a weird boy and then a weird man

You were born from one night between a respectable and loving woman like your mother and...Bruce.Then you lost the most important woman in your life and your home as a child.

Then you grew up with your father and your family

You were so excited to make them happy, but it was all in vain.His false promises only brought sad hopes to the child.

You naively believed his words without thinking that they were lies or insults

You stayed alone so as not to suffer the consequences of such a beautiful life that could only have been a dream For the child who found comfort in his computer and later considered it his home

Considering the internet as your place, just for being yourself, and then evolving over the years, bringing happiness to millons of persons and hiding invisible shortcomings and pains.

From your first videos as a child to your last as a young adult who inspired others with his parodies, sketches and his accordion, native to your beautiful Argentina and inherited from your mother

Only to begin your own mourning after finishing your shift in the kitchen where you worked and passing away

You were young, still studying and working for a better future for yourself as a Latino only to die with two gunshots to the chest, lying on the floor of an alley

And that was your story so far. Locked inside the same technology that accompanied you in life in one way or another

You possessed your computer,ridiculous as it sounds,Only able to see your own room and what you considered almost your home

According to a Gotham website that recorded deaths, you had died a few days ago.You were successfully registered in the database as t/n and recognized by your family

No one has entered your room since then and for now you have only been doing your same daily routine on the internet, without your work, your few friends and studies of course, trying to understand yourself

Only Alfred came in, bringing with him some personal pain for the loss, you hid from him pretending to be turned off by fear..

The man meticulously dusted the objects in the unopened room while you stood in pure silence with your...Monitor? Face? Off

He walked around the room, stopping after a few steps to see somethings like it was a musem Posters,figures from series or games that Alfred din't know, drawings full of your unique creativity, your old sheets, the stickers of candy promos on the window and other places stuck

Your room seemed almost trapped in time and you loved it that way

Finally, the two great exhibits of "your museum" were your beautiful, and beautiful accordion..or how you like to call it,acordeón o Gardelito Demonstrating your people's characteristic love for your country

It was a beautiful old accordion painted black with a "fileteado" Showing your light blue and white flag with a sun in the center with all its pride

The brightness of the instrument made it charming to anyone and captivated the old butler who looked with interest at its keys

The old man's wrinkled hand landed on the keyboard, about to touch a key, then closed slightly and moved away, welcoming him to the latest exhibit: an old computer

Your old computer

And you

So many years sitting at the same table in front of an old blue chair entertaining one of Wayne's sons..

Only to be seen empty and sad without her partner in the silence of the room

It wasn't the most shocking image the butler had ever seen, but it provoked...a feeling of regret and pain

For the absence of someone Alfred knew deserved a chance

#batfamily x neglected reader #yandere batfamily #yandere batboys #x neglected reader #male!reader #neglected reader

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dufferpuffer · 4 months ago

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What makes you say that Remus gets facts wrong or has put the class behind schedule? JKR describes him in an interview as a wonderful teacher (if you take much stock in her opinion), and the criticisms Snape has of him in the substitute teacher episode are just not well supported. For one thing, it's Snape who falsely tells a student that Kappas are from Mongolia. When he criticizes the progress of Harry's class, he a) doesn't give any consideration for the useless professors they'd previously had, and b) is already well known for setting unreasonable expectations. The students think Remus is great because he gives engaging lessons, not necessarily because he is objectively the best, but if Hermione never criticizes the pace of the class, then he's probably doing fine there as well. As far as disorganization, I can believe that Remus didn't leave good notes for Snape. However, Snape admits this isn’t actually a hindrance--he's just finding something to complain about to help cure the class of their love for Professor Lupin.

Snape's behavior in the chapter is a good example of why Snape's obvious contempt discourages other characters from engaging with him in good faith. Also, it's totally consistent with his character to take an opportunity to leverage the little power he has in response to Dumbledore putting someone he considers dangerous in a teacher's position. Personally I think JKR's accomplishment here is that Snape's hatred of Remus bounces between reasonable and unreasonable as we continue gathering information about Snape vs. the Marauders. Actually it's just fun in general to reread the series and see where Snape was right and where he was wrong.

What makes me say Remus gets facts wrong or put the class behind schedule... It is Snape's observation, mainly - I trust what he has to say - supported by what we see in Remus' classes.

Severus has been a teacher for 13 years and produces students with high level marks. He is a good teacher, just one not every student meshes with - and he doesn't adjust to suit stragglers. It's probably his biggest weakness as a teacher, other than being an asshole.

His critiques of Remus' class are:

'As I was saying before Potter interrupted, Professor Lupin has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far-' 'Please, sir, we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas and Grindy-lows,' said Hermione quickly, 'and we're just about to start -' 'Be quiet,' said Snape coldly. 'I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organisation.'

Lupin has left no notes for Snape despite knowing the schedule of every full moon for the year. He didn't tell Severus what they were up to or what activity he wanted the class to do - he hasn't even kept a record of what they have already completed up until this point.

That's disorganization. That's not knowing where they will get up to next week or the week after, despite having a schedule. Hermione is keeping better track of the class than Lupin is.

Could Snape be lying to the students about his disorganisation? That would be out of character, especially since the students don't give a shit about such a thing. That detail irks Severus, not the kids. He's just havin' a bit of a whinge.

If Remus had written a note he could have torn it up, complained that they are behind and set Werewolves as their task. No reason to lie.

'You are easily satisfied. Lupin is hardly over-taxing you - I would expect first-years to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss -'

Could Snape be being hyperbolic here? Yes. I expect him to be. Is Snape a hardass that wants a lot from his students? Yep. Does Snape want to make what Remus teaches them to seem babyish, and his lesson more grown-up and important? Absolutely. Does that mean he is lying? No.

I don't think he is the sort to be too hyperbolic. He wouldn't be out here saying 'I expect a first-year to be able to brew a Draught of Living Death' or something. He never expects the impossible. Whether Red Caps and Grindylows are first, second or third year topics - I believe him when he says they are below their level.

'Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognise a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are…'

...This is harder to tell how serious it is. I don't think they would have been at Werewolves yet. Severus is teaching it out of necessity - would Remus ever do it...? Risk outing himself with his own two hands? I doubt it. Severus is also eager to teach it ASAP because he suspects Remus is a dangerous man working with a serial killer.

So does he seriously think that midway through the year a third year class should know how to identify a werewolf - or does he just want to tell Dumbledore he thinks Remus is avoiding it when he should be focusing on it for the students own wellbeing…? Could go either way tbh. Or both. (Hermione knew the answer but I don't really count that as proof lol)

[…]Snape prowled up and down the rows of desks, examining the work they had been doing with Professor Lupin. 'Very poorly explained … that is incorrect, the Kappa is more commonly found in Mongolia … Professor Lupin gave this eight out of ten? I wouldn't have given it three …'

You say Snape falsely told a student Kappa are from Mongolia. He didn't - he says they are more commonly found there. I don't see any reason not to believe him…? Why would he be spouting incorrect facts around students?

Lupin prioritizes student comfort. Snape prioritizes student learning. Remus is more likely to get facts wrong. Snape is more likely to piss people off. Remus is more likely to mark forgivingly - an 8/10. Snape is more likely to mark strictly - a 3/10.

It all lines up pretty well.

Remus' first lesson is poorly organised and he is lenient with points. He lets a Boggart loose amongst students without planning for every student getting a turn (Hermione misses out). He hadn't planned for Harry's fear ahead of time, or the risk of anyone else in the class finding Voldemort a little too much. He put his own secret at risk by revealing his own fear, which Hermione uses to work out he is a werewolf.

'Excellent, Neville. Well done, everyone. Let me see … five points to Griffindor for every person to tackle the Boggart - ten for Neville because he did it twice - and five each to Hermione and Harry.'

He smooths everything over by giving out house points like candy. He is giving out points to Griffindor for doing classwork…? Whats next, points for tying their shoelaces?

Professor Lupin smiled at the look of indignation on every face. 'Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay.'

This gets me lol - he's happy they're all pissed off at having to do a big assignment, so he just cancels it. The sheer disrespect...

He could have shortened the length, or pushed back the due date, or dedicated another class to the topic, or even said 'well Professor Snape has his own way of teaching, if he set an assignment I'm sure it's because he thought you could handle it'. Nah. He wants to be the cool teacher that can boss Snape around.

I love the idea that he went to 'speak to Professor Snape' about it. What did he say...? 'Nice try, Sev - I'm cancelling it. B^)'

I don't put much stock into interview responses. The information needs to be at least published in some sort of 'official' format. People can say anything in the spur of the moment.

That being said - Remus WAS a wonderful teacher. I think he was a true natural at it and did a brilliant job overall. His stand-out skills are exactly the things Severus is bad at: connecting with students and encouraging them in ways that suit their individual needs. Remus is a people person and loves the chance to help rather than cause harm.

But he was also a first year teacher teaching a core subject. He was taking at least 2 days off a month and many days off-colour. I wouldn't expect perfection from him, and what Severus critiques (behind on schedule, disorganised, some incorrect information, overly forgiving marking) all sounds like new teacher mistakes. (honestly name a teacher who remains on schedule the whole year irl lol)

It is fun to reread and see where Severus was right and wrong. Especially since on a first read he seems so very wrong, always getting in Harry's way… but most of the time is right, or at least acting very reasonably with the information he has. PoA is a story where he was very wrong. Remus was not working with a serial killer, did not want Harry dead, wasn't working all that hard to bring Harry 'over to his side' (he was sorta annoyingly aloof) and was actually a trustworthy individual and a good teacher - just with a different methodology.

But I don't think that means Severus' observations of Remus' teacher habits were incorrect or grossly hyperbolic. He was looking for evidence that helped substantiated and supported his theories.

#hp #severus snape #remus lupin #love you remus #remus my beloved

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meanbossart · 11 months ago

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Omg omg Meanboss i saw ur Patreon Post rn aaaaand now i can't stop thinking about how Astarion and Drow would react and grieve, if one of them died. Do u have any thoughts to that?

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh boy. I'm almost reluctant to answer this because I feel like this is absolutely DU drow's ugliest side, LOL.

So let me put off the inevitable and start with Astarion: the unlikely more well-adjusted half when it comes to this - if you can call total desensitization being "well adjusted", at least.

Astarion has led hundreds of people to their deaths after supposedly earning their trust, care and attention - I'm not saying every single one of his outings ended in heart-break, in fact the vast majority were probably completely impersonal one-night stands, but at SOME POINT in Astarion's life he must have held some care for people or at least an aversion to the idea of manipulating them into death's maw - until he had to do it over, and over, and over, and over again.

It's very clear to me that Astarion managed to completely shut his empathy out, as well as his sense of attachment especially in the short-term. Those things still exist within him but are like a weak flame he has to keep feeding with kindling if he wants it to stick around; and it would be far easier to just extinguish it at once. If someone close to him were to die, especially unexpectedly, he'd just stomp it out for good and move on as if nothing had happened, probably unable to form another relationship like it for at the very least a couple of years but otherwise remain perfectly functional, and, by all intends and purposes, have gotten over the loss exceptionally quickly.

Obviously, if we're talking about DU drow's death, this would change over time and depend on how long they remained together for. I can't tell you how 500-year-old Astarion would react to the loss of his loved one (too many variables to consider) but one can expect the concept to become harder to accept the more used he grows to someone's permanence.

Now, the drow. He does not deal well with losing, and that applies to people just as well as it applies to concepts and objects. I think he can wrap his mind around the idea of someone dying of old-age, but anything short of that is akin to being stolen from.

Which brings us to Astarion's immortality, and the false sense of security that that brings DU drow. In his mind, if he is immortal, that simply means he won't ever die. This is, to him, is a certain fact the vast majority of the time,save for the rare and brief occasion where he has to face a different reality. This also means that if Astarion ever dies, that is obviously due to a tremendous failure in DU drow's part.

I simply do not think he would get over it. Much like the scenario with Villain DU drow where Orin's death basically begins the countdown for his own, his ambitions from that point forward would cap at revenge, and done that, he would either become something profoundly ugly or just let himself rot. I think this is just... Something inherit to him and the way he functions, making the former memory loss a blessing in even more ways than it already is.

He'd probably also try to resurrect him, but for all his desperation I can at least tell you that he wouldn't fall for/settle for anything lesser than his beloved with their cognizance fully intact, nor do anything that could destroy their corpse. He, uh, Is gonna need that.

#ask #du drow and astarion

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sturnzsblog · 29 days ago

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empty dreams and false promises 16

summary: y/n life changes and not for the best she is forced to move in with three people that she barely knows. She ends up falling for one of these strangers, but who will it be?

Warnings: mentions of death, stalking, drugs ( not actual use) and smut! this is for all parts of the story! please let me know if i missed any!

I don’t know what I did wrong.

At first, I thought maybe I imagined it. The way Matt brushed past me in the hallway this morning like I wasn’t even standing there. The way he didn’t answer when I softly called, “Matt?” like my voice didn’t even register. I stood there, holding the sleeve of my hoodie—Chris’s hoodie—watching his back as he walked off.

My chest tightened.

The house felt colder with him ignoring me. I hated this. More than anything.

Chris was already downstairs in the kitchen, pouring cereal, hair messy and eyes still a little sleepy. When he saw me walk in, his eyes flicked to the hoodie again, then up to my face.

“You okay?” he asked, gently tapping the spoon against the bowl.

I forced a smile, walking past him and sitting at the kitchen island. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” he said simply, mouth full. “Matt?”

I didn’t answer right away. Just stared into the counter like it could give me answers. “He won’t talk to me,” I admitted finally, voice small.

Chris set his spoon down and leaned closer. “It’s ‘cause of me, huh?”

I glanced at him.

The corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk. “The hoodie? The accidental flashing? Which, by the way, top-tier entertainment.”

“Shut up,” I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. “I’m never wearing that hoodie again.”

he smiles at me shaking his head as i tug in the hoodie.

“You’re welcome to flash me any time,” he teased, and I swatted at him, laughing despite the ache still curling in my stomach.

But it didn’t fix the way I kept replaying Matt’s expression. The silence. The disappointment I think I saw before he disappeared into his room.

We went out later to run errands. Matt drove. Chris rode shotgun. I sat in the back, staring out the window, the sun too bright for my mood. We hit the grocery store first. I trailed behind as the boys picked out snacks and ingredients for dinner. Every time I tried to say something to Matt, his eyes flicked past me. Like I wasn’t there. Like my voice didn’t even hit his ears.

“Do you want that pasta we liked last week?” I asked quietly.

No answer. Just the sound of him tossing something into the cart and walking off toward the next aisle.

I stood frozen in front of the boxed pastas, blinking away the sting in my eyes.

Chris appeared beside me, bumping his shoulder into mine gently. “He’s being a dick.”

“I just want to fix it,” I whispered.

Chris frowned, studying me. “It’s not your fault. He’s… he’s got his own stuff. Don’t let him make you feel like this.”

I nodded, but it didn’t stop the sinking feeling in my chest.

That night, we were cooking. Or at least trying to.

Chris was dancing around the kitchen, stealing veggies off the cutting board and singing dramatically off-key to whatever was playing on the speaker. I giggled, slapping his hand away.

“You’re literally no help.”

“I’m moral support,” he said, winking. “And comic relief.”

“Sure you are.”

Just then, Matt walked in, grabbing a drink from the fridge. My heart leapt, hoping maybe this would be the moment—he’d talk, he’d explain, he’d stop making me feel like I’m this awful thing he has to tolerate.

“Matt?” I said softly, drying my hands on a towel.

He didn’t even look at me.

Just twisted the cap off his water and walked back out.

My hands trembled slightly as I set the towel down. I turned my back quickly, pretending to stir the sauce so no one would see my eyes glass over.

Chris placed a gentle hand on my lower back. “Hey. Don’t let him ruin your vibe.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Just give me a second, okay?”

He nodded, stepping back.

Later that night, we went out for ice cream. Something to lighten the mood, I guess.

Chris joked the entire car ride, sticking his head out the window and yelling, “Free ice cream for hot people only!” causing people on the sidewalk to stare and laugh. I smiled, heart aching, but it was something.

At the shop, I hung back while Matt ordered. I watched as Chris paid for mine, giving me a wink. I mouthed “thank you” and took the cone with a small smile.

We sat on the curb outside, legs stretched out into the cool night. Chris licked his cone and leaned in, bumping my shoulder again.

“So… still cold?” he asked teasingly.

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “Shut up about the hoodie.”

“Oh, come on. It’s a moment now. A core memory.”

I sighed. “You’re ridiculous.”

He smirked, licking a drop off his thumb. “You like it.”

I blushed, hiding my smile with a bite of ice cream.

Matt hadn’t said a word the whole outing.

When we got home, I found him in the kitchen. Alone. Quiet.

I bit my lip, stepping inside. “Matt?”

He didn’t answer.

“Can we talk?”

Silence.

“Please,” I whispered, the knot in my stomach turning painful.

He exhaled through his nose and turned slightly, eyes finally meeting mine.

“I just…” I hesitated. “I didn’t know the hoodie was Chris’s. I thought it was yours. I just… I was cold and I didn’t want to bother you.”

He studied me, jaw tense. Then he turned away again.

“I said I was sorry,” I added, voice cracking. “You don’t have to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he muttered finally. “I just… forget it.”

“Matt—”

But he left the room, leaving me standing there, alone.

Later that night, there was a soft knock at my door.

Matt stood there in the hallway, arms crossed, eyes tired.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

I stared at him, heart softening. “Me too.”

He pulled me into a hug, arms wrapping tight. My cheek pressed against his chest, and I let out a small sigh.

“I just don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

“You’re not going to.”

But as I stood there in his arms, my heart thudding uncomfortably, I couldn’t help but feel that maybe I was already being pulled in two different directions—and I didn’t know which way was right.

taglist 💋

@n00dl3zzz @pip4444chris @sturnzzlovee @bernardmatthews @badbishkayleee

#christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #baby daddy chris #dilf!matt #sturniolo edit #dilf!chris au ʚଓ #matt stuniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo oneshots #matthew bernard sturniolo #mattsturniolo #chratt #jealous chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo

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alieinthemorning · 6 months ago

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Mission Accomplished [Caleb]

Content: Major Character Death, Angst, Written Before Caleb's Official Release, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None

Important: Caleb is a childhood friend. Period. Anything outside of that makes me very uncomfortable, so I won’t be engaging nor do I want anyone who does engage with it anywhere near me or my works. In layman’s terms, keep that brother-fucker shit away from me.

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries

Wanna support me? Here’s my Ko-Fi!

“It doesn’t have to be this way!” You had your gun aimed at him, body trembling in palpable fear.

Caleb frowns. This was the hunter of the UNICORNS Alpha Team? He holds back a sigh of irritation. Caleb is privy to most things concerning you, and your placement in the UNICORN Alpha division was no feat made by your own merits. You were placed there by EVER’s discretion, and it is honestly a miracle that you haven’t died already.

This time he does sigh. You truly are pathetic. He wonders why he truly was created if this was all he ever had to go up against.

You were nothing more than a failure.

Your voice cuts through his thoughts. “Please, Caleb!”

Your plea makes him pause. He takes a moment to think about what was most likely your very simple thought process.

You probably were caught up in all the memories of your time together. For you, they were special, to him, it was nothing more than a mission. You were caught up in a false him that never truly existed, and now you were begging for him to “go back to normal”. Unfortunately for you, while you were dying and being sheltered by memory lost. He was forced to live out this hell.

So, even if the two of you did run away together it would just end up with you both being dragged back to hell to do this damned song and dance all over again. However, only he would be alive for the descent. And what would be the point of that when he has two functional legs to carry him there?

BANG

“Subject 001 has been terminated.”

“Copy. Bring it to the drop-off point.”

Caleb lifts his gaze from your lifeless body to the cloudless sky. He shifts his cap forward to shield his eyes from the onslaught of rain.

A mirthless laugh bubbles to the surface. “It’s a terrible day for rain.”

I had a whole other homecoming fic planned, but his trailer blew that shit straight outta the water, so y'all are getting this instead :)

I hope this hurt.

Feral shit incoming later at the usual place tho lmao

Ko-Fi | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #alie ficlets: love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #caleb x reader #lads caleb x reader #tw character death

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bathic · 7 months ago

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⌜It started with one unlucky volunteer with each new year, chosen from a folded slip of paper piled within an old ball cap. A retriever of answers, the bringer of solutions, messenger of the unknown— whatever false title the mayor could pin to the heads of the chosen only served as empty rhetoric. To you, at least. Everyone else soaked up the verbiage like sponge-brained sheep, crowding their trustworthy shepherd in a state of blind trust against the strange and unusual. It felt stupid to follow, and while your intentions weren’t to do so; the nosedive you take into the gaping mouth of the pit while trying to flee the hands of a real small-town monster only made you half as rash and just a quarter-inch naive.⌟

Current Word Count: 33.5k

Warning/Tags: Rain-Moth!Ateez, Hybrid!Ateez, Pirate!Ateez, Steampunk au, Science Fiction/Fantasy, poly!Ateez, Slow Burn, Abuse, Trauma, Kidnapping, Angst, Slow burn Romance, Eventual Smut, Human!Reader, Torture, Underground World, Explicit Language.

Chapters↴

It appeared in the spring.

A means to an end.

You were positive they were wings.

Another casualty to the pit.

It was a fantasy you couldn't understand the appeal of.

Maybe it will be if you survive.

Except there was no waiting.

Death was definitely in your foreseeable future.

You needed to get out.

Why should you listen to him anyways?

It's his game and nobody else's to partake in.

Fire and ice, oil and water, love and hate.

Never warm, never implicitly inviting.

They felt like little icy pinpricks along his skin.

But that was only the first surprise.

Two different types of insects holding two differing meanings.

TBA

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #masterlist #bathic's:Pit #human!reader #hybrid!ateez

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orcinus-veterinarius · 1 year ago

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When horses end up with severe leg/hip injuries, they are almost always put to sleep. The odds of recovering full mobility from such injuries are slim and the odds of reinjury are high, so even if the horse is perfectly healthy in all other aspects, it is generally recognized to be more humane to put them down than to keep them alive just to live the rest of their lives limping around a small paddock or stall. A life for a horse in which s/he cannot gallop, leap, explore and play is no life at all. Why not apply the same logic to cetaceans? A life for a cetacean in which they can’t dive hundreds of meters, make meaningful autonomous choices (“should I play with the rubber ball or the puzzle feeder today?” is not a meaningful choice; research has shown that autonomy is crucial for animal welfare), echolocate and experience the rich biodiversity of the ocean is no life. I really don’t understand why it’s so horrible to think it more humane to euthanize a confused and sick orca calf if there is no chance of rehab and release than to take her/him permanently into captivity. It’s not disparaging or hateful to cetacean trainers to say so—I know they care about animals—it’s simply a logical ethical stance. Instead of searching in vain for orca conservation organizations that aren’t “radically anti-captivity”, maybe pro-caps should look inwards and ask themselves why all the major orca organizations (Center for Whale Research, Orca Behavior Institute, OrcaLab, Wild Orca, Orca Conservancy, Far East Russia Orca Project, etc.) as well as some cetacean organizations (ex. Whale and Dolphin Conservation, Cetacean Society International) oppose captivity. Is it because all of these esteemed groups, which if you look them up are all staffed by credentialed scientists, have been duped by the “animal rights agenda”, or could it be because maybe, just maybe, they know what they’re talking about? If captive orcas are so different from wild ones that wild orca biologists have no credibility to speak about their welfare, then that’s a clear indictment of captivity already.

Hi. I'm sorry for not answering right away, I was still at my externship when I got your ask, and I wanted to be able to sit down and give you a proper answer. So unfortunately, I don't think what I say will satisfy you. I don't expect to change your mind, nor is that my goal here. I only want to explain why I believe the way I do, so that you or others reading this can at least understand that it's not a position I take lightly, nor do I think it's infallible.

(Long post below the cut):

To start off, as an (almost) veterinarian, there are absolutely plenty of circumstances where I find euthanasia to be the correct decision. Euthanasia is our final gift to our patients, a swift and painless death in the face of prolonged suffering or poor quality of life. A large dog with debilitating osteoarthritis. A cat with terminal lymphoma. A down cow. A raptor with an amputated leg. Or like you mentioned, a horse with a fractured hip. These animals would live in a constant state of pain that they don't understand, and death can rightly be considered a kindness to them.

But an otherwise healthy orca calf? I would consider that a false equivalence. I agree that life in the wild should be prioritized whenever possible, and that captive orcas lead very different lives than their wild counterparts. But if that orca cannot return to the wild (orphaned and unable to be reunited with its pod, habituated to humans, non-painful disability such as deafness), and there is a facility willing to take it on, I do not think euthanasia is an appropriate option. In human care, that calf can still swim, breach, and dive, even if not to the same depths as the ocean (it's also worth noting that these are all costly behavior energetically and are not performed for no reason). It can still socialize and form family bonds with an adopted pod of whales. It can still (theoretically) mate and rear calves. It can still engage its big brain in problem-solving through training and enrichment in the place of hunting. And as a bonus, it will never go hungry and has access to veterinary care if ill or injured.

This is not a wild life. This is not the same life they would've, or should've known. A pool, no matter how well-appointed, is not the ocean, and we should not claim they're comparable. But I don't think it's a fate worse than death. I truly don't. But if it is... if freedom really is worth more than life, then all captive whales need to be euthanized. Even in a sea pen setting, they will not be free. They will not choose their food, their companions, their enrichment, their comings and goings. Those choices will still be made on their behalf by caregivers, and they will still have pretty much the same levels of autonomy as in their tank habitat. They will still be captive. (While some people do advocate for this, I don't think it's a popular outlook. Even SOS Dolfijn, a historically anti-cap organization, recently announced plans to build an aqauarium as a permanent home for non-releasable cetaceans rather than continuing to euthanize them).

Speaking of autonomy, yes, it is very important. But I truly don't think the orcas are distressed by the lack of meaning in choosing between enrichment devices. I think that's why we disagree on this topic... we have different worldviews. We both see orcas as beautiful, intelligent creatures, but I do not see them as people. They are animals, and for all their complexity, I interpret their behavior the same way I do any other species... they are motivated by food, reproduction, and (since they're highly social) companionship. Because of that, I still think we can give them a good life in human care, which is why it frustrates me to see the zoo community throw up their hands and give up rather than trying to improve our current less-than-ideal setups (*shakes my fist at the Blue World project*).

Now, I don't think it's wrong to be emotional about animals. I most definitely am! And it's very clear to me you love orcas and care about their wellbeing deeply. I admire that about you, and I appreciate your passion.

On to the next point... in the cetacean world, I've found that there is an unfortunate divide between researchers and caregivers who work with cetaceans in human care and those who study them exclusively in the wild. And that schism far predates the Blackfish era. Most of those organizations you listed are indeed legitimate, and I fully support their vital work and encourage others to do the same. A few of them, though, share things like this:

I think you can understand why this hurts me. And it's a lie. I've now interned at three aquariums (two of them AZA-accredited) that house various species of cetacean, and it's impossible for me to reconcile what I know and have seen to be true and what Whale and Dolphin Conservation wants the public to believe: that these unbelievably loved, vivacious animals are drugged and tortured by their greedy captors. It's not true, and I do not appreciate WDC for spreading this creepy artwork around. Nor do I think that fighting captivity is a beneficial allocation of resources when there is an overwhelming number of genuine threats to the survival of wild cetaceans.

Anyway, back to the scientists. Personally, I don't consider researchers who work exclusively with wild orcas to be either superior or inferior to those who work with captive whales. And sometimes I wonder how much of their position is a self-fulfilling prophecy: if someone opposes captivity on moral grounds, they won't work with captive whales, so they'll never get to know what their lives and care are like beyond maybe a single tour of the park or memories of how things were done in the 1960s (like Dr. Spong, who worked with some of the very first captive orcas at the Vancouver Aquarium).

I also don't think it diminishes the expertise of wildlife biologists to say that they are not experts on husbandry, training, or medical care... those are very different fields, and ideally, they should all inform each other. And of course, there are folks who work with both wild and captive whales. One of the reasons I linked SR3 in my previous post is they have staff with backgrounds in both managed care and research of free-ranging populations (I actually have no idea what the organization's official stance on captivity is, it's not something they address).

Maybe I'm wrong. I try my best to keep an open mind, but I know I'm also swayed by my own preconceptions and experiences. When I started this blog in December 2020, I was a first year vet student with minimal actual experience outside of domestic animals and some herps, and had only recently adopted the pro-captivity outlook. Now, I'm much more deeply involved in the zoo and aquarium world. These are people I know and respect, people who have written me letters of recommendation and comment on my Facebook posts, people I've had dinner with and showed up with after hours to care for a sick animal. And I recognize that biases me. The zoo world is often resistant to change, especially folks who have been in the industry for many years. And that doesn't do anyone, especially the animals, any good. I don't want to get stuck in an echo chamber, so I make it a point to read anti-captivity literature, even when it upsets me. If there is anything I can do to improve their lives, I want to learn about it, regardless of the source.

I try to adapt to new information. For example, in the past few months alone, I've become a lot more favorable toward the idea of sea pen habitats. My concerns about "sanctuaries" are more logisitical* and philosophical** rather than the idea that artifical habitats are inherently superior to pen habitats (they're not), especially when plenty of traditional facilites already make great use of ocean pens or enclosed lagoons. There are pros and cons to both, and a lot of it depends on the needs of the individual animals.

*funding; maintenance; lack of land-based backup pools and fully-equipped medical facilities; introducing immunologically naive animals to pollutants and infectious agents; disruptions to native wildlife; staffing activists and wildlife biologists rather than those with relevant husbandry experience

**villainizing aquariums; promoting the project as a "release to freedom" to the public when it's really another form of captivity; claiming the animals' lives will be "natural" when they will still require training, artificial enrichment, contraceptives, and social management if done correctly; downplaying or completely denying the very real risks of such a transition and insisting the animals will automatically be better off when Little White and Little Grey have proved that's not the case

If you made it to the bottom, thanks for reading. I wish all the best for you, and I mean that genuinely ❤️ even if we disagree, I hope you can appreciate our shared love for these animals and a desire for their wellbeing. Best of luck in all your endeavors!

#also no hard feelings if you unfollow me #I understand #orcas #killer whales #dolphins #cetaceans #marine mammals #animal welfare #cetacean captivity #pro captivity #anti captivity #aquariums #answered asks #anonymous

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