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zhonglis-wifey · 2 years

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I just really need Dottore fluff with his clones that is not nsfw so can we get reader that has been with Dottore since his academia years and is just being loving towards his younger clone version while his clone is just shy about all the attention that he's getting?

AAAAH I’M OBSESSED WITH THIS!!!! this is the cutest idea ever ur so galaxy brained for this

favorite • il dottore x reader

Being with Dottore so long, you had the privilege of seeing him grow into the man he is now. Correction: men he is now. Since he was expelled from the Academia, you witnessed Dottore’s scientific endeavors into more uncharted topics. The one that fascinated you far more than the others had to be his penchant for cloning himself. You already loved the real Dottore, so having even more of them was great!

All of them were instructed by the real Dottore to love and care for you just as he did. This instruction, however explicit it may be, was unnecessary, though; These clones were made to perfectly replicate him and every iteration of him loved you without having to be told to do so. Of course, since they represented different stages of Dottore’s adult life, they expressed that love in various ways.

Your heart sank when Dottore told you he had to go to Sumeru for the Fatui. These kinds of things happened with other Harbingers all the time, but since Dottore was so vital to the Tsaritsa’s homeland operations of creating delusions, you didn’t expect him to have to leave you for an extended period of time.

“I’m never going to finish this report with you here like this…” Dottore muttered, more to himself than you.

The two of you were in his laboratory in Zapolyarny Palace, with you sitting on his lap, chest against his, while he tried to focus on his job. Honestly, you never cared about his work as a Harbinger, especially not when it was about to take him away from you. You just wanted to be close to him before he was gone.

“I just wanna be together before you have to go tomorrow,” you whined. If you had been facing him, you would’ve seen a faint smile on Dottore’s face at your loving words.

He began to trace invisible circles on your waist with his unoccupied hand, soothing your sadness at his imminent departure. “The clones will be here, you know,” he suggested.

“But they’re not you,” you countered, disappointed in the idea of having to use the clones as a replacement. “I want you, Zandik.”

You felt the vibrations of a low chuckle move through his chest. “You say that now, but I think you’ll change your mind tomorrow.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you pondered aloud, never quite understanding what Dottore was talking about.

“You’ll see,” he smirked. You could tell he was amused with his own thoughts, as he often was. You just hoped that whatever he had planned wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

The next day, Dottore had left for Sumeru. You’d never let him (or anyone) know, but you cried as soon as you were alone. How were you supposed to fare without your Zandik? It wasn’t fair. Silently, you cursed the Tsaritsa for sending him away.

In his absence, you found your way back to the lab in Zapolyarny Palace, hoping to at least feel at home in a familiar environment that you often shared with Dottore. None of the Fatui stopped you, a non-member with little to no scientific knowledge, from entering by yourself; They knew that Dottore had given you full clearance and if they caused you any trouble, they’d be on the receiving end of one of his less than ethical experiments. Most of the time you pitied Dottore’s poor reputation but it seemed to serve you well here.

You didn’t have the chance to admire the space that Dottore called his own upon entering. Instead, you were met with the figure of someone all too familiar. It was Dottore — it looked like him, but young, like when you met in the Academia. Your mind raced through a thousand memories of the young Zandik you fell in love with all those years ago, long before the gears of time and corruption of man ripped up his kind heart. He was just as cute as you remembered; Appearing no older than his late teens to early twenties, his soft face was framed in wavy blue-green hair and his red eyes still sparkled with hope and aspiration.

So that’s what he meant when he said you’d change your mind about the clones.

“Ah, my apologies!” the clone exclaimed, flustered by your unannounced entrance. “Lord Harbinger didn’t tell me that you would be coming here today.”

You shrugged, smiling sincerely at this clone’s attitude. It was different than the Dottore you knew now and much more similar to the one you met years before. “No need to apologize, it’s my fault for coming over without telling anyone. I take it you’re a new clone?”

He nodded wordlessly, obviously intimidated by you. Oh, you were going to have so much fun with him.

A month had passed without the real Dottore returning from Sumeru. Everyday you grew more and more lonely, eventually tempting you to command invite the young clone to live with you until his creator returned. The poor thing was so nervous about it, saying that “Lord Harbinger wouldn’t want him to take his place with you.” You reminded the clone that Dottore created him to act as a replacement in his stead, giving him no choice but to come home with you.

Having the clone around made you feel years younger, as he was a constant reminder of your shared youth with Dottore. It was like you got to relive all those fun little things that you just couldn’t do anymore. In the Academia, you loved to tease Dottore about his very obvious crush on you. He would always get so flustered and try to quickly exit the conversation, usually saying he had class as an excuse. The clone was the same; Every time you wanted to do something as simple as hold his hand, he would get so anxious. (You wondered how Dottore was able to make an artificial person blush. Was there blood in him?)

Your overwhelming affection for the clone spiraled out of control, with him now leaning against the headboard of the bed you shared with his creator, shivering with adrenaline as you straddled his thighs and and he pressed countless kisses to his face and neck. He was whimpering at your touch, very clearly flustered, but you had no intentions of stopping anytime soon. You couldn’t help yourself!

But, you could also tell he was a bit uncomfortable, maybe not in a fun, cute way. You’d never want to hurt the clone, even if he wasn’t a real person. He still had feelings and you respected that.

“You’re uncomfortable,” you noted reluctantly as you backed off a bit. “I can leave you alone if you want.”

His cheeks flushed (again, how was that possible?) and he gazed up at your through long eyelashes. “I’m not uncomfortable! Please don’t go,” he begged, sparkly red eyes beginning to tear up. “I’m just not meant for this.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. Like his creator, you didn’t know what the clone was talking about.

“I don’t think Lord Harbinger created me for this purpose. I wasn’t made to fulfill your romantic needs,” he explained, unable to meet your eyes.

You never intended to feel so strongly for one of Dottore’s clones, but something about his youthful reminiscence and shy sincerity tugged at your heartstrings. You petted just head gently, lightly scratching that specific spot that the real Dottore always asked you to. The clone practically melted into you. He was just like the real Dottore.

“But you were,” you reassured him. You pulled the clone into your warm, comforting arms as you recounted various stories about your time in the Academia with the creator he was modeled after. It made the clone feel a little better, like he was supposed to be here.

That was until the real Dottore burst through the bedroom door, interrupting the sweet moment you shared with his clone. The clone scrambled off of the bed and away from you in hopes of appeasing the Harbinger, but he paid him no mind. You, too, arose from the bed to greet your lover with a kiss, leaving the clone all by himself.

“I missed you,” Dottore whispered almost inaudibly, like he was unable to let himself experience his love for you as wholly as he would like to.

You shrugged. “I’d say the same thing, but…”

You went back to the clone and wrapped your arms around his waist with no warning. He awkwardly stared at his creator, as if to say, ‘I’m sorry, they started it.’

“This clone is so cute!” you beamed. You swore you felt the clone let out a tiny sigh of relief.

Dottore stared at the two of you, surprised that you had taken such a liking to the clone. He created him with the intention of you loving him, sure, but you seemed downright in love with it. Dottore wasn’t worried, though. The love you had for the clone stemmed from your even stronger love for him, he knew that.

“Perhaps he can always be around when I’m not,” Dottore suggested, a teasing lilt in his tone. He shifted his gaze to the clone and addressed him, “Would you like that?”

The clone nodded, still not quite used to feeling your hands on him.

The real Dottore, Zandik, laughed at the clone’s behavior. It really did remind him of his old self. “Well, I guess it’ll have to be the three of us together until then.”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #il dottore

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gloryofroses19 · 1 month

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The Force of a Curl

Major John ‘Bucky’ Egan was hungover, wet and missing a shoe. Hungover because those boys in the 389th challenged him to a drinking contest, wet because his mother stopped pestering him to take umbrellas when he was twelve years old and missing a shoe because of that damned English mud.

If the boys could see him now, Bucky thought, shaking his head. He could practically hear Curt and Buck’s laugh all the way from the US.

Sighing loudly as the storm increased, the pilot moved to pick up his shoe. But as his fingers brushed the shoe, the Major was shocked to find that the rain had stopped. No, not stopped he amended noticing the umbrella extended above his head.

“Are you alright, Major?” Asked a feminine voice conveying a mixture of concern and thinly veiled amusement.

While he had only been at Thorpe Abbots for two days, John Egan recognized the woman before him. Lieutenant [last name] was a notable figure to many. To most on the base, she was the pretty faced WAC lieutenant included in the upper brass briefings. To Bucky Egan, she was a puzzle he wanted to solve. Though their interactions had been limited to a short introduction and shared proximity during meetings, he already knew she was beautiful, smart, calm and confident. Even when facing the asinine questioning of Colonel Huglin. However, this interaction was offering something entirely new…

Standing to his full height, John ran a hand through his hair. Whether it was because of the rain or self consciousness of being caught in this position by her was something he’d never tell.

“Oh, I’m doing great, Lieutenant. Just enjoying the feeling of the ground.” Shooting her a confident smile despite his sorry state.

“Just with one foot?” Raising an eyebrow, [y/n] struggled to keep the laugh from escaping. “Guess you pilots really do forget what it’s like to be on solid ground. Bit of advice then, try to avoid the puddles. They’re deeper than they seem.” [y/n] teased as the Major moved to rescue his shoe from the mud.

“Oh, why didn’t I think of that?” He responded airly feeling his grasp on the situation slip. With no teasing retort brewing on his mind, the pilot was left feeling mollified by the teasing glint in her gaze.

Raising the umbrella to adjust for the height difference, [y/n] watched transfixed as a stray curl fell in front of his eye. He really was a handsome sight to behold [y/n] mused as his hand brushed hers to take the umbrella from her grasp.

If anyone were to pass by them, the pair offered the illusion of intimacy and familiarity through their shared laughter and proximity. However, an illusion was just an illusion unless perceptions were altered.

“You been here long?” Like in any small town, she had heard of the new Major before she met. His singing alone had reached her ears before she entered the pub two nights prior. Though his voice was loud and brash when singing, the deep Midwestern baritone during conversation was far more pleasing. “I hope you’ve fared better with the mud than I have, Lieutenant ''.

“5 months and yes I have,” [y/n] began before pausing to giggle at a memory, “but two weeks in being here I…” Looking up into those inquisitive cerulean eyes, [y/n] stopped herself from continuing. Clearing her throat, she reminded herself that he wasn’t just any handsome man, he was a Major. And therefore, it was probably best to not inform her superior of some slight trouble that happened to find her. “Nevermind, sir”.

Noticing the tone of professionalism that blended into her dulcet tones, John frowned. He had heard this tone before, it was how she responded to him when he introduced himself and when she spoke during the Brass meetings.

“No, don't give me sir, I don’t want sir. I’m soaked and missing a shoe, rank’s off. Call me Bucky or I’ll even take John.” He liked this version more, because there’s nothing he loved more than someone he could laugh with. Even if it was at his own expense as Bucky Egan wasn’t a man who took himself too seriously.

“Come on, can’t leave me hanging like that. You’ve seen me at my lowest, it’s only fair that you share as well.” He countered, his determination to get her to smile at him again unwavering. To further emphasize his point, he wiggled his sock clad foot hoping to get another laugh.

She could see why many were transfixed by the new Major on the base, he carried himself with a genial ease that was both disarming and charming.

Deciding she might as well dig her own grave, she relented with a sigh. “Two weeks in I got locked in the enlisted men’s mess hall on an unnecessary errand for Colonel Huglin.”

Eyes crinkling in delight, John took in her deadpan delivery that was obviously a pass fake to her underlying embarrassment. “How’d you get out?” John asked in response, knowing it would be a worthwhile story.

“As the metaphor goes, when one door closes another one opens. Namely a window in the back of the kitchen.” She remarked casually as if any rational person’s first idea would be to climb through a window.

Laughing in warm boisterous bursts, Bucky’s gaze was unwavering and full of affection and intrigue.

The implication of his gaze was enough to make any girl flustered, [y/n] included. Deciding to busy herself with pointing in the opposite direction, she hoped to quell the butterflies. “Can I walk you somewhere, Major?”

“How chivalrous of you.” He responded softly, with a matching grin. Watching the rain drops land on her otherwise pristine uniform, he stepped forward. Leaning closer, he was captivated by the teasing curl of her lips.

“Well if being one shoe down and soaked doesn’t make you a damsel in distress then I’m not sure what else would.”

With the way she was smiling at him, he wouldn’t mind being saved by her again, John thought. “Well you got me there. Walk me to my billet kind knight?”

Up until this point in the war, her mindset had firmly been 'loose lips sink ships’. No unnecessary comments or connections or else her heart would be broken. However, watching that damn curl fall across his face, [y/n] knew she had lost this battle. And if she was so easily defeated by Major John Egan then she feared for the poor unsuspecting Germans.

“Lead the way, Fly Boy.”

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #major john egan x reader #john egan imagine #mota x reader #mota fanfic #john egan x female reader #masters of the air imagine #masters of the air x reader

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qqueenofhades · 7 months

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I'm a little confused by the left's repeated assertion that they're "trying to hold Biden accountable" and push him left, things they've been talking about since before he was elected, and the ramifications of that at this point in time. I do think we need to be calling out things we disagree with and making our feelings known, but seeing people like Nina Turner complain about student loan forgiveness when it's been made abundantly clear Biden is doing all he can and he can't actually cancel anything as just the President (without being sued or having it reversed by Republicans - please correct me if I'm wrong and there's more he could do here?) doesn't feel like it's that? I just don't understand the logic behind people on the left adding to this narrative that he isn't trying hard enough on what we want, rather than the Republicans are preventing things from being done. We need to not sit back and get complacent, yes, sure, but I feel like the line where it goes from helpful and necessary to harmful and more beneficial to the right was crossed a while ago.

The thing is, you're confused by it because it's a bad-faith argument. Actually "holding someone accountable" means honestly assessing what they can do, what they have done, what they can be expected to do in the future, and if they haven't done it, what's stopping them (i.e. have they just not done it or are they being actively stopped from doing it by factors beyond their control)? It doesn't mean "constantly moving the goalposts to constantly criticize someone if they don't magically get everything done immediately, regardless of reality." The way Online Leftists use it, "holding Biden accountable" means "relentlessly criticize him every instant he doesn't magically transform into the Socialist Messiah overnight, the end." That's not actually a useful, honest, reliable, or constructive metric.

This is also the case because their version of good policy is "someone thinks the Correct Thoughts all the time and any failures to achieve it means they are not thinking the Correct Thoughts hard enough." I'm not sure how anyone could have missed what SCOTUS is doing right now, but Online Leftists remain determined to discount, minimize, or otherwise totally ignore its role, because that would mean a) there is in fact a difference between the parties, b) Hillary Clinton would not have made the same appointments Trump did, and c) they might therefore have some responsibility in not voting for her, none of which can be countenanced. As such, if Biden has failed to wave a magic wand and get all student debt erased for everyone overnight, He Is Just Not Trying Hard Enough. SCOTUS very notably outlawed his first forgiveness program? BIDEN'S FAULT!

Even though Biden extended the Covid-era payment pauses as long as he could (it was Congress that passed the law mandating an end to them, because THE PRESIDENT IS NOT AN ABSOLUTE MONARCH!), and even though he's now rejiggered the entire repayment program so that your monthly payments can get lowered to $0, these count as payments, and no interest accumulates as long as you "make" them, which in practice adds up to full forgiveness -- this still isn't good enough for the Online Leftists, because it happened after trial and error, is a partial solution, doesn't snap its fingers and erase everything, and relies on slow and careful policy work. And yet, it's going to be a lot harder for SCOTUS to overturn than just "the president forgives your debt," which was the first thing he tried to do and it didn't work! With a different SCOTUS, it might have! But we have this nightmare court BECAUSE OF TRUMP, and all the Pure Thoughts in the world won't get rid of it!

Biden is the most liberal president we have ever had, period, full stop. It's not sexy and it's not exciting and it's not something the Online Leftists will ever acknowledge, but it's the truth. And whenever he is actually and extensively pushed, he goes more left, not less. I suspect at least part of the recent negative press barrage he's gotten is because he's openly come out with a plan to raise the tax rate on billionaires to 25%, and the corporations and oligarchs that own the mainstream media Really Don't Like That. (They've always been unfair to Democrats, but look for it to be especially so.) That would be, BY FAR, the highest the top-rate tax bracket has been since Reagan. Biden is the first president ever to actually address the scam of "Reaganomics" and take credit for "Bidenomics," which actually does represent a major rearrangement of the way capital is envisioned and distributed in this country for the first time in the 40+ years since Reagan wrecked it. That's why the capitalist media is really, REALLY determined to muckrake him as much as possible, and to do Kamala even dirtier than they did to HRC in 2016.

Anyway also: Holding someone accountable also implies that you're working with them and will reward them (i.e. voting for them, engaging with them) if they do the things you expect, which is another thing the Online Leftists won't do. So yes. This. The end.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

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the-californicationist · 3 months

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Good Fences (Fluffuary #13)

FEB13: Night Out

“Did she book out the whole place, then?” John asked, pulling his pearl buttons through their starched holes as he dressed into his shirt.

“Yep, very fancy,” you told him, fixing his tie and feeling the silk slip through your manicured fingers.

Your best friend, Cana, had just graduated from her master’s program, and she had invited you to her graduation party. When you mentioned that you were housing three additional British soldiers, she had extended the invitation to include them most enthusiastically.

The boys had dressed up nice. Cana had indeed booked out an entire rooftop bar, and as a woman who liked to party, she was really pulling out all the stops tonight.

She was dressed all in black, surrounded by her classmates and a few of your mutual friends, but when she saw you coming through the doors with your literal army squad, she made a bee-line straight for you. Her bejeweled arms were spread wide, her perfectly set curls bounced as she ran, flinging herself into your arms and squealing her hellos.

“Cana!” You laughed, holding her as she spun around you with glee, “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you.”

“Goddamn, babe. Me too,” she huffed, exasperated and sarcastically funny.

You watched her roll her eyes and smile,

“Thank fuck grad school is done. Now, introduce me! You brought dinner, I see.”

“Oh, God, Cana. You can’t say that!” You protested.

But, Kyle heard her comment and brushed you aside, reaching for her hand and taking it in his,

“Let the woman speak, babes. She looks hungry.”

Cana giggled, high pitched and joyful, letting Kyle lead her back to her table. You looked at John and mouthed an apology.

“Dinnae fash, bonnie. Gaz is in his own version of heaven,” Johnny chuckled, “He never could turn down a curvy lass.”

“She’s a wild one, but I love her,” you explained, trying to dismiss your friend’s audacious behavior.

“She’s grand, love. Let me buy you a drink,” John wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you in to his body. His soft clothes crumpled against your side, and you noticed John’s palm sliding lower and lower down your back.

“Speaking of blokes in heaven,” Simon quipped, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He cast a long gaze at his captain, and you thought you saw the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Aye,” John puffed up a little, defensively, “And what of it?”

“Heaven looks good on you, Cap’n,” Johnny clapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the bar, “You were sayin’ somethin’ about a wee drink?”

You talked and drank and laughed all night with John and his friends. Cana couldn’t keep her hands off of Kyle, and he seemed to be loving every moment of it. By the end of the evening, your feet were aching, but you had heard story after story of John being the hero and even more stories of him being the victim of his men’s pranks. They seemed to have an incredible bond together that made you admire John even more.

“Are you havin’ fun tonight, love?” John asked, whispering in your ear, letting the whiskers of his beard tickle your neck and sensitive lobe as he did.

You turned your head to him, smiling, whispering just as low,

“Yes, I am. But, I can’t stop staring at you in that suit.”

“And you in that dress. Mmm…” John ran a long finger up your thigh, pushing the dress’s hem higher and higher until it was truly scandalous.

“Maybe you should take me home,” you suggested, your eyes full of lust, “So, you can take it off.”

“Grab your purse. Now.”

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

#the californicationist does fluff #fluffuary 2024 #fluffuary #john price fluff #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod #cod fanfiction #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod mwii

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drferox · 8 months

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My MS Diagnosis

So I’m approaching the 2 year mark since my Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis and I thought I’d better document how I got here, because being the patient is a weird experience, especially for a condition that had kind of vague symptoms that needed a fair amount of work up.

My symptoms actually started in early 2020, when I was in the third trimester of pregnancy. The main symptom was mistaken for carpal tunnel syndrome - numbness in my fingers that would progress to increasingly violent pins & needles sensations, that would progress to burning if I tried to push through it. Only this sensation would extend all the way up to my shoulders at times. I stopped performing surgery, because not only was I unsatisfied with my lack of sensation to know what I was doing with my tissue handling, but the pain would get worse quickly in constrictive surgical gloves in the presence of patient warming. So I stopped performing surgery in late pregnancy and was told it would get better a few months after giving birth.

It did not.

So six months after giving birth, finding myself able to use my hands for short periods but still unable to perform surgery to my standard, I went back to complain to the doctor. I also couldn’t play video games properly, my arms would often be numb when I woke up, all the way up to my shoulder, and they were super temperature sensitive. Even hot water from washing dishes would set them off.

They sent me down a carpal tunnel work up - ultrasounds and talking to a neurologist. The short version is they did tell me I had mild carpal tunnel… on one side only.

Which did not make any damn sense considering I had symptoms on both sides all the way up to my shoulder.

The worst neurologist in the world could not explain to me why a mild problem on one wrist was affecting sensation all the way up to the opposite shoulder, and just said ‘it happens sometimes’. Now, I like to think I have a solid understanding of the basics of how a body works, and was really unsatisfied with this answer. They recommended I talk to a surgeon, since I’d already been doing a bunch of physiotherapy, but I decided not to. Surgery could have put my hand in a cast for up to 6 weeks, I had a 6 month old baby to care for at home and a partner who was useless at best, and abusive at worst. I could not afford the time in a cast.

So I went to try something else, visiting an osteopath to see what they could do about my ‘mild’ carpal tunnel, and while I’m there, these headaches I’ve been getting.

She spent a good long while stretching out different muscle groups, and found that certain neck muscle stretches changed the sensations I was getting in my fingertips. So whatever was causing the hand problem was coming from somewhere in the neck, and she recommended I get a CT scan.

Went back to my doctor to get a referral for a CT scan, and explained what was going on. He thought about it for a minute, didn’t voice his concerns, and upgraded it to a neck MRI.

That MRI found a demyelinating lesion in my neck. So went back for a full Central Nervous System scan and found a couple more borderline ones.

That sent me back to a (different) neurologist, had a proper neurological exam that found a few random patches of altered skin sensation in addition to the arm weirdness I had going on. So I was probably a MS case, but not particularly severe as MS goes.

To confirm it I needed a lumbar puncture to look for oligoclonal bands in by CSF. The lumbar puncture was a moderately unpleasant experience which then mandated that I remain lying down for 24 hours so that my spinal fluid didn’t spring a leak. With a baby and a distinctly unhelpful partner, I barely made it to that 24 hours.

And then… I sprung a CSF leak. Which is a jolly weird experience I can tell you.

When your CSF leaks from a lumbar puncture you will feel perfectly fine… when you are lying flat on your back, because your spine flops over the hole and plugs the leak. If you’re upright at all the spine flops away from the hole and it slowly leaks out, and you get more of this weird frontal headache that gets worse the longer you’re upright, standing there talking to the ER admissions nurse. And the info I had explained that it can progress to seizures and similar the worse it gets, but I only got as far as pain and fuzzy vision. I seriously could only be upright for ten minutes without pain, and had to lie down to resolve it.

That required some medicine-that-looks-like-magic to fix, called a blood patch. Doctors took some of my blood, fresh out of the vein, and inserted it into my spine approximately where the leak should be, so that the clot would cover the leaky patch. Self blood magic. It worked brilliantly, about an hour later.

The CSF tap ordeal confirmed the presence of the oligoclonal bands, and then I got stunted into the public health system, in a department specifically geared towards managing Multiple Sclerosis patients. They debated for a little while, at a multidisciplinary meeting, whether I was really MS or a Clinically Isolated Syndrome (which is like Multiple Sclerosis but without the ‘Multiple’ part), but settled on MS. Yes, Tumblr, I was nearly diagnosed with CIS.

The shoe thing took about a year from when I actively complained to doctors, or about 18 months from the first probable symptoms. That’s approximate because some things that were thought to be pregnancy symptoms could have been due to MS, like fatigue and leg weakness. I’m pretty lucky that I’m comfortable in hospitals and with medical procedures, am reasonably medically literate. I think the magic phrase that got things to happen quickly was ‘these symptoms are greatly affecting my ability to do my job’.

I don’t think my MS has progressed since starting the medication (and I’ll talk about the medication in another post). I’ve acquired one additional brain lesion since diagnosis, but I have no clue what physical symptom it’s associated with.

While some symptoms are better, I still cannot perform surgery to the standard or with the endurance that I used to,so I basically don’t any more. I can do about ten minutes, which is enough to bail a new graduate vet out of trouble, but not enough to take over completely for them. I’ve had a few years to think about it but I don’t know what the MS is going to do to my career, only that I can still practice for now.

It’s not great, but it could be a whole lot worse, and that’s how I got here.

#multiple sclerosis #MS #medical diagnosis #me the patient

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c4tsc4pe · 7 months

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Classpect Analysis Definitions Guide Combob

i read a Smashing aspect analysis by @/alicesonions (which this is very inspired by check it out right now the redesigned symbols are awesome) and wanted to revamp my own so here we go shaggy 2 dope classpect guide 2.0 (og draft here)

this is just a rundown on how i personally understand/use classpects even though i love talking my ass off and want to over explain all this i tried to write hopefully easily digestible and to the point definitions using key words and phrases bc thats how i personally learn things (i might make an extended version with further information and analysis later)

this can always be edited too i am So open to discussion criticism etc please tell me every single one of your thoughts about classpects in tags comments whatever I LOVE HEARING IT

anyway fat megapost ahead man the cannons

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Classpects

A “Classpect” is a player’s title in Sburb, which uses the formula [Class] of [Aspect]. Not only does a Classpect dictate a player's reality-bending powers, but it defines a player’s place in their session, their place in reality, and their place within the narrative itself.

There are two components that make up a player's Classpect: their aspect and their class. There are 12 aspects and 14 classes in total. Hypothetically, ANY player could be ANY of the 168 total combos of these, no matter the person, but Sburb will narrow down the options and pick a player’s Classpect depending on how it thinks it can BEST use them in the game/their specific session.

A Classpect is chosen via a sort of “sorting hat” method. The person you are (struggles, goals, gaming strategies, how you interact with the world and others, etc.) inadvertently dictates your Classpect, but that is only BEFORE THE GAME STARTS. Once you’ve entered Sburb, Skaia will ultimately decide your role based on everything it gathered, and you are stuck with it whether you like it or not.

[In total: Classpects are a predetermined in-game role to fulfill as well as a narrative tool.]

Aspects

Aspects are described as “the basic building blocks of everything that exists within paradox space”; a cosmic property that relates MOST to a player and that they have the potential to BEST excel at.

A player’s aspect is always something the player starts out STRUGGLING with in some way. No one ever has total control or knowledge of their aspect right off the bat. It is something that challenges the player and must be learned over time so the player can grow and reach their full potential as a Hero of their aspect.

Aspects are a neutral and nuanced concept- no aspect is inherently good nor bad.

The 12 aspects: Breath, Light, Time, Space, Life, Hope, Void, Heart, Blood, Mind, Doom, and Rage.

Breath: The aspect of freedom and detachment. Breath is impossible to hold down, easy breezy, head in the clouds, go with the flow. Breath is breeze, movement, flight, weightlessness, indirection, and independence. Breath blows whatever way it feels like, not caring about much else.

Narrative connection: Plot development.

Breath’s opposing aspect is Blood.

Light: The aspect of knowledge and illumination. Light exposes the hidden, brightens the dark corners, brings things into the spotlight. Light is relevance, illumination, luck, enlightenment, sight, visibility, definition, and attention. Light brings itself to what is hidden in the dark.

Narrative connection: Plot relevance.

Lights opposing aspect is Void.

Time: The aspect of rhythm and destruction. Time is connected to death, the past and future, taking action, small details, the destination over the journey. Time is repetition, iteration, cycles, pace, patterns, preservation, decay, continuity, and management. Time is the steady tick of a clock, the constant rotation of an ever-turning gear.

Narrative connection: Pacing.

Times opposing aspect is Space.

[Time is one of the fundamental fabrics making up paradox space and is therefore an aspect required to win Sburb. If your session does not have a Time player, your session is doomed to fail.]

Space: The aspect of creation and beginnings. Space is new things, focused on the wait-and-see, the big picture, the here-and-now, the journey over the destination. Space is destiny, matter, physics, making, innovation, and intuition. Space is a vast endless infinity of possibility.

Narrative connection: Setting.

Spaces opposing aspect is Time.

[Space is one of the fundamental fabrics making up paradox space and is therefore an aspect required to win Sburb. If your session does not have a Space player, your session is doomed to fail.]

Life: The aspect of agency and autonomy. Life is foraging your own path, own destiny, self-direction, growing and strengthening. Life is nature, health, resilience, energy, progress, healing, vitality, and nourishment. Life sees its route and fights to take it.

Narrative connection: Agency/action.

Life’s opposing aspect is Doom.

Hope: The aspect of belief. Hope is dreams and wishes, blind optimism, unstoppable force, the "there’s always a way, nothings impossible". Hope is faith, possibility, positivity, will, imagination, and determination. Hope is a clear, enthusiastic "YES!".

Narrative connection: Convenience.

Hopes opposing aspect is Rage.

Void: The aspect of nothingness and the unknown. Void is a blank canvas, an empty page, a dark corner, a shadow concealing darkness. Void is secrets, mystery, invisibility, unexplained, ignorance, irrelevance, and uncertainty. Void obscures what the light can't reach.

Narrative connection: Plot irrelevance.

Voids opposing aspect is Light.

Heart: The aspect of feeling and self. Heart is the core of a person, their identity, passions and interests, the soul, feelings instead of thoughts. Heart is motivation, love, emotions, uniqueness, personal, individualism, bias, and passion. Heart follows itself.

Narrative connection: Inner self.

Hearts opposing aspect is Mind.

Blood: The aspect of unity. Blood is down to earth, grounded and chained, has expectations, forms relationships. Blood is community, responsibility, care, effort, stability, obligation, and connection. Blood is running through everyone's veins and knows it.

Narrative connection: Character dynamics.

Blood’s opposing aspect is Breath.

Mind: The aspect of thought. Mind is unbiased decision making, apathy, black and white, blends in with the crowd. Mind is equality, ration, logic, reason, judgement, calculation, choice, balance, and justification. Mind pushes away feelings and thinks instead.

Narrative connection: Outer self.

Minds opposing aspect is Heart.

Doom: The aspect of fate and constraint. Doom works within the rules, within restriction, follows damands. Doom is burdens, prophecy, acceptance, necessity, limitation, punishment, and misfortune. Doom does not negotiate against the inevitable.

Narrative connection: Conflict.

Doom’s opposing aspect is Life.

Rage: The aspect of refusal and rebellion. Rage is the ugly truth, holding back, immovable object, being stuck, “it’s impossible, there’s no way out”. Rage is cynicism, defiance, fury, negativity, anger, riot and revenge. Rage is a loud, guttural “NO!”.

Narrative connection: Contrivance.

Rage’s opposing aspect is Hope.

Classes

Classes are the second ingredient of the Classpect formula. Since an aspect is a cosmic property that relates most to a player, a class is how that player USES/INTERACTS with that cosmic property & its powers. Classes are NOT something a player struggles with and are just dictated by how they approach/play the game.

Classes are a neutral and nuanced concept- no class is a “worse/better” or “evolved” version of another, no class is gender locked, and no class is inherently good nor bad.

There are six functions of classes: creation, destruction, exploitation, manipulation, knowledge, and relocation.

[Creation: Bringing something into existence.

Destruction: Taking something out of existence.

Exploitation: Having something and using it.

Manipulation: Changing or altering something.

Knowledge: Knowing all about something.

Relocation: Stealing and/or moving something.]

The 14 classes: Heir, Seer, Knight, Witch, Maid, Page, Rogue, Prince, Mage, Sylph, Thief, and Bard, and the two master classes: Lord and Muse.

Heir: One who changes with their aspect or is changed through their aspect. Heirs inherit their aspect and can greatly use it for their session and coplayers.

Class function: Manipulation.

Heirs' counterpart class is Witch.

Seer: One who knows their aspect or knows through their aspect. Seers are knowledge-seekers who obtain information by observing, and guide their coplayers using what they learn.

Class function: Knowledge.

Seer's counterpart class is Mage.

Knight: One who fights for/protects their aspect or fights/protects using their aspect. Knights are set on serving and defending their session and coplayers, using their persona as a shield and their aspect as a weapon.

Class function: Exploitation.

Knight's counterpart class is Page.

Witch: One who alters/bends their aspect or alters/bends using their aspect. Witches utilize their powers to bend the rules and test the limits of their aspect and session itself.

Class function: Manipulation.

Witch's counterpart class is Heir.

Maid: One who serves/repairs their aspect or serves/repairs with their aspect. Maids clean, preserve, and maintain their session with/and their aspect, just as a housekeeper would.

Class function: Creation.

Maid's counterpart class is Sylph.

Page: One who strengthens their aspect or finds themselves through their aspect. Pages start out as weaker underdogs, but once their potential is fully realized, they can use their power to an astounding degree.

Class function: Exploitation.

Page's counterpart class is Knight.

Rogue: One who steals their aspect or steals from their aspect to provide others with it. Rouges take from their aspect and redistribute what they steal to their coplayers Robin Hood style.

Class function: Relocation.

Rouge's counterpart class is Thief.

Prince: One who destroys their aspect or destroys with their aspect. Princes are powerful, blunt forces in their session who once fully realized, will stop at nothing until they reach their goal.

Class function: Destruction.

Prince's counterpart class is Bard.

Mage: One who understands their aspect or understands through their aspect. Mages are the experiencers of their aspect that utilize their experience with it to guide themselves.

Class function: Knowledge.

Mage's counterpart class is Seer.

Thief: One who steals their aspect or steals from their aspect to keep themselves. Thieves are focused on taking from their session and others in it, then keeping that power for their own benefit.

Class function: Relocation.

Thief's counterpart class is Rogue.

Sylph: One who heals/mends their aspect or heals/mends using their aspect. Sylphs are vastly supportive to their coplayers through both backstage influence and personal interference.

Class function: Creation.

Sylph's counterpart class is Maid.

Bard: One who allows the destruction of their aspect or invites destruction through their aspect. Bards can be kind of a wildcard for their session, possibly for the best (or the worst).

Class function: Destruction.

Bard's counterpart class is Prince.

Master Classes

Lord: One who rules their aspect or rules using their aspect. Lords are intensely powerful domineers who command their aspect, session, and everything in it to bow down to them.

Lord's counterpart class is Muse.

Muse: One who inspires their aspect or inspires through their aspect. Muses are completely in tune with their aspect and influence their session with it, leading it like a conductor with their baton.

Muse's counterpart class is Lord.

#homestuck analysis #classpects #homestuck #classpect analysis

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novafire-is-thinking · 1 year

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Speculative Analysis: Why TFP Soundwave is so Terrifying to His Fellow Cybertronians

Time for an essay on why I think TFP Soundwave might have chosen his current cryptid form—electrical tentacles and all. There’s a TL;DR at the end, so feel free to scroll down first and then decide if you want to read the full thing.

This will involve cross-continuity speculation, centered around TFP / Aligned but with some IDW / MTMTE lore thrown in. This could also loosely apply to Bayverse Soundwave, but I won’t be focusing on him. I’m confident you all can infer the potential implications for that version of his character by the time you reach the end.

Okay, so I’ve seen several fellow TFP fans speculate about why Soundwave went from beefy gladiator to bonafide cryptid. Some say it could have been due to the loss of his horde of “minicons” (the term used in ‘Exodus’ by Alex Irvine). Others think it was just Soundwave’s way of adapting to the direction of the war by taking on a form that would give him the best strategic advantage in his position as Megatron’s communications officer. I agree with the latter, but I think there could be more to it than that.

As we see in the flashback for Ratchet’s story and the TFP Titan comics, Soundwave had his current frame type, armor, and alt mode back on Cybertron:

[Sarcastic Soundwave: Superior]

In the real world, Soundwave’s design is based on the MQ-9 Reaper military drone—an earth-based aircraft, but I’m not going to address that small discrepancy since it’s not relevant to this analysis. Skinny, cryptid drone Soundwave existing prior to his arrival on earth supports my theory anyway.

“Can’t we throw a tarp over him? He’s creepin’ me out.”

-Bulkhead in Minus One

On the surface, Bulkhead’s comment and Smokescreen’s subsequent response seem like an interaction between a couple of Autobots who are unnerved because they’re familiar with Soundwave’s reputation—Bulkhead more so than Smokescreen since the latter had probably not seen Soundwave up close in action before coming to earth. However, I think some of Bulkhead’s fear might have been due to an entirely different reason: Sparkeaters.

While reading MTMTE #3, my eyes were met with this lovely sight /s :

[Hey, wasn’t the energon eater in Rescue Bots called “Sparky” too? I guess it’s a cross-continuity tradition to call life-sucking parasites “Sparky” at least once.]

Terrifying? Yes. But I stared in horrified awe at this abomination and thought, “Wait. One. Fragging. Minute. I’m having a galaxy brain moment.”

Mind. Blown. Their overall sharp, jagged appearance, their thin, but formidable frames, their prehensile cables extending from somewhere inside (fuel lines for the sparkeater; multipurpose tentacles for Soundwave). I was—and still am—fascinated by the uncanny resemblance.

[Now who’s Sparky?]

It’s true that sparkeaters aren’t confirmed to be canon in the Aligned continuity, but their existence isn’t denied either. We got something similar with the zombie Terrorcons, but those were a new phenomenon produced either by Megatron’s blind ambition and stupidity or Knockout and Starscream’s lack of forethought and scientific restraint. For the sake of where I’m taking this, let’s assume that sparkeaters, as defined by IDW, do exist in the Aligned universe. What would this mean for Soundwave’s disturbing choice of frame/body type? Why choose a visual motif so strongly associated with death and disease?

One word: Mimicry

Mythologically, historically, and medically, sparkeaters are inseparable from death and disease. Their very existence instills fear in most Cybertronians. What better way for Soundwave to strike terror into the sparks of his enemies (and potential enemies) than to take on a physical form that resembles the sparkeater—something that has been known to kill normal Cybertronians using a deeply disturbing, painful, and even sacrilegious method? Even though the initial shock of seeing a “sparkeater” show up during or around a fight would have dissipated once the Autobots realized it was mostly cosmetic, an impression would have been left. Coupled with his spy capabilities and gladiator-style prowess in combat, a message would have been sent: Be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

And there you have it, folks! Another reason to love Soundwave’s design.

Bonus:

I could see Soundwave being called a few things by allies and enemies alike: “The Decepticon Sparkeater,” “Soundwave the Sparkeater,” or just “The Sparkeater.”

An interaction between two Autobot scouts:

Scout 1, over comms: “You there, kid? Who is it? Who did Megatron send this time?”

Scout 2: “It’s The Sparkeater! He’s here!”

1: “You mean Soundwave!? Do you have a visual?”

2: “How many ‘Cons do we see walkin’ around looking like sparkeaters??? Of course it’s Soundwave! And yeah, I’ve got a visual.”

1: “Aw, hell. Things just got a whole lot more complicated.”

TL;DR: Soundwave may have put more thought into his appearance than is obvious. He may have opted to look like a sparkeater as a way of sending a highly effective warning.

#transformers prime #maccadam #tfp #tfp theory #tfp analysis #tfp meta #what if: cross continuity edition #tfp soundwave #//superior//#the phoenix of kaon #soundwave superior #idw transformers #tf idw #idw1 #MTMTE #robogore #sparkeaters #long post #nova’s nerding out again

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kkami-writes · 6 months

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devil’s advocate — chapter 11 cw. smut, subish!jisung, handjobs, cum consumption wc. 2.4k reference. han vlog

Most of the members are out this weekend, enjoying their limited free time as much as possible. Yet you can still hear Jisung, the boy is in his room and singing rather loudly. Eventually he quiets down, though honestly you didn’t mind it. The boy had such a beautiful voice that it surprised you that he was actually a rapper and not a vocalist. They could have told you he was apart of vocalracha and you’d believe them.

Moments later you can hear a knock at your door. You close your laptop before moving towards the door, finding Jisung behind it with a smile.

“Hi Ji, what’s up?”

“Well, me and Innie were supposed to go out today but he fell asleep on the couch. I don’t wanna disturb him so I was wondering if you’d like to watch a movie. I was thinking Howl’s moving castle since we talked about it last time,”

“Oh yeah, sure. Sounds fun,” You agree easily, turning off your lights before moving to follow Jisung back to his room. You walk through the living room and you almost coo at seeing the maknae knocked out on the couch. He looks like a sweet angel as he sleeps and you move to place a blanket over the boy.

You realize though that Jisung is not leading you to his room.

“Uh, isn’t this Felix’s room?” You question.

“Yeah but the wifi isn’t working in my room for some reason so Lixie is letting me use his room,”

You shrug, following the boy without another word. Jisung has his laptop under his arm, making his way to the bed, plopping down before patting the space next to him before going to set up the movie. You crawl over to the space, sitting rather close to the other due to the small bed. If Jisung is bothered by this, he doesn’t say anything.

The two of you get comfortable as he begins to let the movie play and you’re both content, sitting in silence to focus on the film. A giggle falls from your lips when Jisung begins to mime the actions of Howl in the movie, proving that he’s watch this about a million times before, having memorized most of it.

‘Merry-go-round of life begins to play and you find yourself swaying to the romantic sound of the piano. The piece is devastatingly beautiful, one of your favorites from the other ghibli films. You remember dreaming about dancing with someone to this song. Someone you loved.

You glance over at the boy next to you who is still very engrossed in the movie. You nibble at your lower lip, contemplating about asking Jisung. The worst he could do is say no, right?

“Hey,” You turn to the boy who also turns his head as you call out to him. “Will you let me indulge in something for a second?” Jisung tilts his head curiously but nods. You move to take the computer from his lap, pausing the movie before opening a new tab on youtube. You find a shorter version of the song and let it play as you place the computer so it’s out of the way. Crawling off the bed, you extend your hand out for the male to take. Jisung slides his palm into yours and you pull him up, moving your other hand to his shoulder.

He takes the hint well, placing his hand upon your waist before moving fluidly to the song. The two of you dance circles around Felix’s room, him twirling you a few times. Giggles fall from your lips as he happily sways you to the soft piano. It’s impossible to not admire the pretty boy in front of you, his heart shaped smile or the cute beauty mark on his full cheeks.

If your heart still beat you’re almost certain it would be throbbing against your ribcage. The feeling confuses you, it’s something you’ve never really felt before, even when you had been alive. Maybe once but it was something you’d rather forget.

You pull yourself closer so you can rest your chin on one of his shoulders and Jisung’s arms move so he can wrap them around your middle. The two of you move slower as the music starts to fade but even as the song ends, you stay in his embrace for a few more seconds. When you finally pull away, he’s looking at you with fondness swimming in those boba eyes. One of his hands move to your cheek, stroking the smooth skin with his thumb.

You’re pretty sure that your heart would be racing right about now with the way Jisung’s looking at you. He leans down just a little, your noses touched and you can feel his breath ghosting against your lips. He pulls your face towards him and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt as you pull him flush against your body, melting against the embrace. Jisung’s lips are soft against yours, head tilting to get a better angle and it has you sighing softly.

But when Jisung’s tongue is swiping across your lower lip, the sensationsnaps you out of your daze, suddenly realizing what was happening. You push him away, a look of panic overtaking your features.

“Shit! Fuck. Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I just - I got caught up in the moment and,” Words continue to spill from your lips, unable to stop rambling. Jisung becomes nervous as he watches you freak out. He has to grab onto your forearms to get you to stop.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m the one who initiated,” Your mouth closes and opens again like a fish, no longer sure what to say. “Yes?” Jisung can see you want to ask something.

“Why did you kiss me then? What about your boyfriends? I don’t think they’ll be very happy if they find out,” You mumble out, gaze falling to the floor as you try to untangle yourself from his grip. It’s then that Jisung realizes that they haven’t actually told you anything yet, having trying to figure out when the right time would be. Right. He might have forgotten about that.

“Oh um. We might have, uh, already talked about it?” Even though he phrases it like a question, you know it’s not. You blink at him.

“What does that mean?” Jisung has the audacity to blush and look away from you. He begins to fiddle with his hands awkwardly.

“Well we um, just thought that if you had decided you wanted to feed on us, it would be okay? We all discussed that we’d all be interested in that. If it makes things easier we’d be! Happy to let you feed on us…We already feel really comfortable around you and so…yeah,” Now Jisung is the one rambling and you’re having trouble trying to keep up with him.

“Ok wait. Let me see if I have this right. All of you talked about me and agreed that if I wanted to fuck you guys to feed, it would be ok. That all of you have explicit permission to let me be intimate with me,”

“Uh. Yes. That is correct,”

You press your fingers to your temple, still trying to wrap your head around this revelation. These boys were going to be the death of you (ha, get it?)

“You know, usually you let a girl know that their boyfriends have given them permission to do stuff before you kiss her,” Your tone is light, letting him know you’re just teasing him. If you’re honest, of course you had thought about the boys in the way. You were a succubus for satan’s sake, in the presence of some seriously attractive boys but you had always known that they were together so you assumed they would be 100% off limits. So the proposition is interesting to say the least, and if they were willing, what was the harm of saying yes?

“Sorry…I might have forgotten that we hadn’t talked to you about it yet,” Very typical Jisung, he’s lucky he’s so cute.

You let out a soft sigh. “Well, I suppose it’s nice to know now,” The air becomes slightly awkward, neither of you knowing what to say. Jisung is the one who pipes up.

“So…can we continue then?” You look over at him, his round cheeks flushed. Seriously, he was way too adorable for his own good. Still, it gives you a nice little confidence boost you need.

“Yeah? You wanna kiss me that badly?” Your head tilts to the side, tongue running across your teeth and Jisung’s eyes zone in on the movement of your slick muscle.

“Yeah…” Jisung breathes out and you tug him closer to push him back onto the bed. You come to swing your legs over him, straddling the boy and moving your hands to cup his cheeks, tilting it so he’s looking up at you.

“You want a kiss baby boy?” Jisung swallows visibly, eyes never leaving yours.

“Please,” It’s the way he asks so sweetly that you can’t deny him anymore, leaning down to push your lips against his. Unlike the first kiss, this one isn’t sweet, it’s far more needy and intense. A whine falls from Jisung’s throat as your tongue traces along his bottom lip. He eagerly parts his tiers so you can slip the slick muscle into his wanting mouth. You take your sweet time exploring his mouth, his own tongue coming to lick at yours.

When you pull away to breath, Jisung looks absolutely breathtaking, his eyes half-lidded and lips swollen. It makes you grin, seeing your effect on the boy. As you take him in, you notice he has a mole in the juncture of his collarbone, getting the sudden urge to kiss it. So you do, trailing your lips from his jaw to his neck until they reach his collarbone. Jisung’s hands come to rest on your waist, throwing his head back to bare his neck to you.

You attach your lips to his smooth skin, sucking softly, not enough to leave a mark - at least not one that will last. Jisung’s bottom lip is between his teeth as he worries it, trying to not make any embarrassing noises. So you deliberately roll your hips down against his hips and a groan slips from his lips. He’s already hard, straining against his pants as he begins to push you harder down against him.

“So needy huh?” You hum, thoroughly enjoying how desperate he’s getting for you. He looks so gone already, pupils dilated and lips parted.

“Noona…please,” Jisung’s voice breaks, slightly croaky with how dry it feels.

“Please what?”

“Please…it hurts,”

“Aw, do you need some help baby?” He nods his head, continuing to try to move your hips against his aching clothed cock for any semblance of friction. You move to shimmy down just enough so that you’re in between his legs. Fingers move to undo his jeans, pushing them down so his cock flops out. Jisung is painfully hard, the tip flushed red and leaking precum. Saliva pools in your mouth before spitting directly against his cock, an action that has Jisung preening.

You wrap your fingers around his shaft, spreading your spit all along his cock to make the slide easier. Jisung’s head is thrown back, hips bucking up eagerly into your hand desperately. Normally you’d just edge him for that but you can tell how bad he needs it so you let it slide. You twist your hand as you stroke him off, paying attention to the head of his cock. Jisung is actively whining, begging for you to go faster.

So you oblige the poor boy, jerking him off faster and squeezing at his length. The only sounds in the room were Jisung’s moans and the lewd squelch of his slick cock. You lean up so you can press kisses to his neck and Jisung gasps, easily becoming more squirmy under you.

“Noona…Noona! ‘M close,” He mumbles out and you’re not surprised. Jisung had been so needy that it makes you wonder when is that last time he last had sex.

“Go ahead baby, cum whenever you want,” You let out a small hum, hand speeding up and thumb pressing against the tip. The moan Jisung lets out as he comes is borderline pornographic, thick white stripes landing on his stomach and your hand. Slowly you help him ride out his high, stroking him until he has to stop you.

You glance down at your cum stained hand. While you didn’t actually have to ingest semen to feed, it either being inside you or on your skin worked perfectly well. However, you’d be lying if you weren’t curious. So you bring your hand to your lips, licking at your stained fingers, letting out a hum at his surprisingly sweet taste. Jisung’s watching you slack jawed and hazy eyes. He thinks he probably would have gotten hard from watching you do that but he’s so exhausted, eyes threatening to close all the way.

“Fuck - why am I so tired?”

“Ah, that’s probably me. I also feed of the energy you release when you cum, making you much more tired than you probably would be. You’ll get used to it though,” You run your clean hand through his sweaty bangs, pushing them out of his face. You slip off of him, going to the bathroom and return back with a damp washcloth. You help clean the boy up whose about to pass out. Jisung is able to pull his pants back up before he’s all but collapsing against his pillows.

You giggle at the boy, moving to get up to let him get some rest. He grabs onto your wrist though, stopping you in your tracks. You turn around to look back at him, head tilted.

“Mm, will you stay?” He asks, voice heavy as sleep threatens to take over. A smile graces your face and you simply move to crawl back onto the bed, pulling the boy close to you, his head resting upon your chest.

“Um, let’s not tell Lix what we did in his bed ok? Just a secret between you and me?” Jisung mumbles out before dreamland finally takes him.

“Yeah, agreed,”

a/n: ok look, I know what you're thinking. kaia??? howls moving castle again? FIRST OF ALL!!!! Jisung is just so ghibli coded and that's not my fault. SECOND OF ALL!!! that's what he literally did in this vlog so, not my fault again <3 Also finally!! we're here, it's about to get reaaaaaaaally spicy now ^^

Devils advocate taglist (50/50) ⛤ send an ask or sign up here ⛤ @hannieslove @alnex05 @liknws @hyunelixbun @mixtape-racha @inlovewithallmusic @noellllslut @143lix @lolli4me @minhoie @soobery @sunnibearr @adorawritesalot @chlodavids @tasteskzsworld @chowmein69 @suebinn @yoonrimin @hyunestrella @elizalabs3 @chaotic-world-of-the-j @realrintaro @surefornext @minhwa @0325tiny @tfshouldidohere @hanjingin @slay-and-gay @princelingperfect @strawberryepie @yeetmehome @min-doesnt-know @shakalakaboomboo @skz-streamer @lovestayforev @the-simpy-simp @beautifulcolorgarden @foliea @kpopsstuffs @highlydestiny @lenilla15 @@chocolate-scoups @mits-vi @lovemyself-persona @rensimps @raehawthorne @miss-rose-dixon @producedbyy3racha @loverlixie @hibs8

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids imagine #stray kids reactions #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz scenarios #skz #skz fluff #skz imagine #skz reactions #stray kids scenarios

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katiapostsss · 1 month

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𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 . . p.2 ,, anakin skywalker

🎬//

teaser:

it is just

sex.

ᶜ ʰ ᵃ ʳ ᵃ ᶜ ᵗ ᵉ ʳ ˢ: modern! anakin x fem! reader

warnings! :

piv sex ,, smut ,, nipple play ,,

cussing ,, yelling ,, oral sex-ish ..

SUMMARY: henry is perfect, in every way. but for some reason, you can't get a different boy entirely off your mind. maybe sex will fix that? it's just sex.. right?

〰️

< part 1 |

(based off of this request. hope you like!!)

"hi," henry spoke.

"hi," you spoke back.

and this was the moment you had been waiting for, the tentative greeting, one pair of feet in a dorm and the other outside of it, and smothered smiles and quick breaths, and it was not so much the grand moment you made it to be, but a quieter, more calm version of that. like realizing you had aced a test that you were certain you'd fail, or a dentist appointment being not so bad in the end.

you were still worried, of course, but maybe it was anakin's help last night—which you had been shying away from the thought of—or your confidence in henry's mutual feelings, that made it all better. less anxiety-inducing than it had to be, or you had thought it to be. your smile was hesitant, your eagerness was flickering in and out, but it was still there.

---

"a thought for a thought?"

the sun breathed its fiery cast as if a pair of lungs up in the cloudless sky, setting ivory skin and black-rimmed glasses aglow beyond. henry's cobalt blue sweater was a nice contrast against the soft green of the grass below you, his curls of obsidian pushed back from his face and into the tall strands.

you laid beside him, your dressed sprawled out around you and your hair weaving through the the greenery. you squinted up at the sun, occasionally turning your head towards him when you spoke.

"can i decline?"

a chuckle. "no," henry stated boldly, his eyes meeting yours. you heaved a sigh, chest rising and falling with the movement.

"okay. i am thinking.... i am wondering how i never noticed you before, when now, you seem so... noticeable." your eyes were on your fingers, which tangled and toyed with the green strands of grass, and the words were half-true. because, you had pondered it before, but it was someone else entirely that occupied your thoughts in that moment.

henry smiled, staring a moment before turning his face back to the sky. "i am thinking that i'm glad you noticed me."

even though he looked away, your eyes remained on his, so brilliantly emerald in the sunlight. when you noticed the scattered marks that laid across his cheeks, you propped yourself on one elbow, and lifted a finger to his face, tracing, then falling when the peculiar thought of anakin came to mind. "you have freckles."

henry's eyes met yours, and his hand came up to shield the sun a few feet from your head. "almost everyone has freckles," he replied, huffing a laugh.

"but yours are unique. yours look like a constellation." you studied his face with the tilt of a head. pink dusted his cheeks beneath your gaze, before he also propped himself onto two forearms.

"but look." an extended finger. "she has freckles. and him. and her." his hand moved from person to person, going from ginger-haired girls and brunette boys. "they could all look like constellations if you squint." he pulled himself to a full sit, and you did too, ready to counter an argument, when he spoke again. "she has blond hair, and she does too, but just because hers is lighter, doesn't mean it's not blond. just because hers is darker, doesn't set her apart from her."

you huffed, shaking your head. "but that's a boring way to think of it! you have to see it more like you're looking at what could be. her hair is a darker shade of blond, so it could be complimented with more richer colors. and hers is lighter, so maybe the artist would paint her in a setting more... pale." you cocked your head, squinting your eyes. "and whether you look at it like that or not, it's still different. hers is the color of sand, and hers, the color of lemons. like rudy."

when you turned back to henry, he was giving you a strange look, dark brows pinned, green eyes swimming.

"what?"

"rudy? who's that?"

your mouth fell open.

"you've never read the book thief?!"

when he shook his head no, you pulled him up and started gathering the picnic up, packing away the blanket.

"where are we going?"

"to the bookstore!"

---

wireless headphones were sold at the front desk, and you were staring, and fondling with a box, and thinking of something. someone. someone you shouldn't have been thinking of. a heavy ache in your heart, one you knew was of guilt.

"is this it?" henry's voice popped up from behind you, and you dropped the box onto the counter, turning. he held a copy of the book thief in his hands, and earlier, you would have smiled. quite easily. but it was forced to your lips, now.

"yes." you stared at the headphones all while you purchased, and thought of them the whole way back.

---

your feet were sore when you finally stumbled into your dorm, wishing henry a good night while also kicking off your shoes.

"i want to see you again," he said, leaning against the doorframe.

"i want you to see me again, too," your stomach twisted as you recalled the memory of a late night phone call. henry laughed, shaking his head, before pushing off and walking up to you.

"when can i see you again?" suddenly so close, you gulped, eyes slightly wide and mouth falling open. his broad hand came up to your face and lightly pushed away a strand of stray hair, tucking it safely behind your ear. and it could've been a cute moment, and it should've been a cute moment, but then, your stupid, stupid brain was conjuring up the image of a boy named anakin in the mirror behind you, his hands on your dress and his blue eyes set ablaze.

"i... i don't..." you cleared your throat, looking down and taking the excuse to fully take off your shoes as a way to get away from him. stupid, stupid you. you stood now, a few feet from him, grabbing at the sole and pulling it off. "we'll figure out a time, yea?" you spoke almost detached, and nearly winced at the look of confusion that passed over henry's green eyes.

"uhm, yea. sure." he nodded, backing away with his hands in his pockets. "goodnight, y/n."

"night." shoulders bunched, you followed and closed the door behind him when he stepped out, cursing yourself in your thoughts.

you had a good time, you tried to tell yourself, but in truth, the littlest things were reminders of... him. and you had no idea as to why. he hadn't given you a reason to think of him, after all, and yet, here you were. you bit out a bitter laugh at the thought of it, shaking your head as you gripped the knob and resisted, resisted, resisted. from what? you didn't know.

because the truth was, you had lied in bed, at 2 am last night, thinking only of one person and of one name. and you hated that fact, but it was what was true.

and that voice, it was what called on you now.

"bad date?"

and you turned, and you stared at anakin like he was ruining your life with no remorse. because it felt like he was. his eyes were darkened over, something like annoyance or anger on his face, but you barely even came to process it.

you shrugged, pushing away those thoughts. "no. it was good," you uttered, dropping your handbag onto the bench beside the entrance and walking past him. "m'going to bed. night." you shut your door without even looking in his eyes, without even giving him a chance to respond.

and you didn't give him those chances the next day, either. you barely, barely talked, in fact, and when you did, it was kept short.

"where are you going?" he held a mug in his hands, leaning against the table and watching you gather your stuff.

"hanging out with henry," you said hurriedly, and left not two moments later. because you liked henry. you did. and anakin was just.. confusing you.

it went on like this for a couple days, a week, maybe. at some point, on a friday night, it got so fucking unbearable, this need. why couldn't you get him off your damn mind? why was this so frustrating? why wasn't the choice obvious? why why why? and so, when henry leaned in for a kiss and you had to quite literally step back and apologize, just because of anakin, you were in a detached mood the rest of the day. finally, anger boiled, your temper snapped, and you excused yourself and stormed up the stairs, back to your dorm.

when you finally stumbled in, music sounded from his room, and you quickly kicked off your shoes and walked the distance, pushing open his door. he sat at his desk, bobbing his head to the beat, and looked up at you when you revealed yourself.

"what did you do?" you demanded, though it was more a statement than a question. "what are you doing to me? i don't— you can't be— what is wrong with me?"

with a look of disbelief on your face, chest heaving, you stared at his confused eyes for a moment before you walked right in and shut off the music, turning to him again. he was standing. "what— what do you.." he began.

"you're ruining it for me! you always ruin it! always!"

"y/n, i don't even know what you're talking about," anakin demanded, beautiful brows pinned and hands slightly outstretched. "i didn't do anything. i helped you."

"no, you didn't!" you began pacing the floor of his room, pushing hair away from your face. "why did you touch me! you didn't have to touch me, and now, i can't think of anything else. you're ruining it, again! you didn't have to touch me!" you ran a hand down your face.

for a moment, anakin simply watched you, staring at you incredulously and confusedly. you didn't have the courage or the strength to look him in the eyes, so you paced. and paced. and paced.

then, it seemed to dawn. he grabbed your arm and pulled you to a stop, shaking his head quickly. "stop it. stop. just—" quiet. you stared at him, and he stared at you. it was only the two of you for a moment, in front of your door, staring at each other with confusion and tension and—

you don't know who kissed who first. maybe it was you, and maybe it was him. maybe it was both, at the same time, but it didn't matter. not right now. not with anakin's mouth on yours and his body pressed against each inch of your own. not when your heart stopped, twisted, screamed at you to pull away but then screamed at you to stop when you almost did. not when confusion and shock melted into desire and lust, and certainly not when he backed you into your room, when your knees hit the bed and suddenly, he was on top of you, and he was asking if you actually wanted to do this, and you were saying yes.

"just sex— just sex—" you whispered into the air as your shirt came over your head and he pulled away to slowly, slowly admire every crevice and curve of your torso.

"just sex," he confirmed breathily, even with such passion in his eyes, even with such apparent desire. his fingers traveled to your bra and lightly ran over the mound of your breast, before sinking to the clasp and unhooking it. when the skimpy fabric was off, anakin looked at your bare skin like he had just seen heaven, and you studied his face as he swallowed and wasted no time latching his mouth to the supple skin, kissing and sucking and traveling, traveling. you groaned, a feeling of pure bliss capturing you and sending shivers down your body.

heat was pooling in the spot between your clothed thighs as his lips caught onto a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around and around as his hand occupied itself with your other breast. he captured the bud between his teeth and pulled lightly at the same time that his fingers pinched your other nipple, then flicked, and your back arched against the bed, head throwing back and a filthy moan falling from out of your lips.

"anakin, anakin— ple— please," you choked out, your hand tangling itself in his hair and the other, in the sheets above your head. "want— need it..." and it might've been the sheer desperation in your voice that made him look up at your face, twisted in desire and hunger, that made him unbuckle your pants and pull them down, panties following after.

laid completely bare, cold air hit the wetness of your entrance and made you squirm, which he quickly stopped with a hand on your hips, pinning them down.

"shh, stop moving, baby. gonna make you feel good, just relax." you tried, but as his fingers traced the line of your slit, it was nearly impossible to keep still. anakin teased your entrance, running his digit up and down until you were begging, clenching around open air.

"please, anakin.." you pleaded, meeting his eyes. they looked up at you from between your legs, and it was a sight that could've made you release then and there. you squirmed, a mewl leaving your lips.

and because it was just sex, he gave you what you wanted. just sex. just a way to unwind, to get it out of your system. one finger was inside you, moving slowly while his thumb traced your slit, and he leaned back up, kissing and biting down your body as his finger abused your cervix. your slick wet his fingers, ran down his palm, and you moaned and mewled and begged, breathing heavily, while he murmured and blowed against your skin.

"i know, i know, baby," he whispered into your neck, trailing kisses down your body until his lips met your clit. he retracted his finger, and you whined desperately, thinking he was teasing you, but then, his tongue was licking a stripe up your pussy and his thumb, spreading you open. you cried out, back bounding off the bed and fingers finding his hair and tangling themselves in, pushing his face closer. your thighs wrapped around his head as he speared his tongue inside you, lapping at your wetness like it was his last meal on earth. "taste— so good.. love.." he spoke between licks.

"anakin— anakin, fuck—" his name rode your lips like a litany of tunes, a choir of voices, and you found yourself, so engulfed in desire, grinding against his face, your clit rubbing his nose occasionally. "so good, so good... feels so good, fuu— ckk," you choked out, a familiar knot building inside your stomach as he took the sensitive bud between his lips and sucked, eliciting more moaned names from you.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he asked against your clit, rubbing your entrance with his thumb and again, delving his tongue into your pussy.

"n— anakin—" you shook your head rapidly, trying to steady your breath. he paused, and you almost whined in annoyance, but took it as an opportunity to ask for more. "w— want you inside me... pl— ease.." you mewled, your voice sounding almost like a sob. and who was he to deny you of that pleasure? his face softened, and he climbed back over you, his thumb continuing their ministrations as he softly kissed your neck.

"yea? that's what you want? are you sure, love?" he whispered against your skin. you breathed heavily.

"y— yes... please." and finally, the unbuckling of a belt, and an obvious hardness against your entrance. your breath caught in surprise, and your grip on the sheets tightened.

"tell me if i should stop, okay?" but you weren't listening, already grinding against his hard and long length, unfortunately clothed. a groan rumbled in his chest, and was sent straight to your wet core, begging for friction. your nipples perked in the cold and sex-filled air.

"please, anakin..." and finally, finally, he reached down and pulled out his cock, leaking and red and so unbelievably big you squirmed and clenched against nothing, choking on air. "s'big..."

"you can handle it, yea?" he chuckled as you nodded eagerly, and then, his tip was circling your entrance, and you were begging, and he was sinking into you inch by agonizing inch.

"anakin," you breathed out, lips parted and eyes widened in shock. it seemed to never end, his cock spreading you out in a stinging, painful, then slowly, pleasurable way. your fingernails dug into his shoulders, then slipped to his back and ran along it. "too big, fuckk.." when finally, his hips met your pelvic bone, tears were pricking the corners of your eyes.

"too much?" and you still shook your head, moaning as he began moving, moving, moving within you, then pulling out a few inches, and driving back in, and then more, more, more. your moans increased in intensity and frequency as he got faster, as he went harder, his tip meeting your cervix and your breasts jerking with every thrust.

"fuck anakin.. so good, so good—" your spine was bounding off the bed and nails digging painfully into the muscles of his shoulders, tears marring your vision.

"fuck.." he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulled you into each and every thrust. "y'so tight, baby... so fuckin' wet. such a good fuckin' girl.." he was more so uttering the words to himself, but they went straight to your core nonetheless.

it was no matter of time until that knot was once again building in your stomach, and his dick was twitching inside you. he leaned forward and kissed the tears that streaked your face, cursing pleasured words into your skin and whispering your name.

"you gonna cum?" anakin asked lightly, and, your hands finding his hair, you nodded quickly.

"mhm— m'gonna cum," you sobbed, your nipples pushing and rubbing against his chest.

"yea? go ahead, love." and when that knot frayed and snapped, and you tipped over the edge, moaning his name and writhing on his dick, he thrusted into you until it was over, your release streaking his cock and dampening the mattress beneath you. he stared the whole time, too, at the juices that sputtered out of you as you came down from your high whispering his name and going limp beneath him, head lolling to the side.

a moment later, and he was pulling out, his cum shooting onto your stomach, and the beauty of the whole scene had you staring, his head tipped back, face screwed in desire and eyes shut tight. "fuck, y/n... sh— it," he groaned, and it made you want to do it all over again, but your limbs were so heavy, and you could feel sleep tugging on your consciousness. just sex. just sex, so why were you so upset when he gathered himself, buckled his pants, and disappeared into the bathroom?

a light-switch, water from the sink, and your memory and vision were blurring in and out, because suddenly, he was cleaning the cum from your stomach, lightly wiping away the night's endeavors, and you were wincing, squirming, only then realizing just how sensitive you were.

"o— ow.." you uttered, and he whispered an, 'i know, i'm almost done' in return, and you thought that maybe, once he pulled away and threw the towel into your laundry basket, that he'd stay, but it was just sex, and you were already asleep by the time he dragged himself out of your room and shut the door behind him.

---

the morning sun doused you in its cast, a blaring, too-bright thing for your sleep-heavy eyes. you groaned, twisting in the tangled sheets and flipping your back to the yellow orb as not to be disturbed by it, but it was too late, your mind already up and buzzing.

rubbing your eyes, you pulled yourself to a sit that had your body whining and complaining in protest, sore from...

every ounce of exhaustion sunk into horror, shame, but mainly horror, like a light-switch flipping from off, to on. you didn't even have a reason to be surprised. it was just sex. just sex, just sex, just sex. it meant nothing, a completely one-time thing, to get it out of your system, so you could stop thinking about him and start focusing your attention back on the boy who truly wanted you. not just for a late-night fuck. still, it was horrific, to think on that event, to know he had touched you in ways so little had before, given you that pleasure, and left... and as you told yourself it was a horrible, terrible thing, your thighs were squeezing together and the remembrance his hands on your body was a very, very good memory.

you chewed on your bottom lip, wondering on where he was now, what he was doing, was anakin thinking of you? and then, cursing yourself for thinking those thoughts. you were still processing, when henry came to mind, and guilt hit you like a train. your heart sunk once again, and you whirled in bed, pulling your phone off the charger and swiping to messages.

i had fun yesterday :), he had texted at 9:43 pm. when anakin skywalker was fucking you. yesterday, you had studied english notes with him, and he must've thought you went to bed immediately upon returning home. but things happened before that. you ran a hand down your face, breathing out a sigh. but was it really cheating? it was wrong of course, and yet... henry and you weren't dating or anything.. right? so it was okay... right?

i did too! 😁 you replied, and nearly broke down when the texting bubble appeared not moments later, as if he had been waiting for this text.

we should do that again sometime, if you're down.

of course!

no body typed anything for a second, then, i'm 434 pages into the book thief. i see why you like it now 😭

and you almost didn't even respond, so consumed in self-loathing, but after a short, 'i told you so', you didn't stick around to see how he'd answer, dragging yourself up and out of bed.

the cold wood bit into your feet as you padded across the floor, hesitating at your door, hand on knob, before finally pulling it open and peaking out. quiet. natural light danced across the dorm, a nice thing to wake up to, but you were just concerned as to whether you'd stumble across anakin and have to face him. you stepped out. still no sign of your roommate, and when you took the risk and checked his room, you found it empty. something like relief washed over you, because there was no will-power within you to look him in the eyes anymore.

---

11 pm, and still, anakin was not home.

you thought, earlier, that he had classes or something, but you knew now there was no way he was studying or working til lights-out. there was only one explanation. fucking.

yes, you were annoyed. you had a right to be, too, even though you shouldn't have been. even though it shouldn't have bothered you. what you wanted to do was search every square inch of lipton hall and yell your ass off at him when you eventually found him, but instead, you kept to your own business and did your own things.

listening to music while doing homework was one of your favorite, actually, though sitting on a chair for an hour with no break was not. at some point, you took off your headphones, dropped them on the papers, and walked out your room, turning to the storage closet and pulling out an energy bar. it was when you turned to go back that anakin walked in, paused, and caught your eye in the doorway, his own, going wide. you stopped in your tracks, heart stopping right along with you, and no one said anything.

but anakin's face was mixed with something you couldn't quite make out, and you wanted to ask him what the fuck he was doing, and if that sex meant nothing to him. but it wasn't supposed to mean anything in the end. it was just sex. just sex, just sex, just sex. so why couldn't you face him? why couldn't you say anything? why was the only thing that you could do turn around and walk straight back into your room? like that happened everyday?

and you questioned, but you didn't wonder. you thought, but you didn't evaluate. not until four days later.

---

you assumed, after being gone for a day, he'd be home for good. and it excited you— no. it was a relief, but it was still nerve-racking. you were nervous to see him the next morning. and nervous for nothing. because he wasn't there. at night, a door opened and footsteps sounded, and the next day, he was gone again. it was the fourth day he had disappeared, that you turned to a certain, green-eyed boy.

can you come over tonight? before lights-out, i mean.

because your college didn't allow visitors in dorms after hours, but any time before that was fine.

henry's textbox popped onto your screen a moment later.

yea, sure. you okay?

you gulped, hesitating to text him again. this was so wrong. what you were doing was so damn wrong, and to someone who seemed to truly like you? you had hung out with him 4 times more after your first date, but none of it was.. the same.

yea, just wanna see you. :)

and you told yourself it was because you really did like henry, and you really did want him over, but as you opened your door to him an hour later, something within you knew that was not the case.

it was 10:47 when you leaned in especially close to his body when he tried to show you a photo, and it was 10:59 when he leaned in himself. and leaned, and leaned, and kissed you. and it was nice. and it was calm. and it was good. and you had to tell yourself it was henry kissing you, not anakin, and you had to tell yourself you liked it when his hands shifted to the hem of your shirt, and you liked it when—

you must've not heard it. the door opening, the footsteps. you must've not seen it, the shadow that danced beneath the door, and the ever so slight opening, but it was 11:02 when anakin stepped in, leaning against the frame, when you quickly jumped off of henry, and when he stared at the two of you like you'd killed his cat.

"sorry to interrupt—" he cocked his head, offering a smile to the boy that showed too much of his emotions. "it's lights out." his attention averted to you, and you looked to henry, but he was already gathering his things, his eyes shifted awkwardly between the two of you. you hadn't meant for anakin to barge in. you just wanted a distraction. a distraction for the distraction you received, and this is what you got. you swallowed, biting your bottom lip.

"uh— yea," henry stuttered when you didn't say anything. "i'll go. b— bye, y/n." you quickly nodded in response.

"sure, yea— see ya tomorrow— bye." you watched him leave, ambling out the door and past a glaring anakin, and rubbed a hand down your face once he was completely gone. "could you not fucking knock?!" you yelled, still embarrassed and recovering. "you just interrupted the one opportunity i—"

"i thought you weren't interested in fucking him," anakin cut in, his face hard and his eyes cold.

"yea, well all fucking couples have sex at some point, dipshit!"

"oh, so you're dating now!" he looked around in mock-surprise, a bitter and humorless laugh leaving his lips.

"not yet, if you didn't just scare him into ghosting me! but either way, why is that so shocking?! you're the one that helped me prepare for a fucking date with him—!"

"well i'm sorry for thinking that you'd finally realized what i had—"

"you're the one who's been fucking left and right for four days and only returning at lights-out! though, when i bring a guy home, it's the end of the world—!"

"you think i was fucking?!"

"well i certainly don't think you were in class!" you both went quiet. he stared incredulously at you, and you stared at him in the same way. "you ignored me for four days straight and then just expected me to kiss the ground at your feet when you miraculously returned, ruining my night in the process. no matter how much i hated you before, i never thought you to be a fuckboy like the rest of them, anakin. turns out, you learn something new everyday."

"i was scared, alright?!" when you finally looked up at his face, you expected the same hard eyes and void expression. what you found was something else entirely. his brows were upturned, face pulled taut. "i still am. i'm scar— i'm scared of what you do to me. i'm scared because— fuck." he shook his head, and you swallowed, trying to decipher what he was saying. "it wasn't just sex to me. i know you don't care— or whatever— but it meant something to me. and i guess... i'm jealous— that henry gets to love you, and i'm supposed to just go back to hating you like i didn't care for anything that happened at all. give me a break, honestly! i can't— i wasn't ignoring you. i was too scared to talk to you, because i don't want to face the fact that i like you, and i'm still scared. so i'm sorry if i have real human feelings, or if i don't operate like a little sex toy, okay?" he huffed, his lips pursing, his shoulders bunched.

you stared in shock, your face softened to the pained lines of guilt and slight confusion, because the rug of your world had just been ripped directly from under your feet, and you had no idea how to get back up from off the ground. "i— i thought.. you were..." you shook your head, looking away briefly, trying so hard to process. but where could you even start? anakin liked you? there was no way. no way in hell. but wasn't this what you wanted? yes. it was. "it wasn't just sex to me, either. i thought— i'm sorry... i got mad. i didn't know— i thought you were ignoring me... or something. it was never just sex to me, because... i guess... i like you too... or whatever.." you looked nervously to the ground. "i didn't take your feelings into consideration.. i'm sorry."

it was quiet a moment, and you were certain you'd screwed up for good, that you'd never talk again. but when you looked to him, he was smiling, and so, you did too. "you like me?"

"don't let it get to your head."

he laughed. "i— i'm sorry too. for ghosting you. i was just.. confused. i never meant to hurt you. i just wanted time. to think." and you simply smiled, and stepped closer, and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"it's okay."

and then, he was kissing you and pulling you in, and his hands were traveling below your shirt, and when it deepened into something more, and he climbed over you on the bed, you said, "don't leave this time." and he didn't. and he never did again.

justice for henry honestly 😔

me taking any opportunity to include the book thief in my writing (go read it rn 🙏🏻🙏🏻)

requests are always open! feel free to dm me if you'd like to talk 😊

@blairwaldrfsworld @nananooti @swiftlovingani @adorbzliz

127 notes · View notes

doormuncher3 · 5 months

Text

You're scared and overwhelmed. You've been waiting for her for weeks and can't stomach waiting a minute longer.

Ambessa left that morning when a surprise segue was laid out against the city. Everyone eligible to fight went down to the shore to confront the coming assault. Except for you of course. Ambessa was adamant about keeping you safe away from anything violent. Often times she would jokingly tell you something along the lines of how she couldn't risk getting your pretty face scraped up when you would get into arguments about how she was always babying you. Today was different though. Today was serious.

You've never seen Ambessa so quiet and determined. As soon as she heard about what was happening she shut down to an unrecognisable version of herself. But that didn't deter you from trying to stop her from leaving.

When she was getting ready you made your attempt to stop her trying to convince her that people needed her leadership more than her presence. Saying anything to keep her by your side and most importantly safe. She of course ignored your attempts at hindering her from her duty.

She walked across your large bedroom determination in her stride. Her toned upper body on full display her chest tightly wrapped with cloth wearing only a pair of brown leather pants hugging her thick thighs, her sword and the white linen shirt you got her for her birthday were both clentched in her right hand.

Usually when your gorgeous wife looks this good you lose all resolve not being able do do anything but trying to catch your breath, but this time it was different as you were blinded by your overwelming anxiety trying to stop her from getting out into the living room and subsequently out of the house.

When you usually would have been salivating you felt nothing but worry even when looking at the way her body moved the muscles in her arms flexing as she gripped her sword in her left hand her right hand coming up to swipe over her mouth as she exhaled while walking towards you with a look of indifference in her eyes. "Move" she demanded stopping in front of the giant marble doorframe and looking down at your distressed face. "I won't," you told her extending your wingspan to block her from exiting the room. She looked into your eyes for a couple of seconds. The look on her face monotone her eyes dark. Then surprisingly she started leaning down slowly inching closer and closer to your face. The room was so quiet that the only sound you could hear was that of your breath shaking. Her breath on your lips the only thing you could feel. She slid her free right hand onto the side of your hip gripping the flesh gently and making a chill run down your spine with anticipation but before you noticed your guard was down she turned you to the side pushing you for your back to gently hit the wide marble jamb of your door frame. Knocking you back into reality with surprise. A little embarrassed for folding so easily but more determined to keep her safe with you. You started following her with fervor while she made her way through the spacious living area heading for the door to put her shoes on.

"Why must it always be you!?!"

She ignored you taking her boots to the couch.

"You told me you wouldn't after the last time, you said you'd stay here working to guide the war efforts"

She kept on ignoring your cries

"Do you not remeber when you said no more fighting, and that you were getting too old for that anyways!!"

you continued to shout.

She's now sitting down on the sofa facing you directly but looking down focused on strapping up her boots her sword stands upright against the couch while her shirt is draped on her right thigh.

"Did you forget, all that you promised me!?!?!"

You shouted and she paused midway while tying her boot and looked up at you through furrowed brows.

Your voice broke as you kept shouting

"Did you forget everything you said about us finally starting a family about the kids that you promised me we'd raise far away from this!!!"

She kept staring at you her eyes harboring a storm of emotions that did not help to quell your frustration.

"What if you don't come back!?!?"

you continued

"What if you lie-"

She stood up before you finished speaking towering over you.

"You've said enough!!"

She said in a stedy firm voice anger filling her entire face. She then turned starting to walk towards the door when in a moment of desperation you quickly scrambled to followed her.

"I'm coming with you!!!"

You shouted breaking her composure. She quickly spun around overpowering you with her large stature and almost knocking you down with how close she had gotten.

"You are not going anywhere!!"

She spoke firmly startling you.

"Did you take my silence for ineptitude?!?"

"Do you think I would let my untrained wife into an active battlefield for the sake of protecting her ego!?"

"Ambessa plea-"

"Or better yet do you think I would cower in my home whilst my soldiers die for the sake of a nation I built from nothing!?!"

You looked up at her holding your breath. You're eyes and throat burning.

"Do not mistake my love for you for weakness, I will not stand here waiting for them to invade my home and hurt you!"

Stunned the only thing you could do was stare as she turned her back and walked out. The large mahogany door loudly slamming shut. After a couple of minutes of standing there trying to stop the tears rushing down your eyes, you ran to the bedroom window watching as she exited the courtyard of your home.

Thank you so much for reading!!!!

This was my first attempt at this and I thought it would be cool to have more Ambessa fics. Please let me know what you think in the comments 🙏 🙂

#ambessa x reader #arcane #ambessa medarda

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nexility-sims · 2 months

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𝐍𝐎. 𝟖 ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜ | THE DEN, MID MARCH 1991

❧ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 / 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

❛ Leonor had attended a recital just the day before, but this performance was an entirely different experience. She was unprepared for how arresting it would be. Without knowing, she had noticed the lead singer earlier that night, ostensibly holding court by the far edge of the bar, distracting the bartender with animated conversation. Leonor hadn’t heard anything she said, but her movements were full of energy, almost frenetic. Now, she held still. The bassist swayed from hip to hip. Behind them, the drummer stared out at the audience with a face full of shadows. Leonor thought the frontwoman resembled a pious statue as she stood there, chin tilted upward and eyes closed. The crowd hummed with impatient anticipation, but what she reflected back to them was unfazed tranquility. 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

❧ (the song here, as you perhaps could have guessed from the episode title, is meant to be "doll parts" by hole.) lightly phoned this one in BUT i'd rather keep moving than skip a week bc i was sick, so :^) this is an abridged version, and i'll post an unabridged version later today w/ a label for good measure !!! additionally, we are now done with the entirely self-indulgent red light filter, i promise sdfsdf

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

The very first chord sent a chill up Leonor’s spine. She watched, rapt, as the statue came to life in a fluid series of motions. Her voice was low and rough, not ethereal by any means but still somehow, to Leonor’s ears, exquisite. The lyrics washed over her unheard. She fixated wholly on the singing itself—on the emotion of it, how the crooning turned to a harsh quaver, within it a lament that felt more defiant than mournful. It was raw. The song’s inspiration, why this woman performed it as she did, was a mystery. It was the vulnerability of it that resonated. Leonor felt the emotion in her bones as she listened. Music was never her preferred outlet but, as she experienced the song, she wished it had been.

For these three minutes, Leonor was alone again. The stage’s pit had been packed with an eager, noisy audience that responded enthusiastically to every line of the song. As it became a concert for one, they faded. Leonor’s eyes followed the movement of the singer, how her lips parted and her fingers strummed the guitar she played. They existed together in a suspended moment outside of time. It might have occurred to her later that extending, even possessing, such a moment was well within her power. For enough money, she could have anyone’s private time—especially artists, people who needed and understood patronage. It wasn't it in the spirit of the venue, but neither was her very presence, arguably. However, she was entirely in the moment as it unfolded. Feelings welled up inside of her. Her skin prickled. Her eyes, too, felt the familiar sensation attendant to being overwhelmed.

Still, even euphoria had a blush of grief these days.

The song ended, and the bar's spirited ambience rushed back in like a sun-blocking wave. As she began speaking casually to the audience, the singer’s captivating voice changed. Whatever spell she had cast broke. Her friends remained enlivened, but Leonor felt only the desperate need to reclaim the quietude again. The minute of transition between unfamiliar songs felt like too long—too risky—of a wait. Perhaps the night had caught up with her. Or, perhaps, if she ducked into a quiet corner and collected herself, she could resume the admirable attempt at normalcy that had characterized the evening so far. That was her preferred outcome. She knew, on one level, that she was having fun. This momentary lapse wasn’t really an aberration, she feared, but she was determined to treat it as such.

Leonor turned to Kore instinctively, leaning close to exclaim the most convenient and innocuous escape valve within reach, “Where’s the restroom?”

TRANSCRIPT:

RENZO | Okay, settle down. Next up is a treat. The Fluke girls have a new song for us. This is a songwriter’s song, alright? Conceived in this building. Show some respect.

LEONOR | Where’s the restroom? KORE | Stairs, near the bar!

[Leonor sighs, door opening]

LEONOR | What are you doing here?

LEONOR | Oh—[Laughs]—sorry. RENZO | It’s a bathroom. Maybe I gotta piss.

RENZO | Hey, don’t leave. I’m kidding. Wanted to check on you. LEONOR | Really?

RENZO | Sort of. I also had an ulterior motive. LEONOR | Did you?

RENZO | I wanted to be alone with you again, too. LEONOR | You’re in luck.

RENZO | You know, you do look different in person. More real. LEONOR | I get that a lot. RENZO | Do you? Huh— LEONOR | [Snickers] No, of course not!

RENZO | So, what do you think— LEONOR | No more talking now, okay?

RENZO | I’ll show you the dressing rooms next time. LEONOR | Next time? [Chuckles]

#;long post #ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #royal sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #1992.story.post #1992.a1 #1992.e03

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peachdues · 6 months

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PHANTASMAGORIA (Peach’s Cut)

SANEMI’S REGRET

Here’s a sneak peek at one of the scenes that will be in the extended version of Phantasmagoria. Enjoy!

No matter what he did, it wasn’t enough; it wouldn’t ever be enough.

“Genya,” Sanemi choked out, a desperate plea to a brother who would not — could not— answer him. “Genya, where did it all go wrong?”

Sanemi bent over his knees, his hands pulling at his hair.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he whispered and the tears he’d held in for so long began to run. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”

He wanted to go back; he wanted to go back to a time when he’d still been a brother Y/N was still his best friend.

He wanted to go back to prom; the night he’d choked because she had looked so god damn beautiful in that dress she wore.

There hadn’t been many times when Sanemi could say he’d been struck dumb into silence, but seeing Y/N descend the stairs inside her mother’s house wearing that emerald green dress, her hair all shiny and soft and a pretty blush on her cheeks had made his tongue swell, and his head become suddenly stuffed full with cotton.

It had taken a sharp elbow in the side from Kyojuro for Sanemi to remember to close his mouth.

“Y-you look beautiful,” he’d managed to stutter out, his cheeks turning an embarrassing shade of red as he held out a hand to help her descend the final stair.

The blush on Y/N’s cheeks deepened slightly as she combed her eyes over him, in his tux, his tie perfectly matching the hue of her dress. “So do you — I mean —“ Y/N averted her eyes, flushed scarlet. “You clean up nice, too.”

Kyojuro, the master of breaking awkward tension, threw his arms around his two best friends. “We all look rather dashing, I think!”

Y/N’s mother had then ushered them all outside for pictures, capturing the moment when Y/N fastened his boutenier to the lapel of his tux jacket.

Sanemi saw the picture, later, in one of the social media posts Y/N had posted the next day among a flurry of other photos from the night.

His eyes had been glued to her face, pulled in concentration as she’d carefully secured the flower. He remembered how nervous she’d been about sticking him with the pin, her fingers carefully placed on the underside of his lapel to protect the sharp metal from piercing through his shirt.

Judging by the softness in his eyes as he’d watched her, captured right on Y/N’s mother’s phone, anyone could have seen he wouldn’t have cared if she’d stabbed him right through the heart with the pin. He would’ve let her.

It had been obvious — so obvious how smitten he was with her. Sanemi often wondered how Y/N did not see it herself.

As the night wore on, the harder Sanemi had realized it would be to keep his feelings to himself. It was during the first slow dance, when his hands had hesitantly come to rest upon her waist, as Y/N’s arms wound around his neck, that Sanemi knew he had to tell her.

She’d felt so good in his arms — too good.

It should have been easy. He knew she probably reciprocated, even if she didn’t love him as much as he was hopelessly in love with her. For years he’d noticed how she looked at him and how it differed from the way she looked at Kyojuro, or anyone else. He saw how she gazed at him with stars in her eyes, as though he was the most important person in the world to her. He knew he was the only person who could make her blush; it was why he always teased her, leaning in close to her face to savor the way she flushed scarlet.

And yet there’d still been that tiny, nagging voice in the back of Sanemi’s mind that reminded him no matter what, he was not good enough.

He was too rough; too much of a hothead. He had too many scars, both on his skin and on his heart, and he still didn’t know how to fully expose them to himself, let alone to other people.

The night ended with him walking her to to her front door, and she’d turned to him with a smile brighter than any star he’d ever laid eyes on, and he decided to lay his cards out on her table.

But then her eyes had turned expectant, waiting, and to his eternal torment, the confession died in his throat. She’d looked almost disappointed, but she smiled through it, pressing her lips softly against his cheek.

“Good night, Sanemi,” she’d whispered. “Thank you.”

I’m in love with you, that’s what he wanted to tell her. I’ve been in love with you ever since I understood what love meant.

If only he hadn’t choked — if only he’d told her that she’d held his heart for longer than he could remember, and that he would do anything — be anyone — if it meant being hers.

Sanemi wasn’t stupid enough to think that maybe things wouldn’t have turned ass up for them; him confessing to Y/N wouldn’t have stopped his brother from being murdered or her mother from getting sick, but it sure as hell meant what happened at the train station never would have come to pass.

It meant he would’ve never broken her heart and chased her away, exiling her to bear the weight of her own loss and grief by herself.

It wouldn’t have chased her right into the alluring clutches of the Kizuki, desperate to seek release in the form of a deadly purple pill that chiseled away at her, bit by bit.

“Genya,” Sanemi whispered brokenly. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

He wanted to go back; he wanted a do-over.

He wanted to make it right.

But he couldn’t, and something deep in Sanemi’s gut told him that he might never get the chance; not when Y/N’s Wisteria use seemed to grow worse by the day. Not when the light in her eyes had died out completely, leaving him to wonder how long it would be before she was taken away, too.

Sanemi could only continue muttering his despair into the quiet air of his apartment, his tears trailing hot down his cheeks.

No matter how many times he quietly begged his brother to help him, no answer ever came.

#demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #sanemi x y/n #kny fic #demon slayer fic #demon slayer smut

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tabbedtabby · 3 months

Text

i bet on losing dogs

johanna mason x fem reader

summary: After Johanna fails her Block exam to participate in the invasion of the Capitol, you go say your farewells to her, bearing a gift.

a/n: i haven’t posted on tumblr since like 2021 so sorry if this looks ugly LMAO idk how to be aesthetic on here. anyway if you have any thoughts lmk!

cw: angst, not proofread

words: 1.9k

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Your hands fumble with the bulletproof vest covering you as you exit the Block. You have passed your personal assessment, it seems. The one that decides whether you’re fit enough to storm the Capitol with the rest of the victors; well, considering they pass it, too. The Block throws you into a simulated version of what a battle in the Capitol would be like, and personally preys on the weakness of each person who enters. So, in your case, it was fully checking an area before entering it. You’re not the most careful person in the world, you’ll admit.

You take the vest off, and see only a handful more soldiers waiting for their assessment, including Katniss. You had trained with her. She fought hard for this, and you know how badly she wants to go to the Capitol herself. You know how she feels. You, too, are a victim of Snow’s treachery.

You glance around, searching for Johanna. She’s pretty easy to spot, with the shaved head and everything. So when you don’t see her, you frown. She’d gone in only a couple more people before you did, but you don’t remember seeing her leave the Block, either. There is one face you recognize, though. Haymitch. You assume he’s waiting for Katniss, but when he walks up to you, you realize you’re mistaken.

“Johanna’s back in the hospital.”

“What?”

You ask the question, but you’re not really waiting for an explanation. You’re already shoving past everyone to get to the elevator. Of course. Johanna’s greatest weakness. They flooded the streets during her assessment.

When the elevator door opens into the hospital sector, you already know where to look. Johanna’s sitting up in a hospital bed, her eyes wide and her chest rising and falling rapidly. They must have stripped her of her soldier uniform, because she’s back in the same hospital gown she was given when rescued from the Capitol. What little hair she’s managed to grow from then until now is damp and spiky, and your suspicions are confirmed.

When Johanna sees you, your heart almost shatters. You’ve never seen her so empty of life. Not even when she’d first came back from the Capitol. She’s completely stripped of her anger, her abrasiveness, her bold personality. All that’s left is fear.

You don’t say anything to her. You just sit down at the foot of her bed. She wouldn’t want your pity, you know this. Instead, your hands close around something in the pocket of your pants. Something you’ve been meaning to give to Johanna, and there couldn’t be a better moment than now, now that you’ll be storming the Capitol without her.

“Here.” you say, your hand extending towards her. She stares blankly at you for a moment, almost certainly pumped full of morphling.

Johanna’s hands unfurl the handkerchief to reveal a set of rusted golden earrings shaped like little suns. Your mother’s. The only fine thing you’d ever owned before becoming a victor that you could never bring yourself to sell. The things that comforted you while being hunted in the arena, and again when you were reaped a second time for the Quarter Quell. Your lifeline at one point.

Her eyes glisten over with tears, but she quickly squeezes them shut. “I can’t take these, (Y/N).” she croaks out.

“Yes, you can, stupid. I’m giving them to you,” you tell her gently, a small smile on your lips as you stare into Johanna’s eyes. Even on the morphling, her eyes are filled with emotion.

“She died a long time before the rest of my family. I don’t need them anymore.” you don’t mention how there’s a good chance you might die in the Capitol, and you want those earrings to be passed on to someone else you care about. And the fact that Johanna has nothing to her name except District 13’s depressing dark green jumpsuit makes you feel sad.

“He has to die.” Johanna responds after a couple of minutes, her voice still hoarse. But she doesn’t say it with her normal ferocity. The contact with her method of torture has truly broken her.

“I know. Katniss is going to kill him, Johanna.” you say, placing one of your hands over hers. She stares up at you.

“And then… we’ll be free. Forever. We’ll go to District Seven and do whatever we’d like for the rest of our stupid lives. Get some real food. These bland-ass meals here are killing me,” you joke, and that makes the corner of Johanna’s mouth twitch up. But you can sense her considering your offer, too. Of course, she was always going to go home to District 7, but she can’t deny the idea of you coming with her excites her. Someone to fill that lonely old house that has gone so long without another resident besides herself.

Johanna’s hand clutches around the fabric that holds your parting gift. You squeeze her other hand, cold and damp. You don’t mind warming her up.

But there’s something in the air that neither of you address. That looming reality that you may not come back. Neither you nor Johanna have spoken about how you felt about each other, but you’re all each other has at this point. You share a room here in District 13 and hold each other through nightmares when they inevitably come each night. But that’s about the extent of how far your relationship has gone.

Before you think about it, you lean down and press your lips onto hers. Admittedly, you’ve wanted to for months now. But nothing could compare to how it felt in reality. Although brief, the feeling of her soft and faintly warm lips sends goosebucks running up your neck. Johanna’s lips are a wet and warm abyss that you never want to escape. You are forced to pull away anyway.

“Damn, brainless,” Johanna whispers, the hint of a smirk on her lips. You can’t stop the grin that spreads onto your face. She sounds more like her old self. Sarcastic. Witty. When you look into those deep green eyes, you know she will be able to put herself back together again. Just as she has done before, again and again. She has rebuilt herself into the woman you’re afraid you’ve fallen in love with as you stare into those eyes.

Almost on queue, the hospital quarter’s door opens, revealing a sympathetic looking Katniss and Finnick. Katniss holds a small bundle of something in her hands, and you realize they’ve come to say their own farewells to Johanna. The four of you have become somewhat of friends after going through training together.

Katniss’ gift ends up being a wad of pine needles to remind Johanna of home, which receives an emotional response from Johanna. She misses District 7 badly. You promise yourself the minute that Snow is dead, you will take her home. Home to the thick trunks of the trees and the sound of pine needles crunching under sturdy boots.

Eventually, you realize you need to get going. Katniss and Finnick have finished their goodbyes, and are already heading towards the door. You give Johanna one last look as you follow them out.

“I’ll see you soon.” you say, flashing her a promising smile before the door closes behind you.

Finnick was right. The last thing you thought of was her lips.

——

Bright green leaves rustle lightly, their branches flickering across the sky. The wind flows through them effortlessly, causing the deep emerald forest to appear alive in its movements. Birdsong ricochets on the sturdy trunks of the trees, filling the canopy with the hopeful sound of music.

One of the birds flitters down to the rock in front of where Johanna sits, its tiny feet hopping on the smooth gray. Its black, beady eyes stare up at her in question before launching back up into the leaves.

This is where she spends most of her days. Sitting at the base of a tree, head leaned back. Staring up into where the leaves catch the sunlight. Watching as the sun moves across the sky before it sets beyond the horizon. Only then does she take the trek back home.

She still lives in the Victor’s Village in District 7. After all, where else was she supposed to go? She yearned for her home. Even more so after your promise to go back with her once the war ended. How it was foolish of her to believe she’d ever share those walls with another body again. Snow took her family. She never truly came to terms with it, but it had been long enough that she could stand to be in that house again without reliving it all. That conversation after she’d become a victor, and the consequences that came soon after. It stung like a rotting wound every time she entered her own home. It was hard to sleep knowing she lived in a murder site.

Johanna tried, she really did. She tried not to let herself love again. Because as soon as she did, Snow’s offer would be on the table again. And this time, she would know what would happen if her answer was no. It would mean another bleeding body on the floor. Another soul to haunt those walls. More screams to ricochet inside her skull every time she closed her eyes. It would never be worth it. No matter how badly she wanted someone to care about her. Most days it would have helped more than anything to just know that there was someone out there who gave a shit about her.

But she couldn’t help it. Johanna couldn’t help that feeling she got around you. And, damn it, she tried. Lord knows she did. But you were so kind, and more than anything, unafraid. Unafraid of her anger and ferocity. You weren’t scared of her like everyone else; you were curious. You wanted to know Johanna, why she acted the way she did. Not immediately write her off like everyone else. No. You were different.

In the Quarter Quell, she had begun to get to know you. But it wasn’t until Johanna was rescued from the Capitol—she hates that word, rescued—that she began to be truly afraid of what she was feeling. The way her face would get hot every time you’d give her one of those wide, genuine grins that Johanna didn’t know was possible to be found on the face of a victor. She hated the feeling of skin against her own more than anything, but with you, she craved it. That’s when she knew she was in trouble; or rather that you were. Loving Johanna Mason is a death sentence.

And, unfortunately, you were guilty of that crime. Blown up into a million tiny pieces at the hands of the same bomb that killed Katniss’ little sister. She tries to reach out to Johanna. Or rather, she thinks Peeta encourages her to. But she can’t bring herself to answer. Not when Katniss gets the pleasure of living out the rest of her life with Peeta. Johanna doesn’t care if her sister is dead. She’s lost more and still has ended up alone.

So, that’s her fate. She doesn’t try again. To love. To care. Not about other people. Not about anything. But to sit alone under forest canopy, an axe still held firmly in her calloused hands. Some habits are hard to break.

So Johanna rots in that empty house that is too big for her, but too small for her grief, until the large doses of morphling will eventually get to her. She will die alone and unwanted. Her happy ending.

#johanna mason #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason x you #the hunger games #hunger games #hunger games imagine

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