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lollytea · 2 years

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any huntlow miraculous au ideas ??

Disclaimer: I have not watched miraculous in nearly four years. I do not know what is going on in that show anymore and at this point I'm too afraid to ask.

However the reason I did start watching it for a time was because I was intrigued by the concept. I liked this idea of different facets of your personality only on display depending on the identity you're presenting and how mixed up that can get when it's a romance between two people who know each other with and without the mask and how the relationships shift depending on that. It's very basic superhero trope stuff but idk it scratches the little part of my brain that's obsessed with psychology and messy convoluted character dynamics. So the idea of doing something like that with huntlow DOES sound cool. But I have no concrete ideas.

Me personally I don't like doing AUs with huntlow unless it keeps them in the Boiling Isles setting and it keeps their respective backgrounds as GG and half-a-witch Willow. So I'm not big on Human AUs. So I wouldn't think too much about a typical miraculous AU myself. I'll leave that to other people to have their fun with. I love the miraculous AU art they do 💕

But WHAT IF. WHAT IF WHAT IF

Okay okay okay. So what if we start off with the idea of Willow having a celebrity crush on the Golden Guard. Remember that AU? So lets say its pre-season 1. So Willow is still in the abomination track and is kinda a shrinking violet. So the Golden Guard happened to rescue her once and now she's all smitten over how cool and confident he is.

Anyway, Willow is forbidden from doing plant magic. However Willow loves to do plant magic. So her solution to this is to do plant magic in secret. One thing leads to another and now she sneaks out of the house every night and uses her magic to assist civilians in need. She's never really had a chance to let loose with her powers before. It makes her feel so cool and strong. Plus she really does empathize with how it feels to be vulnerable so she likes to help when she can. So she's developed a little bit of a superhero-ish alter ego.

The aesthetic of this is just making me go insane. Like the plant based superhero costume Willow would fashion for herself. It'd be so dorky and over-the-top. Im seeing shit like a poofy little dress, a skirt made out of giant flower petals, boots made of leaves, vines snaking all over her limbs. Fairycore vibes. I also really like the idea of using her magic to spread a cluster of tiny flowers around her eyes in the shape of a domino mask.

She calls herself "Force of Nature" (or "Force" for short.) And honestly, the name suits the person she becomes. When she's taking on this identity, Willow's full chaotic side comes out. She's got a big personality. She's ruthless, she's talkative, she's mischievous, she's everything that's always been bubbling under her surface. I wanna say she even takes a little inspiration from the trademark Golden Guard dazzle.

Now Hunter is the Golden Guard and he believes it's his duty to help and protect people of the Boiling Isles. However, he begins to notice that Belos is constantly preventing him from doing so. Hunter keeps getting sent on tedious tasks to collect ingredients for his uncle's experiments or deal with business matters or WHATEVER. There is a distinct lack of helping going on here. And everytime he tries to respectfully point it out, Belos insists that the work Hunter does is important. Admittedly, Hunter is beginning to get a little frustrated. He certainly doesn't want to believe that his uncle is wrong (His uncle is never wrong.) Buuuuut maybe his uncle just isn't seeing the big picture correctly. Maybe he just needs a little convincing.

So this is when Hunter commits himself to sneaking out of the castle at night and helping all the people that the Golden Guard was too busy to help. If he used his GG persona, word would get around and he'd be in trouble for disobeying. So Hunter opts to carry out these deeds unmasked. He might have a special outfit for the occasion but his full face is on display. Doing these things has nothing to do with building Hunter's confidence, it's just to do what's right.

He keeps a journal where he documents all the good he's done while carrying out this secret job and intends to hand it over to Belos once it's full so his uncle will finally understand. The mental gymnastics are insane here. Deep down, Hunter knows Belos would kill him if he ever found out and he's taking this secret to his grave. But the journal helps him feel less disobedient so we'll let him have this.

Anyway of course Willow and Hunter eventually cross paths and decide to work together for the greater good. A friendship is formed and it does not take long before Hunter falls head over heels for Force of Nature. And because he's so transparently himself with none of his Golden Guard swag, he's a shy blushy mess around her. It doesn't help that she's one of the only people besides Belos to call him by name.

(He didn't tell her his name at first. It only slipped out after he developed a crush and he found that he had a really hard time saying no to her.)

Meanwhile Willow is very fond of Hunter. However, I feel like she's kinda blocked herself off from entertaining the idea that she might have feelings for him because of her crush on the Golden Guard. It's a very idealized crush and she's built it up so much in her head that it subconsciously prevents her from even thinking about anyone else in a romantic light. But I think some feelings for Hunter might be sneaking up on her without her noticing.

Anyway Willow has hung around Bonesborough often enough that she knows the exact times the Golden Guard shows up for patrol. She slinks around the areas where he's known to meet with people and discuss business. She'll wander around town on weekends just for the off chance of spotting him. However, though she's brave enough to march right up and say hello, she really hasn't a clue how to talk to him like a normal person so all that comes out is word vomit. (Again, this is pre-season 1 Willow. A bit of a nervous wreck.) Anyway she's stopped to "talk" with him enough times that he remembers who she is now. So that's a start!

On Hunter's end, there's this one schoolgirl who he usually meets in town and she's a massive stroke to his ego. She's clearly starstruck with him and he's eating it up. He's constantly playing up the GG persona for her to the point that it's almost flirtatious. He doesn't really notice that he's doing this and doesn't understand that she might take that the wrong way. Hunter doesn't have any strong opinions about Willow Park. She's sweet, she's a little awkward and he humors her whenever they meet. But he doesn't really form a deep friendship with her for quite a while because it can be very difficult to make connections when you're playing a character.

Anyway. There's a basic premise for your consideration. Hijinks ensue and whatnot.

#huntlow

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stillwinterair · 9 months

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Howdy kids

My name is Dee! It's not the name I went by for most of my years on Tumblr, but it's the one everyone knows me as. You might remember my url as nyriad, visovari... I went by a bunch of others too, but those are the only two I seem to remember now 😅

The last time I was on Tumblr, I was in the middle of a very difficult period of my life that I didn't really have the tools or support to navigate. But sometimes you gotta go a lil wacky and make some fresh new regrets so you can grow up a lil bit wiser and sexier

I quit the internet pretty much cold turkey for a while and it was one of the best things I ever did for myself. I spent a year pretty much focusing on nothing but my immediate surroundings, living in my own skin, learning how to love myself. I've gotten a lot more comfortable being myself, and have grown a lot more connected to the earth.

In my time away, I was diagnosed with ADHD, which even just the diagnosis has significantly improved almost every facet of my life. I've gotten so many new tools and so much new language to express myself and my needs. I've stopped feeling like there is something wrong with me and let go of a lot of shame that I held around myself, my work flow, my ability to focus, my needs for rest, etc. As I've met more people with ADHD, I've grown a lot more empowered and confident. I'm still figuring out what medication works for me (Adderall and Concerta are hell incarnate; Ritalin and Vyvanse are the bee's knees). It's been revolutionary and healing, honestly. Reading the book "Driven to Distraction" was an important first step that I recommend to everyone who's ever thought they might have ADHD, or if you were like me, always felt stupid and slow and always wondered why you never could quite get around to doing all the things you want to do.

I am also currently pursuing a diagnosis for Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, as per my doctor's suggestion. I won't get into it too much here, but it is a chronic illness that has made the last year pretty difficult. I have a lot of severe chronic joint pain and lethargy, and it's been... a lot. I'm starting physical therapy soon. This part isn't fun to talk about, but it's becoming an important part of my identity.

I've also met the love of my life, my soon-to-be fiancee, Nathalie! We were inseparable pretty much from the day we met, and spent a year as best friends. And then after that year the sexual tension became too much to handle, and now another year later, here we are, stupidly in love, utterly obsessed with each other, turning every single day into a fun, wacky, new adventure lmao. We've built the most beautiful, trusting, communicative, intimate relationship I've ever experienced and I am so filled with pride and joy and love and happiness every day. We're still best friends -- no force on this earth could ever get us to shut up when we're in the same room. She just fills me with butterflies and glee and light. Nat has this burning desire to create in whatever the most tactile medium she can find is. She loves mechanisms and fibers and all of the ways different materials interact with each other. She inspires me every day to be more open and honest and to pursue whatever creative venture has caught my interest, and I do the same for her. We dance together, create together, and share big emotions and life goals and it's just the most beautiful thing I've ever felt, and this paragraph could go on forever if I don't end it right now

I've also finally started to settle into my writing flow. I've got a space opera that's really beginning to take shape and I'm pretty proud of what it's turning into :) I also have a fantasy saga that's following a few steps behind. Both are things I've been working on for nearly a decade in fits and spurts, but I've done more work on them in the last year than in all previous years combined. I've gotten into more artistic mediums as well: oil painting, photography, beading, and so on. And very into fashion, kind of. Y'all should see my wardrobe these days -- bright colors, crazy patterns, wacky silhouettes. I feel like I finally look like myself. I'm currently rocking a purple mullet and a mustache, so... yeah, I'm having fun with it

I'm not sure how many of my old friends and mutuals are still hanging around, but I wanted to say hey, track a few of you down, and give a little update on how things are going for me post-Tumblr. I am alive, and I'm pretty happy these days. Some days I miss it here, and while I'll never come back in the same capacity as I used to, I wanted to reconnect with some of my old friends that I used to talk to and hang around with every day! I'm gonna poke around over the next while and see who's still around :) honestly I still think about some of y'all on the daily, and I got too curious about how my old friends were doing.

If you want to keep in touch, I'm on Instagram as deehollandaise. I'm on Discord much less often, but if you want to connect there, shoot me a message and I'll share the deets. Warning that I am just straight up not involved in any fandom stuff these days. It's just not for me anymore.

I will be retiring this blog in the new year, setting the whole dang thing to private and probably starting a new one with which to share some of my creative projects. I'll let y'all know about it before that happens.

I don't know, this is all kinda word vomit, I guess I just wanted to let all my old friends know that I'm still here and that I'm finally figuring myself out. I've got a lot to be proud of and grateful for and I've barely scratched the surface, so I'll leave off with some recent photos. Have a hot & sweaty 2024, you sexy things 😘

- Dee

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gay-jewish-bucky · 1 year

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Hey.

Sorry if I’m interrupting anything.

I’m just curious.

Your blog description has “MCU hater” in it?

Why? I mean where did that come from? I’m just curious.

I’m not the biggest fan of it myself, but I’m more indifferent towards it than anything else.

Again I’m just curious. Nothing more.

*yeah it says a lot when the film I’m most looking forward to this year is Oppenheimer! I like to pretend it’s a film adaptation of the Trinity Desk Project*

not it all!

that's a very long explanation, all the higher ups and creatives say awful things all the time (espec in regards to bucky), they treat male trauma like a fucking joke and treat women like sex objects, it took them over a fucking decade to introduce characters of colour in main roles, they admit they don't hire people who care about the source material and called it a 'red flag', they hate the characters who aren't tony, they don't give a shit about telling good stories, they are dead set on ruining everyone people loved about steve bc they're mad about a gay ship (the ending, the way they forced in their nasty self-insert fantasy about the uso girls into steve's "canon"), they hate fans and critics who don't praise every single thing they do, the only movies that have had any heart or creative intent since twenty-fourteen are the black panther movies bc ryan coogler is the only left in it for more than just money, they treat their actors abysmally to avoid "spoilers" getting out, they underpay and overwork everyone who isn't a big name, they consistently white-wash and straight-wash and goy-wash countless characters who belong to marginalized identities and this extends to the comics, they admit they dont care about telling superhero stories, their fans will destory people's lives for being critical, they think an abusive white nazi is a better captain america than steve rogers or sam wilson bc #girlboss (actively supporting white feminism which is a facet of white supremacy), they don't care about hyping sam up as captain america at all, they think perpetrators of genocide are more understandable than their victims, they pump out shitty product after shitty product to maximize profit, they are known for forcing actors to stay closeted (kristen stuart turned down a role so she would have the freedom to come out), the fandom is horrifically antisemitic despite the comics being created by jewish men during the holocaust, they butchered moon knight's judaism, they do not properly compensate the people who created the characters they are making millions off of, they're largely responsible for the depoliticization of the superhero genre...i can keep going.

i'm not looking forward to a single project, if anything im bracing for the antisemitic violence that will come from cap 4's plot and title playing into a viscous and deadly antisemitic conspiracy which is also in the movie they introduce a jewish hero.

@w1ll0wtr33

#personcole #not mad at you

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dokonskit · 1 month

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The video game Stray Gods: The Roleplaying Musical helped me figure out my character

First, I'll tell you what it is. Stray Gods: The Roleplaying Musical is a video game musical about Greek Gods in the modern world. According to the plot, Grace, the main character, under unexpected circumstances finds herself next to the murdered Muse, the Goddess of poetry and art, and herself becomes her heir. Now Grace needs to investigate and prove to the other Gods her innocence in murdering the Muse, as well as figure out herself, the intrigues of the Gods and her new abilities.

Speaking of abilities. The main feature of the game, as you might guess, is the songs. The power of the Muse makes it possible to force others to express themselves in songs, to pull out what is hidden inside, "turning" the soul inside out. These abilities are used in the investigation.

Also, all songs have at least three variations. It depends on the chosen character and on the choice of cues in the songs themselves, changing the verses, instrumental and even genres.

Let's focus on characters and lines. There are only three of them. They influence the heroine's behavior in conversations and key decisions. And in the songs, when choosing, they give all three options for the approach from each character, giving the player to act and build the song as he sees fit. The game divides characters into three large categories:

Charming Grace tries to do the right thing, and for this everyone loves her even more. It is aimed at empathy, support, a desire to look into the origins of the reason why this happened and what led to it;

Kickass Grace is not afraid to become reckless and aggressive when circumstances require it. She is very good at putting pressure on people, forcing them to do something and perfectly parries insults in her direction;

Clever Grace prefers to think and find a way out of the situation. She is more cunning, smarter and wittier than others. She is able to think ahead, analyze the information received and anticipate the answers of other characters.

After a few walkthroughs, using Grace's example, I realized that in any situation you can do different things and get a different result depending on the approach. Previously, I did not know how to handle the "facets" of my character, since I never set a goal for dialogues and did not see their outcome, and therefore I was quite passive. The character categories that the game provides can be used in real life. Personally, this makes it very easy for me to communicate, because sometimes a situation requires a certain approach, and sometimes there is a choice. It would be difficult to get confused in three options, unlike thinking about all of them. It turns out that the character selection screen pops up every time I think about a response :)

Stray Gods also encouraged me to create. I began to study song variations, their structure and the interdependence of choices, download my favorite songs and their variations, and try to translate them into Russian. By the way, thanks to the latter, I have a lot of new rhymes in my head, which is why I can sometimes give out a rhyme in ordinary speech, as if I have a piece of the Muse in me. I also had a desire to learn how to sing, I started blogging on Tumblr to join the community more, I started drawing myself in the visual style of the game... This game has become more than a game for me. It lives in me, and I can't help but be happy about it.)

youtube

#stray gods the roleplaying musical #stray gods #stray gods orpheus #video games #видеоигры #musical #мюзикл #summerfall studios #article #статья #psychology #психология #русский #Youtube

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rottedbrainz · 1 year

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Ok so originally I was just gonna do this with the four main fellas, but I found myself adding in more character dynamics so...forgive me?

Tibbs belongs to me. Caled, Terri, and Mick belong to @palettepainter. And Gabe belongs to @posies-and-bundles

Bonus characters under the cut!! :D

Some of the quotes were edited to fit the characters or dynamic. Sorry if some of them are out of character.

*Tibbs helping Mick out after they get injured, while the others are watching*

Gerald: How does Mick look?

Gabe: A little better than you, actually.

Gerald, watching the news: Someone tried to fight a squid at the aquarium today!

Mick: *walks in covered with ink* Well, maybe the squid was being a dick.

Tibbs: Whaddya call a fish with no eye?

Gabe, not looking up: Myxine Circifrons

Tibbs:

Tibbs: fsh

Gerald: Dammit, Tibbs!

Tibbs: What?! It wasn’t me!

Gerald: Sorry, force of habit. Dammit, Mick!

Mick: Not me either.

Gerald: Oh...Then who set the house on fire?

Gabe: *whistles*

Tibbs: There is no future. there is no past. do you see? Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet.

Mick:

Gabe:

Gerald:

Everyone Else At Person A’s Surprise Birthday Party:

Mick: All I asked was if you wanted to cut your birthday cake first.

Gabe: Okay, help me please!

Gerald: Got two words for you.

Mick: I bet they won't be helpful.

Gerald: Your problem.

Mick: I was right

Gabe, talking to Zoot on the phone: Did you preheat the oven like I told you to?

Baby Zoot: You bet!

Gabe: At what temperature?

Baby Zoot: 535.

Gabe: That's the clock.

Baby Zoot:

Gabe:

Baby Zoot: 536.

Tibbs: You love me, right, Caleb?

Caleb: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

Terri: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait.

Tibbs: You and me!!!

Terri, tearing up: Okay.

Janice: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Tibbs: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

Caleb: *Walking in to a room* Sorry I’m late... I was... doing things.

*Sounds of running footsteps progressively getting louder*

Lips: *Out of breath* THEY PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKIN’ STAIRS.

Mick: How's the sexiest person here~?

Terri: I don't know, how are they~?

Mick, flustered: I-

Tibbs, from across the room: I'm doing great, thanks!

Terri: I was arrested for being too cool.

Tina: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

Terri: What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Mick: Wow, you could start with a 'good morning'.

Terri: Good morning. What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Gerald: Tina, keep an eye on Floyd today. They're going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

Tina: Sure, I’d love to see Floyd get punched.

Gerald: Try again.

Tina, sighing: I will stop Floyd from getting punched.

Mick: Come on, I wasn’t that drunk last night.

Gabe: You were flirting with Terri.

Mick: So what? She's my wife.

Gabe: You asked her if she was single.

Mick:

Gabe: And then you cried when she said she wasn't.

Janice: Dad, I'm sad.

Tibbs: *Holds out arms for a hug* It’s going to be okay.

Floyd: Pop, I'm sad.

Mick, nodding: mood.

Terri: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends.

Mick: ... Your what?

Terri: My friends.

Gabe: Are they saying “friends”?

Tibbs: I think they're being sarcastic.

Tina: No, no, no, this is delirium, they've cracked from being awake all night. Hey, Terri! All of your friends are in this room.

Terri: I have other friends! You asked me to make new friends, I made new friends! It was a task. I complete tasks.

#I saw you guys doing this and thought i should hop on the band wagon too #at this point all these characters have grown and became their own little family together #the muppets #muppets #dr teeth and the electric mayhem #muppet mayhem #muppet oc #Gabe #Mick pepper #Terri Pepper #tina teeth #Tibbs #Rose&Tibbs❤#janice muppet #floyd muppets #caleb

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omegawizardposting · 9 months

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Hold up, we're having aromantic discourse now? Did y'all learn nothing from the ace discourse of the mid-2010s?

Look, as someone who is either aromantic or has a stupidly low romantic drive, I can assure you that it has impacted every facet of my social life. I was often made to feel like a freak, even by friends, for not being interested in dating. I cannot explain to you how othering it was to NOT be romantically attracted to the celebrity heartthrob of the week. Because I forced myself to be romantic, I ended up breaking one of my best friend at the time's hearts. Worse, I didn't even have the language to describe why I couldn't be with him. Part of it was worsening social dysphoria, but I had never been told that I could be aromantic. I had always assumed that, because I had a sex drive, I must also have a romantic one.

Romance is everywhere, in every piece of media. I love fictional romance, but the thought of being in a romantic relationship myself makes my stomach churn, and there is no media I can turn to that will reassure me, "It's okay, you aren't broken." When I talk about not wanting to get married or be in a romantic relationship, my family's entire demeanor changes. Strangers think I'm a slut, even more so because I'm gay.

All of that happens to cishet aros, too. Their lives are shaped by their aromanticism. They live in the same world I do, one that values romance, especially cishet romance, above all else.

Even if all of that didn't happen to them, though, their romantic alignment is still "atypical". They are still not a part of the majority. They're a minority, just like the rest of us. It doesn't matter how oppressed they are or aren't. We're all freaks and weirdos. We're all different.

All aros are LGBTQIA.

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amalg-em · 1 year

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Tbh I feel like the term "deadname" is so limiting. There's no sense of kinship with the name or persona you had before - it's a corpse you have to bury, and then you have to keep watch over it lest anyone try to dig it up.

My relationship with my birth name is like that you'd have with a baby blanket or a child's sweater. It's no longer relevant to my daily life, and it certainly doesn't fit me anymore! But it was gifted to me with love, and I do love it, so I store it in a box with my other keepsakes. Maybe one day I'll pass it down to one of my kids, even.

I understand why for some trans people there's a need to connote one's former name with something gross and toxic. I know how damaging it is to be constantly forced into the mold of this imagined former cis self, and the desire to take that construct apart entirely is a justified response.

But... Here's the thing... That's not the only Trans Experience™️. For every person that was always their True Gender and merely complied with a different gender out of a lack of choice, there's someone who changed over time. There's someone like me who hit puberty and had additional genders pile on to the default, and while some of the assigned one did apply, being forced to limit myself to that was smothering.

There was a post floating around about how the gender expectations for Boy vs Man and Girl vs Woman are so different that they're essentially different genders, and how essentially everyone goes thru some kind of gender metamorphosis, but there's one path that's considered the right one (girl to woman, boy to man) and anything else gets labeled as transgender. But the thing is, everyone experiences a change.

In my case, the gender of "girl" wasn't too limiting; the only things off limits to me as a girl were due to my age, not my gender. All the various ways to be a kid were at my disposal. It was a transitory state, a cocoon, and it was expected that I would mature into something More. And I did! But the mature me, while female, wasn't the expected result of Woman, nor was it strictly Man, but a handful of gender facets that only vaguely line up with the gender roles of westernized society. If you average them out, the equivalent binary gender they most resemble is Man, so that's what I present as in binary society out of convenience.

But that doesn't change the fact that I Was A Girl. The girl grew up into a not-woman, which necessitated a change of name and appearance for comfort and convenience, but that doesn't mean the previous ones were biohazard waste that needs to be concealed! They just didn't fit anymore!

In fact, I liked the given one so well that I did the name equivalent of using a too-small garment as a pattern for a sized up version. It's right there in my name! Heck, if I had space I'd probably frame the old one and hang it on my wall for sentimental reasons.

#gender.txt

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rowanwolf · 2 years

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I think I'm making progress with the alters. I've gotten some good advice from folks with much more experience than me and it's honestly been so helpful. A big thanks to @goldenreddeathkin for the advice and resources. The things about creating a headspace were especially helpful! But honestly, I've gotten so much advice from folks both here and elsewhere and I appreciate it so much. Some of it has needed some adapting, but that's been good.

The biggest thing that's needed adapted was journaling. I think just about everyone I've talked to has told me to try keeping a journal. Problem is, I can't. I cannot do that. For trauma reasons, as obnoxiously counterintuitive as that is. Journaling was something I did daily from the ages of 5 to 14. It was something my neurologist had me do to help me learn to focus, since I have ADHD. And for nine years, I did that every single day. And then when I was 14, shit went down. Like I blackmailed my way into a roof over my head, spent four years living in near constant fear, and even had a plan in place with two of the adults in my life and the one cousin of mine (also an adult at that point) I was out to to get me out of the state if things at home became too much of a threat to my safety. And those journals were a precipitating factor in that. So after the initial incident, I put all nine years worth of journals in a pan, took that pan out in the backyard, doused the journals in lighter fluid, and set them on fire. Part of me regrets it, as I remember very little of my childhood overall. But the bigger part of me knows it was necessary for my safety. That whole thing left me deeply paranoid. The end result, though, is that nearly 20 years later, I still cannot get myself to keep a journal because it feels too dangerous. I also ruthlessly separate the various facets of my life because it feels safer. Something from one facet suddenly becoming part of another will throw me off and cause me to retreat out of fear. I feel like that may have played a part on all this, too.

However, I did put together a personal server on Discord. I've got a channel for myself and a channel for each alter, a channel for the whole system, a channel for me and each alter individually, and a channel for the two alters. It's to give us a space to talk. And since my Discord has both a stupidly complicated password and two-factor identification, I feel fairly secure there. Weirdly, one of the things that really helped me settle down about all this was setting up Plural Kit. It's something I've never used before, so I was learning something new, plus it forced me to sit down and think calmly about this. I think the most helpful bit, though, might have been creating a system name. It was something I was able to offer the alters as a chance for them to give input. For me to get to show them that I want to hear from them and I want us to coexist, even if it's hard right now.

So as of now, we're calling ourselves the Mountain Woods System. That's got a lot of meaning to all of us, for different reasons. But it was something we all liked. And I do, in fact, know who the louder alter is. Her name is Firekeeper. She's a fictive of a character from a book series I love. Her purpose is helping me deal with stress. And yes, she is the same Firekeeper I tried to form a copinglink with. Guess we see how that went. I suspect, although she hasn't confirmed this, that because I tried to form that copinglink at about the same time as these two seem to have split, she latched onto that identity. I think the other one did, too. He's still a little amorphous, but I think he might be Blind Seer, Firekeeper's brother. He's definitely a caretaker, though.

I think things have started coming a little easier now that I'm calmer because I didn't realize at first that Firekeeper was a fictive, not a fictionlink. So while I spent months trying to banish them, I also had a weirdly good relationship with Firekeeper during that time. So I'm not surprised she's been more eager to talk to me. As soon as I had a mindscape visualized and had finally sat down with a clear mind and really focused on them, she came to me. She was wary, but I can't say I blame her. I was very unkind for months. But I think she understands. I think she gets that I was just scared.

So since I've been away for days now, I just wanted to give an update on how we're doing. It's not perfect and I have a lot left to figure out, but I think we might just be okay.

#system #mountain woods system #fictives #alters #headmates #Still figuring all this out but we'll get there.#I feel much much calmer than I did at the beginning

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lookinginview068 · 26 days

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I can't tell when it started. When was I sundered?

Was it during childhood, where I spent every day in fear at home and in school for reasons I can barely bear to recall? Did it happen when I left for school at 14, not knowing that I was never going to return home, nor that I would spend the summer cramped in a one bedroom apartment with equally terrified family members I had to protect? Did it happen when I finally got so broken down from all the stress and the trauma, that I never got a chance to heal from, and finally had a psychotic breakdown from? Was it when a stalker followed me for over half a decade, forcing me to protect myself by any means necessary?

I feel like I've always fought to maintain an image in the hopes of dissuading closer scrutiny of just how fundamentally broken I am. I always have to try to find explanations for the things I don't myself understand.

But there are just too many. I can't explain why I'll feel attracted to women one day to then feel repulsed by the base prospect another. I can't explain why I'll have waves of dysphoria for what might seem like my body, but is more akin to my entire personhood as a whole.

I used to create fake identities online growing up. In way, it served as an outlet for parts of me that could only ever thrive without the ties to the single individual I have to maintain and present myself as. It feels like a prison, where I am allowed one sense of self.

I used to navigate IRL with multiple gender presentations and names in my teens, and that's the happiest I've ever been... and the reason it worked so well I think is because these facets of me had different and separate groups of people around them. These facets weren't seen as ultimately linked to this "main" piece, but got to grow almost completely unshackled.

I couldn't do that now. Everything directly links back to the "me" I should by all means settle for and resonate with. But I just don't, and the longer I'm stuck being limited solely to the same people as the years go by, the more noticeable these discrepancies in my opinions, recollections and perceptions of things become harder to ignore.

I feel like I'm increasingly coming off as a complete and utter hypocrite and even liar to the people around me, because I try to give explanations to rationalize the things they clearly pick up on (whether consciously so or not) but that stem from things I don't know if I could ever talk about.

What's worse is that I know that I am blessed to be so trusted by my loved ones, despite the signals my behaviour gives off. I know for a fact that I come off as suspiciously secretive a lot of the time, and that my tendency to keep all my friends and loved ones from getting to know each other could be interpreted in all manner of bad looking ways. But I don't know how else to cope with feeling imprisoned like this.

Because not only does it prevent other people from feeding each other the idea of what can be expected from me, and what type of person it is. It prevents them from talking about me, and connecting over the person they think I am.

And it sounds so pathetic when putting it that way! Comically so even to my ears! Because I don't actually care about what they say, but rather it's the idea of my fabricated, coherent and singular "brand" of personhood being perceived that repulses me on such a visceral level.

And what could I even do about it? I'm not a set of multiple, distinct people. I don't have more than one consciousness. And yet I'm just a walking collection of fragments that I can't tell whether that's what I've always been, or if the process of breaking down happened so slowly and gradually that I just never noticed until I cut myself on the pieces.

If a mirror breaks, do we consider the mirror to be one construct or multiple? Does the word 'mirror' become a term describing the collective group of its broken shards? Or is it that the shards can just as well be their own separate entities while ultimately still being an integral part of what makes up a mirror?

I am forever stuck right by that very mirror. My reflection doesn't always look the same. It might change depending on the angle, it might move itself independently from my own movement, or it might even happen without me realizing when. The mirror isn't me, but merely stands before me, just like both my body and sense of self stand before me in a way that emphasizes how much of bystander I truly am.

I feel frustrated and embarrassed over the mirror, and try to explain to everyone who sees it why it's so ugly and cracked and why I can't do anything about it. All the pieces reflect me, but they don't look the same. I can't tell which piece is 'the most me.'

I'm a man. I'm a woman. I'm gay. I'm lesbian. I'm nothing. I'm too much. I'm attracted to women. I'm repulsed by them. I'm attracted to men. I'm repulsed by them. I desire a dick. The idea of having one repulses me. I desire breasts. The idea of having them repulses me. I am a man who looks like a woman. I'm a woman who looks like a man.

All these things would somehow feel less contradictory if they all stemmed from one singular individual. Instead I have to look away from one that one mirror shards reflection, only to be confronted with another one bearing a similar, but not identical, version of my own face.

How could I ever begin to explain these thoughts and feelings to the people in my life who, while ultimately love me and would never seek to hurt me, also would be unlikely to understand? Who, for valid reasons given my past health, might interpret this as reasons to assume that I'm in the process of entering another suicidal breakdown?

I've started altering my appearance certain days in accordance to these fluctuations, as well as indulging in creative fiction as a way to indulge in what's ultimately a power fantasy of the many, contradicting things that define my personhood.

It feels amazing... until someone else sees it, and the illusion of being freed breaks. And I can't help but notice that this has fed my returning depression and hopelessness. There's no escape, I will forever be defined by this one role.

It wouldn't help if people in my life knew of this and accepted it. It would still feel like I'm just being coddled and entertained, that their perception of me is ultimately that of a singular person. And even if they didn't, I also wouldn't feel great being seen as entirely separate, concrete individuals because thqt's just not what I am. I am me who is also we, but we are all me.

And maybe that is just a normal human experience at the end of the day. Maybe what I'm feeling just happens to be slightly fueled by me being defined by two decades of uninterrupted trauma and mental illness.

No matter the reason this is just getting increasingly harder and harder to deal with and ignore, despite the fact that I'd rather die than tell anyone who knows me personally. I can't even bear to be comforted by people who perceive the Me(tm), because I feel so gross and seen and defined. Both because of this and because of other trauma.

This side blogs existence is the only reason I am able to even talk about this to this much detail, and that's the only reason I can post it publically. Where nothing I say will make people who know me reach out to try and help.

I don't deserve their kindness, because who in their right mind would feel so negatively about being seen and cared for? Who in their right mind would do that and yet also be hypocritical enough to feel hurt and upset when feeling uncared for? Though again, unrelated trauma. Another shard to the broken mirror.

I want to put a name to this. I want to understand my experiences. But does it matter really if I'll just keep living like always with no changes?

Had I not been physically disabled I might have gone willingly missing, cut off everyone I know despite how sad that would make me just for a chance at freeing myself from the tangled mess I've ended up in with my current life. The only possible alternative I could think of is death, but unfortunately I don't have a suicidal bone left in me.

#this is probably incoherent also i wrote this in bed on my phone with bad achey hands while in the brain trenches #sorry for using these tags i just dont know what to do #id love to hear more from others #plural community #plurality #median system #parasian #plural system #tw suicide mention #tw vent

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apothepoet · 10 months

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Do(n't) Know

The thing is, you don't know me. Not really. You don't know all the various facets of my past; you don't know the stench of death that clings to me; you don't know what I've done and what I've seen. I don't think I want you to.

I don't want you to know of the beige hallways mean to be comforting; the sheer discomfort that every second caused; the name, an identity, not my own, forced upon me; the betrayal of everyone I'd ever known, and the whispers that followed it; the friends I'd had but lost; me being the last, the last, one standing. All on my own.

I don't want you to know of the world I'd built for myself; the desperation to fit in, to be normal; the new name, identity, I'd made, wholly separate; the path I'd forged for myself, to move on; the struggles to forget all, all, that I have ever known; the new friends I'd made lost as well; me being torn away from the world I'd come to love. All on my own.

I don't want you to know of the achingly purple towers that were now my own; the voices I wasn't allowed to attach to faces, the name that was my own, stolen from me, replaced with a new one (again); the way that everything I did displeased them, in spite of their honey-sweet words; the way my body never felt like my own again; the escape I'd made, this time on my own terms. All on my own.

I don't want you to know of the loneliness that now followed me like a loyal dog; the wings I'd never had, so unfamiliar; the name I'd finally reclaimed as my own, only for it to threaten to choke me whenever I heard it; the relief that was all I knew when I met you; the panic that the purple flowers you gave me caused; the fear that permeated everything I did, terrified that I'd lose you, just like everything else.

You lead me to a new world, though. No longer on my own.

I do want you to know of how fucking grateful I am, that you're there, you're there. And my name is my own again. And it's hard not to smile when you call me it, because that's me. After all this, I'm still me. I'm still me.

You don't know any of this, but you smile back whenever I grin at you. You don't know any of this, but you don't want to, because it's not important to you. You don't know any of this, but you tell me, “You're still you.”

And for once, that's true.

#27/11/2023 #poetry #poets on tumblr #original poem

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wyrddog · 5 years

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so apparently the way i manipulated my ex into “not being themself” is by myself feeling like their posts they would tag their ocs in reminded me too much of me and so i tried seeing if we could just unfollow eachother from all social medias to avoid seeing eachothers posts (so they could keep oc posting and i dont hafta feel all fuckey in myself) which they didn’t want to happen and begged me not to do, so then i continue on, every other month, bringing up that i feel invalidated by seeing these things about their oc and them ignoring me or just saying “ i wont post about them anymore” which i kept saying?? i didn’t want them to do??? it was fairly clear to me that things werent wqorking out for so long but they would just convince me to stay-- anyways they randomly spring on me that they dont feel like this oc and this oc reminds them of their dad and the way their dad traumatized them making that oc militant or toxicly masc etc. and i’m like “okay sure, be whoever you wantg to be man” and then go on to say “tumblr demonized being feminine to me so now i want to be feminine” so like.... all of this shit about me trying to convince them to be feminine.... kinda smells of bullshit to me

esp since i actively let them imprint on pretty much whichever character they felt suited to at the time-- sometimes they were mj, other times they were tao-- taos not exactly what i would call feminine (neither is mj for that matter tbqh) though he can be? tao seems more masculine than me, at least traditionally.

so apparently what i end up doing is being their oc because in my mind i want to be the man of their dreams but at the same time i dont want to change so id say im their oc because if i was then anything ig whatever id be doing would already be natural for that oc, even though what im like and what this oc is like are different in various ways-- like this oc is really punk and thats kinda it but im like punk but also into psychedelic stoner shit so i’d be all of those things. and this point-- from reading all these tagged oc posts that i resonate with and hearing all these stories they tell me about this oc that i resonated with in my mind it sort of became that i just *was* that character because i keep seeing them tagged in things that remind me of myself-- so this character, in a way reminds me of me but i laos felt like i was more than just that but that being more than just that was threatening to them or that they wouldn’t like it.

so i find this [them talking about their inner voice that’s telling them to k/ themselves and that they’re worthless a series of messages but i picked this one out bc relevent];

so apparently they felt like they weren’t good enough to be with me? which quite honestly... after what they did to me, no they aren’t good enough for me, but this insecurity seems to be what was driving them to keep begging me to stay-- i just cant find any real evidence of me telling them they have to be different though-- what i suspect is going on, however, is they were expecting a lot of the same shit they went through with their ex friend/roommate who was abusive and manipulative in ways and thought i was manipulating them to be feminine the way he did????? i just dont find myself caring enough about extrenal people to control them, all i can control is my own experience and idc about what they did but i knew the kind of person i wanted to be with and sometimes they were that person ,its just when they would change and become someone else, and not just bc of mental illness or something just become an entirely different person i couldn’t handle it and i just wanted distance

-whatever-

either way, my ex is clearly to me insecure and has been insecure from the get go. i only became insecure when i realized i wasn’t what they wanted :/ its like they tricked me into thinking i was but then they slowly revealed what they truly wanted and it just wasnt fully what i am so :/

#i hate to say this but it almost feels like my ex would think of things #convince themselves of something #tell me about it #i'd be like do whatever you want man #and then when we broke up they decided i convinced them to be feminine bc idk?? i like women?? i lean more towards women??#i have a preferrance??? but i never told them they had to be any of my girl characters #literally none at all #there were probably times i suggested that they reminded me of x character because of y reason #but i cant find anywhere of me telling them they have to be something #they just outright said this to me #they came to ME telling ME they wanted to be more fmeinien bc they felt like everything outside of them didn't want them to be #and listen idgaf about a lot of things but i do like a bit of consistency and stability?#heres the deal; i thought when we first started dating that they were a more feminine person #im someone who prefers women/feminine people #they said they were feminine and yeah #then we start dating and then they become masculine now #which i was like ok maybe i can learn to love this side of them #which i did #i did force myself to love every facet of them #then throughout the relationship they just keep changing and idk man #i cant keep up with that shit #im not someone whos capable of handling this many changes in personality #and i also do prefer feminine people so a lot of the time id find myself disengaging with them when they were more masc #not bc i didn't like them its just-- i couldn't see their masc side as someone i was sexually or romantically attracted to #their masc side felt like someone i go to play xbox with and smoke weed with and thats it #purely platonic #which i was ok w/ as far as how our relationship went #if they were gonna be masc then thats cool but i cant feel the same way about them idk #they just change so much when they become either masc or fem #like not just identity their personality

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bizarrebaby · 4 years

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Untouched

Pairing: Pero Tovar/Virgin!Reader

Work Count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Pero spend your first night together, which is your first night with anyone.

Warnings: you guys have penis in vagina sex. Some descriptions/mentions of violence, reference to painful loss of virginity, but we all know Pero’s too good to do that to you

You were a walking contradiction. Nothing was more confusing or intriguing to Pero Tovar than how you managed to exist in these times.

When he’d been introduced to you (it was generous to call it an introduction, seeing as Tovar more or less refused to acknowledge you at the time) he saw you the way he saw most everyone: an annoyance at best, a punishment from god at worst. When he glanced at you, he saw just a little thing, a girl who ought to be at home, out of her depths.

He first beheld your beauty through a veil of bloodshed. On the battlefield you had no equal. People throughout his travels often equated grace to beauty, but in observing you, Pero found that simply wasn’t so. You did not dance with the blade, like twirled silk. What you did was not akin to dancing. It was heavy and destructive, you took to you enemies with the crushing force of a mortar and pestle. You wielded the heavy and challenging kanabo, the force of which caved armor and shattered bones, man and beast alike. When you swung the heavy bat, you looked as a healer pounding medicine. The force itself was destructive, but it was delivered with the righteousness of someone who was preserving life.

You could not always use the kanabo, and you most certainly could not spar with it, for your opponents would be crippled by even a sporting blow. So Tovar sometimes saw your prowess with the sword, the staff, anything nearby. You made many an arrogant man eat their words.

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of flowing locks and fair skin wrapped in silks. He saw sword-cut hair, an oversized tunic, the loosening laces on leather armor.

And beyond the fighting, you did not often make with revelry. Tense in the company of most others in your band of mercenaries, you kept away when they became excited. When you approached him, scowling as he wolfed down his food alone, he dreaded having to endure niceties, persuasions, and prattel from you, and had already decided to be as disagreeable as possible. To his utter surprise, you said nothing to him at all as you kept a couple of meters distance and ate your own meal. You did so day after day, and at first he had been paranoid that this was some plot at inching your way closer, that one day you would ruin this silence and reveal your true intentions. Until one night, Tovar found himself doing something unthinkable: initiating conversation. Or at least, speaking unprompted.

“You do not chatter like the others,” he stated almost mindlessly, not knowing what he was expecting by saying so.

“I try not to talk when I have nothing to say,” you admitted. You looked towards him, half illuminated by the distant, flickering fire.

He found himself studying every detail of your face from the corner of his eye. It was terrifying, for once wanting to observe and actually caring if he was noticed doing so.

“And,” you continued quietly, “they say you do not like to be disturbed.” That was a very kind way of rephrasing how he was often spoken of. In all likelihood, what you were actually told was probably more along the lines of ‘he’s a mean, miserable bastard who doesn’t like anyone’. Tovar didn’t know how he felt about your twisting such words into something that sounded… reasonable.

Understood.

“I don’t like being disturbed either.”

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of lip rouge and silent, unnoticed steps, or curled, dark lashes, of coquettish smirks. He thought of a split lip, and the uneven pace of worn leather kicking at stray pebbles, of tired eyes rubbed with the back of the hand after looking into the fire too long, of the struggle to hold back a wide-mouthed yawn.

Through a few well placed miracles and the incessant meddling of others (William) the two of you had ended up together. And this was when Pero discovered what a contradiction you were.

You knew death in every facet… except for la petite mort.

While other girls snuck off with their paramours in experimental forays of intimacy, you were studying the blade, the staff, the bow, the kusarigama. Raised by a father and uncles who loved you, but did not know how to raise a young lady. Only how to raise a fighter.

When you didn’t scare off any potential suitors, they certainly did.

While younger than Pero, you were still fully grown, and had yet to even kiss a man until Pero had claimed your lips in a passionate fury on the night of his confession.

Pero did not fancy himself a teacher, he saw himself as a taker, one with no patience for uncertainties and incompetence. But for you, he would be anything. And regardless of what he was, what you deserved was a gentle touch. Subtle, comforting, patient, and understanding.

All words that had never been used to describe him.

Over time, the kisses grew deeper, the touches flirted further beneath the clothes, until the night came where he held you against him in his bed, eyes begging for more as you looked to him for guidance. Never had he been so frightened at the thought of bedding a woman. He was a scoundrel with hands only fit for killing, and he was terrified of hurting you somehow.

But he’d be damned if anyone else took this honor.

With every piece of clothing he stripped your body of, you looked at him with such trust. He felt your heart beating in his rough palms, like the flutter of a bird’s wings. Never before had he been responsible for something so pure, so delicate. His relations before you were intimacies he had paid for in coin, encounters that didn’t require any gentleness on his part, where he cared little about any pleasure or pain besides his own. If he were to do one thing in his life with tact and delicacy, it would be this, he promised himself.

“Tell me again, hermosa, how many before me have seen this beautiful body?”

“N-none. You’re the first, Pero.”

He hums in satisfaction, running his hands up your stomach to cup your breasts. His thumbs stroke over the hardening peaks, causing a hitch in your breath as you shudder.

“Oh, mi conejita, so sensitive,” he descends, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking almost harshly for just a moment before pulling away, admiring how your breast shines with his spit. You squeak out a shaking moan. “I wonder if you’re this sensitive everywhere else? Don’t tell me. I’ll find out myself.”

You feel your cheeks heat at his words, feeling the urge to curl in on yourself and hide. But Pero keeps you bare to him as he lavishes eager attention on your breasts, enjoying the whines half-caught in your throat. By the time your nipples are perked and wet from Pero’s hot mouth, your blush has spread down to your collar. He pulls away slightly, gently guiding you to lay down. He takes your thighs in his strong hands and spreads them further apart. His thumbs spread your lips so get a good look at your pink, silky hole twitching with a need you’ve never known before.

Your breath hitches as one of his fingers traces along your sensitive lips, brushing against your clit briefly before beginning to sink into you slowly. He rocks it back and forth gently while admiring the rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyelids flutter as you go between wanting to watch and being too bashful to. His thumb gently strokes your clit as he works to ease in another finger, and you tense harshly at the new intrusion. He leans down to press a few reassuring kisses against your neck.

“Relax, querida. Let me in.” He whispers, moving his lips to your mouth in an effort to distract you as he coaxes you open. His cock was heavy and hard against the laces of his trousers. You would see it soon, but Pero doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Not yet, anyways.

You breathe deeply in an attempt to relax your muscles as Pero’s fingers reach farther than yours ever could, and it feels as if he holds all of your bodily feelings in the palm of his hand. He continues to coo endearments against your neck to comfort you.

“Bueno, bueno… you’ve gotten nice and wet for me, cariño, so good for me,” a smirk spreads across his face as he feels you tighten with his words. “Oh, you like it when I talk, niña?” He teases, increasing the pace as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the tight circles he’s rubbing into your clit on the verge of driving you mad.

He parts from your neck to take a look at your face in pleasure, and finds himself enraptured by the slight furrow of your brows and the way your eyelids flutter when he strokes the right part of your insides. Your quiet huffing and mewling, combined with the way your cunt is gripping at his fingers, has him more riled up than he’d like to admit.

“Pero, I-I I think I’m gonna cum,” you whine, looking at him with pleading eyes. He bristles with pride as your hips move to meet the palm of his hand while chasing the pleasure he gives you.

“Cum then, muñeca. Cum for me.”

The coil in your belly winds so tightly it snaps, and white hot pleasure floods your system. Pero groans as you cream on his fingers, feeling his cock throb harshly for the umpteenth time tonight. A tremor wracks your body as the mercenary continues rocking his fingers gently to help you ride out your climax. When they withdraw, he doesn’t hesitate to lick them clean, much to your embarrassment. The sight of his tongue against your slick on his hand gives you… ideas. Ideas that will have to wait until another night, maybe.

He leans down to plant a chaste kiss to your lips before bringing you to sit up. He wants to see what else you’ve never done. Wants to know how curious you are.

Pero places one of your hands (which feel so small in his) against the tent in his pants, encouraging you to explore his body the way you’ve so graciously allowed him to explore yours. His tunic is already off, but of course, you’ve seen men shirtless before. His cock feels hot and hard through his trousers, and the apprehension is probably clear on your flustered face, but Tovar finds this entire situation incredibly arousing.

He’s no stranger to sex, but most of his previous sexual encounters had been paid for and, thusly, were with experienced (and sometimes jaded) partners. Though the size of his cock may have impressed a few, it had never been the first they’d seen, touched, or taken. This was different.

His eyes never leave your face as you bite your lip, occasionally looking to him for approval as you move to undo the laces on his trousers. His eyes are lidded and dark with desire, and a smile crosses his face, a little more genuine than the usual smirks he throws in your direction.

“Go on,” he urges, more gently than he knew himself capable. You finally slip down his waistband and smallclothes, and his cock lands heavy against his stomach as he reclines just slightly. You try to contain your startled gasp, attempting to seem less like the blushing virgin you clearly are. The way your lips part ever so slightly as you examine his red, leaking cock with nervous interest sends the mercenary reeling.

Pero almost takes your hesitance as fear, which he’s determined to quell, before you finally reach your hands out to run them along the hard length, drawing a ragged groan from him.

For a moment, Pero feels the strongest compulsion to take charge of you. To guide your head down and order you to get his cock nice and wet before he takes you, to see tears prick at your eyes while you struggle to take his cock in your little mouth.

But, somewhat regrettably, he remembers his first time with a woman well. He remembers the nerves burning against his skin like a thousand needles, the fear of performing well and doing things he’d never even imagined doing. He can only imagine that fear to be tenfold for a girl. You’ve spent years in the company of brash mercenaries, uncouth enough that they brag of their rough, bruising conquests. He knows the type. And what women you do meet often speak of intimacy with dread, or reflect on the pain of their first times.

You are one of the few things in Pero Tovar’s life that he has ever really cared for. And his greatest wish is to make you feel cared for. He has never known patience. But for you, he shall have it in spades. You’ll have plenty of time to play rough later. Or never, if that’s what you want.

Not to mention, he’s just about as hard as he’s ever been in his entire life, and he doubts he would last in your mouth, not with the passionate stare you’re giving him. You have, after all, always been a quick learner when it came to the sword. The way you start experimentally moving your hands along his cock confirm this, as he sighs in pleasure from the light pressure you’re giving him.

“This the first cock you’ve seen up close, hermosa?” you nod, and that teasing smile is once again set on his face. “What do you think of it?”

Your eyes widen just slightly at the question. He takes one of your hands and spits in it before letting you continue to stroke his cock, still patiently awaiting an answer.

“Are they all… like this?” Pero has a feeling he knows what you mean, but he wants you to say it.

“Like what, preciosa?”

“Big.”

He chuckles quietly before cupping your chin in his hand and bringing you towards him for another bout of fervent kisses. In these moments, and most others, he looks at you and sees everything he’s ever wanted. He presses his forehead to yours when he finally parts from your lips.

“No, amor, not all,” he pauses in thought, somewhat uncharacteristically. “Are you worried?”

“...Yes.” The mercenary appreciates your honesty. For your entire life, you have had to be brave. He doesn’t want you to have to be brave with him. He’s never been trusted with something as precious as you. He calls your name with the same softness he feels for you.

“I will never hurt you,” he promises. “And…” his need causes him to struggle with the next part. He’s still not used to being sensitive, not used to caring so much. “We do not have to do this.”

Pero can see the fire ignite in your eyes, that same passion he sees when you get up right after being knocked down.

“I want to, Pero, I want to. Will you take care of me?” his eyes have their own fire now. He guides you down onto your back once again and leans over you. His cock leaks against the soft skin of your belly as he kisses up your neck, sucking in marks as he goes.

“Forever,” he swears.

Pero hoists himself up to look into your eyes as his cock catches at your entrance for the first time. He pushes himself in just barely, giving you a little more each time as he shallowly rocks into you. He watches, feeling lovestruck, as your breasts rise and fall with each short breath you take as he eases himself deeper into your heat.

When Pero Tovar met you, he didn’t exactly respect you, but he wouldn’t have called you soft. You proved quickly that you were a better warrior than most men he’d met, and despite the roughness and inconveniences of mercenary life, you didn’t complain. In those early days, he’d have scarcely called you a woman at all.

But here you were beneath him, soft and warm, and everything he’d never imagined he could be trusted with. Long ago you reached your hands into his hardened chest, with all of its armor, and gripped his heart with all of the hope and reverence of a devout finding comfort in a rosary. The vice of your wet cunt on his cock was an extension of that. An inescapable binding that he had no desire to leave.

“You feel so good, querida, so tight and perfect against my cock.”

And so you pant, looking cherubic against the sheets with your splayed hair and flushed cheeks, lips plumped from Pero’s incessant kissing. The wet noises coming from between the two of you are obscene, and you love it.

“So good for me, amor, taking everything I have to give you.”

He wouldn’t last long. Not waiting as long as he has, not with you looking, sounding, and feeling the way you do. His thrusts aren’t punishing, but they sure as hell aren’t gentle, as he can only restrain himself from wrecking you for so long. And from the way he’s hitting that place inside that makes you sing, you won’t last either.

“Pero, I’m gonna— mmm I’m gonna cum again!” You keen, calling him back from his animalistic fervor. Pero stares into your eyes with a fire roaring behind his gaze.

“I want you to soak my cock, hermosa. Cum. Give me your pleasure, let me make you mine!”

“God— oh, fuck, I love you—“ you pant as he feels you clench deliciously around him. Any hope he had of holding on has fled now.

“Mi amor, let me cum in you, please, querida—“

“Please, do it Pero,”

You can feel the skin of his hips slap against yours as he pistons himself in and out of you, babbling about how beautiful you are and how good you feel until he can’t stand it anymore.

“Te amo, te amo, te amo!” He growls, ceasing his hips as he fills you with everything he has. You jolt at the sensation before relaxing again, his hot cum painting your walls. His elbows stop him from collapsing right onto you, but he can feel your breasts brush against his chest with every breath the both of you take.

He basks in this moment for a while longer before pulling himself out gently, resolving to clean the both of you properly later. Pero lets himself fall beside you in bed, still breathing a little heavily.

“Come here, querida.”

Pero stares at the ceiling as your weight comes to rest against his chest, warm in ways he cannot describe. The arm around you tightens, as if he wishes to pull you further into him.

“Are you… do you feel alright, mi amor? I didn’t hurt you?”

“Never, Pero. I feel wonderful. Was it ok? For you, I mean. I know I’m… you’re probably not used to being with someone so inexperienced,” you trail off, feeling palpably insecure. He gently puts his hand beneath your chin to coax you into looking up at him from his chest.

“You don’t have to be anything more than what you are to be perfect for me, amor.”

Taglist:

Pedro Pascal: @auty-ren

From the preview post: @josepedropascal @tintinwrites @computeringturtle @kiwi-the-first

#nsft #writing #drabble #the great wall #pero tovar #pero x reader #pero tovar x reader #tovar x reader #tovar the great wall #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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bibbykins · 3 years

Text

Cookies and Fingertips (M)

Some Jimin loving! We love to see it! I hope you all enjoy this installation as I try to figure out how to properly flesh out characters in a drabble series. Am not sure how I’m doing there but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless. As always, tips are not required but greatly appreciated, just like your thoughts! Pls share your thoughts though, they brighten my day!

Note: This is part of a drabble series The Household’s Bunny

Summary: You and Jimin met long before you moved in, and yet, you’re not sure if he even likes you. So what else is there to do but take every opportunity to talk to him until you figure it out?

Jimin has had a debilitating crush on you long before you moved in and he is almost positive there is no way you’d feel the same. And yet, he doesn’t have the strength to properly avoid you.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+, soft yandere-ish, obsessive thoughts, possessive thoughts, fingering, handjob, subspace, cum eating (sorta?), discussion of hospitalization, mentions of a stalker, mentions of passing out, the word “fat” is used, a moment of thigh riding, surprise kiss, insecurity

Jimin looked across the courtyard as his eyes remained fixated on your form. You were a simple second year in college and he was just a breath away from graduating. He first laid eyes on you a mere year ago and he can't remember what life was truly like before you smiled at him. You both had only ever exchanged pleasantries, so he opted to wait for the right time to make his move.

“That’s not true.” Your voice snapped Jimin from his staring contest with the PowerPoint slides, “That’s an antiquated idea, not a proven theory.” He looked to you, a couple rows down. You were plump and cute to say the least. He recognized you from a few of his courses. He had heard you were a double major in Art and… damn, what was the other?

The man you had rebutted had his face turning red, “It is proven, it was studied in 1973 with significant results yielded.” Jimin had no idea what you both were debating but he watched a sea of student nod in agreeance with you, some with the guy. What class was he even in? He looked at the PowerPoint slides, reading them for the first time today. Ah, he was in his psych of gender class. Maybe you were a psych major.

“In 1973, with no women in the participant pool, are you not seeing the issue in making a multi-gendered generalization whilst utilizing one genders perspective, a perspective that is also quite dated, mind you?” You cocked a brow and Jimin found himself a bit amused at the man who scoffed.

“You learn those words in high school two months ago?” He snapped back and Jimin grimaced along with most of the lecture hall.

“What? You need me to define them?” You quipped, eliciting some laughter as the professor regrouped.

“Ah, educational discourse.” The professor joked lightly as Jimin’s eyes remained fixed on you as you noticed a few lingering gazes on you, shrinking in your seat.

He saw you in the lunch hall, sitting alone, not uncommon for anyone in college, except your eyes were a bit puffy. Before he could even question the urge, he acted. Within a few steps, he was at your table and you looked up in confusion, “Uh, hi?” You meekly spoke and Jimin realized he had no plan.

“U-Uh, you… uh… do you like the cookies?” He forced out and immediately wished he could disappear.

You looked down at the cookie on your plate, “Uh, yes? Is-Is this a fat joke or do you actually want to know?” You asked cautiously.

Jimin’s eyes widened, “No, I mean yes, I mean no, I would never make fun of your weight.” He squeezed his eyes and sighed, not able to see your growing smile at his mental turmoil, “I have psych of gender with you and people rarely talk in that class so I thought you were pretty cool.” He smiled and he noticed you relax.

You nodded, smiling slightly, “Ah, I see. Thank you.” You beamed and it was like he felt the warmth from you, “I don’t do super well with attention but I also have poor impulse control.” You chuckled and he finally understood why you had cried and his heart strings were tugged a bit, “And yes, the cookies are good.” You split one in half and offered it to him.

Life goes by a lot quicker when one waits for the perfect opportunity. This much he found out quickly when he found himself a year later, looking across the courtyard at you, this time as your TA. He tried dating to get the daunting idea of talking to you after that singular interaction in which he forgot to give you his name from his mind to no avail. No matter, surely this would be the year.

”Jiminie is so hot!” Jimin continued to pretend not to hear his ex, Yoora, whine in your ear as he observed the intro to modern dance class.

You looked to her thoughtfully as you stretched, “You mean the TA, that is not that far away?” Your voice was lowered, but he could still hear you. He found himself listening closer, wondering if you remembered the singular interaction you both had. Yoora nodded in the corner of his eye.

“Yep.” She affirmed, “We dated, it was magical, and he’s still hot.” She mused and Jimin grimaced a bit, feeling bad he dated a girl that seemed to be a decent friend of yours, “Do you know him?”

Jimin perked up a bit, “We talked once, seems nice, is obviously hot.” You shrugged, “I doubt he remembers me, though.” You leaned down to reach past your left foot as Yoora urged you on with her eyes, “I had gotten into a weird debate with this one dude in a class we had and he saw me after, and I had just cried because I hate arguing and stares.” You and Yoora laughed a bit, “Then, he just came up to me and asked if I liked the cookies I were eating, and I wasn’t sure if he was calling me fat at first.” Yoora gasped and Jimin felt pain just thinking about the awkwardness, “He wasn’t, and he got cutely flustered when I asked and then I gave him half of my cookie and that’s all.” You moved to your other leg, “And then he never talked to me again.” You laughed and Jimin wanted the floor to swallow him.

Another year goes by. The day before he was going to try and ask you out, you were hospitalized. He didn't know how to even approach the topic with you, but he did try to be there for you throughout that year. The professor he was TA for insisted Jimin also utilize his emails, so all throughout your brief stay in medical care, it was him who received your bubbly emails. The emails full of little emoticons and exclamation points that made him giddy and took him hours to conceptualize a response to. Although you didn't know it was him giving you extensions and safe regards, he still meant it.

He was practicing when he got the email,

“Attention students,

We have received knowledge of an incident that has resulted in the hospitalization of a student that occurred within an apartment close to campus. Proper authorities have been notified and the student is recovering well. Please remain safe and vigilant.”

His face twisted in confusion when he got a text from the professor he was TA for that you were the student in question.

Throughout the semester, Jimin watched you with careful eyes as you slowly acclimated back to yourself. He wondered how he could have been so blinded by your smile that he couldn't properly see your eye bags or the way you looked over your shoulder when you thought no one was looking at you, or how he couldn't see he wasn't the only one looking at you.

When you returned, he watched your eyes relax and your guard go down again. He just wished he could've been there to help you get there. He trudged home one day and found you, and then his whole world was flipped by you again.

Since moving in, he found himself way more advanced with you than he ever imagined. You would plop next to him on the couch and give him a smile, "How was your day, Jiminie?" You beamed at him each time and he nearly choked on his spit each time.

He would mumble an answer and you would hum before watching TV with him, a show he deliberately put on each time he heard you come home. Eventually, you began watching competition shows together, theorizing who would win what. It was comfortable and close, and he found himself falling for you even harder.

"Do you wanna have lunch together?" Your voice pulled him from his thoughts in the practice room he had on his floor in the building. He had agreed to help with your final. The only time he could talk to you without it being a mental nightmare was when it was about dancing. The only time he could initiate contact was in this studio.

The studio gave him a certain air of confidence that even you could see. He wasn't a different person, more so multi-faceted. There was the shy and bumbling part of Jimin just as much as there was the sharp-eyed and focused Jimin. Not to mention the way his fingers would dance on your form as he gave you pointers made you unreasonably aroused.

Even so, determined to challenge himself, he nodded, "Lead the way." His voice was smooth even after two straight hours of practice and you wondered how he could look so hot work out clothes.

You both decided to pick up food and eat it at the studio. You sat across from each other as you ate in polite conversation. It was after you both picked up the food and sat on the floor you spoke up again, "You know, Jiminie." You started, eyes shyly fixated on the floor, "I wanted to thank you for not telling the guys about my, uh, incident a year ago." You finally looked him in the eyes, a soft smile on your face, "Not that it's a huge secret, especially on campus, but I just prefer to tell people myself." You mused.

He blinked, surprised you would thank him for something like that, "O-Of course, I mean, a lot of rumors were going around anyways, so even if I did want to tell them, I doubt I have only the facts." He shrugged, "It's not anyone else's business regardless."

You stifled a little giggle, "Yeah, some of the stories got a bit crazy." You sighed a bit, "From a stalker attacking me to me passing out in the middle of the street." Jimin looked up at you. You didn’t meet his gaze, most likely reliving the aftermath of the whole campus finding out you were hospitalized and are a cam girl in the same week. Not that you were ever hiding you job, but you just wished you could tell people on your own terms.

"Yeah, some crazy things get told in the Arts department." He murmured, "I only knew most of the facts because your TA for Professor Lee's class."

It was your turn to look up, but instead of confusion he saw a polite smile, "I know, silly." You chuckled and when you saw his confused face you looked at him incredulously, "Come on, you're Park Jimin! Of course I'm gonna know the 'hottest dance major'" You fake gushed and he finally broke a laugh, making you giddy.

"Of all things to know me by." He shook his head, smile still present.

You studied his face as his eyes scrunched and cheeks lifted, making you smile as well, "I've never made you smile before and your smile is so pretty." You mused, "I need to step up my comedy game."

"You've never seen me smile?" He looked surprised at this, considering he always smiled like an idiot when he stared longingly at you.

"I mean, sort of, but not to this degree." You shook your head, "I was starting to think you didn't like me for a while."

His eyes widened at this and he panicked, "No, no! I do like you, a lot!" He exclaimed, much to your amusement and to his dismay. You watched him get red with a grin.

He stammered, staring at his fork before he heard your melodious laugh. He looked up and his face softened at the sight of your smile, "You're too cute, Jiminie." You reached forward and pinched his cheek, making his breath hitch. Your cooing tone made something click inside him. He didn't want to be just cute to you, he wanted to be more than any adjective, he wanted to be yours.

He reached up, hand going to wrap around your wrist loosely, "I was the hottest a second ago and now I'm just cute?" A glint of confidence shown in his eye as he made you gulp, "Is that all you think of me, y/n?" Your own name coming from his mouth sent a shiver down your spine and a beat to your core.

You were in a trance while being eyed by the man with a vastly different energy than he had just moments ago. You shook your head lightly, "I think you're beautiful." He cocked a brow and you scrambled for more words, "I had a huge crush on you from the moment I gave you half of my cookie." You breathed before even thinking, snapping you back to reality as you watched his eyes widen, "Ah, me and my mouth!" You admonished yourself, "I didn't mean to make you uncomf-" You frantically moved to take your hand back only for his grip to tighten, pulling you forward, placing your hand at the nape of his neck while his arm wrapped around your waist.

You gulped at the newfound closeness, bodies nearly pressing against each other as he eyed you sharply, "Do you mean it?" He breathed, "You had a crush on me?" You made a move to slink away, but you he gracefully laid himself down with you on top of him, his thigh mere centimeters from your core and he gave you a mischievous smile, "Don't leave me hanging." He teased.

"I-I mean… yes, but can-"

He cut you off with a sigh and a laugh. You braced yourself for him to laugh at you, and say how weird it would be had you confessed and how weird the idea of you two together would be.

It's a song and dance you've seen many times as a hopeless romantic chubby girl. Of course, now you know you were just too much woman for such little men, emotionally little at the very least, but you would be a liar if you didn't still feel the hurt of humiliation. The last thing you wanted was to look into Jimin's eyes and find the same pitying glint, but you were nothing if not a bit brave, at least sometimes.

You forced your eyes from his chest to his gaze and found… an emotion you've only every seen in the eyes of your housemates, an emotion you don't quite know yet, even if you felt it too. At your curiosity, Jimin beamed at you further, "I'd be really frustrated right now if you weren’t on top of me." He chuckled a bit and explained further before you could ask why, "I have had such a huge crush on you for years now." You balk at this, shaking you head.

"That's not a funny joke, Jiminie." You huffed, "If I were even a bit more gullible, I would seriously believe you and then my feelings would be hurt-" He pulled you flush against him as he captured your mouth in a soft and sweet kiss. He was slow, but focused, in the way his mouth moved against yours.

Inside, though, Jimin was freaking out. What if you didn't actually want to kiss him? Why didn't he ask beforehand? Should he pull away? But your mouth feels so good. Are you kissing him back or is he just that enthusiastic?

You laid his worries to rest when you used the hand at his nape to pull him closer, mouth opening to nibble on his bottom lip. He groaned lightly, pulling you closer as his tongue mingled with your own and he pressed his thigh into the thin material of your leggings. You gasped at this and it was like a fire lit within him as he sat up and shifted you for your legs to be on both sides of him as he pressed his mouth onto yours further.

His fingertips danced along your form in a much different context than you were used to, but fuck, did it feel nice. Where one arm was securely holding your waist, his hand reached beneath your shirt, getting accustomed to the soft skin as he waited for you to nod. You wanted him to touch you further. You didn't understand what all these hot men wanted with you, but right now, it didn't matter one bit.

Jimin's eyes rolled back when he reached in your sports bra to run his fingers over your hardened nipples. You twitched against him as you gasped, fingers intertwining with his hair roughly, "Shit." He groaned at the sensation.

You both sloppily kissed as he explored your chest with his hands, moaning into each other's mouths at the euphoria of unresolved feelings coming to fruition and the sexual tension finally snapping as you gave him unrestricted access to feel you beneath his fingertips, "Wanted this for so long." He murmurs into your mouth, "So beautiful, fuck." The praises don't stop, and only further spur you wandering hand on as you feel his sculpted stomach.

"Wanna touch you." You whine as your fingers play with the waistband of his sweats and he nods, his own hand travelling down to cup your core, making you squeak, "Fuck, I'm so wet." You realized, half embarrassed and half aroused.

You could feel his amusement as he slipped his hand beneath your tights and panties to make skin to skin contact with your soaked core, and he didn't know how he made it this far, but he just wants to keep going as he feels you soak his hand, "Yeah, baby, you are, just for me." He moans when you follow his lead, hand wrapping around his hardened erection and giving a small squeeze, "Shit!" He gasps as you wiggled your hips against his hand, grinding yourself little by little.

Your hand massaged the head, smearing the precum as you begin stroking him. You both continue moaning into each other's mouths as his hips jerked and you twitched against his hands, "So fucking wet, baby, so sexy." He growled and he slipped a finger inside of you, him groaning at your pulsating warmth wrapped around his finger, "Slid right in, angel." He praises and you let out a choked gasp and he presses his thumb against your clit.

He drank your moans into his mouth like they were an oasis in the desert, and he’s not sure how he’s lived this long without them. Without you by his side and in his arms. He held you close, refusing to even consider loosening his grip because your body against his was bliss in the highest form. You were his, even if just in this moment, and you would be nobody else’s. Nobody could make him feel the way you do, and he, along with the other men that resided in the building, were determined to hold the same monopoly over your emotions. He refused to entertain the idea of anyone beyond this building making you feel anything close to what he was now as he pushed a second finger in, relishing in the strangled moan you gave as you babbled about feeling full.

With the excitement of his dream girl dripping against his hand and your own hand working expertly on his dick, Jimin could feel himself getting close and you could tell from the breathy whines he gave you as he began thrusting his hips in time with his fingers inside you, "Cum for me, Jiminie." You purred before licking at his tongue and he came beautifully with his eyes screwed shut and mouth open as you swiveled your hips agains his, now two, fingers.

"Baby, so good." He whined as his high settled down. He shifted all focus to you and your impending orgasm as he watched you fuck yourself onto his hand, "Feeling good, darling?" He asked teasingly and you nodded dumbly, lips pressed together as you felt your high approach, "I can feel you clenching around my fingers, fuck, you gonna cum in my hand all pretty?" He cooed and you nodded as he met your thrusts, making you clutch onto him harder.

"Can I cum?" You whimpered and Jimin could almost feel himself get hard again at how willing you were to give him the reigns.

"Because you asked so sweetly, of course my love." He let the name slip before you both could even acknowledge it consciously. However, the closeness and the intimacy of it all sent you over the edge and you bit down on his shoulder in attempt to hide how loud you were. He held you close, not minding one bit at the mark you were surely leaving as he fucked you through your orgasm, "Felt good, angel?" He mused and you tucked your face into his neck as you nodded, holding him close as his finger stilled but kept you full until he felt you relax.

You both giggled as you met eyes, licking the other person's cum off of your hands, "Thank you Jiminie." You hummed cheerily.

"Thank you, bunny." He chided before giving you a kiss, "We all really, really, like you, you know that right?" He asked and noticed your hesitation.

"Sure, but people can be sexually attracted to me and not want to… be with me." You spoke wistfully, "People can like me and not want to be with me." You let out a humorless laugh, "And few things make me feel as dumb as getting my hopes up for no reason." Although you had a tendency to do it time and time again.

"Don't be scared to assume we want you as much as you, hopefully, want us." He spoke quickly before he planted another kiss on you and the affection made you smile.

"You realize the irony of the statement coming from you, right?" You chuckled as he helped you stand on shaky legs before just carrying you, "I cum once for you and all of sudden you know everything and are all confident." You chided, unsure how to process his words yet, mind hazy from your orgasm.

"What can I say? You opened my third eye." He joked and you rolled your eyes before leaning your head on his shoulder, enjoying his embrace, the idea of your housemates loving you back seeming just slightly less like an outlandish fantasy, "Although, it will wear off and then we'll have to do it all over again." He sighed dramatically and you giggled.

"What a shame." You fake gasped, "I hate engaging in sexual relations with hot guys." You complained sarcastically.

"So you do think I'm hot!" Jimin cheered triumphantly.

You laughed against him and realized the only times you felt so free were with your beloved housemates. You wondered if they felt the same. You also found a more insecure part wondering for how long they would feel that way. How long would it be until a girl, or several, much prettier than you or less needy catches their attention. You wondered if you could take the pain of watching the sincerity drain from their eyes just as you've seen in your mom, your dad, your uncle, your first relationship to your last. You wondered what it was about you that made it so easy to be left behind.

Jimin's phone pinged, ripping you from your melancholic thoughts. He sighed, pulling it out and you fought the urge to see if it was another person vying for his romantic attention. He didn't belong to you, even if you wanted him to, "Ah, Namjoon wants to know if you want the demo for the new zombie game he's working on and Jin wants to know if you'd like your first pick of the new stickers he got, and Hoseok wants to try a new hairstyle on you and ah, they all sent me something to ask you…. Gosh, they all think I'm your secretary when we're together." He whined and you held onto him tighter with a light laugh as he went through everyone's inquiries for you.

You also found yourself how you went on this long without them and how you could even consider hesitating if they asked you to stay with them for much longer.

Tip Jar

#yandere bts #bts au #bts fanfic #bts smut #jimin smut #park jimin #yandere jimin #yandere bts smut #yandere smut #the household bts

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