#i need to like vent somewhere and this is as good a place as any bc tumblr hides long tags so pple can just scross past but

[that-ineffable-devil]

Fibromyalgia: Oh you've got an interview Tuesday and you want to spend the weekend preparing? Lol no FIBRO FLARE. Get misery nerd.

[sonippep-hohu]

besties I'm not going to lie to you! this place feels more like a PT reblog hub than it does a place for my art and I think that's what's frustrating me!

[certified-pretty-boy]

hi this is incredibly off topic and none of you need to read this i just needed to Vent for a sec

[thebubblemaster]

.

[jadeee]

Ambrosia

Help, I'm thinking of Nanami as a budding artist during the Renaissance and I can't deal 😵‍💫

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: 18+ things MDNI

When he sees you, he's blown away by your beauty. He's an artist so he studies every single detail of your face, which is why you see him daily.

He doesn't approach you at first. he studies you from afar and it works until his perfectionist side comes out. So, he musters up the courage to approach you. Of course, it's under false pretenses. He buys an apple from you then decides to buy more just so he can look at you a bit longer.

One day, you're not working and he's stunned. He doesn't know what to do. He's an artist so he should be able to draw from memory but he's a lover and he needs to see you.

The next day you're working, he approaches you and mentions your abscence. He uses the moment to his advantage — gathering the curves, dips, and lines by your cheeks, brows, and lips. He can't help but smile when you do and even more, he takes note of how different your face looks then: beautiful and familiar.

Eventually, you ask him what he's doing with that notebook of his and he shows you his sketches. He's careful to not show the ones of you though.

When you praise his work, his cheeks burn a crimson hue. His heart beats proudly in his chest when you ask him how long he's been drawing, if he works with paint or marble. He's had people ask him the same questions but he enjoys talking about his craft with you. Maybe it's the way your eyes light up or the smile that takes over your face.

This becomes a routine: Nanami standing by sketching people stopping into the shop and you when you're chatting with them, showing off fresh produce and telling them which ones they should get.

He's helping you close up the shop when he starts venting about frustrations for this new thing he's trying. You offer to help, like any good friend, and he freezes.

"I don't think that would be appropriate."

"Why not?!" you chuckled as you placed the last peach into the wooden crate.

He studied your lips, ones he drew so frequently he'd know them on his. "It's," his hazel eyes glanced into yours "it's nudity."

"Oh," your brows jumped up an inch or two. That was a new expression he hadn't seen. Within seconds, he committed the image to memory.

"You really don't have to do that." he rushed to your side to lift the crate of peaches then lugged it inside. You fiddled with your fingertips as you trailed behind him.

"Is it full nudity? Or are you drawing..." you cleared your throat then looked around. When you saw that the shop was empty you quietly inquired "breasts?"

As you turned to face him, he accidentally clashed into you. "I'm sorry. Are you ok?"

His hands held you by your shoulders and he gazed into your eyes with pinched brows. his eyes scanned your lashes and the hairs of your eyebrows, have I ever been this close?

Without thinking, your hands rested on his forearm "I'm fine."

Your voice was a mere whisper while your eyes locked on his. The mix of produce you sold day in and day out along with the paper he religiously used for his work washed over you. Your chest rose and fell triple time. His eyes noticed how the fabric of your shirt moved with it, "Yes."

You scrunched your brows, "Pardon?"

"You asked if it was full nudity or breasts. It's both, so... yes."

Your breath hitched in your throat "I see..."

His hands relaxed on your shoulders but never left you. "You don't have to do this."

Your hands lightly squeezed his forearms then trailed up to his biceps, "I want to."

"We can start slow." Nanami set the pencil down on paper then approached you.

"What would you have me to do?"

Your eyes remained on him with each step he took toward you.

"Do you feel comfortable taking this off?" his fingertips touched the linen sleeve of your shirt, eyes never leaving yours which continued to bore into him. You nodded since your heart was lodged somewhere between your throat and thighs.

"Will you watch me?" the corner of your lip morphed into a smirk and he chuckled.

"Of course not." his fingertips brushed against your skin before turning his back to you.

Goosebumps pricked your skin once exposed to the air. Your blouse bunched at your hips. You bit the inside of your lips as you peered down at your chest.

"Ready?"

Your head popped up at the sound of his voice, "Mhm.. I mean, yes — just... don't laugh at me."

"Never. Why would I do that?" he faced forward with a smile at your request.

"I'm not sure." your laughter filled his studio.

"I can assure you, I would never laugh at you." he cast his eyes at the floor, "Are you ready?"

"Yes." you placed your hands in your lap then straightened your posture.

Color rushed to his cheeks as he faced you. He pressed his lips together as they dared to form a devilish smirk. The fabric of his pants suddenly feeling oh so tight. The urge to drop them and plunge into you without warning.

Your eyes focused on his knitted brow, set jaw, the hand that rested on his hip. "Am I not good enough?"

"What?" his eyes suddenly locked onto yours, brows raised in slight offense. "What did you say?" he took a step closer and you raised your head while maintaining your posture. "Am I not good enough?"

Your voice suddenly felt smaller as he stood inches away from you. His breath landing on your cheeks, eyes trying not to stare at how your bare chest was rising and falling because of him.

"You are perfect." the calluses of his fingertips touched your shoulder while the palm of his other hand rested on your hip. The touch alone made you gasp softly, causing you to bite your lip then glance at the floor.

"Look at me,"

Your eyes focused on his, which were filled with adoration.

"I can't sketch you looking at the floor. You're too beautiful for that." His hands carefully positioned you into place, the movement accompanied by his voice saying "just like that" and "drop your shoulder". As his hand traveled across you, you felt your hardened nipple brush against the back of his hand. You suppressed a moan, failing horribly, while Nanami held his breath still continuing as if nothing happened.

He let out the breath slowly by the second then felt the tenseness that remained in your muscles, "Just breathe, ready?" a small smile rested on his face as he squatted in front of you.

You were careful to not move since he spent the last few minutes getting you into position. You nodded and smiled down at him.

"Wonderful," he said softly. He stared at you for a moment before going back to his post. the room was silent as he sat at a distance sketching your form. Taking his time to fully admire you in silence and forever capture this moment in graphite and paper.

A few minutes had passed before he asked if you needed anything. You declined water and fruit but gladly accepted a break. Once he set down his pencil and paper, you stretched in your seat. When you rose to your feet to extend your arms past your head, your blouse folded over itself, hanging at your waist.

"You can put it back on if you'd like." Nanami started to turn away but froze at the sound of your voice.

"I'd rather not. I'm... comfortable around you."

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned.

"May I ask why the last model proved a challenge?"

He faced you, "She wasn't focused."

"And I am?"

"You listen."

"You mean I take orders?"

He smiled as he walked toward you. "What would you do if I said "yes"?" he saw the possibilities dancing around in your mind from the look in your eyes.

"Say it." you commanded.

He stood in front of you toe-to-toe. "yes."

Your fingertips sank into the waistband of his pants and pulled until he was flush against you. His hands found their way to your hips and gripped them when you pressed your lips against his. A moan left his body as his knees started to buckle. He was slowly stepping forward and guiding you back to the chair you were in moments ago. His lips traveled to your jaw, neck, then chest, while his hands searched for the hem of your skirt.

Your bated breaths filled the space of his studio then turned into a groan when you felt his mouth working at your bud. The artist released a groan when you clutched a handful of his hair. His tongue plunging into each fold and savoring the taste on his tongue. It was a mixture of peaches and berries. The finest fruit. His ambrosia.

Your thighs pressed against the sides of his head as you released another dose just for him. Your hand squeezed his forearm with each moan you released and he held it in his as he gripped onto your hip with the other.

"Did you finish?"

"I thought that was obvious."

You swatted at his arm, "I meant the sketch."

He laughed then reached for your hand "Yes, do you want to see it?"

"Absolutely."

Nanami lifted his head from your lap, giving you one last loving look before standing to his feet. He helped you up then wrapped his shirt around you.

"Be honest with me, ok?"

"Always." you nodded as you gripped the edges of his shirt. He placed a kiss on your forehead then guided you toward the artwork. Your eyes scanned the blend of curves, lines, and shading which created your form. You leaned in to marvel at the masterpiece and he did the same as he admired you from behind.

"How do you do this?"

You glanced back at him with your mouth slightly agape.

"Having a gorgeous muse helps." his hands wrapped around your waist. Hearing those words brought warmth to your very being. He basked in the glory of your subdued smile, instinctively placing his hand on your cheek, eyes scanning left to right and every which direction to admire the piece of work that stood in front of him. That walked with him around the townsquare for the past several months, gave him joy with a simple look or smile, inquired and endlessly praised his artwork. His encouragement, light, warmth... ambrosia.

"Be my everything."

You placed your hand over his then gazed into his eyes with tears welling in your very own. Your hand guided him down to your lips which were becoming home.

You stood in front of the sketch studying how the faded graphite persisted through time and god knows what else. You leaned forward then read the scribbled cursive, "For my dearest Ambrosia."

"Some people think it's his wife,"

The sudden voice made you turn.

"He wasn't Da Vinci or Michelangelo so we don't have all the records but it's theorized this series is for her."

The blonde man finally looked away from the sketch then in your eyes. His hazel eyes were soft in the dim light of the museum, shoulders relaxed and being stern but gentle.

"Have we met before?"

He shook his head "I think I'd remember you."

You couldn't help but chuckle "Well," you sat up straight "indulge me anyway. What's your name?"

"Nanami," he faced you fully "and you are?"

When you said your name, he felt a twinge in his heart. A sudden warmthn if you will and there was a hint of peaches and berries on his tongue. His brows pinched momentarily, before he focused on what you were now saying about the artwork. He was too busy admiring a separate masterpiece.

— Author's Note — Although you take up every second of his life, Nanami still devots himself to his craft. He hates when people watch him work, especially you because you're so distracting, but he'll ocassionally allow it. You're truly his everything. You're constantly inspiring him; even more so when you two start a family. You're always encouraging him as well and keeping his spirits high.

I don't think he'd be super popular but his work becomes well known in his city and around the area. After death, centuries later, he does gain his long awaited recognition. I imagine your children would be a huge part of that since they're always spreading his legacy and sharing his artwork. I want to write more for Renaissance Artist Nanami. He's just so soft and quiet and observant and caring ... I love him so much.

[catsteinbooks]

The Thin Dark Duke of Hell

Haven't actually written a meta before, but I've been mulling this around in my head, so here's my take on why I think Crowley is likely to be a Duke of Hell in season 3.

Reason 1: it makes narrative sense

From a story-telling perspective, it's the logical starting place for season 3. Especially if we consider how the original idea was developed as a sequel to the book.

There's no body-swap in the book. Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley has heard from "their sides" at the end, so technically they're still connected to Heaven and Hell. They haven't been punished or kicked out. They even speculate that maybe everyone will just pretend it didn't happen.

And now we're approaching the Second Coming. The Big One. "All of us against all of them." Where are our heroes? Well, time has passed, things have happened. It's reasonable to think that maybe they've both been promoted. (Crowley, in particular, is often getting promotions, usually for things he didn't do.) And story-wise, they're set up as opposite numbers, so it makes sense that their positions as the sequel story begins will be of similar status.

Applying this concept to the screen version, we know Aziraphale has been offered the Supreme Archangel position. Therefore, if Crowley is to be his counterpart, he has to have a high rank in Hell. And there's a Duke of Hell opening to be filled. (Sorry, Shax, I think Crowley's going to snatch it out from under you.)

Reason 2: it fits Crowley's character

"What?!" you shout. "Crowley hates Hell! He turned them down! He doesn't want to go back!"

Correct. He doesn't. But he will if he thinks he needs to. Because he and Aziraphale have a huge, defining commonality: they love Earth and Humanity and don't want it to be destroyed.

Yeah, Crowley will probably wallow for a while. He deserves some time to get insanely drunk and cry. Sort of like he did when he thought Aziraphale was dead in season 1. But the thing is, Crowley always comes back. He's always ready to run. He always threatens to run. He hops in his car and drives somewhere. But he never actually leaves. Because there's no point in going away somewhere without Aziraphale. And that hasn't changed. If Crowley ran away now, he'd still be miserable, but without any music or whisky or his Bentley. It would be... pointless.

So what's a heartbroken, grieving, furious demon to do? Vent his pain in the best possible way: thwarting everyone and everything who hurt him and took away the angel he adores. He knows what Heaven is planning, because he saw it in Gabriel's file. He doesn't want Earth destroyed, he doesn't want Heaven or Hell to win. And he has an opportunity to sabotage the whole thing from the inside.

Which leads us to...

Reason 3: Crowley has a way into Hell already

There is a great meta here about Crowley's conversation with Beelzebub in Hell and its potential season 3 impact. The TL;DR version is: Crowley DID technically find Gabriel, and Beelzebub promised him anything he wanted (including being a Duke of Hell) in return.

Is it a somewhat dubious contract? Sure. Would that stop Crowley? *snort laugh* The demon who makes up legal clauses on the spot to save humans is well-equipped to argue his way into Hell's highest position in order to save the entire world. It's probably much easier than driving a flaming Bentley all the way to Tadfield.

So where does this leave us?

Aziraphale is up in Heaven, ready to burn it to the ground. You saw him when the Metatron mentioned the Second Coming. That was not a happy angel ready to do what he's told. And, frankly, Aziraphale is not actually capable of doing what he's told IMO. No matter how much he tries to follow the good/evil dynamic, he ultimately ends up choosing what is Right over what is Good.

Crowley in Hell would be doing the same kind of thing, albeit in a more subtle, sneaky way. After all, he spent 6000 years thwarting Hell all over the place and getting away with it the vast majority of the time. He knows how to mess with them. (And can you just imagine what would happen when demons like Eric asked him questions and he answered them?! He could gather his own little army with one Suggestion Box.)

So when shit hits the fan, as it inevitably will, we'll be left with both our ineffable heroes (gn) poised to do the exact same thing: destroy the machine from the inside.

Even if some of the other fan speculations prove true (memory wipes, for instance), I think it still makes narrative sense to have them both in equal-but-opposite positions. Because no matter how much the enemies are trying to mess with them, if you take a certain angel with an opportunity to fuck up Heaven and a certain demon with an opportunity to fuck up Hell and you bring them together (which, let's be honest, has to happen no matter what the storyline is), it's going to be pretty darn epic.

[jojo-cafe]

Is it okay if I request the members of passione from Golden Wind reacting to a stand user whose stand is legitimately a HUGE teddy bear?

Hello!! Sure! Here's your coffee, enjoy your drink!

Bucci Gang with a reader that has a teddy bear looking stand

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno finds its appearance interesting, although he isn't very shocked by it, as he just presents himself. 

"Hello, I'm Giorno Giovanna," he says as your stand opens for a hug, and he complies. 

If a small part of the teddy stuffing happens to come out, Giorno turns it into a butterfly or ladybug that goes either to you or your stand.

Sometimes, he will bring home little flower crowns he made for your stand, as well as small flowers, which look adorable due to the size difference between your teddy and the flowers. 

Giorno brought home a little silk magenta bow—the color of his suit— to place around your stand. 

He stitched a little flower and a ladybug somewhere on your teddy.

When Giorno arrives home from an exhausting mission, he isn't much for talking, avoiding contact since he's stressed and interactions could make him snap easily. On those days, sometimes you surprise him with your stand in his room so that he can relax (even if he isn't as attached to it as much as the others are) On those days, you are greeted by the sight of a ladybug on your stand's nose the next time you see it.

Pannacotta Fugo

At first, Fugo is curious about it, asking you questions about its abilities and why it has that appearance. 

If it ever rips a stitch or two, Fugo would certainly like to help sew it again, as it will give him a chance to learn more about your stand. But it also becomes a kind of therapeutic activity for him. So, after a fight, when your stand has lots of rips and stitches open, Fugo likes to sew it together. He also enjoys talking with your stand while he stitches it.

"We're done stitching. That was more than the last time, [stand name],"

He says, patting your stand as it stands up, opening its arms, offering a hug that Fugo obliges and accepts.

"Y/N should buy a stitching kit for you"

Fugo always checks to see if the stitching is holding up and if it doesn't have any rips. Although Fugo likes it, he isn't a fan of lying down or sleeping on it, but he still enjoys spending time with it.

As we all know, Fugo has anger management problems, and if you let him, he'll use your stand to help with his anger. When angry, whether at someone else or your stand, Fugo will sometimes hit your stand, usually with punches or slaps. Unfortunately, if Fugo has a sharp object around, he will use it on your stand. Luckily, it doesn't let Fugo hurt itself or you.

Although Fugo enjoys spending time with it, its large body and lack of size awareness don't make him the most agile of stands. So, Fugo sometimes gets very angry at it for knocking things over and bumping into people. 

Fugo stitches a little chibi Purple Haze face on it.

Bruno Bucciarati

Although everyone has a soft spot for your stand, Bruno is the one who actually takes the most care of it, as he tells you when a stitch is loose, the fur is dirty, or when there's a rip in it. 

He absolutely loves to run his hands through its fur when relaxing.

Bruno, as the Capo, is a very busy man. Often, his stress builds up, whether it be from a mission or taking care of the other 6 children gangsters, and he just needs a moment to be vulnerable. Although he doesn't show it very easily, as your relationship progresses, he asks if you can "lend" your stand sometimes. He goes to more private places, hugs them, vents, or cries, letting his emotions out. 

After having many of his hair clippers stolen by Narancia to put on your stand, Bruno gives one for your stand to use. He also sews a zipper from Sticky Fingers.

Bruno also likes to talk with your stand.

"Good morning, Y/N, and you too, [stand name]," he says, caressing its fur.

It has also made Bruno cry a couple of times. On days when he was very stressed, it just offered a hug, and Bruno reciprocated, shedding a few tears, proceeding to thank it.

In fights, both your stands make a good team, as Sticky Fingers can open your stand and place any valuable or sensitive items inside it, protecting them. 

Leone Abbacchio

At first, Leone pretends not to care that much. In fact, while the two of you don't have much of a connection, Leone won't have many reactions or interactions with your stand. But as your relationship evolves, Leone will slowly but certainly loosen up with your stand.

He will start out by caressing its short fur when away from others or laying his head on its shoulder. Even if sometimes you are away (you can still tell what is going on, as you can feel it). He then starts to get more physical, laying his head, then his torso, and slowly relaxing.

Let's agree, that man doesn't get much sleep for whatever reason it may be, so he frequently takes a nap on your stand when no one is around (although you can feel it). 

When Abbacchio comes back home drunk, he lays down and sleeps on it.

Overall, as your relationship progresses, Abbacchio feels more and more comfortable with your teddy. So, when he's already comfortable talking about his problems, he goes to your teddy, hugs it, and rants about his problems, which you can hear. 

There are very few wine droplets on your teddy bear from those nights Abbacchio comes home drunk.

Sometimes, when away from you, he likes to use Moody Blues to lay on it and find some comfort."

Narancia Ghirga

Certainly, the one who has the most fun with it.

Narancia was very excited the first time he met your stand. He ran towards it with arms open, jumped, threw himself at it, and hugged it as it fell back. "It's so soft!" he exclaimed, caressing the teddy bear's fur.

Narancia loves its fur and really likes to tug and play with it, making silly patterns. 

He also enjoys sleeping on it and uses it as a sofa and a pillow. He's definitely attached to it 24/7 and even tries to give it food, shoving it into its stitched and sewn mouth.

Narancia also has a lot of fun trying to dress your stand, putting it in shirts that are huge and still too small, and placing little hair accessories on its fur, such as bows and hair clips (he even stole some from Bruno to place on it). He and Mista do this together.

Narancia saw Fugo stitching on your stand, so he and Fugo spent some time together, as Fugo tried to teach him to stitch. After some stabs on the cheeks and hands, he is able to stitch a poorly drawn plane with "Aerosmith" written on the side.

Like Abbacchio, your stand is a source of comfort for Narancia. That's why he's constantly hugging it, seeking the attention and care he didn't really get in his younger years.

Guido Mista

At first, Mista is very scared and untrustful of it, but soon he loses his fears and grows to like it very much. When he first sees it, he's very shocked and scared.

"HEH!? WHAT IS THAT!?!?" he yelps the shock causing him to make his figure smaller and take a few steps back.

'It is just [stand name],' you say as Mista approaches the teddy bear, placing a hand on its eyelids and opening them, inspecting it with a very investigative face. He furrows his eyebrows and, when he is done, crosses his arms in front of his chest.

'Yeah, but it's so strange that-' Mista stops mid-sentence as he's embraced by your stand's hug and falls along with it, laying his head on its belly.

'Y/N!!! What are YOU... doing?' The last word is said softly as Mista relaxes and snuggles against your stand.

'Okay, it isn't that bad,' he says as he finishes snuggling and is now finally relaxed. You let out a small laugh. 'I told you.'

After meeting your stand for the first time, Mista talks to it, even if it doesn't answer back.

'You know, big guy, at first I didn't like you, but we're on good terms, yeah?' Guido says, with his head laid on your stand's belly.

After fights and just overall tiring days, Mista likes to sleep and rest on your stand. The Sex Pistols also really like your stand; they like to play on it, climbing on it and using it as a slide, and, just like Mista, sometimes rest on it. The Sex Pistols like to sew with loose strings on your teddy bear.

He and the Sex Pistols are deffinetly the reson for most of your stand's rips and loose stitches.

[little-pup-pip]

Do you have any tips for buying/hiding littlegear or petre gear?

I have a few!! Good luck with this, friend!

Buying:

I was able to start collecting gear when I was pretty young, because my parents got me my own bank account at 13 and became uninterested in my purchases not long after. That's probably not the case for you, so my buying advice won't all necessarily be based on experience! If you can order things online though, Amazon has pacifiers and stuff for really cheap, and Etsy is usually pretty good, too!

Assuming you're able to go to in person stores alone, most of them have sippy cups, teethers and bottles for pretty cheap (especially dollar stores)!! I don't recommend pacifiers for babies because those aren't comfortable and can hurt your teeth! This is also a good way to get pet or kid toys!!

If you struggle with opportunities to be in stores, make up excuses like needing craft supplies for school or pet treats/toys if you have pets! If your people like to accompany you into stores, maybe saying something about how you want to try being more independent will work.

If your people are nosey about what you purchase, buying something else along with your gear, putting the gear in your backpack or something similar, throwing away your receipt, and only showing them the other item(s) can be a good cover! This also works for online purchases, as long as they arrive at the same time/in the same box!!

Hiding:

My favorite place to hide things was definitely behind the books on my bookshelves!! You can also store things in a container that implies something else is in there (ie boardgame box, jewelry box etc)! Another popular location is inside of a closet depending on how much space is in there! Closets are especially helpful for hiding bigger toys (again, depending on the size) if your people don't approve of you having stuff like that!

If your people are s u p e r nosey, inside of a vent is not somewhere people usually think to check, if your vent covers come off (mine did). If any of your pillows have zippers, that's a good place to hide fabric things like pet collars! Generally beds can obscure or hold things better than you'd think! Under pillows is an easy location if you and your people don't typically move them, but I'd consider that as a temporary location more than anything else.

That's all I got! I hope at least some of this stuff can help you out!! Good luck!

[leggerefiore]

do you suppose we could have some headcanons for Guzma coming across his S/O’s ex who, to put a fine point on it, didn’t treat them so well?

please, and thank you 💀

sorry its a little short, but I hope you enjoy still!

cw: light mentions of abuse (nothing explicit), guzma intimidating someone, threats

pairing: Guzma/Reader

💀Guzma🕶

□ Due to his affiliations with misfits around Alola, he was, unfortunately, more than inclined to hear abuse stories. Hell, he even had his own as much as he was not the type to talk about it. Your story, though, struck him harder than most. He was not going to lie and pretend that you were not clearly favourite to him, so hearing what you went through made him more frustrated than usual. Some poor random trainer got a hot battle by an angry bug man later that day to vent off the rage.

□ The details about what happened to you and anything about your ex were glued in his mind. He doubted that he would ever come across them, especially in the places that he usually roamed about. Yet, on the off chance that he did, they would get to know destruction in human form. He also let his grunts and Plumeria know about some of the details to make sure that they did not cross your path again. The last thing Guzma wanted was for you to have old trauma forced open by someone not even worthy of your presence.

□ But, as luck would have it, he caught a glance of them while he was in Malie waiting on someone. He had been leaning against the wall of the city's garden when they walked out. Guzma felt his fist unconsciously clench, and his eyes narrowed. This was the person who had caused you so much stress and suffering. Why? He felt bad when you got upset over him getting hurt after messing with that old man's cats. Purposefully drawing out that seemed painful. He strolled over to them while they were blissfully unaware.

□ Guzma easily cornered them somewhere isolated and forced himself to stand up straight to give a little extra edge to his intimidation. He was not going to be stupid and do anything that would make that old man have to come after him. No, all he was going to do was make a few things clear. His brows grew together as his lips pulled back into a harsh expression. A hand hovered over Golisopod's pokeball in case he needed an extra hand.

□ “You recall how you treated your ex?” he spoke with an edge that clearly made them want to curl away from him. Their eyes went wide at his words, and they nodded nervously. Guzma wanted to roll his own. With how you had described them, he would have thought they would have at least done more than look terrified. “Good,” he placed his hands on his hips and made himself seem bigger, “If I ever hear that you harass them again or do any of that kinda shit to anyone else, I'll completely destroy you. Got it?”

□ When they finally squeaked out a “yes,” he backed away and let them go. Quickly, they ran out of the area and into a nearby crowd of people. He almost wanted to laugh at how pitiful they ended up. Did they only want to beat down on people weaker than them? How disgusting. Guzma felt awful that you had to deal with someone like that at all – especially in a romantic capacity. He felt at ease now, at least. A feeling that they would steer clear of you entered him. And, suddenly, he had an urge to take you for a walk around the Malie Garden. Might be nice to do an actual date for a change.

[thcfountain]

anonymous asked: "I just had like the worst day at work 🙃 could I request a cute little something where Matt helps reader get her mind off of a bad day? I love the way you write Matt 💙"

content tags: prestablished relationship between Matt Dierkes and fem!readed (no use of pronouns used for reader, but the words "my girl" are used.) fluff, comedy. 872 words.

banner from here. to join my tag list click here.

tag list: @to-be-written @th4t-em0-k1d @cheyyyr @somewhere-diamond @ravieisunhinged @blackveilomens @sprokat @jilliemiw86

Your day had been, for better lack of eloquent words, complete and utter shit. Anything that could possibly go wrong, somehow did, and to add to your growing frustration and despair, your coworkers were absolutely buffoons who offered you no help, leaving you to fix everything on your own.

Truthfully, the only thing that got you to the end of the day without an outburst or crying, were the little texts that your boyfriend, Matt, sent you as the day progressed. He was unaware of your terrible day as it was happening since you had little time to reply at any point, but the messages made things easier.

At lunch, he had sent you a selfie with Boo, with a message that said, “someone misses mommy :).”

And then half an hour later he followed it with, “it's me. I miss you. Can't wait for you to come home.”

An hour before you were set to clock out, he sent one last text, “Hater Mode Activated against your job for keeping you from me!!!”

Suffice it to say but without Matt and his little texts, you might not have gotten through the day at all. So when you got home, you quickly slipped off your shoes and jacket and placed your keys and other belongings down almost immediately and then practically ran to find Matt.

From the open patio door, you hear music and the occasional bark from Boo and when you finally step out the door, you find Matt in his Slipknot apron, standing over the grill as he grills up dinner, occasionally tossing Boo little pieces of unseasoned hamburger as a treat.

It wasn't hard to sneak up on him since he had his back turned, attention on his furry son, who was begging for another piece of hamburger. You slipped your arms around him from behind, wrapping them around the middle of his stomach and pressing your face into his back, finally sighing in relief at being home, at your work day officially being over.

“There's my girl,” says Matt, gently patting your hands and then turning around in your embrace in order to give you a proper hug. “Dinner is almost ready,” he adds and then pauses as he takes in the look on your face, reading you as easily as one read a beloved book that they had read a hundred times before. “Hey what's wrong? Bad day?”

“Yes,” you reply and he immediately pulls you tight against his chest, hugging you so hard that it felt like he was trying to squeeze the sadness out of you.

“I know what will make you feel better,” he says, rubbing your back in a comforting circle. “Some good, fuckin hot dogs,” he says it so gently, so full of love and seriousness that you can't help but laugh. He lets you go and puts together a plate for you of food from his grill. “Let me turn the grill off and I'll meet you inside with my plate and you can tell me about your day as we eat.”

You had popped open a bottle of wine and as the two of you ate, he listened to your complaints and frustrations, letting you talk out your feelings until you had nothing else left to say. You downed your glass having finished your dinner somewhere amidst the complaints and rants and suddenly felt a little bad that you'd spent the entire meal talking about yourself and your own issues, not even having yet thanked Matt for making dinner.

He doesn't seemed fazed by it though - he understood that you needed that space to vent freely about your emotions and he had given it to you without a second thought. “Want me to go in and kick some asses tomorrow?” He asks, a touch of that Texan twang coming through. “Or better yet, I'll call Noah and let him put his new muscles to use and beat up everyone who upset you.” He gives you a little smile to let you know that he's joking.

He reaches across your shared dining table, taking your hand in his own. “Thank you,” the words come out softly and he furrows his brows, looking a little confused when you say them. “For listening,” you clarify, giving his hand a squeeze. “And for making dinner.”

His free hand cups your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. “I love you.” He doesn't list all the reasons why he did these things or give you any other reasoning because I love you covered it all for Matt. His ‘I love you’ was big enough to cover your needs, to explain why he did things for you - those three words were all he needed to say. “And you're welcome for the best fucking hot dog you've ever had, minus my hot dog, because we both know you love my meat in your mouth.”

You burst into uncontrollable laughter, unable to contain it after hearing such ridiculous words following such a sweet sentiment as ‘I love you.’ 

“You did not just call your dick a hot dog!” You almost can't breathe between the much needed bouts of laughter. “I'm texting that to Noah.”

“Wait no, he won't let it go-”

[dragonridernoobie]

I am back>:D if you have watched Jazmin hotel or seen TikTok’s of it, then you should understand what I mean when I say NIFTY READER! A reader who is like Nifty>:D

If you have not seen videos of nifty, here is one to help you:>

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRT9usnT/

For bayverse Optimus, TFP Shockwave, TFP Soundwave, and TFP Ratchet>:3

Thank you! Make sure to take care of yourself

Yes, I've seen it, who hasn't? IL 100% do this, hope you like it! Sorry it took a bit, been shiny hunting on pokemon.

TransformersXNiftyReader

Optimus prime (bayverse)

When optimus met reader, it was when the decepticons destroyed part of the city.

He was trying to get thru the city to get to the decepticons who were somewhere in the city.

While he drives thru the city, he came across reader who was running around, cleaning.

He tried to tell them that this place was not safe but quickly can see the this human...was diffrent.

Reader was running around, giggling, cleaning and actally dusting off broken prices of the building.

Reader noticed optimus and somehow got on his shoulder without noticing him.

Reader asked alot of questions like "new you the bad guy?" And "are you a girl robot?" And "how can you die?"

(Comome, have you seen the bayverse optimus? He got some good as tits)

Optimus told them to go to safety but nifty said no.

2 weeks later, optimus now has a little, word, and Violent. Friend.

Ratchet TFP

When ratchet met reader when they arrived at base with the kids.

He was amazed how fast reader was and how......weird reader was.

Though, he won't say he liked reader more then the other kids but you can tell.

He liked reader since she actally helps and keeps the base clean...a little to clean.

I think ratchrt had a mini spark attack when reader came to him, covered in energon, and holding a now dead spark.

Yyyaaaaaaaa, she killed the decepticon who hurt him.

Let's say ratchet now was scared of reader.

Ratchet made sure to set some ground rules on what to do and what not to do.

Reader dident like them but understand.

Ratchet usually was alone at base so he was kinda happy reader was there to talk tohim.

Even if reader was chasing after the cockroach.

Soundwave TFP

When Soundwave met reader, is when he gets a notification that there's a breach on the ship.

When he went to go look for the intruder, he wasn't expecting to find a human, stabbing a now dead trone, yelling, "STAB! STAB! STAB! STAB!"

Soundwave used his tentacles to grab ahold of reader, but failed since reader was just to quick.

Que, reader hiding on the ship.

Reader hid in the wall and vents.

Only coming out to attack any unexpecting victims.

Soundwave was actally enjoying himself with reader, since he actally had somome and something that can give him a run for his money.

So, he left food and water out.

Gave up trying to catch reader but doesn't hurt to try once in a while.

Megatron dosent need to know.

Shockwave TFP

When Shockwave met reader, it was when Soundwave cought them (form his story) and brought them to him.

Soundwave showed the recording of reader killing one of the drones.

This peaked Shockwaves intrest.

So Shockwave starts to try and experiment on reader.

It fails.

Reader keeps escaping the holding container and dosent run away

Oh, no, no no no

Reader becomes the most annoying shit ever

They start to distroy his lab.

Anything that can be pushed off, destroyed by water, anything.

This pissed off Shockwave so bad.

At the end, he just threw reader out of the air lock to get rid of them.

Que, reader runturning. 😈😈😈

My shiny end-game team!

[wannaeatramyeon]

i have a silly little (very angsty) idea but im not sure if its what you would be comfortable writing so please ignore this if youre not up for it!

im thinking of gun, goo, samuel, vasco, and eli (seperately + remove anyone u want if its too many) with a recovering addict reader who they thought was clean but had actually relapsed awhile ago and they find out (whether its bc reader ODs, they catch reader high, they find readers stash, whatever reason)

sorry if this is a sensitive subject, they j tend to help me a lot, thank you in advance whether you write it or not.

TW: Substance recovery

Hi Anon, I hope you are doing ok. Stay strong, you can do this. Please ping me if you ever want to talk or vent. I really wasn't sure about writing this because my experience is sorta limited. But hopefully this helps.

Lookism Boys helping with Recovery

Gun, Goo, Samuel, Vasco, Eli

You've felt the symptoms of withdrawal before; the cold sweat, the nausea, the shaking. This isn't the first time you tried to quit but you hoped it was the last.

However, all this was caused by your boyfriend standing in front of you. Your body violently registers what is in their hand before your brain can. Your stash, your just-in-case, and you want to throw up.

You slump to the floor, head hanging in shame. Too ashamed and guilty to meet their eyes, to find disappoint and anger at the promises you've broken.

Gun has seen a lot of things in his life so far. A lot of people addicted to a lot of things, and himself is no different. He thinks about the cigarettes in his pocket, and his own unhealthy obsession with fighting - that he is very willing to give his life up for.

With you, he understands the struggle, the pull. The battle everyday.

"Y/N," he says, crouching down next to you and taking your hand in his.

Your name is soft on his lips, and finally you meet his jet-black eyes. To your surprise you see no judgement.

Gun places a tender kiss on your forehead, "What can I do?"

"Princess-" Goo starts, and he can see you flinching. He can be unrelenting with his sharp words but he would never- Never with you, and never when you're so vulnerable.

His voice softens, "Have you been-"

He doesn't need to finish your sentence and you're already vehemently shake your head. You need to let Goo know that it's not what he thinks. You haven't been using, you've just been keeping that around.

And now you think about the words to explain yourself, you realise how stupid that sounds.

The silence stretches.

"Hey," and Goo is next to you, an arm around your shoulder, "I want you around for a long time and a good time, ok?" He wipes the tears from your cheeks. "Your Goo-bear is here for you."

Samuel crouches down next to you, but you still can't bring yourself to look at him.

With careful hands, he tilts your face up to meet him and thumbs away your tears.

"You haven't?" he asks, and you say no, leaning into the comfort of his palm.

Samuel thinks about what he can do, and after a beat, announces that he's going to take some time off work. Your immediate thought is he's trying to keep an eye on you, he needs to babysit you, he doesn't trust-

"Y/N." And that stop your brain from spiralling. He knows you too well. "You're not alone."

Samuel presses a kiss to each of your eyelid, kissing the tears away, "I think we both deserve a break. Why don't we go away somewhere together?"

Old Vasco would react with anger and disbelief. Now, after talking to you, after educating himself, he tries. He really tries.

Something he had to do without Jace, or any of the Burn Knuckles because he wouldn't betray your trust like that.

And the more he reads, the more he understands. Sort of. Vasco still sees the world in black and white, but more and more shades of grey are entering.

"Is there more?" he asks, and you shake your head. "I'm just going to..." he trails off, binning everything he found before he seeks you out again.

It kills him to see you struggling, to struggle everyday. he wants to support you anyway he can.

"I'll never fully understand but. Y/N. I want to help."

Eli has made many mistakes in his life. He thinks about Heather, he thinks about Hostel, he thinks about Olly and his own drug use.

But you and him, that's not a mistake. That's so far from a mistake.

"I didn't know you were still using," and you hear the question in his voice. His desperation to prove him wrong

"I'm not!" You deny, and it's the absolute truth.

Not since Eli and not since Yenna. And with Eli, the unfortunate reality is that his love for you is contingent on this.

That he won't allow anything like this around his daughter, and you can't blame him.

"Y/N," and his eyes soften when you meet them, "I'm really proud of you."

[abarbaricyalp]

I thought there was a Post-TFATWS space, but there's not, so have another Free Space fill! @sambuckylibrary

Based on a Daily Fluff Diary post! // cw: injury in the last section // AO3 Link

Knock Before Entering

It's not that Joaquin hasn't seen them make out before. It comes with the territory of spending long amounts of time with two people not only deeply horny for each other, but also just deeply in love. He tries not to think about it. Tries to forget that Barnes clearly needs an outlet for adrenaline after a fight. Tries not to pay attention when a closet door shuts on the jet. Tries to ignore the eyes Sam shoots Barnes that has them both vacating a shared space.

They're good about it. Don't get up in each other's space intentionally when he's around. Barely even touch if they're all sharing a room. One time, Barnes had even slept on the floor instead of sharing a bed with Sam. Though Joaquin had woken at some point in the night and found Sam's arm hanging off the bed and Barnes's arm reaching up so they could hold hands anyway. At least it was his prosthetic arm, so Joaquin assumed he didn't need to worry about a blood rush.

The point is, it's not a secret that Sam and Barnes are together. And they're usually pretty good at keeping to themselves.

Which is why it shouldn't be surprising but certainly is when Joaquin walks back into Sam's office from hunting down the new drone prototype he'd been reporting on and finds Sam half sprawled across his desk with Barnes crowded between his legs, following him down.

Joaquin smacks a hand over his eyes like a child. It means he drops the drone, but it's live, so it just hovers next to him. "Guys, gross!" he snaps, also like a child. It did kind of feel like seeing his parents making out for the first time.

_____

He can hear them spring apart, like it's a surprise that he's back. He'd literally been gone for five minutes tops. He just had to run to his room and get this. He'd told Sam where he was going. He hears a slight exchange of shoves and elbows before Barnes says, "Drop your hand, kid."

Joaquin does after several more seconds, when he's sure the coast is clear. Sam's behind his desk again, Bucky leaning a hip up against the side of it like he belongs here.

"Where did you even come from?" Joaquin asks finally when it seems like no one else is going to volunteer anything.

"World War II," Barnes answers like the smartass he is. "Brooklyn."

“I was gone for three minutes," Joaquin clarified through his teeth. He wants to sit down, thinks better of it, stays just inside the doorway. "What if I was someone else?"

Barnes's mouth quirks a little. It's as much a confirmation as Joaquin will ever get from the man that they are kind of their own little triumvirate. If it had happened under any other circumstance, Joaquin would be elated. Right now, he is not. “But you’re not, so relax, Tweety.”

Joaquin rolls his eyes and walks into the office, giving that side of the desk a wide berth. He sets the new drone down, along with a makeshift manual.

“Don’t go gettin’ attached to that side,” Barnes says.

“Don’t,” Sam warns.

But Barnes pushes on. “I’ve hauled him up on that side too.”

Joaquin doesn’t even both to groan. He just leaves the room again.

. . .

“Ready or not!” a small, but very loud, voice calls from somewhere else in the building.

Bucky ducks into Sam’s office because AJ is fast and if he doesn’t take cover now, he’s going to get caught. There’s a gorgeous wardrobe with a false back in the far corner, but Cass had hidden in there two rounds ago, so it’s likely to be one of the first places AJ looks. The desk is too much on AJ’s level for Bucky to hope to hide well under. By design, Bucky is too big to fit into the vents.

The curtains that hang from the windows don’t quite make it all the way to the floor, but Bucky figures his dark boots will blend into the shadows if he stands far enough to the corner. He can hear AJ’s sneakers on the tile, hurrying down the hallways and checking doors, so he jumps behind the curtain and tries to hold it still.

He jumps behind the curtain and directly onto Sam’s feet.

“Ow! Hey! I’m already here. Go find your own hiding place!” Sam hisses, shoving at Bucky’s shoulder futilely. Bucky intentionally digs his heels down into the ground. Sam glares at him, then takes a deliberate step closer. “If you don’t move, we’re both gonna get caught,” he threatens. “And you know AJ will go after you before he comes after me.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow in doubt. He was almost positive AJ and Cass were teaming up to find Sam, who had not been tagged ‘it’ yet in this game. Mostly because he kept cheating by using all his flight training to get up into the rafters where, even if he was seen, no one could climb up to tag him. Well, Bucky could, but it was too much work, honestly.

“I’m faster than you,” he points out. “And I’m not above tripping you.”

Sam rolls his eyes, leans in, kisses Bucky. It’s enough for Bucky to stop digging his heels in, but Sam gets just as distracted. Actually, instead of shoving Bucky out of the hiding spot, he halfway tries to climb up Bucky’s body. It sends Bucky stumbling back, the curtain getting tangled under his foot, and they both end up crashing against the window, curtain falling away in time for the office door to get pushed open.

“Ugh,” AJ says with so much disdain Bucky kind of can’t believe it. “I knew that’s what you two were doing instead of actually hiding. It’s no fun if you don’t try!”

“It’s all Sam’s fault.” Bucky accuses. The elbow into his ribs exacerbates the ache from falling into the window sill too. Still, he puts himself between Sam and AJ. “Go find your brother.”

“Nuh-uh,” AJ insists. “I found you two. I’m gonna tag you two.”

Sam snickers behind him, squirming away from the pinch Bucky’s trying to land on his hip. “You only need one of us,” he points out.

AJ’s mouth curls to one side with frustration. “I can’t find Cass,” he admits. “I need help.”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky concedes. He steps away from Sam, towards AJ. Waits for Sam to relax. Then he grabs Sam around the waist, holding him still so AJ can run forward and tag him as the next seeker, much to Sam’s loud protests.

“Cheaters!” he cries between laughter. “Betrayal!” But it is ineffective in the long run.

. . .

There should be no one else at the compound, so Bucky’s lazily making out with Sam in his desk chair, Sam across his lap. Joaquin is doing Air Force stuff, the other young heroes are out of state or busy, the older heroes don’t really hang out there. There are no meetings scheduled, no tours, no new introductions. It’s just him, Sam, and the sunshine streaming in from the window.

It’s been a while since they’d been able to do something like this. Cap duties had taken Sam away and Bucky had been pointedly kicked off of the jet. He was still piecing it together, but he thought it might’ve had to do with Hydra. Why he was kept out of the loop with those things, Bucky couldn’t begin to guess, but whatever. In the time Sam was gone, Bucky managed to get himself hurt (which is why he should’ve been allowed on the jet) and Sam had come back so exhausted that, even when they were alone, they mostly just took the security of each other’s company to pass out for hours at a time.

But a quiet weekend and a, so far, quiet week had done wonders and now Sam is getting handsy as Bucky absently pets his chest, over his shoulder, and back down his arm. Contrary to what Joaquin thinks, they haven’t ever actually desecrated the office, but Bucky’s willing to break the streak. Especially when Sam’s fingers fall to his waistband and begin to rub out the indentions of his jeans from his hips.

“Come on, let’s break in the desk,” Bucky cajoles, opening his mouth, deepening the kiss as he licks into Sam’s mouth with more intensity than the afternoon had called for.

Sam laughs unexpectedly, sits back, stares. Bucky can tell when the answer is going to be a straight no. This is not necessarily a straight no, which is almost hot enough to get the job done on its own. Sam’s a daredevil. An adrenaline junkie. People think Bucky’s the bad influence, but it’s not always his fault.

Sam’s just about to pass his judgment, is already moving off of Bucky’s lap to sit on the desk, when the door opens. There’s no one there, which has Bucky pulling Sam away, halfway tossing him towards the window for a fast escape. His mind is already racing with the potential threat–a smoke bomb, a grenade, some other small danger that he can’t see over the width of the desk. He hears Sam grab the shield, a sure, defiant presence behind him.

No bomb goes off. Instead, an orange cat jumps up onto the desk.

“Goose?” Sam asks, lowering the shield.

“Danvers’s cat?” Bucky clarifies. “Oh, shit. No, get down!” he shouts, lunging for the cat sitting on top of Bucky’s leather jacket. But it’s too late. The cat vomits tentacles and ray guns and a glove (or maybe a hand) and slime all across the desk.

“Argh!” Bucky shouts, yanking his jacket free, which makes Goose hiss and jump down. Too late for that, Bucky hisses back in his head.

It’s only a split second later that Danvers appears, just as Goose is running out. She watches her with surprise, then looks at Sam. “Cap, I need your help,” she says. Then her nose scrunches and she looks to Bucky and his jacket. “You need to get that cleaned.”

Bucky really considers throwing it at her.

. . .

The reporters are following Sam, who is trying to answer their questions but it’s weirdly difficult to when they’re walking on his heels. The smoke of the battle is still wafting off of him, which he can’t even smell because of the concrete dust in his nostrils. The cameras flashing in his face are doing nothing to help the migraine digging through his head. He needed a med crew to tell everyone he was probably concussed and to leave him alone.

“Captain Wilson,” someone calls. It still sounds weird to hear it. That’s not really his title, but he’d stopped fighting it after the first few months. “You saved more than a dozen people in midair. How did you react so quickly?”

Sam’s shoulders and back ache at the reminder. “It’s my job,” he says. “I’m supposed to save people. These wings aren’t just a fine accessory, y’know.”

“Captain, how did you figure this plane would be attacked?” someone else asks. His office is so close. The door locks now. He has a couch with a weighted pillow that he can put over his face and drown out the lights and the noise.

“When we realized the target wasn’t physical riches, but riches of the soul and mind, it was a quick hop to the plane carrying the summit awardees and delegations.”

“Mr. Wilson, you saved lives and hope tonight. How many future conflicts do you think you stopped tonight?”

“What?” Sam asks. The words just will not slot into a logical order in his mind. “I can’t tell you anything about the future. Very good people were targeted tonight to stoke division and fear. They were targeted by bad people to get back at other bad people. It was a wholly unfair situation. I am grateful for the lives we were able to save. The damage was still large and there’s yet more clean up to do that affects hundreds of other good people. Please turn your attention, time, and resources towards doing something productive too. You don’t need wings to make a difference.”

The reporters mutter amongst themselves and Sam uses the opportunity to get a hand on the door knob, a foot halfway into his office.

“Sir, is there any update on Sergeant Barnes?”

The image of the building coming down on Bucky as he evacuates civilians flashes through Sam’s mind like a hot sword. The crackle of his comm device as it went dead mid-sentence. The silence that followed. Sam’s heart begins to thrum uncomfortably in his chest, rising up to choke out his throat. He can’t cry on camera.

“As far as I’m aware, no one has made contact with Sergeant Barnes as yet,” he starts to say.

Then the door opens. Bucky’s standing there, looking like a sight. There are bandages wrapped around his head and half of his face is bruised into a sickly black and purple. He’s covered in gashes and scrapes. His right arm is wrapped in a sling. He’s hobbling with one boot on and the other foot and ankle wrapped in even more bandages. He’s clearly in so much pain that all Sam wants to do is shove him down on a bed and keep him asleep until the serum can repair everything.

“I was dug out by the same people I had just gotten out of the building,” Bucky chuckles at the camera, like this is a normal press conference. Actually, that’s not true. If this was a normal press conference, he would be in a back room somewhere, glowering at every reporter and cameraperson he saw. He did not like public speaking. But here he is, looking like it’s his natural calling. “They made quick work of it too. Dragged me off to a med-tent. Felt right at home, huh?” he says, directing the last bit at Sam, since it’s usually Sam dragging him to medical.

Sam can’t answer. Can’t breathe. Bucky’s alive. He’s moving. He’s swollen six ways to Sunday, but he’s making jokes. He was in Sam’s office. Waiting for him.

“Excuse me, guys and dolls,” Bucky says with a wry look at the media. Wry, even though the bruising. So unfair. “I gotta do something real quick.”

And then he’s kissing Sam. It’s awkward and too warm. Both of their faces are different landscapes after the fight. They both smell terrible. Sam keeps getting medicinal alcohol in his mouth and Bucky accidentally peels off two of the butterfly bandages on Sam’s cheek as he holds his face.

It’s one of the best kisses of Sam’s life.

This time, he doesn’t let anything interrupt them.

If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a note or kudos on AO3

[heartnosekid]

well, friends. i’m sure a good lot of you have seen this post. i was denied today. i have to contact a lawyer and i don't even know how to begin advocating for myself outside of simply contacting the firm an ex-friend of mine used to obtain disability.

if you would rather not read the whole vent, i completely understand. but if you would still like to provide answers or support to me, here are my main issues.

i need advice from others who have been denied disability and have gone through a lawyer to obtain it. i need advice on what to do about getting started with victim advocacy. that's about it, i reckon. i love you all. my dm's are open. you will be blocked if you clown.

and yes, i realize my stim blog is not the place to talk about this. i understand, but this is my largest audience and i feel i would be a fool to not post this somewhere it may be actually received.

tw for mental health talk / long vent under the cut, particularly of the despairing kind, and also mentions of CSA / CSAM, psychosis, and my general disabilities. if this post needs more trigger tags, please let me know and i'll add them.

my whole life i have been treated as if i am not struggling because i can do the bare minimum to keep myself alive. i can survive, but never thrive, and even surviving now has become difficult. i can't feed myself regularly, my guardians do that for me. i can't stand for longer than a few minutes at a time without extreme duress and pain, which makes cleaning, showering, and going out super difficult and beyond draining. i can understand abstract concepts and certain ideas and am emotionally intelligent, but i struggle heavily with understanding money or how government works, particularly when it comes to laws and loopholes. i don't know when i'm "being had", as it were, and others have pointed this out to me throughout my adulthood. it feels as though this entire disability journey has been me "being had". they gave me something to cling on to, the possibility i may be able to receive real help, and it seems as though they basically knew the whole time they were going to deny me again. for the fourth time. i know that is unrealistic but, it does feel that way.

i wrote several full length books when i was a child / young teenager, and had two published. i won't share the titles because i have outgrown what i wrote and find them childish and frankly embarrassing, but everyone upon learning that i have written and had novels published, immediately jumps to the conclusion that i am some kind of self-sufficient, incredibly intelligent and capable person. i have never once been able to effectively take care of myself. without my guardians, i wouldn't be able to manage money, insurance, bills, cars, groceries, among other things. i don't even halfway understand how insurance on anything even works despite having been shown how it works.

i can see something, be "taught" to the best of someone's ability, and i will still not be able to learn. this has been a constant issue throughout my life, and the american public school system has continually helped these issues perpetuate. all schooling has done is teach me how to parrot back concepts and ideas, remember them for a limited amount of time before losing them to the void, and not how to fundamentally understand and learn them or utilize them in daily life. even higher education was like this, and i was not able to thrive throughout my experience with college despite making mostly okay grades (i cheated and lied a lot, okay. i'm not proud of it but i felt i had to get through or i would be severely punished). i had to a sign an agreement that i personally still do not fully understand to "obtain" my associate's degree, and i do not know why despite the fact it was explained to me, in detail. the information has not registered, and i now no longer have anyone that was involved in said agreement to explain it to me. everyone i say this to is like, "what? that doesn't make any sense." and i'm like. yeah. it doesn't, and i have zero ability to explain it to them in a way that makes sense.

i mention my associate's degree because i am sure in some form or fashion it was used against me in the disability process, since i was "able to complete higher education". also it should be noted i did an early college program. also probably has been used against me. also cheated through most of it.

people have always considered my kind of autism to be hyper competent, since it appeared that way when i was a child, despite showing several signs that i was struggling with a math-centric learning disability, called dyscalculia. i have since deteriorated to the point of barely having the knowledge a young adult should have, about how life works financially and honestly in general.

i have extreme fear about what may happen to me without proper assistance. my guardians will be able to take care of me for some time, but after that? that feels like a black hole to me. it doesn't exist nor will it while i am under-assisted, and this black hole fills me with utter despair. i try not to let it permeate my daily life, so as to not dwell in a future that doesn't exist yet and has the possibility for change. but god. it fills me with literal existential dread, and it is becoming so much more difficult to ignore the older i get.

a lot of factors have been used against me my entire life to deny me assistance, and these reasons being yet another factor has really dredged up a lot of shit from my past.

this is besides the point, but i also learned recently that CSAM was made and distributed of me when i was a child and wow. that has hit me in ways i cannot even describe. part of me is like, why was i not allowed to know after the fact, even when i became an adult? i was directly involved. why did no one tell me my abuser was convicted for counts of spreading CSAM, and that they lied directly to the court system about their inappropriate actions with me? i was disenfranchised in more ways than one by more than one person on allowance of my abuser, and i am just now hearing about it. i don't know how to deal and i don't know how to get started with victim advocacy in my area.

but at the same time, whilst being treated as severely more competent than i am, i have also been infantilized relentlessly, by nearly everyone around me. how does this make any sense. i feel incredibly stupid and uninformed and at the same time privy to things about my disabilities others are not, while not being able to effectively communicate it. i feel i am screaming and begging for help, nearly at my wits end with a lot of things, and all of it is reading as "owie booboo" to anyone who could do anything to help. i feel i am falling through the cracks, and i fear having to crawl back up through them. i fear i won't make the trek. i fear i will lose motivation and let myself rot. it feels like no one in a position of power has taken a true effort to really help me and i cannot help or advocate for myself. i am very scared.

on top of all of that stuff, i am withdrawing pretty heavily from cymbalta, experiencing heightened panic attacks every day, PNES (psychogenic non-epileptic seizures), more episodes of psychosis and hallucinating than i'm used to, all of my mental and physical issues are out of control, and now this disability stuff. i also won't be able to see a psychiatrist for...maybe a week or so more, so no bridge meds till then.

these last couple weeks have just really kicked me down. thank you for reading if you got this far. i appreciate you more than you know and i have no idea where i would be without y'all and this blog. i love you all so very much.

-ish

[uselessmicrowave]

kinktober day four

tfp knockout x starscream

tws/content- overstimulation, teasing, sounding, gags, bondage, aftercare, mentions of kobdss, edging

“Oh, poor Starscream,” Knockout mocks, “All tied up and helpless.” he walks towards the seeker, doing his best to look menacing.

He, tied up like a present and shaking, is trying so desperately not to rock or grind against the huge fake spike half inside, half under him. He can’t voice any of his wants because of a ball gag stuffed in his intake. The magnetic vibrator loudly hums against his anterior node, it’s driving him insane. His spike is stuffed with a ridged metal rod. Starscream feels so fragging full.

And all that’s needed to end this was a single comlink message. Then he would be cleaned, fed, massaged and cuddled. But… if Starscream could withstand a cycle (roughly an hour) of this, there would be a repeat session, only their places would be swapped.

He can’t wait for the solar cycle when he wipes that dumb, attractive, arrogant smile off of Knockout’s stupid fragging faceplates.

“Not much longer Star,” the mech slowly walks behind the seeker. “Unless you want to give up. That’d be much easier for you than being teased.” a servo brushes Starscream’s wing, making him whimper. Knockout traces the transformation lines at the base, moving outward on his wings. The shaking from his wing pushes the servo away, Knockout looks disappointed.

“Here, how about we try… this.” he dials the vibrator down, roughly taking the air commander’s wingtip in a servo. The pinch makes Starscream tense up and moan around the ball gag. “Want to speak?” Starscream nods weakly.

“Then stay still.” his servo glides from the air commander’s wing, over to his shoulder, up his neck cables, to the back of his helm. Two digits slide under the leathery strap.

Knockout, with his other servo, squeezes the other wingtip testing the seeker’s will to stay unmoving. A surprised yelp comes from him, but he does stay still, and Knockout said that he would have a chance to beg for an overload…

“Good bot.” the shiny mech flicks the buckle on the gag away from Starscream’s helm. The mouthpiece falls to the ground, Starscream’s oral lubricant spattering the floor where it was dropped. He pants with an open intake, lubricants dripping out of it. Starscream barely gets a couple vents before, “Aren’t you going to thank me?” the medic sneers, standing up. “Maybe I should put it back on.”

“No! Mphm- thank you, Knockout.” Starscream continues to pant heavily, he closes his optics and tilts his helm back in the relief of having his jaws relaxed. The air commander doesn’t pay attention to the footsteps of his counterpart. “Thank you…”

Unbeknownst to Starscream, Knockout was kneeling in front of him, reaching for the ring on the metal rod in his spike. Sharp tipped digits brush under the tip, through the thin ring. The seeker groans, stirring against the touch.

“Ah- Stay just like that, Star.” Knockout tips his helm back again. “Be a good bot for me.” the medic purrs, pulling and teasing at the rod, creating waves of bright pleasure.

“Hhnnn…” he bares his denta, whining, helpless and sensitive. “Hng- ah!” Starscream’s vocalizer cracks in a response to Knockout shoving the rod deeper into his spike, rubbing the tip, then slowly pulling it out of him in a repeating pattern.

A beeping sound comes from somewhere within the room, signaling the time was up. That would be all the teasing he had to endure.

“Mm-m Knockout…” the medic gives a quick kiss to shut him up, gently pulling the sounding rod out of his spike.

“I know, I know. No more. Just one last thing I want to try.” the shiny mech unties some of the knots around the seeker’s body, ropes droop from his lower half. Starscream relaxes his frame, causing him to sink down on the faux spike with a groan.

“Knockout…” Starscream whines.

“I know.” Knockout stands tall in front of the bot, still on his knee struts. “This time, you’ll be allowed to overload.”

“Really?” the shiny mech nods sweetly, taking Starscream’s faceplates and opening up his own panels. The half restrained bot needs an overload badly. It’s the least Knockout could do.

Starscream opens his intake, slowly starting to take the faux spike farther inside of him. He moans around Knockout’s spike, spreading his stabilizers wider. The seeker presses his glossa against the spike, trying to get some sort of praise or attention out of the red mech. Bouncing on the fake spike creates all the movement needed for the task at hand. Starscream groans, sending pleasant vibrations down Knockout’s spike.

“Be a good bot and overload for me.” an overload hits Starscream’s frame like a truck, he drops down onto the faux spike and tries desperately not to bite down on Knockout. His whole frame shakes and shudders.

The seeker’s transfluid soils the floor, making a mess of Knockout’s pedes as well. His wings droop, finally relaxed. The medic steps back so that Starscream can vent properly, smirking at the relieved expression on the commander’s faceplates.

“You were very good for me.” Knockout purrs, untying the few knots around Starscream’s frame, letting him ease onto the ground. The red mech snickers at him, helping the spent second in command up to their berth.

“Don’t laugh at me…” his words are slurred, Knockout can’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, fine. You want me to spoil you now?” Knockout mocks lovingly, knowing what the answer would be. He reaches for the little kit he set out beforehand. It’s full with energon candies and other treats, along with raspberry scented wax. Knockout isn’t sure what a raspberry is, but the wax smells nice.

“Knockout…” the seeker mumbles, faceplates in a pillow.

“Hm?”

“C’n you use the pads instead of the buffer?” Starscream mutters with a piece of candy in his intake.

“Yes, only for you.” the red mech applies some wax on Starscream’s spinal strut, making him sigh of ease. “And also maybe Breakdown…” Knockout quietly adds.

[luvsae]

could you write headcannons with hyunsu and a reader that has social anxiety?

hello! of course i can :D

ive never really written something like this before but i hope this will be good enough :)

cha hyunsu with reader who has social anxiety | requested

- how did you and hyunsu meet exactly? well, before everything happened, hyunsu was very talkative and loved helping everyone - that's how he came across you.

- you were very shy, though, so it was hard to get you out of your shell at first.

- he was your partner for a project at school and you two needed to communicate. he started off by saying "hi" and you responded with a quiet "hi" back

- you started to warm up, though. it took a bit of time but you became close friends with hyunsu and hung out a lot

- when you two became close you told him about your social anxiety and he was very accepting. he promised to help you in times that you needed it, and would also try to encourage you and help you overcome certain moments.

- there was one time you broke out of your shell

- that was when hyunsu was being treated horribly by people in school. you told them to "piss off" - what you didn't know is that hyunsu appreciated that.

- now, since you have social anxiety, you never imagined having a partner, but hyunsu changed that when he asked you out. you were hesitant and nervous, but you said yes.

- time skip to being adults; you live with hyunsu now in an apartment. your neighbors are nice but you're still anxious about talking to them. when they say "hi" or try to make conversation, you may freeze but hyunsu is there to squeeze your hand reassuringly.

- if you have a panic attack and need to go to a quiet place, hyunsu will take you there and hold your face in his hands. "focus on your breathing", "you aren't alone, okay?" "you're doing great."

- hyunsu is very comforting. always reassuring you, hugging you, loving you.

- if you have a hard time going out, don't evennnn worry !! hyunsu would rather spend his time at home with you then go out to an expensive bar.

- though, sometimes if you have moments where you don't want to go out but you're going to do something you enjoy, hyunsu will talk you through it. always giving you the option of staying home and relaxing, or going out for a bit.

- hyunsu is definitely the best at comforting you.

- when he catches you thinking about an embarrassing situation that happened in public a few hours ago, he'll reassure you.

- "you didn't do anything wrong, baby." "no one would ever make fun of you." "i love you."

- if you feel sick in public, hyunsu will gently pull you off to the side and talk to you. he'll make sure you're okay and ask if you want to go somewhere quiet.

- if you're anxious about ordering something, hyunsu will definitely take over and order for you

- i feel like hyunsu would come to doctor appointments with you, or any appointment in general

- even if you tell him it's okay, he'll insist, even if that means just driving you

- "what if they were judging me, hyunsu?" "i promise no one would ever judge you. let's distract you, okay?"

- if you're anxious about something, hyunsu will turn on your favorite show or will order your favorite food

- hyunsu is patient with you. if you need alone time he will definitely leave you alone. if you need him near you, he'll sit beside you and hold your hand

- he'll research breathing methods for you and then will use them whenever you're feeling really anxious

- hyunsu is the best listener. he'll let you rant or vent about how you feel. if you need him to say his opinion, then he'll say it. if you just need him to listen, he will listen

- he'll teach you the "5 things you can see, etc.." method because it helps him with his anxiety, so it may help with yours

- hugs hugs hugs.

- hyunsu will hug you tight just to make sure you're safe

- dates in public may turn into dates in your backyard or a snuggle on the couch ♡

- i feel like hyunsu would get you a journal to write down your feelings and help you clear your mind

- hyunsu is the best bf ever !!

- over all, he's always there to help you and will make sure you're okay ♡