#what does one do with ones hands in social situations? where should they rest? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drdemonprince · 4 months

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all the recent talk about not voting has me a bit worried, for lack of a better word.

on one hand, yes so much yes, stop throwing all your time and energy in the insatiable maw of electoral politics, 5/5, no notes.

but on the other hand, where does that time and energy go then? despite lots of talk about mutual aid it doesn't seem to progress much beyond the abstract (at least in the various leftist groups/communities/etc. in my neck of the woods). it's held up as an ideal and great big important thing, but when there's shit that needs doing, it's *crickets*.

maybe it's because so much mutual aid is care work and thus, and i very much disagree with even though i care not for the label, not real activism i guess? like, a while ago a disabled comrade had ran into housing issues because of their illness, so we rustled up some folks to help clean and unfuck their home. which, yet again, were the same (also disabled) people that always show for those things.

coming of four years and counting of pandemic, that's been a consistent pattern. at a time where mutual aid was so needed, such a vacuum left by a state that didn't and/or wanted to do shit, it still fell on the shoulders of disabled people to do all the actual work while the rest just talked about abstract shit. or, to name another thing, diy hrt initiative where it's just a bunch of poor ass trans people scrounging up money to pay for supplies for trans people who have fuck all access, while the rest debates in the abstract about a more better system or whether it's even something they need to concern themselves about.

and like, yes, not pissing away your energy pleading with assholes who don't give a fuck about you is good, but it should only be the start. it sometimes feels like the big plan is: 1) not vote, 2) ???, 3) glorious anarchism/communism/mutual-aidism. i'm not arguing that they need to have it all worked out, but with so much shit that needs doing in the here and now i get a little worried. because that's going to take real work, not talk, and they're not putting in any of it.

I mean, most people won't do (what gets viewed as) "real activism" either. They don't go to protests, smash windows, call jails to check on the status of incarcerated people, cut supply lines, or anything else. And they don't vote either.

We live in a highly individualistic, atomized society filled with people who have been conditioned into an abiding self-interested apathy, and everyone is overworked and broke as shit and juggling a bunch of disabilities while not having any experience with building genuine community and lacking most of the infrastructural and social tools to do so. The number of people who are avowed leftists is vanishingly small, and among them the people who actually walk the talk or have the education and community ties to even be able to is even smaller. Not disagreeing with your read of the situations you're dealing with here, just putting them within the broader context of many very similar problems that I see touch every single aspect of organizing today. even like the most tepid liberal get out the vote kind of organizing is plagued by this, and of course that is by design.

What gives me hope in the present moment is just how many people are completely fucking done with the prevailing system, and how many are refusing to play along with its rules. A lot of the people who aren't voting are not leftists. At least not yet. Just like many of the people who are quiet quitting and half-assing it at work or just vibing on unemployment for as long as they can are not communists. But they do know that the system is bunk and is failing them, and they are refusing to be compliant within it any longer. I believe that a lot of people's better natures do get inspired during a moment of collapse. I also think there is a profound rot at the heart of settler-colonial states that fills them with people who do not recognize themselves as having any responsibility to others. That's all the more reason for such an empire to fall.

I think you're right to worry for the future, though I don't think the reason to be worried is as simple as people not people caring about disabled folks, or any other group. I always wonder who the mythical abled people are who are abnegating their duty in such an understanding of the world. I sure haven't met any of them. I only meet people who are also disabled and don't realize it.

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onboardsorasora · 3 months

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🎈🎊Happy Birthday Daniel! 🎉 🎈 Here is a little rainy maxiel meet cute. Also a little thing to tide us while the archive is down

Daniel raked his waterlogged hair backwards and eyed the chaos happening in front of him. The rain had come out of nowhere, falling sideways with the heavy wind. The band had stopped playing and a voice over the PA told everyone to seek shelter because of lightning.

He'd been in the grass near the back of the amphitheater. He'd lost his friends in the chaos and found a spot between the merch shop and an office. He was soaked through, his band tee sticking to him as if he'd just jumped into a pool or lake.

He giggled at how wild it was, and looked to the guy who had ducked in here with him. He was staring out at the concert goers running for cover, some were running around in the rain and laughing. He was cute, Daniel thought, with his water darkened hair and bright eyes. His white tee was transparent and Daniel quickly looked away from where his nipples were peeking through.

The guy looked over and Daniel couldn't help the smile that overtook him. It was a truly ridiculous situation. A random storm, losing his friends and now in a narrow alcove with a cute boy that also enjoys the same music he does. The same music that speaks to his soul, he wondered if this boy felt the same way about the band as he did.

“It's really fucking coming down.” Daniel shook his head, looking out at the now expanded group of people that were doing rain dances.

The boy beside him shrugged. “The weather app said there was a 60% chance of rain.” His voice was raspy, his lips pink.

Daniel giggled, he hadn't expected a meteorological response to a truly nonsensical observation. “Yeah but no one thought it was actually going to rain.” He pointed out.

“Well of course they did. The organizers should have been better prepared, I think. You could see the cell of rain before it even came close–”

“I'm Daniel.” Daniel stuck out his hand, grin still front and center, “I figured we should introduce ourselves before we start ragging on the promoters. I've been wanting to complain about how they fucked and bottlenecked admission.”

Blue eyes scrunched and pink lips widened in a smile that turned into a laugh and Daniel decided right then and there that he needed to hear it again and again for the rest of his life.

“I'm Max.” Max shook Daniel's hand, his smile now crooked but still very scrunchy.

“Max.” Daniel repeated happily. “Enchante.” Daniel kissed the back of Max's cold hand, he didn't know what came over him. But the immediate flush on Max's cheeks was completely worth it.

They talked and laughed in their little alcove, their bubble, until the rain eased up and the announcer gave a time call for the concert to resume.

Daniel bit his lip, looking out to the wet and glistening ground and the people picking their way to the seats and stage area. Everyone was soaked, wrinkly. The band started what sounded like a mini sound check. He didn't want to go, didn't want to separate from Max to go back to his friends alone. He didn't want to leave and never know Max again.

He could ask for his number or his social media, something. Something to keep in contact.

“Do you want to sit by the picnic benches and listen to the end of the concert… together?” Max asked softly, blue eyes hopeful. A slow smile bloomed on Daniel's lips and it was his turn to blush.

“Yeah. I'd love to.”

Max took his hand, clasping their clammy and pruney fingers together and lead them both from their hideaway. The breeze was cold on their wet bodies and they huddled closer.

The picnic benches were off to the side of the stage, in an intermission area. They wouldn't be able to see the stage or the visuals of the show itself, but they were mostly alone while everyone was back in their seats and the songs reverberated around them. Like their own private show.

“I didn't want to– of course I know I could have gotten your number. But, I didn't want to–” Max stumbled over his words.

“Me too.” Daniel cut him off, needing Max to know he wasn't the only one. That he felt the same. Max smiled, so lovely. Daniel needed to kiss him. And he did.

Kissing Max was like listening to all of his favorite songs on a playlist while driving on an empty road.

He clutched Max close and Max moaned softly. Daniel felt like there were fireworks going on behind his eyes. Max's lips were soft and perfect. Max was perfect.

Daniel pulled back first, barely. He stayed close, smiling dopily at Max who grinned back. The opening riffs of his favourite song started and Daniel knew he would remember this moment forever.

They were softened by the golden light of the sunset bouncing off the still wet surfaces around them. There wasn't a moment that could be more perfect than this one, Daniel thought.

“Do you, maybe, want to dance? I love this song.” Max asked softly, almost hesitantly.

There wasn't a moment more perfect than this one, Daniel mentally amended.

“This is my favourite song.” Daniel gushed, standing and pulling Max to his feet. Max laughed and grabbed Daniel closer. They swayed together in their own private annex.

Daniel looked towards to stands to see the lights in the crowd illuminating like stars. He looked back and Max who was already watching him. They kissed.

#maxiel #max/daniel #meet cute #happy birthday daniel

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kyoghurts · 3 months

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Hellooooooo, hope you are having an amazing day/night!!! I recently read one of your stories about rayne and his assistant, I absolutely loved it!!!! Had me flipping my hands and giggling a lot l, I really liked the way you characterized him. So I was wondering if you could write about him with a reader that's on outside a little bit like him (people finding them intimidating, socially awkward and smart) but it's actually a lot like Finn (they are a little shy, tends to cry easily and really loyal) I don't know if that makes sense... but anyways aajsjsjajs

im actually an amalgam of these two 🥲 so sorry for not writing this sooner but here you go <3

✶ HAPPY TEARS.

mashle. rayne ames x gn reader

content. fluff & 1.6k wc. this leans more towards platonic relationship but can be interpreted in any form. messy writing bc im back in the slumps.

people often find you smart, it's seen in the numbers etched to your papers and the consistent participation in class, there's a tone of modesty in the way you interact with others, and your quiet nature in medium to large social groups does nothing but earn you the intimidating, or rather, mysterious type of a title.

the admiration of others is bearable, you're lucky you're not too popular, you don't really know how else to go about it. unlike a certain someone whom you're well acquainted with, but not necessarily close to call a friend. he doesn't even pay attention to you when you're not the one initiating a conversation, which is actually convenient for the most part.

rayne ames doesn't bother you like the rest; he'll talk to you if the circumstances deem it necessary. things you can list off as 'school-related' situations, there are days where his generosity reaches far, extending to you for reasons you can't pinpoint. he offers you his notes when you ask, acknowledges your presence by maintaining eye contact until you nod at him and he does the same, walk beside him in silence as if it's a long-time habit —like friends who no longer feel the need to talk in order to maintain the bond, he's already nice enough to feel unbothered with you, that itself is a bond worthy of simple sentiments, if there’s any existing between your bones.

(who are you kidding, of course you’re sentimental. people often befriend you for their own benefit, it makes you want to crawl into yourself, the layers of the title you’re given have grown thicker; no one else can see you when you’re protected by what you have constructed.)

(but deep down, there’s a friend in your bed who accepts your tears as it is, and you’re happy because they don’t speak ill of you behind your back, they let you ramble until you cling to them in your sleep.)

(you’re happy because nobody is here, just you and your pillow, still alone. hurt becomes a friend you’re ready to share with yourself.)

(you’re happy this way, right?)

a particular memory flashes through your mind, one that causes you to flinch from your daze.

(wrong. happiness doesn’t come in a messy rain soaked in your poor pillows. hurt becomes a bully when you place it upon yourself.)

you were having the worst of anxieties when the day strikes you for the report that was supposed to be due by next week. perhaps its your fault in the first place to forget that he’s never been nice to you or to anyone, and he had the audacity to taunt you when you were ready to bite his head off then and there.

there are days where you simply cannot go by without curling into a corner—literally— and easing your worries in private, this day should not be one of them, but it is.

though to save some good news, you already finished your script anyway. and the topic is quite easy than the others, all you have to do is get up and sort your lines and not freak out when eyes are finally set on you. god, you could practically rip your flashcards with how you’ve been fumbling it with aggressive fingers almost tearing the edges right now.

“what are you doing?”

you let out a painful shreak, panting when the air in your lungs have been knocked out. you’re still crouching, but you turn your head and look up to see golden eyes watching you in such a way that you’re considering leaving altogether.

“rayne?” the calmness of your voice is such a comical contrast to your terrified expression that you want to laugh, if not for the current state that you’re in.

“the prof is coming soon. aren’t you getting ready?”

“i am getting ready” you say, almost sounding upset and salty. your gaze flick back to the pointed corner, not wanting to deal anymore of this. “i’m …nervous, okay. i need to think here.”

you close your eyes and sigh. you don’t need to know that rayne pities you at this moment, you don’t really care how he thinks of you, and you know him enough to discern him as the type to not care of someone like you either. you sigh once more and eventually feel composed. it’s enough to keep you intact—for now, at least.

you fall into complete silence, it stays like this for a while until you hear someone sigh behind you and—why is he still here?

“are you done?” he asks when you turn as you give him an incredulous look, as if saying his question is just plain stupid.

you don’t give him an answer. you stand up to your feet, fixing your robe and patting them down…but you can’t resist the strong pull of his gaze, so you meet his eyes once more, only to be taken aback by how…placid he actually is.

no sharpness in his glare. no spite in the refined lines of his face.

you had to ask, “how did you know i was here?”

“i saw you walked out.”

“i mean how did you find me—“

“does it matter?”

your brows knit together in slight tense, “of course it does.”

he walks away, remaining quiet. if that doesn’t piss you off now, you don’t know what will. your glare behind his head as you follow suit is something you wouldn’t imagine yourself to do, but something about rayne just doesn’t sit right with you at all. none of your peers know this sort of hiding spot that you have, and most definitely your personal magic could have detected the slightest track of presence within 100-meter radius range.

he walks up ahead, remaining quiet which irks you more than it should. you follow suit, already drained to keep persisting him. for a moment you think, if he hadn’t showed up, maybe you’d still be in the slump far longer you can’t endure. maybe, a teeny tiny part of you is grateful, but you’re not one to admit that out loud.

instead, you try to keep up with him, placing yourself beside him as placid as you can muster.

he speaks softly, catching you off guard, “you do that when you’re anxious.”

you’re not quite sure what to say, the way he states it is rather declarative than a question, you nod in agreement. no point denying it.

“you’re not who they expect you to be.”

“w-what?” you give him a glance, he’s still looking ahead.

“to hell with expectations. just do your best.”

that day, you can’t take your eyes off of him. the awe-struck might have been evident on your face, he briefly blinks at you before his walking pace slows down to match yours.

you feel warm, inexplicably so.

you held back a tear, but it still drops for the seed of happiness to suddenly grow.

“hey.” you greet him, slightly jogging to catch up with him.

he slows down, like always. he acknowledges you through with it, feeling relaxed as you both amble throughout campus.

you smile, maybe you’re friends after all.

“i assume you’re not busy?”

“not really.”

rayne leaves it at that, or so you thought. it takes a minute to register what he said, your footsteps coming to a halt. “sorry…what did you say?”

“you can come with me, i need to buy something in the market.”

rayne ames doesn't bother you like the rest; he'll talk to you if the circumstances deem it necessary. things you can list off as 'school-related' situations-

“is this school-related?”

“no? just things i need to check on my list.”

“oh.” you stand there a little too dumbfounded.

a hint of hesitance fleetingly passes through rayne’s gaze. you don’t intend to make it awkward, but you are, and then you chuckle at yourself for doing so. “sorry, that startled me.”

“it’s not obligatory, so don’t worr-”

“i’ll come!” your lips tilt in an enthusiastic grin as you start walking again, “what’s on the list rayne?”

he faintly bumps your shoulder with such nonchalance you honestly find it unfair, your heart is beating unceremoniously against your chest, and your quivering smile gives away too much.

you’re starting to like the prospect of being bothered by rayne regardless if it’s necessary or not. to hell with expectations, you think, you’ll do your best being the happiest version of yourself.

you return the gesture much too late that it earns you a confused look. and then he bumps you again, and again when you follow another, and another. until you’re laughing at him for being silly and you swear you saw a smile ghost across his lips, as fast as a blink, it’s gone.

you would be happy to witness them everyday, if you can. (and that, you shall.)

notes. gonna start writing that drunk and jealous rayne fic i've put on hold last month :]]]]]

#ⳋ ★ .ᐟ — 𝒌. presents #Ⳋ ★ .ᐟ — 𝒌. mashle #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mashle x reader #rayne ames #rayne ames fluff #rayne ames x reader #rayne x reader #rayne x you #mashle imagines

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centaurisolarflare · 2 years

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König Headcannons – Part II:

If I wasn’t clear in my last set of sfw headcannons, I interpret König as having ADHD and Social Anxiety Disorder. I’m going to get into some diagnostic criteria and give some of my headcannons for how they appear for König specifically, and some blurbs throughout because I never learned how to stop talking.

Social Anxiety Disorder (Social Phobia):

Anxiety surrounding social situations in which there is the potential for scrutinization. I think König’s anxiety would be particularly focused around interactions (conversations, meeting new people, etc) and being observed.

- He isn’t comfortable with crowds, the dislike of being surrounded by people is intensified by the tinge of constant situational worry that comes with being a soldier.

-- If you take busy public transport, where there’s people packed into a bus or a subway car, he’ll sit bouncing his leg and playing with your hands. If you’re standing, he’ll be right behind you with one arm around your waist keeping you close against his chest; if it’s a particularly bad day he’ll hunch himself over to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the smell of you and trying to ignore everyone else.

- Even in more regular social situations he’s got this habit of coming up behind you and resting his chin or cheek on your head. You’re used to it, often grabbing his hand and putting it on your waist, but the reactions from whoever you’re talking with range from befuddlement to discomfort, to outright terror at this massive dude just lingering directly behind you.

- He does not like having his picture taken, especially when he isn’t aware that the picture taking is happening. He will get upset if anyone refuses to delete photos they took without his knowledge and permission.

-- He does, however, usually let you take polaroid with him – they develop soft enough that his worries about the photo being horrible are eased, plus he finds he’s fond of the way you’ve got them tucked around the house. Once you took a polaroid of him that he clearly didn’t like, he wasn’t really saying anything about it but you could tell, and you fucking lit it on fire – you went and got a zippo and burnt the fucking thing. He was oddly touched by your wiliness to commit a small act of arson purely for his comfort.

- I also think he’d not particularly like eating in front of others – as a result of his anxiety he thinks people watch and judge him more than they do, and there’s too many opportunities for something to go wrong, so the threat of that embarrassment causes him to take most of his meals alone.

-- The knock at his door is soft and measured, three knocks just loud enough to catch his attention but not startle him. He knows, really, before even opening the door, that it’s you. He wants to see you, he really does, but the thought of it kicks his heart rate up and he feels the urge to fidget with his hands or the edge of his shirt as he takes the few steps needed to reach the door. You’re standing there, holding two full meal trays, flashing a bright smile up at him as you explain that you noticed he’d left the mess hall without eating. You ask to come in and he wordlessly steps to the side, hesitating just slightly as he contemplates if he should ask you to leave – he reasons with himself that he’s confident if he did ask you to go, you would, and that’s reassurance enough to have you stay – before shutting the door behind you and praying he won’t do anything humiliating. You chatter about how you weren’t entirely sure what to grab him, setting his tray on his desk, and sitting cross-legged on the floor with yours balanced across your knees. It twists something unfamiliar in his guts when he looks at his tray and realizes it’s a fairly accurate representation of what he would have gotten himself. He thanks you, the murmur of his voice barely audible. Then, the battered slice of cake catches his eye. The sweets they serve on base aren’t ever particularly good, but it’s chocolate and, fuck, he loves chocolate. Usually these slices, provided to the base kitchens already in a small plastic container, are hard to get and it’s even rarer for someone to make it out of the mess hall without being forced to give it up on some grounds of hoarding. The way there’s frosting smeared on the inside of the container suggests you underwent that trial. You must notice him looking at it for longer than anything else and you immediately grin, devious and triumphant, and regale him with the tale of how you managed to sneak the cake out, all because you offhandedly remembered he’d mentioned once about liking chocolate. You even apologize for the dubious quality of it, and he thinks he could cry. The story gives him time to settle across from you with his own tray largely free of intensive notice. By the time you’ve shifted to discussing a different topic with him – giving his responses a genuine attentive regard that makes it difficult for his anxiety to think you’re secretly judging him – he swears if you ripped out his heart right at that moment, you’d find your name written all over it. It just… becomes a Thing™ to meet up like this for meals, in his room or yours. You always seem to know when to talk, when to turn your head away from him, when to let him think you don’t notice his fretting, and when to either coax him into conversation or sit in easy silence. He panics less about it. He finds himself becoming more and more comfortable with you – fond of the peculiar way you habitually gesture with your fork, how you’re always willing to split things in half to share, how you inexplicably manage to scrounge up hot drinks during the cold months – and he's surprisingly glad to have your company.

- An individual with social anxiety can be fearful of acting in a way that shows anxiety symptoms that will be seen negatively.

-- I think König would be worried most about being the reason people reject his company or take offense to his presence. He, at his core, wants people to like him, no matter how much he buries it. He has a hard time knowing whether or not you’re joking if you ever pretend to be disapproving or mad – his fear of driving you away, of you viewing him negatively, totally wipes away his ability to detect when you’re being sarcastic or playful. I think once you two are close he’d look to you in public settings for indications on when other people are kidding around or not – he trusts your evaluation of tone and social context far more than his own.

-- I also headcannon that one of the rare times he isn’t worried like this is when he’s really, really tired. When he’s exhausted, he’ll flop next to you, lean his weight on you, and laugh when you struggle to hold him up. This is when he’ll be the most blatantly transparent. You often feel like you should excuse yourself as soon as possible when this happens, but sometimes it’s on missions when he’s falling asleep while you keep watch and you can’t go anywhere; or at base when he’ll grab your wrist and ask you to stay, and how could you say no to him? All you can do is try to mitigate whatever comes out of his mouth, so he doesn’t reveal too much when he’s barely lucid. When he’s out of his mind tired is when he’ll look at you, starry-eyed and with no attempt to school his expressions into something less embarrassing, and whisper how beautiful and kind and perfect you are. He rarely ever remembers doing it – in his memories the comfort of your presence slots in seamlessly with the relief of collapsing on his bed for the first time in two days.

---- I think the same thing would happen if he’s ever on hella painkillers. He’s awake but definitely not all the way in his own brain so he’s just babbling about how wonderful you are. He’s just… narrating his thoughts. You’re the medic with him throughout the helicopter evac when he’s covered in more injuries than God should allow? You’re getting more of an honest confession of his feelings than the situation calls for. You’re the doctor moderating his recovery from a nasty concussion? Holy shit you’re going to hear about how you personally make the stars shine. Your whole medical team will know how he feels about you before he ever knowingly confesses.

- Avoidance of anxiety inducing situations.

-- I love him, but König has a frustrating habit of avoiding or retreating from you when his anxiety spikes. He needs a lot of reassurance that you don’t think of him the way his anxiety tells him you do.

- I also think, as a comorbid symptom, he suffers from a bit of body dysmorphic disorder regarding his height/size and his accumulated scars – he perceives these things, respectively, as defects and flaws due to the way they’ve only ever drawn attention to him in situations where he’d rather everyone not even notice his existence.

-- His heart is going to explode. It’s going to explode and shred through his lungs. Is that medically possible? He feels like it is. It has to be. Because this is the first time you’ve seen him in a short sleeve shirt and you’ve got your hands on his arms and you’re currently looking at the jagged silvery scar that curls across his bicep and- and fuck, he needs to remember to breathe. He offers the stories behind each scar you ask about nearly entirely on autopilot. Can you feel his pulse? He’s scared of what you think, even as you hum and trace your fingertips carefully over each flaw on his skin. He’s marred, he knows it, and he makes a desperate attempt at casualness with some quiet self-deprecating joke about how the scars are ugly, but they couldn’t really make the rest of him worse than it already was. He misses the mark by a fucking mile, apparently, because your hands go tight around as much of his forearm as you can manage to wrap your fingers around and you're staring directly into his eyes with the intensity of the goddamned sun. He wishes he could throw himself into the sun right about now. But he’s listening, mostly, when you tell him that he’s handsome and well-built and nothing even has the possibility of changing that, not to you. That you like his scars, the proof that he’s endured, and you wouldn’t change a single thing about him. He’s listening, mostly, he swears, but he’s also super fucking concerned about how his heart has definitely just exploded and every other organ in its vicinity is splattered across the inside his ribcage. He can’t function like this, for god’s sake, can’t do much more than offer a jerky nod and let you resume your exploration of his arms, littered with grumbling comments about how you can’t believe he doesn’t think he’s good-looking, has he looked in a mirror recently, is he fucking blind.

---- Bonus points if this somehow takes place before you’ve ever seen him without the sniper’s hood on; so he counters that you can’t possibly know if he isn’t hideous and you cut him off telling him he’s beautiful, and he’s like you’ve never even seen my face, and you tell him you know it’s pretty because it’s him and because it’s him it’s pretty, it has to be, regardless of anything, because he’s inherently pretty, and he just… has to blush about it for several business days.

ADHD

We all know about how our boy couldn’t be a sniper because he was 1.) too fucking big and, more to my point, 2.) couldn’t stay still. König has ADHD, argue with the wall.

- The inattentive criteria I think he specifically meets are difficulty organizing tasks, avoiding activities that require sustained mental focus, often losing things necessary for tasks, easily distracted by extraneous stimuli and that his mind seems to be elsewhere even in the absence of any obvious distraction, and he tends to be forgetful regarding daily activities.

-- I think for work stuff he’s got a whole mess of systems to help keep himself on task and completing everything he’s supposed to be doing – sticky notes in improbable places, a seemingly nonsensical ways of going about starting things, using things like the amount of time it takes someone else in the barracks common room to reload their clips as a timer for how long he has to do something of his own, etc etc. He'll drag his desk three feet to the left just so he'll notice it in the morning and remember something. I think he very often writes things on his actual self with permanent marker, usually on his hand or forearm, if he’s really got to remember to do something. He might even have a more regular system for that, like a dot on his index finger means he has one important task to remember.

-- He fucking hates paperwork. It’s boring as hell and his brain never wants to do it. Very much “but I know who’s saying I have to get this done; it’s me, and I know I’m full of shit” vibes. Deadlines aren’t real until they’re tomorrow. He bribes himself with sweets or something he actually enjoys for every few pages he gets through – if you see him buying a pack of multitudinous candy from the vending machine, he’s likely got a stack of reports to do.

-- It seems like he’s got a staring problem, and most people are super intimidated by it, but he’s usually just spaced the fuck out. You’ve got this odd habit of crossing your eyes at him whenever you catch his gaze and he sort of refocuses; he doesn’t quite know why you do it, maybe just to communicate to him that you notice, but he finds it endearing.

- Hyperactivity and impulsivity – fidgeting, uncomfortable with being still for extended periods of time, excessive talking, an inability to wait for his “turn” in conversations or blurts out answers before the question is fully asked, difficulty remaining seated, and general restlessness.

-- Fidgeting. Don’t… don’t ask me to explain this, and it might not be everyone’s cup of tea… but… I think maybe, maybe, he’s got a lip ring or tongue piercing that he fiddles with. It’s a secret from his superiors, obviously, because that’s definitely not military protocol compliant, but I think with how often he’s got his hood on it wouldn’t be awfully hard to hide. I’m fixated on imagining him with one silver lip ring or a tongue stud, someone please explain to me why. Anyhow, I’ve mentioned before that he will fidget with your hands, but I also think he’s prone to messing with whatever’s near – whether that be a pen or a weapon or some part of his gear or clothes; he has a habit, of dubious safeness, of spinning a butterfly knife around and has more than a few small scars from where he’s accidentally nicked himself.

-- He’s prone to squirming if he has to sit somewhere for a while, especially if there’s not much for him to pay attention to. He ends up sitting super crooked most of the time.

-- I think he uses running or otherwise working out to burn off some of his energy, especially when he’s particularly restless and when he’s on base. He hates feeling stuck in the small room he’s assigned to sleep in, and there’s something satisfying and grounding about the ache in his muscles and the way he has to concentrate on his breathing.

-- When he’s comfortable with you, which absolutely took an ungodly long time, he will go on tangents and simply not shut up until he starts worrying that he’s annoying you. If you ask him about whatever his recent fixation is, he’ll be over the moon about it. Good luck getting anyone else to believe he can talk that much though, the most they’ve heard him talk is over comms in the field and that’s nothing compared to what you’re privy to. He always apologizes when he interrupts you, no matter how often you tell him you understand and that it’s alright.

Other prattling unrelated to me thinking way too much about psychology:

- Loves that you make the effort to learn how to pronounce his name correctly. When he’d first told you his name you said it back to him, asking if you had it right. He usually would just tell people they had it fine to avoid the awkward back and forth of trying to get them to say it right, but something about the way you looked at him made him actually give you the slight correction you needed. Then – and this is one of his endless fond memories of you – you sort of looked off into the middle distance, staring unfocused at his chest, and said his name softly over and over again with entirely correct pronunciation before giving a short nod to yourself, looked back up at him and continuing the introduction.

-- He’s watched you correct other people on their pronunciations, casually but like it was absolutely necessary that everyone else say it properly, and it never fails to warm his heart.

- Very rarely gets drunk but when he does, he’s the type of drunk to call you and tell you how amazing you are. Shit, he’ll tell anyone about you. Much like how he’s quietly honest when tired, but his drunk honest is louder and more social. Tells his teammates or friends how beautiful and clever you are, tells the bartended how much he loves you, tells the people next to him how smart and lovely you are, tells the closest table how you make him so happy. Someone tries to flirt with him, they tell him it doesn’t matter that he has a partner, and said person is now trapped in a lecture about exactly how much you matter to him, complete with photos.

-- If you end up coming to get him, nearly the entire place will say hello to you because he hasn’t shut up about you for the past hour. He lights up when he sees you, holding your arms and swaying slightly as he stares down at you with the biggest smile on his face, mumbling about “See? Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I tell you how wonderful they are? See? Look. Look at you, so perfect. I love you; you know that? So much.”

- Loves when you steal his clothes. Cannot get enough of how you look wearing his shirts.

- I will accept criticism and differing opinions on nearly anything, but I am adamant that König has the sluttiest little waist. I think he was lanky before he started gaining serious muscle in the military, and now he’s a little more bulky but still has that litheness about him so his proportions just give him a slutty little waist. I don’t make the rules, he’s just built like that.

- I think, to an extent, he knows how to sew. Nothing fancy, and his stitches aren’t even or perfect by any means, but he knows how to mend worn patches and tears well enough. Hates threading needles. But if he notices you’ve got a tear in your coat or something of the sort, you’ll just find it fixed the next day. Left exactly where it was but mended. Like a house brownie. The only way you’ll figure out it’s him is if you catch him doing it.

- I know this lovely couple, both from a country outside where they currently live, and every time the husband travels back to their home country he’ll pack all his clothes and whatnot in a suitcase and then pack that suitcase within another suitcase. He does this so he can fill the extra suitcase with all the food and things his wife wants from their home country and take her back essentially a giant package of all the stuff she misses and can’t get in the country they live in. Long story short, if you’re not yet going home with him, König absolutely would bring you anything you wanted from Austria, even if he has to bring a whole extra bag.

- I don’t think he’d carry any sort of photograph of you with him during work or on missions. If there’s a chance of anyone getting their hands on the photo, of learning that you’re important to him, of hurting you or using you to gain leverage over him, he will not have anything on his person to even indicates that you exist. I think he’d love the idea of it, the romantic sentiment of having a polaroid of you tucked in a pocket over his heart, but he just isn’t willing to take that chance. On leave though, at home, he treasures every little sign that you’re around and involved in his life – from photos to the notes left on the kitchen counter, the way you kick off your shoes by the door, the hickeys and scratches that make it look like he got mauled by a fucking tiger, how you always text and ask if he wants anything while you’re out, and even just the fact that he knows at the end of the day he gets to crawl into bed and fall asleep with you next to him.

- Piggyback rides. You can jump up on this man whenever and he will go on about whatever he was doing as if nothing’s happening.

- If he’s drinking anything hot – it might be in a coffee cup, but don’t be fooled – it’s hot chocolate. He makes the real kind at home, with real chocolate and cream on the stove.

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forcedtogrow · 1 month

Text

Addressing Pre-T, Pre-transition Anons

I’m getting quite a few asks from pre-T guys about how much you can change your body pre-T, what exercises to do, how to fix body fat redistribution etc. and it has gotten to be a little too much so im making a blanket post regarding this topic. This post is MY VIEWS AND LIMITS. I am not trying to bully anyone, this is a kink blog for fun and I am not a teacher/doctor/counselor/therapist or parent. I am a fun big brother lmao.

1. There’s only so much you can change your body pre-T, and it’s totally dependent on your genetics and dedication to lifting/gaining muscle. Some guys are lucky and can easily pass without T by just working out, I wasn’t one of them but I’ve seen a handful of guys that did that before T. Even then, some of those guys needed T to get rid of an hourglass/pear shape.

2. You can’t spot lose body fat in hips/thighs/ass. You’d need to lose body fat everywhere, but pre-T your body is most likely to hold onto lower body fat because biology wants those fat reserves to make babies. It’s gross and dysphoria inducing but it’s true.

3. It’s worth it to work out pre-T, especially lifting, to create a solid base to work from. If you already have that you’ll grow so fast on T it’ll feel like magic. I won’t lie that it’s frustrating and awful, because I’ve been there and it feels like spinning the pedals on a bike without moving, but it does pay off.

4. Stay balanced with your diet and don’t force yourself into a crazy calorie deficit. It might not be the time to bulk if you feel like your body is reserving most energy as fat (could be your genetics or activity level), but maintaining a baseline that’s Not underweight is a good start.

5. I’m not in a place to tell you to bulk or cut, especially if I don’t know your height/weight/age/activity level. I am not a doctor or dietician and can only say what works for me and people I know.

6. Don’t just focus on one part of the body, do a full push/pull/legs routine at the very least. Like this: https://www.aston.ac.uk/sport/news/tips/fitness-exercise/push-pull-legs or this for a 6 day split: https://www.muscleandstrength.com/workouts/6-day-powerbuilding-split-meal-plan

You need to build full body strength, and more leg muscle can actually masculinize your body and make your hips more boxy.

7. If you can’t transition medically/socially for whatever reason your main focus should be getting out of that situation. This is going to sound harsh but I know many trans people who risked a lot, some trans femme friends that literally risked their lives, and you have to decide what’s important to you. I’m being real because you will only regret waiting—there is no replacement for transition, there is no joy like transition, there is no pain great enough to negate the many many benefits of transition.

I don’t want to get messages like “what if it’s illegal where I live!” That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s sucks, but you either transition or you don’t, and if you don’t that’s up to you, but I cannot assist with that decision. I gave up a lot to transition and waited several years to start hrt for reasons too personal to disclose. I ruined relationships with family among other things, so please do NOT ask me for advice on this because I will not be coddling/sweet. Being a man is hard and messy and a sacrifice.

8. I will tell you what I eat and give general advice of bulking/eating but I will not make a meal plan for you. Every body has different needs that only you and a dietitian can work through, I’m not a licensed professional and don’t want anyone to take what I eat as the only way to eat.

9. If you cannot transition because you are a minor stay off my blog. Sorry!!

#pre transition #pre hrt #general boundaries and limits #I’m sorry but I’ve gotten at least 10 asks like this and I can’t do it anymore

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nethhiri · 2 months

Text

Siren Charms: Chapter 20

Zoro x Siren!Reader

Warnings: sexual situations

Premature

Nami and Robin were both reading in the shade. Nami had a fashion magazine, while Robin had some kind of dusty, crusty, old text. Nami's eyes wandered up to see the swordsman walking across the deck, stretching and yawning. A sinister plot hatched in her mind.

"Hey, Zoro. Go wash up. You stink."

Zoro frowned at the ginger, but huffed some words of agreement and plodded off towards the shared washroom.

Robin raised a brow at Nami, knowing that you were still in there.

Nami had a smug grin on her face. "What? I just want to see what happens. As a woman of science, you should understand."

"While I don't condone it, I am interested in your results." A smirk graced Robin's lips.

"I'm tired of watching them pine after each other and cover it up, poorly I might add, with bickering."

Robin 'tsked'. "You're disrupting the natural order."

Everyone on the ship, especially Nami and Robin, had noticed the subtle changes occurring between the two of you. Where at first you tried to be on opposite ends of the ship, and made no effort to be social with each other, it evolved into Zoro's napping spots progressively moving closer to yours, until he rested in the shade of the tree's you preferred to sleep in. The crew noticed that you tended to head to the crow's nest to work out at the tail end of Zoro's workouts. Your seats at the table somehow ended up right across from each other and on more than one occasion, Nami had caught one of you staring at the other. Whenever the two of you caught the gaze of the other, out of embarrassment, you started a fight to deflect from the fact. There were many such other instances where you were both hopelessly terrible at hiding. When Nami confronted Zoro about it, his excuse was that he was simply keeping an eye on you in case you tried anything. Upon Robin's questioning, you claimed that he smelled tasty, which wasn't a lie.

"I'm only speeding up the process." Nami shrugged. "Either there will be a lot of shouting or they won't be out for a while."

Robin hummed. "It could also be both or neither."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zoro's hands were big enough to grab most of your ass as you sat in his lap. His palms kneaded at the supple, soft flesh, greedily pulling you against him until your stomach was flush with his twitching erection. You grabbed the sides of his head and pulled him down for a kiss, sliding one of your hands to grip the back of his neck while the other dropped to feel the sinewy muscle under the tanned skin of his chest. He froze under you, unsure what to do. With slow, deliberate motions, you alternated between kissing his top and bottom lip until he understood and reciprocated, moving his mouth against yours. Very lightly, you bit his lip, careful not to break the skin with your teeth. He groaned into your mouth. Taking your lead, his hands started to wander, drifting from your ass to your hips, gripping them in place to grind his erection against you.

"That's it," you murmured against his lips. "Does it feel good?"

Zoro made a grunt of affirmation as he continued, moving faster. Even through the water, there was a slight stickiness that clung to your skin where his cock slid. You bit your lip thinking about how much pre-cum was leaking out of his tip. Zoro's hand was on your breast, kneading it in the same way he was grabbing your ass earlier. His eyes flicked from it to you before bending to take it in his mouth. He gave your nipple some experimental licks, sucking against the skin and grazing it with his teeth, managing to pull a squeak from you. The small indication that he was making you feel good, too, gave him some confidence. He continued to kiss and suck and nip at your breasts, though it was making him moan more than you. That was ok by you. It was endearing to watch him explore your body, and it was downright hot that he was trying to make you feel good while rutting against you with such desperation.

You reclaimed his mouth with yours, running your tongue along his lip. He didn't get the hint. You bit his lip again, a bit harder than the last time, drawing a moan from Zoro. You took the opportunity to press your tongue into his mouth. It took him a minute but he was eagerly kissing you back, moving his tongue against yours. You gave his hips a rest and moved up and down at a languid pace, pressing your center against him, letting his cock drag between your lips. This pulled a string of groans from him, each more wanton than the last. You moaned every time the head of his cock pressed briefly into your clit, speeding up your rhythm. Your intent was to take it slow with making out so Zoro could get his bearings before moving on to the main event.

Zoro grabbed your hips and placed your entrance over his hardness. He broke the kiss and with panting breaths asked, "Can I?"

His gray pleading eyes were so cute. You chuckled and ran your fingertips up his shaft, about to reply when he shuddered under you. You felt his dick jump against your hand.

"N-no. No. Fuck. No." Zoro's grip tightened on your hips and his eyes squeezed shut.

A cocky smile planted itself on your face and you wrapped your hand around his cock to help him finish. "It's ok, baby. Let it all out."

He bucked into your hand, cursing. When you felt the last twitch, he laid his head back on the edge of the tub and covered his face with his hands, lamenting his early release.

You pulled his hands away from his face and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

"I'm s-sorry." A blush spread across his cheeks and he couldn't meet your eyes.

"Why? It happens."

"Because I wanted to make you feel good."

"Just because I didn't cum doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it. Plus, it was your first try. You just need practice," You smirked.

Tag List: @chershire23 @zoast32 @bbnbhm

#couldn't resist making our boy a teensy bit pathetic #one piece #x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #straw hat pirates #siren charms

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toiletwipes · 11 months

Text

cry for absolution - the pilot episode

vampire!wilbur x reader - 1k

warnings: stalking and unrealistic handling of stalking, vampires and their usual shenanigans

notes: @l0veb0mb1ng and i are writing this fic together so i want everyone to know just how much the brainrot has taken hold. this is what happens when you watch what we do in the shadows (and like vampires a normal amount)

taglist: @your-shifting-gurl @lillylvjy @lotusmisc @mosslovestherain @burification @sweet-soot @subbur-anon @saccharinesunset

Maybe Wilbur has a problem or maybe all his years of being alive left him more bored than what is supposed to be humanly possible. He can’t quite decide for himself what is dragging him to the same human’s window each night, can’t decide what keeps you separate from the humans he’s drained, people he killed without any remorse, and yet now he is seeking you out as a routine..

It is the repeated behavior of sneaking out of the house without Tommy, Techno, or Jared seeing just to waste his time watching you.

He watches as you clean, vacuum while listening to loud enough music to overpower the drone of the machine. He watches as you work on your computer, sitting silently with your face illuminated by your screen. He watches as you sleep, the slow rise and fall of your chest.

For the past month now this has been his sad excuse of an afterlife. Wilbur finds himself haunting the same window sill, hands perched and digging into the wood of the second floor as he drinks in the sight of someone who is not particularly interesting

You aren’t anything special, no clear distinction from the rest of the filth of humanity at first glance, and yet Wilbur can’t seem to get his thoughts to stray from you. It’s not all innocent, not all wishes of a pleasant conversation or a conversation at all. Some of it drifts to your blood in his mouth, your lips on his, things he should not be thinking about a total stranger, let alone a human. Usually, these desires could be easily culled by digging his fangs into your neck, watching the life leave your eyes, and yet he thinks that sight would crush him absolutely.

No, Wilbur has no intention to kill you, not yet. You aren’t a stranger to him, not someone he could mindlessly end, he got your name from a package you had left outside, he had learned your habits through observation, and the internet proved a useful resource when Tommy had helped him search social media for said learned name. He knew you went to college, knew your favorite foods photographed and shared, and knew that you must be lonely if your lack of followers was anything to go by though this had been something noted by Tommy.

Now he finds himself in the familiar space just outside that pane of glass watching as you talk on the phone. He can’t help the small smile that reaches his lips as he watches you speak and laugh, using gestures no one could see but him to emphasize a conversation you didn’t know he was privy to.

His stomach can’t help but drop when he finds your eyes have suddenly met his, your phone falling from your hand as those very same eyes widen in fear.

It was due to happen eventually, he just wished it hadn’t been so soon.

“What the fuck?” he hears your muffled voice say and he wishes we could bring himself to hide, become a bat and leave whatever mess he just created but he’s so horribly frozen, so completely entranced. Maybe it's the recognition, you’ve never looked at him before, and he doesn’t know how he’s ever gone without the weight of your gaze on his skin. It burns just slightly in a way that leaves him craving more.

He doesn’t know what possesses you to trail closer, unlocking and opening the window of all possible next steps in a situation such as this.

He’s immediately hit with how you smell, sweet in the most addicting way. He again, does not know how he ever lived without the sensation. You watch in abject horror as he leans closer, just to where that precipice of needing to be invited in keeps him out.

“What the fuck are you?” you say, fear laced into your voice and yet still you hold some bite to your words. He realizes he can hear your heart racing when you are so close, the dull sped up thrum from just under your skin. He probably should have introduced himself sooner.

“I’m Wilbur?” he says and he’s surprised to see you become exasperated?

“Okay ‘Wilbur’,” you tilt your head “I don’t recall asking you your name though, I’m more concerned about the fact you are something outside my second-story apartment window somehow floating?” he can’t help the sheepish smile that graces his lips, shows off canines that are far too prominent to be human.

“Oh, I guess that would be a fair question,” he hums. “I’m a vampire,” your face falls with the final word.

You are quickly moving to close the window, shaking your head in a dismissive action.

“Wait, you aren’t in danger, I couldn’t even come in even if I wanted to,” he’s quick to speak, to sigh in relief when you stop your action to shut him out once again. He watches intently as you raise your brow in questioning.

“Okay, so, let me get this straight, vampires are real and actually have to be invited in?” you stifle a laugh and move again, your hand going up to pull the window down.

“Yes, but please, wait, I- I have a proposition,” he stutters because he has your attention now and he’d do anything just to keep it. Your eyes meet his own dark brown ones as he pleads silently that you will listen, that he will even think of a proposition before you’ve had the better thought to actually go through with your idea of shutting the window altogether. The way he sees it he has two options. He either commits to killing you or-

“So now vampires come to windows with questions?” you tease.

“Sure,” he says and you let out a heavy sigh with a roll of your eyes. He’s never been so thankful to be side-eyed in his entire thousand and some years of existence.

“Go on?”

“Do you want to be my familiar?” Wilbur asks.

“Sorry, your what?”

Wilbur only realizes after he’s walked away that the job position he just offered you isn’t quite open yet…

#c: wilbur #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x reader #au: vampire

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ivorydragoness44 · 1 year

Text

The Red Hood x Reader: Distraction

Word Count: 1,305 Warnings: mentions of angst and controlling situation from Part 1, characters startling others by their sudden appearance, Red Hood saying “damn”. Summary: Continuing from Part 1, Red Hood walks the Reader home, however, as they soon find out, there are others on patrol in Gotham. (He walks the Reader home safely).

The Red Hood x Reader: Let Go (Part 1)

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Feeling as if your heart was lighter than it had been all day, you continued down the sidewalk. Yes, such a feeling should not make sense while walking in Gotham, especially at night, but the company at your side ensured your safety. It had been quiet for a good minute or so before either of you spoke up again. “So, uh, what were you up to at this time of night?” Red Hood asked, gesturing vaguely at the city-lit darkness. “We had just finished visiting a museum. It was nice, obviously, but my family member insisted on reading everything while we were in there.” “Insisted?” “Heh, but that I mean: they did it anyway. No heads up or questions asked.” “Damn. How long were you in there?” “I honestly do not know, but my stomach sure does,” you laughed, glancing at him, his helmeted features looking to you. “We were going out to dinner before they had spotted the crime scene and…one of those bat-people.” “I can be distraction,” he teased. “Anyway,” you laughed through your sudden bashfulness, “dinner was their idea. I didn’t want to go. Not that I bothered to tell them I was tired and wanted to just go home.” “I think I know the feeling,” he said, looking ahead for a time. It was strange, yet in a good way at how easy you were able to talk to him. But you did not actually know him. Maybe it was the helmet. “To be honest,” you started again, catching his attention, “I’d much rather have a home-cooked meal than go out.” Your thoughts wandered through the sounds of your shoes and his boots contacting the sidewalk. “Do you cook?” The front of his helmet faced you directly and tilted in such a way that you felt the need to clarify. “I’m not asking you to cook for me, Red Hood,” you barely held in your laughter. “Oh, hahah,” he shook his head. “Uh, yeah, I cook. Pretty well, I think.” “Cool,” you nodded.

A comfortable silence took over. Occasionally, Red Hood would glance over to check on you and probably make sure that he continued going in the same direction as you. He could not exactly walk ahead, he did not know where you lived. After a moment, however, a new feeling arose. It was like a subtle prickling at the back of your neck. But this was Gotham. Someone was bound to look for more than an instant. Especially if you were walking with a certain someone. As you began to search around with only your eyes, you did catch movement on top of a building. Not just anyone could leap across rooftops. You could only hope it was someone he knew, a part of his team even. It was a far better idea than a more villainous individual. Although, if that was the case, you did feel safe and protected with Red Hood. He may go about crime fighting differently than Batman, but you did not trust him any less.

“Do you have more than one helmet?” You asked before you could stop yourself. “What?” He laughed. Though as he turned to you, someone landed next to him. Caught off-guard, Red Hood spun around. Defensively, his arms came up to block you completely from the intruder. Somewhat unfortunately, a laugh came from the person clad in purple. Red Hood sighed, dropping his stance. “That was easier than I thought,” said the Spoiler, still giggling. “You know you’re supposed to be on patrol, right? Not socializing. Heheh, at least it’s not test day, because you are definitely not aware of your surroundings.” When he crossed his arms, you peeked around. “Actually, no,“ he began, “I am doing my job. I’m escorting them home safely.” Spoiler’s hands went to rest on her hips. “Oh, really?” “Yeah. I was finishing up with GPD when I head a…bit of a conflict, so I went over to make sure everything was okay. Not so much, considering they were being literally pulled toward that same crime scene against their will.” Spoiler let out a small oh in realization. “He handled it rather well,” you complimented. “Sometimes they’re not the easiest to talk to.” You wondered if he smiled behind that helmet, in the way he looked at you quietly. Turning back to Spoiler, he continued. “You would’ve known, if you were there.” She frowned under her mask. Other than that, she made no further comment.

A soft thud sounded behind you. Someone else had landed. You spun around in time to see them talk. “I think he did good. You should’ve heard the attitude they gave him.” You hardly noticed your hand rapidly, yet lightly, hitting Red Hood’s arm. “It’s Batwoman,” you breathed out, words barely reaching your own ears. She looked at you then, white covered eyes zoning in on you with a smile. “Let us know if he ever gives you any trouble.” You nodded with a small squeak. “Okay.” “Hey~” Red Hood complained, earning a shrug from Batwoman. “Sorry,” you mumbled quietly to him. With an audible breath through his helmet, he straightened up. “All right, well, as much fan as this get together is, we should really be going.” “Sure,” Spoiler said with an air of disbelief. “We’ve got work to do anyways. Right, Batwoman?” She asked, looking to her. Batwoman laughed lightly. “Careful out there.”

Spoiler and Batwoman raced off down an alley and out of sight. “Is it usually like this?” You asked before continuing your walk. His head teetered from side to side in thought. “Yes and no.” “Hmm, looks like you all get along rather well. That’s nice.” “Like anything else, it takes work and…people willing to do that,” he said, catching your underlying longing for a better, or at least a more understanding relationship.

Silence remained for a moment longer before you let out a sigh. “Well, this is me,” you said, pointing at the next building. The two of you ceased walking, hastily figuring out how the situation was going to play out. “Unless you’re going to walk me up or—” His gloved hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s probably best if I don’t.” “Probably,” you said, sharing a nod of acknowledgement. “I, uh, have a window on the left side if uh—” “Yeah,” he looked up, observing the building. “Yeah? Oh, ha…now I’m doing it.” “Sorry, I didn’t know it was contagious,” he said, making you laugh. “Thank you for walking me home and…well, thank you. This isn’t how I expected my night to go, but…I have no complaints. For this half of my day anyway.” “You’re welcome. I hope that family member of yours doesn’t give you any trouble.” You shrugged. “I give it a week.” His head tilted in the slightest at your words. “Guess it could be worse.” “Good night, Red Hood. I hope the rest of your night is uneventful.” “Heheh, good night.”

Somehow your heart was pounding as you walked away from him. And as you walked into your apartment, the exact place you wished you were hiding away in a handful of minutes ago, it felt different. Was it like this for every citizen who came into contact with a Bat or Bird? After locking the front door and turning on the main light, you found yourself going toward one specific window. Peeking down between your apartment building and the next, you saw who you expected. You smiled and gave him a small wave. Red Hood too gave a short wave, and after a moment more, turned and finally walked away. Throwing the curtains closed with a sigh, you ran through your thoughts. What were the odds of seeing the Red Hood again?

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Thank you so much for reading!

I can’t believe the response Part 1 has, leading to me creating this one. I don’t know how to put into words at the moment of how cool/reassuring/?? it is to write for a character for the first time and receive any response, much less 200+ notes of engagement.

Thank you again and I hope you enjoyed this one.

#the red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x you #wfa jason todd #red hood fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #ivorydragoness44

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osiris-iii-bc · 4 months

Note

What I feared would've happened to Tobias Is now happening around on Twitter. There are people actively insulting him for not speaking out on the current issues, calling him “a neutral piece of shit” or a grown man that can't express his opinions... I'm so fucking tired because these people can't realize that the band is fictional and lives in a netherworld.

What Mr.Forge thinks about the state of the world, Is another matter and sometimes that's expressed lyrically. BUT thats two different sides of the same coin😭

(pt.1)

I'll add part 2 and 3 with my reply under the cut:

Do we want the band Ghost to live in the real? Speaking out about the horrible atrocities in the world daily, on what, Instagram? Or is Ghost, by lore a mythical place that isn't ignorant but is a safe harbor and a fictional diversion?

I think fans are setting themselves up for a fall if they think TF is going to echo everything said on Twitter atm about *that issue* (especially because he doesn't have social medias and speaks about current topics during interviews if asked about It).

(pt.2)

The band needs to exist in a fictional bubble.

Mr. Forge exists here with us but the band does not.

Should not.

A ghoul would not make a political endorsement because it's a creature from Hell, but a person who plays a ghoul, a human in a costume, is free to do such things (and they're already doing so on their platforms, May I add!)

A satanic pope has no time to learn to navigate social media, but a guy who dresses up as one of his OCs for a living certainly may.

I repeat, Tobias has no social media, but I'm sure when he'll get the opportunity he'll speak on his own terms.

(Final part, sorry but It was really a long ramble and this whole discourse on Twitter has been dragging me down)

*****

My reply:

Let's start with the fact that TF does not have any social media accounts, and as far as I know, the band’s profiles have never been used to make political statements before. Right?

There haven't been any interviews lately, so he hasn't really had any chance to personally expose his views on the matter if asked. However, the rest of the band did, and I think that is enough to indicate where Ghost stands on this situation. For some people, it isn’t enough, but I’m sure that nothing really would be enough for them. I am sure that when he has the chance, he will speak up, in one way or another. Remember this when you’ll eventually see Palestinian flags on stage in the next tour :) Or maybe they will take part in charity initiative like they did with the trans cause.

Honestly, I haven’t perceived the extent of this issue. I don’t know how many people are actively trying to cancel Ghost for this, but I haven’t seen anything similar on other social media, and I really don’t think it is a significant issue. People have tried to drag them down many times over the years, and I really don’t think haters have much in their hands to succeed this time.

I have only one advice: stay away from Twitter (or X or whatever). I have a profile there to occasionally post art, but I’m never really active. The quantity of drama and toxicity I’ve witnessed on that platform is alarming, and I never take it seriously. It is like a closed circle to me: whatever happens there hopefully stays there most of the time.

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lightlycareless · 1 year

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What if y/n was a peasant from a nearby village he just happened to stumble upon instead of coming from a sorcerer family? their dynamic would be worse off

For sure!!

But there will be certain differences in the main story overall I believe; this is how I imagine it would go down:

Y/N would’ve been berated far much worse at the beginning, she would’ve been essentially treated like another servant; no one would’ve assigned her “the best of the staff” as her ladies-in-waiting, Junko wouldn’t be as patient with her because since she’s a “peasant” she should already know how to do certain chores around the house, and her condescending nature OOF. Kicked up a notch, or two, or three.

I don’t think there would’ve been that much of resistance from her at the beginning—I’m going down the route that due to her possibly poor upbringing, her parents instilled her with the mentality that she either works for the rest of her life or strives to marry someone that will save her and her family from their living situation—if anything, she’d be looking forward into marrying Naoya. Her salvation in a way.

Her relationships with the rest of the characters would go as follow:

Her family, let’s say Hinata and Ren, would not be interested in saving her. Why? The Zen’in are sending money, so… that’s it.

Eiichi would’ve been ecstatic to see someone so interested in marrying his daughter, more so from a high-ranking family as the Zen’in. He’d maybe even chase Naoya around to convince him into taking Y/N’s hand in marriage.

They don’t have the same standing in this AU as they do in the original story, so Satoru isn’t even in the picture. In a way, they’re nobodies that got lucky, that’s all.

Haruko, Hitomi, and Mariya are not involved either. They’ll see her from afar, maybe help her from time to time, but there isn’t a connection. Y/N is focused on something else entirely, so she doesn’t approach them with meanings of socializing, thus, they don’t become close.

Mai and Maki are out of the frame as well, Y/N takes her “duties” intently, so she does not have any contact with them. The twins keep their distance from her, thinking of her to be an extension of Naoya’s crude personality and disregarding her completely.

Now, ONTO THE JUICIER DETAILS HAHAH

I feel like Y/N would be the one to fall in love with Naoya first. He’d be attracted to her, but… there’s nothing else to it—she’s as submissive as she can be, there’s no… well, no “personality” so he’s not intrigued.

Because of that she’ll be the one to follow him around, do her best to impress him but he just isn’t budging. This is where Naoaki, his brother, steps in.

I think their meeting would happen somewhat similarly, she’s deeply heartbroken by her continuous failure in amusing Naoya; because after all’s been said and done, she’s still a hopeless romantic. In her mind it just made sense: she has nothing to offer, no money, no reputation, so why did Naoya marry her? Because he likes her, obviously. But when she realizes she’s nothing to be but a mare, she’s struck with sadness.

Naoaki will see that, and he’ll do his best to comfort her—she’s completely isolated from everyone (once again, she isn’t interested in doing the greater good, just her duties, so the staff doesn’t really vibe with her) and that makes him feel bad.

Their relationship begins to grow from there, and because Y/N craves to be appreciated, she would've fallen in love with Naoaki. For sure this time, no hesitation on her part, outside of thinking that she isn’t supposed to be disloyal to her husband, but outside of that, I think they would’ve done… more together.

The estate will start to see them together and they’ll mock Naoya about it. He’ll certainly be angry, treat Y/N way worse than trash, but he won’t start caring for her when he realizes she’s emotionally disconnected whenever the two are together.

She’d still do her duties, even through the rumors that plague them. I don’t know how to approach this situation because she’s not of a higher rank so maybe it’s like, not that surprising she’s hanging around with Naoaki, and who cares that a peasant is doing that and what not… and she’s not pregnant either soooo, but she's Naoya's wife too... but we’ll go with that for this occasion.

Y/N will still claim loyalty to Naoya (ironic) but… it’s not the same, and he notices that: she doesn’t seem to receive him with the same happiness as before, with the same enthusiasm, now solely reserved for his brother. It's like she's doing the bare minimum.

This is when he slowly starts to realize that maybe he did like Y/N after all—when her absence becomes more and more obvious whenever he’s home, he grows desperate to have her look at him again and he'll try to mend their marriage.

And then, shocking news rattle the estate that send Naoya into a spiraling frenzy, thinking that his marriage is completely finished: she’s pregnant 😊

#ask #ask series: first it hurts—#how do i tag thisssss this is an au #au ask series: first it hurts—#i think that works #if you want more ILL DO MORE #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x your #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader

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princesspastel8 · 5 months

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Chapter 30

Third POV

There, Eboni stood, crying over her parents' ashes. They weren't buried, the family thought that would be too expensive. Why pay thousands on two dead people? Something stood out to the little girl. Oddly enough, no one seemed to grieve at their deaths like she is. Eboni seems to be the only one distraught, besides her grandpa.

The young child watches on, her family hosting a small memorial service. It wasn't grand nor a great sendoff that her parents deserved. They were just trying to get this over with. Everyone that wasn't a part of the family would spare Eboni this pitied look, which seems to anger her. She never experienced such anger, not knowing how to handle it - she results in just screaming.

The screams were cut short by her aunt, who gave her a look of annoyance. The pain that look caused was enough to shut Eboni up. After the memorial, a social worker came to take Eboni, placing her in her first foaster home. She was confused at first, questioning why her father's family wouldn't take her in - why her aunt wouldn't take her in.

Those questions would fill her mind consistently during her first years with her foster family. The endless abuse causes those feelings of being unwanted to fester into anger - to rage. Her social worker didn't take much care of Eboni's case, placing her in random homes without holding detailed background checks.

It's no wonder this child grew to be a resentful, angry teen with many issues.

Tears flow down her cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away as she told her story to Jeff. She should be used to this by now. She thought she'd be used to her family rejecting her after her parents' death. She thought she forgave her parents for leaving without her.

"I wanted to die with them. To be with them. It wasn't fair - they weren't fair. Why didn't I die? I know I was supposed to... but why didn't I?" She questions, not excepting an answer.

Jeff's never good at comforting others. He never had to. He lives in a mansion full of serial killers - sympathy and empathy are never an option. But of course, Eboni is an exception. He turns her head, using his thumbs to wipe her tears.

"The universe has a sick sense of humor. Like its drawing from a hat at random to choose who's life to fuck with." The smiling killer sighs.

"It's not fair..", she pouts, looking up at him. "....what about you?" She asks hesitantly, playing with her fingers nervously.

He raised a brow, tilting his head. "What about me?"

Eboni is a curious girl. She's done her research on Jeff, but she always wanted to hear his version of the events that took place within his life. What made him like this?

"I...I wanna hear it from you..what happened to you.."

He scoffs, looking away. He moves his arms from around her, leaning his head against the head broad on the bed. The killer moves his hands to his face, rubbing it down in irritation. The thought of his past angers him. It's a trigger that he doesn't like to talk about. He looks at Eboni through his fingers, her honey brown doe eyes holding so much curiosity. How can he say no to her with eyes like that?

"....fuck - you bitch." He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

She tiles her head, honestly confused. "What did I-"

"Shut up and listen-" he said, his tone holding no room for discussion.

Eboni turns her body a bit, resting her cheek against his chest as she looks up at him- giving the killer her undivided attention. Jeff rolls his eyes, flicking Eboni's forehead.

"...where do I even start?" He questions aloud. Eboni didn't answer since the killer ordered her to shut up.

"My family moved consistently. We never had a stable living situation. We would move from town to town with each new job my dad got. My mom was always anxious while my dad never gave a shit- always thinking the shit me and liu went through was for attention."

Eboni can feel his body begin to tense, so the teen moves to lay her hand over his own that rest against her waist.

"Liu and I weren't born...normal. I have albinism, and Liu...he just always had this weird vibe around him. Turns out the fucker has multiple personalities, Sully being the main one in charge. Our parents never found out until after that incident with those gang members." Jeff couldn't help the laugh slipping through his lips. "The bullying...all those fights- they aaaaaalways thought it was me having fits! I never started shit! Everywhere we went, the bullying never stopped. I always had to defend Liu."

Eboni turns around, moving onto her knees. At this point, she can tell that Jeff is becoming a rambling mess. Most of what he said makes sense, but his sentences always jump from one event to the next without adding details.

"Then those gang fuckers. That Australian bitch did this to me!" He shouts, pointing at his smile then his leathery skin. "All I did was steal a knife, and they did this! But its fine- it's perfect! You know, my dad called me a monster, and he was right- so I killed him first. Mom tried to call the cops- so I killed her too. Then Liu...he came home. I...didn't want to kill him, but I knew how attached he was to mom. It would've been best that he died with them - save him from his own issues, save him from becoming just like me! Oh- but I fucked up since he's still out there alive and well!"

Eboni faces Jeff, looking down at his hands that are now laying on her lap. She notices the slit of each wrist. She reaches to caress them with her thumbs, making Jeff flinch. The killer harshly grabs Eboni's face with both hands, tightening his grip.

"What? Think I did this shit to myself to!? Think I did it for attention!? Huh? ANSWER ME!" he shouts in her face, crazed eyes scanning for any ounce of doubt or pity - but Eboni doesn't flinch.

In the time she's known Jeff, the killer never shows any signs of being suicidal. He always seems ready to die but never the one to take his own life willingly. He's about living life to the fullest and doing what you want. How could he do that if he was suicidal?

"You were a high school kid with albinism. I'm sure you've gotten enough unwanted attention." She said calmly despite the harsh grip he still has on her face. She glances up at his hair, noticing his blood roots starting to show. "Blonde hair and red eyes. I'm sure you know that I relate to you in a way. When I go home, I'll get more hair dye and fix your roots for you - is that ok?" She asks with a smile, reaching to run her fingers through his hair.

Jeff is speechless. He finds himself leaning into her touch, closing his eyes at the feeling. When did he become so touch deprived? Granted, he's never been a fan of people touching him & colliding him. At this thought, he grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away from his hair. He stares at her for a moment, sighing.

"Turn around. Sit on her ass and open your legs." He orders dryly the look in his eyes dull.

Eboni pouts, a little concern but does as told. She gasps, feeling one hand go down into her shorts as the other goes up her shirt. The teen squirms, trying to break away from the killer's hold.

"Sit. Still." He warns, fingers tracing over her slit while the other grips her breast. "You were eight...I was seventeen. Seven years apart, huh?" He grins, slipping one finger into her cunt.

Eboni whines, gripping the bedsheets. "Wh-wh- Ah!...h..how old- uhnn~"

"Getting yourself tangled with an older man. I'm Twenty five princess - what a way to embrace your daddy issues - huh?" He teases.

Jeff adds another fingers, thrusting them as he curls them - his thumb rubbing against her clit. Eboni melts, her back arching off his chest. She never bothered to ask his age. The teen didn't care, she's eighteen after all. But the thought of belonging to someone with a wide age difference is just so appealing to her - so hot.

"Look at me." The killer commands.

Eboni does as told, meeting with his sapphire colored eyes. He grins, leaning down to lick her lips. "How funny would it be if anyone walks in on us? EJ didn't lock the door."

"J-Jeff...I- ahh!" Eboni moans loudly from the killer, pitching her sensitive bud. She bites her bottom lip, struggling to keep her sounds at bay.

He stops moving his fingers, giving the girl a sly grin. "No princess. You can't stay quiet just because the door isn't locked. So what if someone walks in? Nothing wrong with giving them a show. So open that mouth and beg for Daddy to keep going."

Eboni doesn't mind showing off any form of art the killer would make on her body. She doesn't mind becoming a complete mess in front of him, but in front of others? That's a different level of shameless the teen has no idea would get her off this much.

"Please...please daddy I wanna cum.." she begs, wiggling her hips to get his fingers to move.

"Kiss me, and I might change my mind."

Eboni listens, giving the killer shy kitten kisses, which irks him. He sighs, moving the hand from her breast to grip her jaw - making her lips pucker up.

"When I say kiss me I mean kiss me like your fucking life depends on it - bitch. You can do waaay better than that yeah? Show me how badly you want your reward." He challenges.

Eboni moves further onto him, opening her legs further as their lips lock onto each other. This time, she kisses with such passion and force that it takes the killer a little by surpise - but he enjoys it, drowning in the feeling of her roughness.

He picks up the pace, curling and twisting his fingers against her walls until he reaches her g-spot. Brushing against it causes the girl to gasp, her body tensing as she pulls away from their kiss - spit lacing their lips.

Jeff adds a third finger, thrusting them deep inside as he goes back to toying with her breast. He grins at the breathless look on Eboni's face as he repeatedly brushes against her g-spot.

"Daddy! Daddy, I'm gonna - uhnnn!"

"Go ahead, princess."

Once given permission, she cums all over his hand - toes curling and eyes rolling at the feeling of reaching her high. It felt like forever since the last time they've shared a moment like this.

Unfortunately, the moment is cut short by the sound of the infirmary door opening. Jeff is quick to throw the blankets over them, his expression turning blank to hide what just took place. Eboni, however, looks modified and embarrassed, her cheeks taking a rosy red tent - the look almost making Jeff laugh.

EJ raises a brow but doesn't question them. "The operator said you can go home today after your check up- Jeff will take you, of course."

"Fucking finally..." Jeff said, his fingers still deep inside of Eboni.

Eboni remains quiet, biting her lips. She looks up at Jeff, her eyes pleading with him to pull them out - will he comply? Of course not. Instead he begins moving his fingers again, the blanket muffling the sound of her cum leaking from her cunt.

She gasps, quickly placing her trembling hands over her mouth. EJ glances over but shrugs as he grabs the tools needed for her check-up. Jeff grins, knowing that EJ is fully aware of what's going on but chooses to play dumb for Eboni's sake. The cannibal checks the teen's eyes, noticing how dilated they are.

"Open her mouth, and stick your tongue out, please." EJ asks kindly.

Jeff stops moving his fingers, giving Eboni a knowing look as she moves her hands onto her lap. EJ flashes his flashlight into her mouth, nodding his head. Just as he finishes, Jeff quickly moves his fingers again, causing a loud moan to slip through her lips.

Throwing her hands over her mouth, she gives the smiling killer the side eye while he smiles wickedly at her. EJ once again chooses not to respond to what's happening. The eyeless killer runs a few more tests - Jeff continues to mercilessly torment the girl with his fingers.

"Alright. Her ribs are healed, just a bit of bruising. Her ankle is sprained, so she'll have to wear a cast but doesn't need crutches. Anyways, you two are good to go." He said as he walks towards the door. He places his hand on the door handle, raising his mask as he glances back at the two with a wide grin on his face. "Jeff, you're changing those sheets when you get back. And Eboni, slenderman said you're welcome here anytime - just make sure you're not followed." He chuckles, leaving the room.

"J-Jeff, that was f-fucking embarrassing - oh shit I-I think I'm gonna~"

The smiling killer cackles, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck. "But it was hot, wasn't it? I know you saw the tent in his pants - he sure did enjoy it, and so did you, getting this wet over someone watching you. Fuck you're a nasty little whore, go ahead and cum for me."

Eboni does as told, moaning his name loudly as her legs begin to shake. She whimpers, looking up at him. "S-So...so embarrassing."

"Stop your whining and get cleaned up. You can still walk to the bathroom." He laughs, patting her cheek before getting off the bed.

He looks at his hand, grinning at Eboni as he begins to lick his hand clean. "Fuck...why the hell do you always taste so good?"

Eboni blushes heavily, moving to stand quickly, though she wobbles a bit. "No idea! I'll be ready in ten!" She quickly said while rushing to the bathroom.

It doesn't take her long since she's eager to lay down in her bed. Eboni walks out of the bathroom, putting her shorts back on. Jeff helps put the cast on her foot and carefully makes sure her hand is wrapped and cleaned properly. He lowers himself down so the girl can hop onto his back.

Jeff carries the girl out of the infirmary, ignoring the surpise eyes from his fellow proxies. Once in the living room, BEN notices the two and waves to Eboni.

"See ya' later you cheater!"

Eboni grins, flipping him off, making Jeff laugh. The walk through the forest is rather short, neither of them sparking conversation - just enjoying the calm silence around them. Once at her home, the killer helps the teen climb up to her window, Jeff following behind her - grinning at the view of her ass.

Eboni pushes her window open, falling inside with a 'thud'. She giggles at herself, standing back up. Jeff witnessed the whole thing, his heart getting that fluttering feeling again.

"You're so dumb its cute - come here."

Eboni smiles, moving towards him with hast. Jeff closes the window before wrapping his arms around her waist and moves to kiss her deeply, forcing his tongue into her mouth. Both melt at the feeling. They part for just a second to strip out of their clothes- being left in only their undergarments.

The killer picks Eboni up, gripping her by her ass - moving towards her bed. He slames her down, breaking the kiss again while spreading her legs apart. "Damn I'm so horny - when was the last time I fucked your brains out?"

"I-I don't know~" she whimpers, feeling the killer grind against her as he begins to kiss down her throat and chest.

That's when Eboni's room is suddenly filled with light, three shocked faces staring back at the two in pure disbelief. Jeff notices the brightness filling Eboni's room, but that isn't enough to stop him. He starts pulling his boxers down while trying to yank the teen's shorts off ....which earns a knee to his groin, making him fall off her bed.

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yourlilkaiju · 3 months

Text

Ok, I am going to get political here and I really need you guys to bear with me. If the sign doesn't say enough, then this should. Project 2025 was created by the heritage foundation and it is a document that is intended to support what is viewed as the "American Dream" and "Strong Family Values". However, the American Dream does not support marginalized groups nor does it aid those in distress or in need of financial assistance. Ergo, if you are poor, you're on your own. The Family Values they are referring to does not include anyone who has melanin in their skin, does not practice Christianity and essentially is not of the cis or straight and narrow. So what does this mean, for the rest of us?

Well for starters, let's begin with the folks who are poor.

Those who are poor and are barely making ends meet are often disabled, unable to keep a job due to overstress and burnout. Which is often led to developed mental illness and can even intermingle with anxiety. Because of this the production of serotonin in the brain can even cause a negative impact on job performance. Especially given the low wages that will eventually lead to the employees inability to make ends meet without obtaining another job. However, as of recently, it has gotten to a point where it is a crime to be homeless in public. And part of Project 2025 is the decision to cut the section 8 program.

So as you can see, that quarter million people as mentioned will only get larger due to the growing cost in food, unregulated rent, cronyism and bribes from major corporations. With that being said, how will we speak up? What can we do when we are so hell bent on just complaining about a situation and doing nothing? We protest and say vote. Voting in a two party system has gotten us absolutely nowhere. In the past four years, the LGBTQIA had their rights held hostage and threatened by the DOC as a means of voting for them in the next election. Police have received qualified immunity across the board and have even received pardons, not punishments for their actions against BIPOC folks and other marginalized groups of people. Educational programs have been cut and reformed into a nightmare and social systems have slowly been chipped away by small government systems for the sake of saving money. Doctors now have a right to turn people away for being unable to afford treatment. Doctors also have a right to turn patients away if their lifestyles do not match their political beliefs, despite their Hippocratic oath. I can rant and rave about how the MTV website was completely deleted off of the Comedy Central platform. I can tell you how 30 years of queer history just disappeared at the drop of a hat. I was born just at the end of the AIDS epidemic. Music was still going strong and I remember dancing around in front of my grandma to the colorful pop videos as a kid. I remember the silly and weird Bumble Bee music video and the Captain Jack stuff that was not quite appropriate for television. I even remember Daria.

That was thorough documentation that was gone in the drop of a hat. Namely due to the fact that much of it was crucial to human history that needed to be observed, studied and matched to our culture today. To see how we interact with eachother and learn from the past. Also to learn how we dealt with LGBTQIA identities and the losses that occured in the fifteen years prior to 1995. At the same time, it is a history that was wiped out as a means of rejecting diversity and protest against a system that does not work for the people.

Gen Z, I am looking at you on this one. You focus too hard on being an adult and on superficiality. You need to knock it off. You act like you are against the system and yet you play into its hands just to look like old money. You make fun of millennial's constantly and hardly know the the world history that we picked up and grew up learning in high school. Namely because before you got there, small government cut funding. We don't blame you for that. We do blame you for educational negligence and wanting change. You don't even know what it is you want to change. You only know that you don't want to be poor. And it pisses you off that you are. Which I totally get. But you need to work within your means and get creative, babe. Stop selling thrift shit online. You're ruining goodwill for the rest of us. It's not cute and we miss our gucci bags and louis vuiton sun glasses. You little shits aren't going to get those with a side hustle, unless you marry a slum lord that you hate. So stop playing into the system. Get weird and go repurpose a barbie doll like the rest of us. I made a lot of fae and pirate outfits that way. I even made a freaking belly dance outfit like that.

That and I went to micheals and joannes...

a lot.

Circling back.

TL;DR

Be Gay, Do Crimes, Burn the entire Establishment Down to Make Way for a More Equitable Means of Government that is not only by the people, but of the people and for the people. Project 2025 is not only dangerous but it is a threat to those of us who want to live and prosper. I want to have children and become an actor. I want to have a long life and grow old enough to see my grand children live out their dreams. Or at least see my children live out fruitful and happy lives.

I'm sure that many of you want something similar.

#Spotify #project 2025 #anti trump #social justice #equity #we need to talk about this #this is important #I want to live

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themetaphorgirl · 2 years

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Okay a Hotch whump drabble idea just bc the latest one has inspired me, I don’t know if Sean would visit again after that whole adoption fiasco but maybe there’s a phone-call or something (a situation where Sean basically rejects Aaron completely) and he’s in his room and Alex checks on him and he gets to the point where he says ‘why does nobody want me’, unbeknownst to them Spencer’s been eavesdropping and he crashes into the room like ‘I WANT YOU!’ And then Alex and Spencer comforting Aaron (maybe when Aaron is asleep Spencer can say something like ‘nobody wanted me either until I came here and you guys found me, but we found Aaron too! Why doesn’t he know it yet?’)

oof my whole heart

this actually ties really well into the 18k word backstory oneshot I wrote with Aaron (but haven’t posted yet) and the Spencer backstory oneshot I’m currently working on.

(and it ties perfectly into the last chapter of Patron Saint. which should be getting updated on Thursday!)

———

“Alex, you’ve got to talk to him.”

She blinked in confusion. “Who am I talking to?” she asked as she opened the cover of anther return.

Derek glanced around, making sure no one was listening. “Hotch,” he said in a low voice. “He’s been in a shitty mood all day and it’s only getting worse.”

Alex frowned. “I haven’t seen talked to him since lunch,” she said. She glanced around Derek from her vantage point at the circulation desk; she could see Hotch sitting on the couch with the rest of the group, his textbooks still closed as he tapped at his phone. “Do you think he’s sick again?”

“I don’t think so,” Derek said. “Not this time.” He shoved his hands in his back pockets. “I think he’s sad about something, but it’s coming out angry.”

Alex bit her lip. “I’ll talk to him,” she promised. “Spencer’s doing okay though, right?”

“Yeah, he’s fine, little man is playing with Penny’s Nintendo,” Derek said.

“And doing badly?”

“Oh, it’s horrible. I didn’t know it was possible to fuck up Animal Crossing that bad.”

Alex laughed. “Let me make some headway on these returns and then I’ll come check on him,” she said. “Let me know if anything changes.”

Derek nodded and headed back to the group. Alex picked up another book. The sophomores had just finished their research papers for history class, which meant they all returned their sources at the same time.

A notification lit up on her phone; she paused to pick it up and check it. She didn’t use social media that often but the other kids sure did, and Emily had tagged her in half a dozen memes on Facebook.

Absently she scrolled through her feed, and then froze.

Aaron Hotchner was tagged in a comment.

It didn’t make sense, Hotch used social media less than any of them. But she stared at the photo and the caption and the comments with growing horror.

We welcomed our sweet boy into our home three years ago, but today it’s official! This morning the judge signed the papers and Sean is officially a Eubanks. While the circumstances surrounding his adoption are tragic, and we will always miss my sister Elizabeth, I know that adopting her baby boy as our own is exactly what she would have wanted. Mommy and Daddy love you so much, Seanie!

Hotch’s younger brother grinned in the photograph with their aunt and uncle on either side of him, posed in front of the judge. At least a hundred people had liked the picture, and dozens of comments congratulated the new family. Someone had commented “too bad Aaron couldn’t be there!” with his name highlighted in the tag, but his aunt hadn’t replied.

Alex dropped her phone in her pocket and left the desk, abandoning the books. “You,” she said, startling Hotch enough that his phone slipped from his hand.

“Why?” he asked, glaring up at her.

“Because I said so. Come here.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the couch. Alex took him by the sleeve, dragged him into her office, and closed the door. “Are you okay?” she demanded.

“Why would I not be okay?” he asked.

“Because you-“

“I’m not sick,” he said flatly. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

“But I saw-“

“I’m really not in the mood for you to fucking mother me to death, so if you don’t mind, I have homework to do,” he snapped as he turned towards the door.

“Aaron!” she said. “I saw.“

He froze, his back to her.

She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. “I saw,” she said again. “I saw the photo, and the caption, and everybody saying congratulations.”

He didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

He was quiet for so long that she worried he hasn’t heard her.

“They didn’t even let me there,” he said in a small voice. “I knew they were going to…but I thought…I thought they’d at least invite me.”

Alex stepped behind him in and slipped her fingers around his wrist. “I know,” she said softly.

“They changed his name,” he said. “Not that…not that I even wanted this name, but we don’t even have the same last name anymore.” Alex stroked the soft skin of his inner wrist. “He already called them mom and dad but…this is different. This is permanent.”

She could feel his pulse picking up, and when she tugged him to turn around he didn’t fight her. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

Aaron rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm. “God, I don’t know why I’m so upset,” he said, a wet laugh breaking from his throat. “It makes sense. He doesn’t remember Mama, what he remembers of Dad is that he’s a piece of shit. They might as well adopt him.”

His eyes were red-rimmed and welling up. Alex squeezed his hand. “You’re allowed to be upset,” she said.

“It’s stupid.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Why didn’t they take me too?” he burst out. He dragged his hand over his face. “God, it’s so fucking stupid. I don’t even like them, I don’t want to be adopted, I’d fucking kill to have my mom back, but…why didn’t they take me too?”

Alex didn’t know how to answer. She held his hand in both of hers, smoothing her fingertips over his knuckles.

“And now Sean’s got a new family, and he needs me even less than he did before,” Aaron said bitterly. “God, why doesn’t…why doesn’t anyone ever want me?”

“I want you.”

Spencer peeked around the door, hazel eyes huge in his pale little face. Aaron’s shoulders hitched. “Yeah?” he said, his voice thick.

“Yeah,” Spencer said, still half hidden in the doorway as if he was afraid he’d said the wrong thing, and Aaron choked on a sob and held out his arms. Spencer closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around his neck, and Aaron scooped him up in the tightest hug possible.

Alex kept one hand on Aaron’s back and the other on Spencer’s arm, trying to make sure that both of them were okay. She let Aaron cry quietly for a while, until she could feel his shaking start to subside.

At long last Aaron set Spencer carefully down on his feet. “Sorry,” he said, his eyes downcast and his face red and puffy from crying.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” she said. She squeezed his arm. “Do you feel a little better?”

He nodded, wiping at his eyes. “I’m…I’m going to go wash my face,” he said. “You’re not going to tell the others about-“

“Not a word to anyone about anything,” she promised. She pulled him into a gentle hug and kissed his cheek. “But come talk to me when you need me, okay, Bubba?”

He sort of smiled at her. “Okay,” he said, and he slipped out of the room.

Spencer wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist and leaned against her. “Is be okay?” he asked quietly.

She brushed his curls back and kissed the top of his head. “He will be, baby, he just needs a little time,” she said.

“I don’t get it,” Spencer said, snuggling his cheek against her hip.

“Don’t get what, baby?”

“Nobody wanted me either until I got here,” he said. “But I figured out that you guys wanted me. Why hasn’t Hotch figured it out yet?”

Alex sighed heavily. “I think you were still hoping you could find a family,” she said. “But I think Hotch gave up a long time ago, and he still needs more convincing that he has us.”

#au: patron saint of lost causes #anonymous #thanks for asking!!#caitlin writes things #patron saint: alex #patron saint: derek #patron saint: hotch #patron saint: Spencer #prompt fills #thesassprincess

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docholligay · 1 year

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Ep 5: Jackie

Hello! This is about up to Episode 5 of Yellowjackets, and ONLY episode 5 of Yellowjackets. I have not seen beyond the fifth episode, at all, and know NOTHING about this show. Please do not spoil it for me. Things that are spoilery in nature, for me, include: saying things like “Just wait!!” confirming or denying anything I put forward, outside information about the cast interviews or creator statements, leading questions like “Do you think “blank moment” means anything?” etc. Remember that Y’ALL HAVE SEEN THE SHOW AND I HAVE NOT. This informs the way you talk about things relating to the show. Just be really careful is all I’m asking. Also: If there is LITERALLY any stance I could take on this show or character that would make you upset, please just fucking block the tag

If you WOULD like to discuss the show and my takes on it, the Discord is right here! I don’t go there, so it’s a great place to get every emotion out.

Please thank @sailorsunspot and @moonlight-frittata for backing this odd way of doing a liveblog, and remember my tip jar is always open

I don’t think we’re supposed to love Jackie in this episode, and boy does that work for me. I am who I am, and I come bundled in with my own assumptions, values, adn experiences, and with all of that as knowledge, I say: Jackie is fucking lazy, and I would be losing my absolute shit if I had to deal with her.

I live a more communal life than many, and while many people have a very romanticized view of what that means, as a practical matter it means that everyone pulls their weight. Sometimes that involves doing jobs that are not so much fun or are difficult or whatever, but in all cases it means that you gotta work. Jewlet helps set the table, for God’s sake. We all have a piece.

And I’m not even in a situation where SURVIVAL ITSELF is at issue. We see that all the rest of the team is hard at work doing the things that are necessary for them to survive, and they are getting tired of Jackie’s bullshit, and for good reason. Jackie was a leader for a specific time and place, and that specific time and place was within the social norms and softhanded lifestyle of New Jersey. She has never had to measure out the things she is capable of doing, never had to do something physical and not fun. There’s a lot oif fair criticism of all the hard work you have to do as a kid in the country, but I tell you what, mucking out a stall at a young age, learning how to chop wood,. All of that teaches you that yes in fact you are capable of doing work. She’s even bad at GETTING WATER OUT OF A LAKE. ANd yes, water’s very heavy, and yes they should look for a large branchthey could carved to hold it over your shoulder, but at the very least, Jackie could walk out a little bit into the lake to lessen the chance of sediment.

In Jersey, she was smart, but here she has no goddamn sense, and the rest of the team is having a crisis of faith with her. Jackie is no longer any kind of a leader.

Shauna is showing so much love in trying to help her find something that she’s capable of doing, of trying to make her a part of the team when she is very obviously separating herself from the work of staying alive. Shauna has seen the way the girls are looking at her, and she knows Jackie may become a sacrifice, either figurative, or, maybe even at this point, literal, if she doesn’t prove that she has use and value. She could end up as broken from the team as Allie, for the crime of her own weakness.

On the one hand, Jackie knows that she’s terrible at this, and that she doesn’t like it and that she’s not cut out for it, but on the other hand, she is absolutely incorrect to characterize everyone else as “enjoying this boring back to the land bullshit” liking something is totally fucking irrelevant at this point. It’s what you need to do in order to survive. THe other girls understand that. But Jcakie can’t get with the program.

Shauna tells her she’s so great at cheering people up and making people feel like things are going to be okay just by showing up, but is she actually good at those things? I think if she were actually great for morale, the girls wouldn’t resent her for being so lazy in the physical department, because frankly if she were providing a necessary service like that, they wouldn’t be thinking it at all. What does she do when Shauna is pulling for something she’s better at? Makes her feel small and useless. Even though Shauna is putting in far more work than she has since day one.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this” Think very carefully about your other option, Jackie.

#Doc watches Yellowjackets #Yellowjackets S1 E5

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