#//But that’s not really anything new. What’s really the kicker is Work

[em-ontv]

Under his skin.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!supe!reader

Summary: When he met you, who was just like him; tempered, aggressive, he immediately hated you, no, loathed. But maybe that's not all he feels for you.

Warnings: vulgar language/cursing, mentions of violence (barely), no use of y/n, English is not my first language, mistakes should be present, apologies beforehand.

Author’s note: So… I just wanted something where this man isn’t an egoistic maniac. He annoys me so much but I love him <3, this was written just out of spite, enjoy!

Word count: 705

Ben hated you.

You were a supe, a big deal. The leader of a new team of supes who were really just assholes when the cameras were turned off, and each of them possessed powers more messed up than the previous.

You were quick to throw fists and unleash whatever terrifying power you were gifted with. And fuck, did that rub him the wrong way. It was the same recipe, a sweet smile in front of the public and a complete disregard for human life in private. And you were the worst of them all; invulnerable, aggressive, with a temper that made Soldier Boy himself look like a boy scout.

He fucking hated you for that.

It was bad enough that Vought thought it was a good idea to create another superteam in case Payback ever went awry — then it succeeded, way too much for Ben's liking.

He had a hard enough time trying to keep his own idiots in line without worrying about another set of so-called 'heroes' stepping on his turf. But no, they went ahead and made you into their new big thing. And what's worse? You were someone who didn't take shit from anyone — not even him.

From the first day you met, it was like pouring gasoline on a fire. You talked to him like he was nothing, like some relic from a different era. You didn't just talk back; you tore into him, picking apart his ego piece by piece, you got under his skin like a parasite.

But the real kicker? You weren't afraid of him. You stared him down like he was a joke. It got to a point where he couldn't stand the sight of you. Just knowing you were around would set him off, make him want to tear somebody's head off, preferably yours.

"Where's the asshole?" Ben growled at Mindstorm, who swallowed thickly and pointed toward a room. He shot him a glare before nearly kicking the door open.

And there you were, sitting there with a smirk on your face, like you owned the place.

He clenched his fists, feeling his blood pressure rise, and you haven't even said anything yet. "You piece of shit. You think you're hot stuff, huh? Running that joke of a team like a dictator?"

"Don't be mad at me just because your team can't find it in their hearts to respect you." you tilted your head. "Talking about Payback, how is it? Still playing dress-up?"

His jaw twitched, and for a moment, he considered throwing you through the wall.

"You're nothing but a wannabe," he spat. "A cheap rip-off version of me. I don't know how you got this far, but don't think for a second that you're anywhere close to me."

You just grinned, more amused than anything, but there was a hint of anger lingering behind your eyes. "You're a washed-up mascot for Vought. Your team can't handle the dirty work,” you leaned forward. “And you as their leader? You can't even get your own shit together, talk about leading a team."

Ben's face flushed with anger, his fingers twitching toward his shield. But you just watched him, knowing you stuck a nerve.

"You're lucky Vought's got rules," he muttered, barely holding himself back. "Because if it was up to me—"

"You'd do nothing, Ben." you cut him off, your voice dripped with condescension. "Because you can't do anything. Not to me."

And in a split second, he swung his shield at you, but you didn't dodge.

You caught it.

And then it started.

Slowly but surely, Ben would lie awake at night, fists clenched, jaw tight, replaying your arguments in his head. He'd think about you and that infuriating smirk. The anger was still there, seething, but there was something else now, something creeping in at the edges of his thoughts.

It was humiliating, that's all it was. He was Soldier Boy, the toughest bastard on the planet. He didn't take shit from anyone, let alone someone like you. But then, one night, after downing half a bottle of whiskey and staring at the ceiling for hours, it hit him like a freight train.

He didn't just want to beat you.

He wanted you.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

To preface this, I know there are parts of this that make me look bad. I know. I've been a substandard boss and I should've taken care of the situation a long time ago. But I'm in a bind and I really just need to know if I'd compound my assholishness by doing the main thing I'm about to ask.

I manage a manufacturing business that also has a delivery component. We make the product and make sure it gets where it needs to go--which I'm sure you understand isn't as easy as it used to be, with Amazon and Temu and all of those nipping at our nose. The manufacturing sector is working fine, no complaints, absolutely shipshape. It's in deliveries where the problem starts.

We have a newer employee who...let's just say stands out from the rest of the bunch, who are mostly old guard. They're reliable, I've been working with them for years, but they're set in their ways and have been giving the new guy shit, especially over his appearance. It's not even about something he can control, poor kid, but I don't want to get more specific than that. I've been so swamped with getting everything ready for the holiday season that I dropped the ball and let them treat the kid pretty poorly. I know I can't dictate what they do outside of work, so them leaving him out of social events was out of my hands, but I've caught them calling him just awful things when they thought I wasn't around. I should've come down harder but I was afraid our productivity would suffer as a result. (And if I'm honest, I thought a little bullshit would toughen the kid up. Our industry isn't for the faint of heart, after all.)

But now we're down to the deadline and I think he's our only option. He's the perfect choice, and the kicker is it's BECAUSE he's different from the rest of the guys. But I'd feel like a bit of an ass if I asked him to swoop in and save us after the way everyone's treated him. WIBTA if I asked Rudolph, with his nose so bright, to guide my sleigh tonight? Time-sensitive question, sorry mod, but maybe just this once you can move it up the queue? After all, I did bring you that Pokemon game you wanted more than anything when you were ten!

What are these acronyms?

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

no v for v day

pairing: leon x reader

cw: daddy kink/implied ddlg, anal sex, barely proofread

summary: you give leon a valentine's day present...

a/n: a drabble to tide you over until i have another fic ready

wc: 1.2k

Leon didn’t expect his baby girl to get him anything for Valentine’s Day, so when you showed up with a homemade coupon book filled with things like “one free hug” and “one free kiss”, Leon was truly touched. 

The last page was the kicker. 

Anal. Written pink crayon with a giant red heart covering the rest of the page. For the first time in a long time, Leon was speechless. He sat there mouth agape, looking at you to see if you were joking, and then back at the paper to see if he’d finally reached the age where he needed reading glasses. Nope. It really said that four letter magic word. 

“Is that something you’d want to do, honey? That’s a big step, you know… and you’d have to prepare before we could do that.”

You nodded, confident in your decision (and a little more prepared than Leon had anticipated). 

“Daddy, I need to show you something.”

“What is it, princess?”

You pulled down your pants in the middle of the living room to reveal a cute new pair of panties. 

“These are so pretty, baby,” he said, playing with the fabric. “Did you wear these just for daddy?” Duh. Everything you wore was for daddy.

“Take them off, daddy,” you whispered. 

“Okay,” he whispered back, expecting your pussy to be his final gift. Until you turned around and bent over, revealing a heart-shaped plug in your ass. 

Jesus Christ. Leon’s cock was straining against his jeans already. 

“Where did you get that, baby girl?”

“Not telling.”

“Not telling, huh? Because you were being naughty without daddy, putting this in all by yourself.” 

Honestly, Leon thought it was hot - and thoughtful - of you to get yourself ready for him. Leon’s heart was full of love for you as always, and his mind was pleased at the time you’d saved the both of you. But Leon’s dick was rock-fucking-hard and he couldn’t help but tease you. 

“It’s not naughty. I didn’t wanna spoil the present.”

“Oh, it is naughty, princess, and I think you need a punishment.”

“No, daddy! No punishment.” You turned to him with big glossy eyes and pouted. No tears. He studied you to find any indication that you did not want to be “punished”, and came up with nothing. This was all part of the plan, and you confirmed that for him with a wink. 

He clicked his tongue at you. “Let’s go, bad girl,” he said, lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder. 

When your back hit the mattress, he removed your shirt and made quick work of his own clothes. Your eyes fixated on his leaky tip, mouth instinctively falling open.  

“You want it? Want daddy’s cock in your mouth?” 

“Don’t say that word, daddy.”

He mimicked your words, “don’t say that word, daddy” as he climbed on top of you, positioning himself so that he could give you a light tap on the cheek with his aforementioned cock. 

“Open,” he said. 

You took his tip between your lips and suckled on it like you did with your pacifier. Leon waited for you to open wider and take more, but that moment never came. You continued to suck on his tip until he decided the look on your face was hotter than the feeling of your throat around him. He was getting dangerously close when you cupped his balls in your palm. 

“Ah-ah,” he said, removing himself entirely from your reach. “Daddy didn’t say you could do that.” 

If daddy wasn’t so close to spilling his seed all over your face he would’ve let you continue for as long as you want. But, he had to hold out for the promise of your tight little hole. 

When said promise was spread in front of him, he swiped his fingers along your slit to gather your arousal. He pumped two digits in and out of you. You longed for him to touch your soaking cunt, but his focus was elsewhere. You’d done part of the work for him, but he still gave his cock a generous coat of lube. The first thrust inside was less painful than you thought it’d be. Maybe it was the groan that came from Leon that made you ease up. It was a sound you’d never heard from him, deep and guttural, almost primal. 

“Oh, baby,” he moaned. He placed kisses on your shoulders as he fucked you from behind. Slow, but deep. Deep enough that his balls were right up against your clit and you were dying for friction. 

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” you chanted. 

“What d’ya need, baby?” Leon was stuck in a trance and his words came out slurred. 

“Touch me.”

“I am touchin’ ya. I’m deep inside ya, honey.”

“You know what I mean, daddy.”

“Right here?” he asked as he stroked your clit.

“Yes, right there!”

“Oh, sweetheart, daddy can’t touch your princess parts yet.” He feigned disappointment. 

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you were bein’ naughty without daddy. Now you’re gonna wait until daddy wants to touch you there.”

His balls continued to slap against your clit with every thrust and the brief, tingling sensation of every brush against your most sensitive area coupled with Leon’s ever-so-gorgeous moans had you dripping. 

At the first sound of a sniffle, Leon’s sympathetic hand began to play with your clit. Rubbing lazy circles around it. 

“Baby, is this a present for me or is it a way to get what you wanted all along?” he whispered. 

“For you, daddy.”

“Really? ‘Cause you’re soakin’ the sheets, honey. Daddy can hear your princess parts crying ‘cause they’re so needy.”

He removed his fingers for a moment and you cried. Leon’s heart was too soft to tease you. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he mumbled into your ear. “How ‘bout daddy turns you around so he can see your pretty face?”

Leon pulled out momentarily to flip you onto your back and when he entered you again, he did so while kissing your irresistible face. 

“You’re so tight for daddy. I know my naughty girl prepared but you’re just so little. I’m surprised you can even take daddy’s cock since it barely fits in your cute little princess cunt.”

Leon wouldn’t usually be so crude but his brain was gone. You’d squeezed it out of him. 

“Daddy, you can’t say bad words,” you scolded.

“Can’t help it, baby. Makin’ daddy feel so good.”

Leon’s pelvis was flush against you and the light patch of hair was tickling your clit. 

“Daddy,” you cried. 

“What, sweetheart?” he cooed. 

“Daddy,” you cried again, sounding more pathetic the second time. 

“Is that all you can say, honey? Is daddy fuckin’ you so good that you’ve got nothin’ else in that pretty little head of yours?”

You nodded, mindlessly. The pout never faded from your face. 

“Think I know what you want, baby.”

Your eyes filled with hope. Surely, he knew you by now. 

“Is this it?” he asked with his finger pressed to your clit. You writhed at his touch. 

“Yeah,” he answered for you. His thumb rubbed circles around it and you came in record time. 

“Aw, baby,” he pouted, teasing you. “Didn’t even have time to ask daddy, did you? It just happened so fast.”

You worried that he might consider cumming without permission “naughty behavior”, but he reassured you. “‘S okay, sweet thing. Daddy knows you can’t help it sometimes.”

Leon paid you back by cumming inside you without warning (not that you minded). He kept himself buried deep inside you, filling you up with a drawn-out “fuck”. 

“We’re even now,” he said through heavy breaths as he collapsed into the mattress. 

[skellseerwriting]

Height Difference

James Hook x Tall!GN!Reader

Headcanons

Note: as a 5’10 woman I constantly have to remind myself while writing that Joshua Colley (and Peder Lindell) is not taller than me, and the same will go for plenty of other readers as well.

I try to keep height completely vague while I write, but I decided I wanted to indulge myself and write specifically about height. So, I made these headcanons for us tall freaks (/aff) to enjoy

Contents & Warnings: No specific height is used, gender neutral reader but reader might be read as fem due to how Hook makes a big deal over you being taller than him

The first time Hook encountered you was the beginning of the school year

Even at that point he had already garnered a reputation for flirting with anyone and anything

Despite that, it took you by surprise one day in the hallway when the young man -out of nowhere- trapped you against a wall

well, he tried to at least

His arms were beside you on the wallpaper in an attempt to keep you in place while he charmed you with his charismatic wiles, but it didn’t work out the way he had hoped

See, the realization kicked in that he couldn’t lean in and look down at you like he normally did to others

Instead, he found himself tilting his head back to look at your face. It surprised him

You found it amusing, but you didn’t want to embarrass him further so you lightly pushed him away to get on with your day

you thought that would be the end if it

You thought that since he realized you were taller than him (and therefore hurting his ego in one way or another) that he would leave you alone

That reality shattered the next day as he intentionally sought you out, just to flirt with you

He would use any opportunity when you were sitting down or similar to have a height advantage against you

But it wasn’t just that either; he would do the opposite

He would practically (and sometimes literally) get on his knees and worship you like some divine being, praising your tall stature and regal composure

It flustered you at first, but you grew used to it and eventually found comfort in his constant compliments of your appearance

One particular time you were in the library, looking for certain books for your classes, when you came across Hook trying to reach a book on a high shelf

He immediately looked over at you and told you in a way that sounded almost sarcastic that he needed help, and how you were the perfect height for such a task

It honestly wasn’t that far out of his reach, but he acted like you had moved the stars for him (you were pretty sure he had orchestrated the whole thing)

The real kicker was when he attempted to pin you to a bookshelf, aiming for a kiss to “reward” you for your help

You had no problem pushing him away

He simply trailed after you

you were not surprised

What did surprise you was when he began giving you gifts (ones that usually were in relation to your height) such as hats or long accessories like scarves that accentuated your tallness

The one that really shocked you was a pair of sick platform boots

In a moment of insecurity, you asked him if it bothered him that you were taller than him

Hook began to pour out how much he loved how tall you were and how much he absolutely wanted to see you tower over him

So you wore the new boots the next day

He was completely head over heels (just like you almost where when you nearly tripped)

One day he asked you if you would trap him against a wall instead, and to your surprise: you obliged

Hook instantly slid his fingers into your hair as you looked down at him; having to really crane your neck with your shoes’ added height

In this moment, he wasn’t his usual pompous self. His eyes were filled with nothing but adoration

And you could find no reason within your heart to deny him as you leaned down to kiss him

Maybe the height difference between you two was a good thing after all

Taglist: For James Hook

@lesbpotmurdocklokistan @little-teacupss @mushroomdemon9 @leoisbabygirl

@brokenmilkcrates @eretsupremacy89 @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @elltheawkward @sessa23

[lundenloves]

couples counselling II

Did someone say angst? Gimme an A, gimme an N— no? Okay. Listen I never claimed to be happy, and this is further proof. Welcome new readers, *leans on doorframe alluringly* I love writing character demise. Happy reading, kids.

↳ angst, angst and angst | 2.1k

part one | masterlist

javier being dismissive and nonchalant again. everyone calm down and stay together, this is a guided tour, follow the red flag i’m holding as we explore the peña mind.

The first seven days: in a word, torture. Well, not quite but it certainly came close by the amplified scoffs, sighs and arguments. Javier hadn’t managed to let go of the fact this whole thing was Aleta’s actual idea, a poor one at that, mumbling profanities to himself the moment he had stepped out the door. She followed behind him, refusing to walk by his side when he was being such an ignorant fuck about the whole thing.

“You want this to work?” He stopped, turning to face her in the middle of the parking lot — palms faced up in question. The sun had caught his glare, somehow injecting it with an extra dose of inconvenience just to add salt to the wound. “Huh, pateadora?”

Aleta cringed at the derogatory nickname he had used. Kicker. He’d coined it in El Paso following an onslaught of kicks to his shin under tables for inappropriate conversations, and he couldn't resist but stamp the name onto her. Like a medal to an athlete. She fucking hated it. “Get off the fucking road, pendejo.”

“Then walk with me.” His eyes followed her, condescendingly shaking his head when she’d pushed him from his stoppage. “Hardly asking for salvation, here.” Aleta groaned frustratedly at his mutter, rounding the car to enter the passenger side.

“No. You’re asking for death.”

Javier leaned his head against the steering wheel, finding his shoulders vibrating in laughter. This really was fucking ridiculous. He hit the dash with a thud, sitting back in his seat and pushing arms across his broad chest.

“This won’t work, you know.” He said, eyes fixed onto the near empty parking lot ahead of them.

Aleta studied his features, sighing at the familiar crease by his eyes and the way it loosened when he’d momentarily lifted his brow. The finger that traced across his bottom lip, then down to his jaw, smoothing over his cheek in visible stress.

“That’s only because you don’t want it to work.”

He’d snorted at that. “I’m paying two-hundred an hour for it, Aleta.”

“Fucking show interest then.” She berated loudly.

And to be fair, they’d tried. They really had tried on the task given to them. But staring at someone who literally boils your blood with a snap of his fingers was hard to do, Javier likewise, finding anything a better option than conceding to the request.

And admittedly, he’d been ducking out of it a bit. Purposely staying later at the office and tiptoeing around the house so as to not wake her when he had eventually gotten home late. He knew it would result in a chewing next Sunday at the session. He just didn’t care.

So one night when he had come home to find her sitting in the kitchen, it was endgame.

“Shit.” He dropped his jacket to the kitchen table, clutching a hand to his chest. “What the fuck are you doing?” A deep frown set across his brow, opening the fridge for a bottle of water before turning to look at her over his shoulder.

“Sit.” She near ordered, pushing out a chair for him with her foot.

He turned around. “Why.” Eyes cast downward to the floor with a sharp exhale before placing his hands on his hips purposefully. “It’s late.”

“Puto, sientas.”

Javier stared at her for a moment, his eyes twitching at her energy. He kicked the chair further wide of her leg, sitting down with his hand centre on the table. She locked eyes with him and he let out a long sigh, dropping his head to hang between his shoulders.

“You’re not trying. She asked us to try.” Aleta leaned forward onto the table, watching as he swiped his hand back toward himself.

“And you’re pushing mountains?” He quipped, sitting back and planting his feet a far distance from one another. “This isn’t a one way thing.”

“That’s what i’m fuckin’ saying, pendejo.”

Javier rubbed his face, dragging his skin down in fatigue before turning to her. “Well then let her deal with it.” An accusatory palm had been gestured toward the door, as if the Doctor was standing outside. “I don’t know why you're so insistent on us. We can’t even fucking look at eachother.” His arms thrown ahead of himself to emphasise the point.

“Fuck you.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong.” The side of his lip tugged upward at her lack of reaction, both of his hands landing flat on the table. And for a moment, a slight moment — Aleta had thought that was it for them.

And it would've been if she couldn't read Javier well, the minute flaring of his nostrils and the way he inwardly sighed, his features softening and passing as eerie hostility to anyone but the woman opposite him.

He was scared of it all.

And that’s exactly what the Doctor had clocked onto in that session come Sunday. Her notes were pointedly placed by her chair instead of her lap. It was the first thing Javier had noticed when walking in, failing to hide the crease between his brows.

“Mr and Mrs Peña.” She nodded with a stiff smile.

Javier sat back on the deep sofa, maintaining the same distance to his wife as before and looking up to the ceiling in anticipation of more headaches. The muscles in his arms flexed when his hands had been pushed through his hair, joining at his nape. “Mornin’.” He grumbled.

The Doctor took a moment before clearing her throat. “How did you get on with what we discussed?”

“We tried.”

“No we didn’t. Not really.” Javier spoke, receiving a lengthy glare from his wife.

“We did.” She bit back, wasting no time. “He’s just scared of it all.” Her words came like a dagger to Javi’s masculinity, like she’d just clawed it back and shoved him in front of a crowd. He returned his eyes to the scene before him, looking at her like a kicked dog. The Doctor tilted her head at Aleta’s words before looking to Javier.

“Does loss scare you?” Her soft tone angered him.

“No.” He replied dryly, shifting in his seat.

The Doctor allowed for his denial, her eyes flitting to Aleta who had subtly nodded as if to confirm he was lying. “He picked up extra hours. Again.”

“I already had those hours.” His arms crossed tight over his chest again in self-preservation. “I told you, I don’t know why we’re still trying. This is fucking stupid.”

Aleta bit on her lip, a projecting smile forming. “You’re the one who's paying.” Her attempt to mask the brewing anger was not working. Javier sat forward, looking toward the Doctor to ignore his wife.

“I’m paying because all you do is fucking complain.”

“And you believe the love isn’t there anymore, Javier?” There came an interception from Aleta’s pending bite, flicking a few pages deeper in her notes before looking up to him.

“No, it’s gone.” He cleared his throat while resting his elbows on his knees, looking to the floor over joined hands.

“Is that what you want?”

Javier's jaw ticked, rubbing the back of his neck before shrugging silently. His face remaining stiff, eyes stuck to the vinyl flooring as if a certain death would occur upon his looking up. “I don’t really care.” The nonchalance in his voice was expected.

“That’s bullshit.” Aleta interrupted strongly. “You fuckin’ know it is, Javi.”

He looked back at her. “Is it?” A hand ran up his neck and over his hair with a grin, her sudden reaction setting him off. “Or is that what you want? You want this whole thing to blow over?”

“That’s not what we’re here for.”

“No, we're here to waste time.” He silenced her, shaking his head before looking back to the Doctor who gave a weak smile.

“This won’t work if both parties aren’t cooperating.” She only added salt to Aleta’s wounds, the pressing of her lips rounding the words off like a fucking punch to the gut.

Javier clapped his hands once, dropping them to his thighs. “That’ll be us then.” He said, digging into his pockets to source a cigarette.

“Will it shit.”

His wife’s tone was brash, her pupils blown in impatience as he caught eyes with her. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip before sticking the cigarette to it, “I can smoke in here, right?”

The white coat opposite him nodded, shifting a few papers across her lap and back to the table. Shaking her head, she asked, “What’s the ideal outcome for you two.”

“To not kill each other.” Javier mused like this whole thing was a joke, tapping the heel of his boot on the floor. A long trail of smoke danced above his cigarette, absorbing Aleta’s attention more than his remark.

“Aleta?”

“For him to stop lying.”

She hadn’t blinked, still in a daze for the smoke.

Javier only looked at her, his eyes squinting before taking a slow drag in thought. Knee once again betraying him for the way it bounced up and down, and the quietness of her voice tightening his jaw.

“I think you two need to talk. With no avoidance.”

He snorted.

“Here. You’ll talk here.” She clicked her pen on a notebook that had been opened to a fresh page. “Javier, tell Aleta something you like about her.”

The instruction made him sigh, sitting back on the sofa and looking up in contemplation for a little too long. “Her lips.”

“Vice versa.”

“I like his eyes.”

“Who loved first?”

“Me.” Javier answered shortly, his eyes shifting toward hers for a split second.

“Recall it.”

Aleta figured out what was going on pretty quickly. It was a solemn attempt to reignite the memories in Javi’s head, maybe create a spark for a flame of their marriage to continue on.

He puffed out a breath, dropping his shoulders and looking back up toward the ceiling. “She didn’t like me, kept pushing me away.” The smoke of his cigarette came with the words, exhalation pushing them up to cloud. “But I was persistent. I wanted her.”

“Why did you want her?”

He sat forward, almost laughing with a tilt of his head. “She made me nervous.”

Aleta’s eyes averted to the floor.

“No one made me feel like that.”

The room fell quiet and for the first time, it was allowed. The white coat encouraged the way they stared at one another. Javier rubbed at his temple, leaning forward but looking back to his wife who stared down at him.

He was a stoic person.

And the breakdown of their marriage forced him to close back up. The feeling of losing that primal safety contributing to the resurface of nonchalance and disinterest.

He knew that she was aware of it.

Which only pushed him further off that cliff.

“Why did you give him a chance?”

Aleta laughed. “I don’t know.” Her smile slowly faded into a shadow, nostrils flaring in evidence to her upset.

No one had asked that before.

“How about we wrap this one up…” A smile came empathetically, closing her notebook and the matching folder titled Peña. “I just want you two to talk. That’s all.”

Javier stubbed his cigarette out in the provided ashtray, rubbing his face. “Alright.” He answered for his wife.

“And what I asked last week too. Maybe try that again.” Aleta nodded absently, unfreezing from her trance and standing up to follow Javi who held the door open. “See you next Sunday.”

Fuck. This.

It felt like Deja Vu by the time they had reached the parking lot again. Javier stood in the middle of it once more, a cigarette clung to his lip while looking back at Aleta. The long inhale he took felt futile by the way it was instantly sighed out, hand placed on his hip.

“I told you, it’s not going to work.”

“Ten years. Javier. Fucking ten years.”

His eyes looked black from where she was standing. And the calmness of his movements was telling against her building rage for every passing day, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want her.

“You really don’t want this?”

One side of his lip turned downward for the nod he gave, as if this is what he was trying to say all along. He shook his head, “No. I don’t.” Arms dropping to his sides in defeat.

He just wasn’t scared enough.

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! i’ll sit in a hole if no one pats me on the head every now and then.

taglist? fill out this form.

[catreginae]

A Shot for the Future

Sky discovers that poly relationships are an option he never thought of and talks to Warriors about it. Fits the prompts for @queering-the-chain's poly and coming out. Posting this here first so see if people like it before posting it on AO3.

Where was he?

Warriors knew it was a little silly to be worried about Sky when they were in Skyloft. He was the expert of his own era and even if he wasn't, Skyloft was small. There wasn't a lot of room for something to happen to Sky, at least without somebody knowing. He probably just had some non-hero things to catch up on.

He couldn't help but to feel restless though.

Warriors always had a hard time resting when he knew there were people unaccounted for. With Sky being somewhere other than the knight academy where the rest of them were, Warriors found himself near the kitchen waiting for him instead of sleeping in his assigned room for the night. Sky being unaccounted for was a little odd for their group but staying up late near the kitchen wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening. During the war, he would spend several nights looking for his soldiers and fretting over the amount of people still in missing in action. Sometimes, it took days to finally account for everybody if a battle was particularly rough.

Suddenly, he could hear footsteps. Warriors' hand twitched but he left his sword in his assigned room.

"Oh. I didn't know anyone was waiting," Sky mumbled as he rounded the corner. "Can't sleep?"

"Not really," he answered simply. There was no reason to tell Sky that he was awake because his nerves couldn't calm down until he knew where Sky was. It was his own problem to deal with, not Sky's. "Same thing for you?"

"I just... needed to have a long talk with Groose and Sun. I've had something on my mind and I needed their opinions."

Groose... that sounded familiar but he couldn't place why. Warriors filed that away in his mind to figure out later. The more interesting part was the airy, longing look on Sky's face. It was usually reserved for Sun only but he mentioned Groose first and that longing look was there from the start. Sky also had a tremble in his hands, which didn’t seem to entirely match the look on his face. Sky’s body and his face were telling Warriors two different things.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, glancing at Sky's shaking hands again. Sky noticed where he was looking and curled them together.

"Don't say anything to anyone yet, okay?" Sky started, then took a deep breath. His eyes looked up to the ceiling for a moment like he was looking for the words he needed there. "So, one thing I've learned from you guys and your eras is that um... there's a lot of things we haven't thought to try yet."

Warriors nodded, waiting for Sky to go on.

"Like, relationship things. In your eras, it isn't always just two people in a relationship."

Oh, Warriors had a feeling he knew where this was going. He still couldn't figure it if Sky had good news or bad news though.

"For a long time, Groose was mean to me. He was jealous that Sun spent a lot of her time with me and bullied me over it. Even when Sun told him off for it, he didn’t stop. He changedthough. He really stepped up and I couldn't have saved Sun or made it to the end without him. We became really good friends and we stayed friends when I started dating Sun but... I sometimes wondered what it would have been like if I started dating him instead. I don't know when I fell in love with him too but I always thought I just had to swallow those feelings if I wanted to keep dating Sun."

Warriors hummed. "Until you started travelling with us and saw strangers out with their partners."

Sky nodded. "Basically. I can't believe I didn't even think of it! I just didn't know it was an option. I could have asked Groose and Sun about all three of us dating each other if it occurred to me earlier! I just never saw a relationship like that before."

That was the kicker, wasn't it? Sky was just working with what he knew, despite being among the first to change Skyloft and The Surface into the Hyrule that Warriors would eventually call home. Maybe chasing the shadow through time gave Sky the perspective he needed to start making those changes.

"So... did your talk go well, then? Is this Groose fellow joining you and Sun?"

"Oh!" Sky jumped slightly like he was shocked by static before he relaxed and started to rub the back of his neck. "We all acknowledged that we have some feelings for each other so we’re giving it a try to see if works for us. There's still a lot of talking to do about boundaries and the fact that I'm not home for good yet, so we’re trying to keep it kind of quiet for now. It's still exciting though! I can't wait to see them again tomorrow."

Warrior grinned at the blush forming on the other hero's face.

"I think I have have some scotch in my bag. Let's do a shot. There's probably a time paradox involved somewhere here but I’m proud of you! You took a chance and it worked out for you!"

"Time paradox?" Sky asked with a frown.

"You saw people in a poly relationship way into the future for you and then you started a poly relationship in your present where, as far as you know, nobody thought of dating more than one person before. You used future knowledge you wouldn’t normally have if it wasn’t for the shadow to do something in our past," Warriors answered, his hand waving back in forth to follow the timeline in his head. Sky’s face scrunched up.

"You know what? A shot sounds good. Let's go," Sky said.

As they both headed back to his room for the bottle, Sky tapped him on the shoulder. "Poly? That's what it's called?" he whispered.

"Oh, I made the maybe-paradox worse."

[doctorpandorica]

So Fanfiction, Deadpool and Wolverine, and Logan, made have a fucking epiphany about my mental health. Seeing it sky rocket at the box office, gives me hope that A, I am not alone and B, the world can be a better place. And I have to say, I really do believe both Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman deserve the world.

For the first time in my life yesterday, I looked at myself and thought I look pretty. The FUCKING kicker is I did again this morning and I felt the same way. Maybe just a baby step, but it's a step in the right fucking direction mother fuckers. But, How did I get here (Yes, I'm pulling this shit on you).....

I have horrendous fear of endings and I finally learned....or accepted it's because it's symptomatic of my misery. Things like desperation, depression and anxiety can trick you into the allure of mistaking familiarity as comforting, even when it's hurting you. That you are far less that what you are actually and are deserving of far less than you actually do, that the consequences of our choices are proof that our pessimistic view is the whole of reality.

But, it's only half of the truth and that is the majesty of realism, seeing the glass is both half full and half empty. The best understanding of Pessimism, Optimism and realism can be explained in a quote by William Arthur Ward. Where the three are stuck out at sea on a sail boat,

"The Pessimist complains about the wind; the optimist expects it to change; the realist adjusts the sails."

To make the best choices in life you need to see every possibility and my heart goes out to those that are so blinded by pessimism, hope seems like fairy tale. I mean it's hard enough even if you can see things are possible but, it's still a bitch of an up road battle.

Which brings me to one of the most devastating ones in my life, the death of my dad. I always wondered how someone who seemed so sure of himself, could understand my pain so well. In hindsight I knew he had very hard life, it shouldn't have surprised me that he not only had crippling OCD, Anxiety but, depressions that at times reached suicidal ideations.

I was more my father's daughter than I realized, and took those fucking movie, to really appreciate what that meant.

Don't blindly accept things, ask questions.

If I had, I would've realized it's not that I don't care what others think, I'm really fucking depressed. And that's why I don't put effort in what I wear, or personal hygiene or wear make up. Never assume to know who you are, that's part of the majesty of life, that not knowing.

You never truly fail, until you give up.

For more clarity , I would like to add, some words of wisdom from a beloved science teacher,

"If at first you don't succeed, find out why"

Treat people fairly, across the board "Give people a chance"

To be sparingly coupled with, both

Trust your gut

This requires a lot of hard work, with self regulation and introspection. I've found DBT or Dialectical Behavioral Therapy to be very helpful. Which I must add the following because, I was wrongfully diagnosed with Autism (feeds into the dangers of acceptance). My therapist who diagnosed me ironically introduced to me the saving grace that is DBT. But, told me it wouldn't help me because I am autistic which she came to the conclusion based on ...

Flat Effect

Only developed when I hit puberty, the same time I developed depression and anxiety. People don't develop autism later on in their life, they are born with it.

Black and white thinking

If anything I think this is the problem with society and for anyone to say this about me, has obviously never heard me talk about anything. I found this utterly insulting

Anger prone

Repressed emotions and didn't start happening until 20's

Lack of Eye contact

I get really nervous around meeting new people, particularly if they stand really close to me for some fucking reason.  Once I get to know people I have no problem looking them in the eye.

Lack of Socialization

Low self-esteem brought on by my Depression

Social Anxiety and general Anxiety (fear of doing something wrong)

I actually do have a desire to socialize, but mistook relief after social based anxious episodes as me not liking it.

The same was done with someone very close to me, who was told they were Bipolar even though it didn't fit. They chose to trust they 're doctor, and was proven insanely wrong by they're new Doctor who aptly diagnosed them as having Borderline Personality and they are doing so much better.

Anyway I participated in a DBT group for about 16 weeks or so, one of which was diagnosed late in life with a form of autism. And the difference by the end of those weeks only strengthened my faith in DBT.

Don't start anything, but always finish

Don't go looking for a fight but, stand up for yourself when necessary, emphasis on necessary.

As long as people aren't hurting others or themselves, mind your own business

For some people this can be tricky, especially for those guided by their idealized narratives of the world. Again DBT can help with this in the grand scheme of things.

I mistakenly thought, that because I didn't seem to react how I would expect (bad assumptions) that I was fine. Even though, I was able to acknowledge that I was deeply depressed, which I was able to trace back to age 11, which for clarity was 20 years ago. Which fun fact I only discovered in my senior year of high school, followed by my anxiety a year later my first year of college. IT IS NEVER TOO LATE !!! EVEN IF YOU ARE GOING TO DIE TOMORROW!!! HAPPYNESS MAY NOT BE A CHOICE BUT THE PATH TO IT IS!!!

More In-depth analysis of how Hugh Jackman, Ryan Reynolds and Marvel factor into follow in follow up post. Because This post is too damn long, already. Thank you to those who read it all the way through , I wish you contentment.

[hinamie]

do u have any tips for uhh idk art term....highlight and contour but for art? specifically w digital art? w pencil and paper it feels super intuitive but then when i switch to digital it looks all flat.............

(is it shading? idk what im doing tbsh)

(also hope ur doing well i feel like im crawling into ur asks every two days or smth looking for art tips sorry T_T)

(yuuji comic made me cry so hard btw)

hi rin!!!!!!! that wld be shading/rendering yes hgbhgfjs there’s no One specific term tho so ur all good <3 also omg re: the yuuji comic IM SORRY I KEEP MAKING U CRY GHJKGJDSGHKJ its ok i made a lot of people cry if the death wishes/pos in the tags are anything 2 go by so ur in good company :D i teared up also

i would Also like to apologize in advance because fr me this is one of those Art Things that becomes more intuitive the more u do it so i am a bit. lost as 2 how to explain but i will sukuna voice ganbare ganbare !!!!

it’s all about light sources babes so pick a direction where the light is hitting from and use that as your main point of reference. If u need to remind yourself where the light is coming from i was taught to draw a lil arrow or sun somewhere on your canvas 2 keep track . areas closest to the light or planes that are more Elevated will be brighter than areas farther away or Deeper. When u think of a face, the forehead and cheeks rest Higher than fr example, the eye sockets, so those areas will catch more light and appear brighter. it /is/ kind of like makeup in that way. 

also, shadows/highlights can have soft or hard edges depending on how . uh . intense, i guess?? the angle of the light is. like with a box vs a sphere, the former will have a lot more Cut and Defined areas of darkness because the plane where light hits is cut off more directly by the presence of a corner, whereas with a sphere the Slope means that the values follow more of a gradient. 

tbh tho if you’re still starting out, to practice light sources and shading it actually might be good to scribble and shade some 3D shapes and spheres/boxes or maybe even draw from life so u can really take time 2 pay attn to how light catches different surfaces . it’s boring work but the practice is never wasted !! lighting can be tricky so try and take the time 2 form Good habits :'> references r ur friends here now more than ever.

other than that, which i feel more or less covers the basics n fundamentals, my wisdoms 2 u and any1 else who will have it: INVEST TIME IN2 FINDING GOOD BRUSHES omg i feel like a lot of that New Artist Look (tm) comes from using default brushes —which on its own is fine, but the kicker is not taking time to get comfortable with how to make the best use of them. the fun of the render is getting to play with textures and colours so find some brush settings that help add a bit of personality!! also . resist defaulting 2 the airbrush tool to shade it Rarely cooperates and can muddy a piece. uhhhh what else what else try not to shade with black for the same reasons ???? i'm scraping the bottom of the barrel here but i hope something here was of any value :'>>

[clatterbane]

I really am an idiot sometimes.

A little while ago, I referred somebody else to one of the videos from this playlist, because they really are helpful. I got a lot of good out of them as a new wheelchair user. Then I decided to check out a few more that I don't think I had watched before:

Then I got to this one!

️BATHROOM WHEELCHAIR TRANSFERS

...And immediately started coveting her very practical setup.

A lot of things are easier for me, with full use of my lower body minus a foot. I'm thankfully fine without any kind of help--or am I really? 😮‍💨

We have been in this place for 3 years come Christmas time, and this here's the extent of my own showering arrangement:

That's it! I've got the same slightly wobbly-feeling stool that I got to fit into our roughly phone booth sized shower stall back in London, which will luckily slide back in under the sink out of the way when it's not needed. Plus a dedicated brush to make it easier to scrub out that deep tub. (Which I did indeed mark with tape, to try and make sure nobody uses it for anything else! 😬)

Sometimes I will skip the seat, and just haul my wet slippery carcass in and out of the bottom of the tub. I rarely want to soak, but it works pretty well to spray yourself off that way. But, especially if I don't feel like scrubbing the tub before plonking my bare ass into it? It is usually the seat for me.

The usual transfer situation is not the best! Especially getting out when everything is wet. Putting my towel on the edge of the tub on the way out helps, but that's also sorta slippy in its own way.

Yeah, I think some grab bars really would be a good plan in there, all things considered.

I do have one foot, and the other one is supremely unlikely to grow back. I am sadly not a crawfish. This is not a temporary accessibility need, either.

A bench-style seat like she's using would probably also make things easier, now that we do have a tub to support one. Should feel less precarious scrambling in and out of there. I would need to leave the shower curtain outside of the tub with the bench blocking its path on the inside, but full wet rooms are standard for apartments here! (All the better not to flood your neighbors, basically.)

The fact that this IS an apartment is one of the reasons I've shied away from drilling any holes in the walls in here so far--like to mount grab bars. But, this is not a rental. And even if it were, pretty sure nobody had better try to complain about someone who needs bathroom grab bars drilling to install them in Sweden either.

(I think the municipality is even technically supposed to be on the hook for supplying adaptive equipment like that, though I would really rather not try to deal with bureaucracy when what I need is maybe $50 total worth of hardware from a Lowe's equivalent and the existing drill. I was just pricing some.)

But yeah, I don't think the apartment drilling has been anywhere near my main mental hangup in this case. It's probably more to do with that nasty tendency to feel like if I remotely CAN manage, that somehow obligates me to stubborn my way forward and push through the hard way.

The real kicker? I haven't been showering as often as I probably should, because it IS a more difficult and dangerous proposition than it needs to be. I make sure I don't stink--and I WILL notice before anyone else if I do. (Shitty superpowers...) But yeah, it really hasn't been ideal and I have been feeling guilty about that too.

In a similar situation, I would strongly recommend that literally anybody else get some freaking grab bars and a better seat into their bathroom. I'd install it for them if they needed help, because jfc. I really do not need to break my own fool head--or anything else!--in the bathroom either. And I don't somehow deserve for that to happen. 😑 If anything, extra stable supports are probably an even better idea since I have always been such a klutz anyway.

Going to bring the minor bathroom renovations up with Mr. C, yeah. May actually send him this, and save some venting. Not that there seems to be any shortage of that.

[slocumjoe]

What do the companions do/wear on their days off?

omg this is such a good prompt...

Companions' off-day

Cait;

What she does; Relax as much as Cait can relax. She might clean her gear, or practice her aim at the shooting range, but Cait takes her quiet moments where she can get them. Though, her idea of quiet isn't actually...quiet. She likes the bar scene, telling stories of her and Sole's exploits. Cuts back on booze after the Vault, but still takes a soda to toast to her own badassery.

What she wears; Tank tops, baggy pants. Soft shorts, sweats, lounge wear. Assuming she feels totally safe, of course. You can tell her comfort level by her pants of choice. Her normal leathers? Uncomfortable. Jeans? Open to relaxing, but unsure. Cotton or fabric? It's lounging time, baby.

Curie;

What she does; All sorts of things. Curie dips her fingers in everything she can. She bakes, she runs tests and experiments, she works at the clinic, she tends to animals, she gardens, she does this and that and that and that and...a very busy bee. Curie is never not doing anything. Berry-picking, trying her hand at weapon crafting, kickball; Curie's days off are full of activities and learning.

What she wears; Colorful clothing, fun patterns. Floral button-up blouses with high-waisted pants and sneakers, flannel overshirts with comic graphic tees, long dresses and skirts. She really likes dresses. So swishy! All her clothes are dirt-stained at the knees.

Danse;

What he does; Train, tuneup his gear, patrol, repeat. Danse doesn't have much outside of his military life. There isn't a buffer for him. He doesn't have an off switch like that. After BB, this worsens. Doesn’t eat, sleep, or stop doing. The other companions intervene and force him to take a break, but it's uncomfortable for him. Eventually they take turns keeping Danse busy for his own wellbeing. Cait spars with him, MacCready takes him shooting at the range, Preston has him gardening, et cetera.

What he wears; Work clothing. Overalls, jeans, tighter shirts that won't snag on little bits of machinery.. His boots are forever caked in mud. Used to like Tacky Old Man Patterns and brighter colors, but After BB, wears dark, form-hiding clothing, like thick sweaters and coats. Gets a lot of body image issues. Starts wearing hats to hide/shadow his face.

Deacon;

What he does; If really relaxing, Deacon is most himself. He reads, tailors his clothing, listens to music and radio shows. When Deacon relaxes, he isn't doing anything but enjoying media. It's not often he gets to relax. He'll also play with makeup and his wigs, trying out new potential looks. It is genuinely fun, even if for work purposes. Likes helping Curie and Piper with their makeup.

What he wears; Hoodie, sweats, crocs. Comfy, nondescript. If he's relaxing, he isn't being Deacon, Railroad Spy for a bit. He's just Deacon. And Deacon wears crocs and a hoodie with a weird graphic on it.

Gage;

What he does; Depends. Is he still a Nuka World raider, or domesticated by a Minuteman Sole? If former, uses the off time to run his own little investigations into everyone else, keep tabs. Works, basically. If domesticated, sits on a porch with a smoke, watches the sheep (settlers) go baa (tend the fields, run their shops, guard the settlement, etc). Whittles as a hobby, makes intricate wooden animals. Teaches Shaun how to do it. Kids take to him, weirdly enough. Also plays harmonica, but only in private.

What he wears; Tank tops, dark jeans, and his usual shit-kicker boots. Raider gear is messy, but its every-day practical. Has a furlined jacket he dons if cold, but he avoids it because something about a furry coat collar makes woman irresistibly attracted to you, and he prefers to lay low.

Hancock;

What he does; practices knife tricks, reads, writes, fiddles with his gun (never happy with the recoil), plays video games on terminals or Sole's pipboy. Babysits Duncan, plays video games with him. MacCready doesn't need to know Uncle John has a higher score in Zeta Invaders than him. Often goes 'campaigning', asks people about their thoughts on leadership and community.

What he wears; Pants, boots, no shirt or a very loose shirt. Has cut the bottom off of dresses to make the top a shirt. Gives the bottom to Curie to make into skirts.

MacCready;

What he does; Shooting practice, video games, comic books, puts models together, and most curiously, draws. Rather good at it. Draws his own comics, but most his impressive work is his diagrams of wasteland critters. He does it to help his head remember weakpoints, point out openings in the middle of chaos. Plays toys with Duncan shamelessly.

What he wears; Warm clothing, mostly, no matter the weather. Thick sweaters, soft slacks, jeans...practical, but comfy. Dislikes silky fabrics, loves thick socks. Wears his hat everywhere.

Nick;

What he does; Loves activity books, especially number-based puzzles. They're kind of hard to come by, and he feels bad filling them out since they're not in production. Piper and Nat make new ones for him. He's also good at the piano, and when he can find a functioning one, likes to just sit and enjoy the music. Tries to teach Danse piano, but good God, that man couldn't carry a tune if he glued it to his hands.

Wears; Nick is an old man. He's always in the slacks, the suspenders, the button-up dress shirt.

Piper;

What she does; Makes Nick's puzzle books, for one. She likes racking her brain to find a challenge, look for little details to catch him up. Enjoys reading, obviously, but writing tends to be a work thing. Piper likes writing, but when you do it for work, doing it to relax feels like making a paradox.

What she wears; Jean shorts, graphic tees, and baggy tank tops. Wears flip flops and crocs. Puts her hair in low pigtails since its a bit too short to go all the back in one tail.

Preston;

What he does; Tries his damndest to relax, but he just can't. He's always all nerves and waiting for the other shoe to drop. He's cooking a new recipe, or patching up his coat, or making maps. Really likes cartography, scary accurate. It takes a lot to really get him to let his guard down. After Blind Betrayal, takes Danse under his wing since they're in similar boats. They talk a lot of history.

What he wears; Sweatpants, soft shirts and flannels, warm clothing. He's easily cold, especially his hands and feet. Wears gloves and thicker socks often.

X6-88;

What he does; Trains. If forced to take up a standard method of 'relaxation', will take up art, weapon crafting, or try his hand at Nick's and Piper's puzzle books. Sometimes he blows through them with a scoff, other times he gives up and asks the solution. Fascinated by those trick, brain teaser puzzle toys.

What he wears; Dark shirts, dark pants, dark boots. He's never not dressed nicely, cleanly, and formally. Even his sleepwear (once Sole demands he treat himself to his very own wardrobe) is elegant in a way. The sunglasses stay on, always.

[taylortruther]

AHHH  

OKAY! anon with the shitty ex fiancé here😭

I didn’t expect it to like blow up on your blog/get so many response I just needed to put it out there cause like can’t make jokes with my best friend anymore 😭

So basically my job had like a meeting thing that went really really late and it was required to go. So I went and got out earlier. I got to our apartment and went in. Heard moaning and was like MAD confused like genuinely assumed it was PORN cause in my mind he would never so😭 went to are bedroom and there is my best friend on top of him and I literally said “what the fuck.” Because at that point what else could I say. 

So she got off of him and started crying having the audacity to immediately apologize. He was pulling up his pants like “oh my god babe I swear it meant nothing.!!” which? I mean like I got you MID FUCK it clearly was something.

ANYWAY I was like in such a state of rage and shock I literally LEFT 🤧

Called my mom sobbing and she gave me money for a hotel for the weekend cause like? Didn’t want that mf to find me.

ANYWAY. I eventually had to go back and he had jewelry, flowers, bought tickets to a nice beach place being like “I’m so sorry!!” And I was like done at this point. So I like nagged him to tell me how long that was going on. He said 4 months. SO. Yeah.

Then he tried to say me working late ruined our relationship BUT the kicker. My job only started keeping me late THAT WEEK. So I was like ain’t no way you blaming that on me.  And when I called him out that was bs he went “sorry?” And anyway KICKED HIM OUT.

And called his mother who. His mom was cheated on like she raised him alone so when I called and told her she was pissed the F off and wouldn’t let him stay with her 🥰 and my friend lives with her parents and they met him so I know damn well he couldn’t stay there so who knows where that man is.

As for my friend. I immediately blocked her and her family on everything so I haven’t heard anything and THANKFULLY my lease is up next month and my fiancé and I were planning to move. So I get a new apartment and she can’t find me so yeehaw. Truthfully. I don’t want to hear from her. I had a really hard time finding love my whole life. She was always the “pretty friend” she knew my insecurities so her doing that’s yeeeh don’t want to ever see her again! 

ANON THIS IS WILD. "your job kept us apart" FOR A WEEK? oh my god. FOUR MONTHS????? this is so so awful. the betrayal is just... wow. sending love to you anon! i'm just... omg

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Number 3 with Yae but the kicker is the reader just blurted it out after she helped them with a problem they’ve been struggling with all day (Also it’d be cool if the reader was close to immune to Yae’s teasing)

“Will you just marry me already?”

Characters: Yae Miko x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I got three different messages requesting Yae with this one, so I guess I had no choice but to write her /hj

I hope this matches what you wanted, if you don't like it, just tell me and I'll try again once I have the time/motivation

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Yae Miko

Growing up with parents that liked teasing you as much as they liked to breathe air left you quite resistant to others trying to do the same. And while Yae was definitely on a whole new level, causing you to constantly struggle with trying not to lose your composure, with enough time you had gotten used to her methods to such a level that it took her quite some work to get a visible reaction out of you. Not like that would cause her to stop, instead serving as a challenge to her that she wouldn’t let pass by.

You couldn’t exactly remember how long you had spent on your little “pet project”, although you weren’t too sure anymore if you could even call it that anymore, the calming feeling it once provided having long been replaced by nothing but mild frustration at your inability to finish it, the only thing keeping you from just abandoning it being the idea of not actually finishing something. 

This all began a week ago when you thought it might be a great idea to build a small birdhouse, only for the project to increase in size with every stroke of your pencil you made while trying to draw a plan. And while the planning phase and most of the actual construction went pretty well, it just wouldn’t stand on its own, threatening to or just straight up collapsing when you let go of it. 

“Still working on it?”, Yae's voice cut off your trail of thought, forcing you back into the real world as you quickly turned your head to look up at her, your mood immediately improving as you finally weren’t alone with that damn thing. “Why don’t you let it be, seeing as all it does is cause you distress?”

“I can’t. I get the feeling that I’m really close to finally figuring out what was wrong, but I just can’t find my error”, you responded, sneaking one more look back at the not so finished birdhouse.

“Never took you for a person that likes inflicting pain onto yourself, but I guess even someone my age learns something new every day”, she joked only for you to let out a sarcastic laugh afterwards, watching her grab the plan you had made before glancing over both the paper and the actual construction.

“Now I’m not a professional, nor do I have any interest in becoming one, but don’t you miss this little thing here?”, she asked while pointing at a specific part of the plan, watching you as the cogs slowly started to turn in your brain, only for your eyes to widen in joy as you jumped up and threw your arms around Yae.

“You are a genius! Oh, will you just marry me already?”, you praised her before quickly trying to go back and finish your project so you wouldn’t forget anything, only to freeze up after a few seconds, your face turning slightly red as your brain backtracked to think of what you just said.

“No wait, that wasn’t a proposal or anything, I was just really happy”, you quickly tried to correct yourself, only for Yae’s smile to only increase in size.

“What? And here I was, thinking you actually loved me. How naive I was for actually thinking you meant it”, she recited in a dramatical voice only to let out a chuckle shortly afterwards.

Suddenly you felt like an idiot for even considering she might have misunderstood your comment as an actual proposal, your reaction only giving her an opening to finally tease you, the first one she got in weeks.

And by the gods, was she going to use it.

[fierceawakening]

I feel a bit afraid to even post this, for fear of someone else lashing out at me for questioning received wisdom but I still kind of feel like people are so invested in explaining their point of view (which I’m already saying is valid) that they’re missing part of mine

And that is that for me, part of my trauma is that I was both physically violated AND physically altered. And also I’m afab, and very often girls and women bear the brunt of purity culture in ways men and boys… definitely can but I’m not sure they always do.

And what purity culture says to little girls is that their worth is in their… well purity. Their innocence. That’s what’s beautiful and lovable about them.

So what happened to me… at least as I experienced it, I felt it stole my innocence. Destroyed my purity. I was still a virgin, but I’d kept a tight lid on any interest in anything dark or sinister or anything like that (and it turned out there was a lot to keep a lid on.)

After my trauma I was so angry and disillusioned I couldn’t do that any more. I got angry. I got cynical. I got bitter.

Which is all understandable. But here’s the kicker: I felt bad about it. Like a monster. Damaged and broken.

I kept getting diagnoses of situational depression. I’d get talk therapy until I felt a little better and then it would end and I’d need it again, later, like clockwork. It didn’t dawn on me that this indicated a chronic problem, not clearly enough for me to say “let’s look at diagnoses that include recurrence.”

In grad school, I read the book Trauma and Recovery which is an in depth look at PTSD, mostly as suffered by women who were raped or sexually abused.

In it, the women described my deep feelings of having been defiled so well it was eerie. They talked about feeling like there was dirt or oil or mud or sludge way down in their soul, where they couldn’t remove it.

That it made them fundamentally unclean in ways other people weren’t. Dirtied deep down, in ways that would forever separate them from other people who hadn’t been polluted.

Which is how I felt and still feel when things get bad, and what makes me feel suicidal. I can never be clean again, so I’m fundamentally unworthy, so I need to die and get it over with already.

Trying to frame it as that I’m still clean, or that the dirty one is the perpetrator(s), may work for other people, and I wish them the best. But trying to reframe it that way has never worked for me personally. As I said my body is literally altered surgically. I can’t avoid that something changed.

So what has worked to help me feel less like I don’t deserve to live?

Seeing the new thing that was created as worthwhile rather than poisoned.

Because of that, I get a lot of reassurance out of monster stories, especially ones where the monster isn’t fundamentally evil, just threatened and lashing out, or confused, or a child that doesn’t know its own strength or the like.

Which overlaps A LOT with “what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.”

It’s not quite the same but it’s a cousin concept, a sibling. “You tried to kill me. You really should have finished the job.”

So when I see people say “don’t tell me I’m stronger now, I get to be the judge of that thank you very much,” that version I get.

But when I see “the idea that I’m stronger now is bullshit, all I did was break,” that one twigs me.

Because it pulls me back to the broken doll oozing ichor. Nothing new came out of this. Nothing brave. That’s just a demon trying to justify continuing to exist, when deep down it knows all it is is pollution.

I make these posts not to tell people that they need to see themselves as stronger. I don’t know how they should heal. They know that.

I make them to remind people that there are a lot of different ways to reconstruct a self, and that it’s easy to overstep if you generalize too much.

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

Virgil has a horror author. He writes stuff you'd find on r/nosleep, short stories and longer ones. He's done the "I work at XYZ and there are a set of rules to survive" trope and classic missing persons tropes and stuff like that. But the real kicker? It's under a pen name. He doesn't show it off or anything. He just researches for his works, writes them, publishes them, gets paid, and starts again as he pleases. He's rather a famous author in the horror world — he's no Stephen King but a fair amount of people know his name.

Remus isn't much of a reader, but there's a few he has. Encyclopedias of weird anatomy stuff, fact books about disgusting things through history, the weird, the macabre, everything Remus. And every book by this mysterious horror author he so desperately admires.

I mean, the thrill? The horror? The tropes being done so effectively? How could he not admire that? So what if it's a well-used trope, it's written really well. I wouldn't say he's big fan #1 but he's got a lot of the books and definitely reads them when a new one comes out.

And Remus has been seeing this guy at a coffee shop nearby. He's cute, emo, often brings his computer in and just types away, always sits in the corner and never lets Remus get a peek at what he's doing. Remus can't help having the hots for that guy!

They meet, they talk, they begin to go out, he's always avoiding talking about his job, until Remus comes over and sees, what is that? A manuscript? With a title and pseudonym he recognizes? Cue the :O shocked Remus.

And Remus being overjoyed about meeting Mr Scary Author Man. And Virgil being like "oh shit nobody was supposed to know. Well. Might as well." Them continuing to go out. Remus picking his brain about all of the books. Virgil actually likes the attention but shhh don't tell Remus. Remus getting to read the rough drafts sometimes (gotta keep him as a reader somehow /j) and Remus buying the books when they come out and them just RAHHHHHH

— 👑

Vee being a mysterious Horror author my beloved I L O V E that S O fucking much <3!!! It's S O fucking sweet that Ree admires Vee as a writer despite not knowing him and finally meeting him <3 You just know the chaotic man always tries to peek whenever Vee's writing and the Emo is jokingly like "I can't have you leaking exclusive content your 30 day free trial is up" XD

[can-of-w0rmz]

@shotofstress

When I tell you I read this I saw it and I WHEEZED I was in TEARS and I shouldn’t be bothered arguing about it but quite frankly I’m trying to procrastinate anyway and I’ve had a god awful week and need to take out my frustrations somehow, ergo, I’m going be petty not because this person disagrees with my reading of the novel, but because they implied that in reading queer or neurodivergent elements in a work, people “can’t see the important themes that the novel is about” which actually does piss me off a fair bit

Right so first before we argue we’ve got to decipher because English apparently isn’t this person’s forte for someone who is, apparently, such an avid reader and esteemed critic of English literature. Also I just realised I haven’t really provided any context here so apologies this was in response to that joke post I made about mischaracterising Frankenstein adaptations (again yes the pettiness is not lost on me but I’m embracing it anyway)

“He is not gay nor autistic” cheers this person disagrees that Victor Frankenstein is either gay or autistic. To each their own. Wonder what kind of backup they’ll have for that argument.

“Pls stop seen representation of us everyone bc u can’t make the difference,” Right so this is where we get confusing, I’m going to take a wild guess and I think they’re trying to say “please stop seeing representation of us everywhere because you can’t make the difference”, and I still don’t know what “make the difference” means, but we’ll go with it.

“read nothing new”, alright so they’re saying people who see representation everywhere read nothing new, and then the kicker that’s kind of the only reason I decided to respond to this anyway, “nor really see the important themes that the novel is about.”

First off, “stop seeing representation of us everywhere”, let it be known that as I make a hundred jokes about Victor Frankenstein being homosexual, I myself am thoroughly through and through without a doubt bisexual as the days are long. Absolutely love men. Also adore women equally. So no, I am not a Disney corporate executive trying to squeeze in as many queers as possible for the entire purpose of using the fact they have representation in media to excuse the fact it’s a shite film but also, not trying to revisit every old piece of media to squeeze representation where it doesn’t really fit or make sense just for shits and giggles. (Also just saying, you made this comment on Tumblr. So even if I was just going haywire with lgbt headcanons on my favourite media with no real backup, who gives a shit? Who actually gives a flying fuck? I don’t. Let people live, man. It doesn’t mean they don’t understand the source material just because they’re having fun and playing loose with it. It’s Tumblr, not a Netflix adaptation. Let people do whatever they want and have fun with it. It’s cool.)

But like I said, I do have backup and a lot of it so let’s get into that, shall we?

First of all, whoo, autism. I’ll be real not really a hill I’m going to die on but the wording you put of “he is not autistic” is just ridiculous because yeah, no, there is a lot of perfectly decent ground to read Victor Frankenstein as autistic and a lot of people do, mostly people who are autistic or otherwise neurodivergent themselves. Just because in the 18th century people didn’t necessarily have the language for things doesn’t mean they didn’t exist, and I mean, now we do. So what’s the harm in using it? They had their own language for things back then, do we have to revert back to speaking in early 19th century English every time we want to refer to a character who was written back then as neurodivergent or lgbt or anything else?? What’s the point in that??

But yeah, Victor Frankenstein. I can’t even be bothered to explain and to be honest every single other person I’ve said “Frankenstein is autistic to” has immediately responded “oh yeah, obviously”, even my father who famously is just hypercritical of all sorts of headcanons just went “oh yeah no for sure the man is definitely autistic no doubt about it”. So instead I’m just going to include some quotes.

My temper was sometimes violent, and my passions vehement; but by some law in my temperature they were turned not towards childish pursuits but to an eager desire to learn, and not to learn all things indiscriminately.

It was my temper to avoid a crowd and to attach myself fervently to a few. I was indifferent, therefore, to my school-fellows in general; but I united myself in the bonds of the closest friendship to one among them.

From this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, in the most comprehensive sense of the term, became nearly my sole occupation.

Two years passed in this manner, during which I paid no visit to Geneva, but was engaged, heart and soul, in the pursuit of some discoveries which I hoped to make. None but those who have experienced them can conceive of the enticements of science. In other studies you go as far as others have gone before you, and there is nothing more to know; but in a scientific pursuit there is continual food for discovery and wonder.

Like I said, self explanatory. It’s harder to come up with an argument for why he isn’t autistic than why he is, and frankly, what’s the harm in reading him that way? It doesn’t really change anything about the plot or themes, and his character doesn’t change. It’s just a very probable diagnosis for said qualities. It doesn’t change them, whether you use that word or not. The concept of autism was coined in 1911 anyway, so its not like Mary Shelley’s going to be sat at her writing desk in 1817 writing in big bold letters “BY THE WAY, FRANKENSTEIN HAD AN AUTISM DIAGNOSIS.” It doesn’t change the fact that people still had autism back then, just because the term wasn’t discovered yet. Anyway.

Now, second bit. “He isn’t gay” – now, if you read Frankenstein and thought “ah yes, this man seems perfectly heterosexual to me”, then honestly, sure. Go ahead. But to say that reading Victor Frankenstein as queer in any way means that people “don’t understand the important themes of the novel” is completely bloody ridiculous because, again, there is astronomical ground to read him that way.

Victor Frankenstein never really shows interest in any women in the novel, except for Elizabeth, who he has been raised, since he was five years old, to see as his “gift” and was told by his mother since he was a very young child that he was going to marry her – to the point where his mother, on her deathbed, tells both Victor and Liz: “My firmest hopes of future happiness were placed on the prospect of your union. This expectation will now be the consolation of your father.” Also, they’re cousins/adopted siblings. If you don’t think that’s fucked up, even by the standards of the time, I’m not really sure what to say to you. Of course he married her. And before he married her, he generally expresses very little romantic interest in her bar just expressing as much affection as you would a close friend or sister, or seeing her as his “gift” who he “has to be wed to”. Read any other story from this time period, in this genre, and you will not be remotely questioning whether they’re actually attracted to each-other or not. In fact, here’s an excerpt from The Vampyre, another book born from the same trip to Geneva that Frankenstein was, by John William Polidori, about the protagonist’s love interest:

And that’s only part of it. So. Yeah. Victor’s lack of romantic affection for Elizabeth is not “a product of its time” nor “a product of its genre.” And The Vampyre is a short story.

And so you may be saying, “well, just because Victor doesn’t show any interest in women doesn’t necessarily make him gay”, and yeah, true that (ace and bi Vic hcs y’all are valid) but there is very good basis to take the reading that he is attracted to men.

For one thing, just the fact that he’s so particular about creating “the perfect man” is subject to a lot of queer readings in itself, but let’s be real here, you all know me enough by now to know that I just want an excuse to rant about Clerval and Frankenstein. And rant about them I shall.

First, I’m lazy, so here’s an excerpt from one of my previous essays I’ve written that I’ve never posted everywhere on Frankenstein in general:

Just as The Creature is Victor’s narrative foil, so is Clerval. He's equally ambitious and fascinated with the secrets of life, however he’s healthy with how he goes about it and healthy with how he keeps the balance between taking care of himself and pursuing his dreams, while Victor goes over the edge and neglects himself and his sense of morality to complete what he set out to do. He's supposed to represent the ideals of gothic romanticism in Victor and he's supposed to be his anchor and support, (something the Creature doesn't have), caring for Victor during his illness, (“reanimating” him, almost, once again showing that comparison between both Victor and Henry, as Henry “reanimates” Victor with compassion and cares for him after, and Victor reanimates The Creature in a haze of obsession and mania and immediately abandons him, showing what Victor could have been), and constantly accompanying and being sympathetic and empathetic towards him. I also find it very interesting how he does also seem to have those darker aspects to him, lying to Victor’s family about the extent of his illness and caring for Victor in his apartment despite the fact that, for all he knew, from the evidence lying around his workspace and Victor’s feverish rambling, he very well could have murdered someone, and Clerval chooses not to press him on the issue and instead to intentionally help Victor cover it up. The fact that Clerval exhibits these traits only makes Victor’s own downfall all the more tragic when we consider that it likely very much isn’t a stretch to imagine that Clerval, too, likely exhibits a lot of the same morbid curiosity as Victor; he isn’t a superhuman figure with purely positive attributes who is completely far removed from Victor’s situation, the only difference is that Clerval chooses to prioritise his own sense of morality over his selfish aims, which only emphasises the point that Victor’s downfall is, ultimately, Victor’s own fault. When Victor "kills" the Creature’s chance of the same support and love (his unfinished bride), the Creature kills Henry and sends Victor into a downward spiral of suicidal thoughts and heavy depression because the character that represented that stability, that romanticism, that balance of keeping healthy, is dead, and that throws Victor downward into his inevitable obsession with the monster's destruction and his own death.

On this point, I feel like it’s worth bringing up that a reasonably good case could probably be made regarding a lot of queer subtext in the novel, although I won’t rant about it excessively as it obviously isn’t the focus, the theme of love is a very prominent theme as I’ve previously mentioned with The Creature; familial love, platonic love, parental love, romantic love, and I don’t think it’s particularly much of stretch to suggest that Shelley, intentionally or unintentionally, might have added a lot more romantic subtext than given credit for. Not that it matters particularly narratively speaking what kind of love is portrayed, but in reference specifically to Clerval and the Ingolstadt chapters there’s a very good argument to be made regarding Shelley’s poor relationship with her own husband and how she may have projected a lot of her wish for that kind of care and sympathy into his character, perhaps not taking into account, or perhaps she did, how it would come across – author intentions are mostly lost with time and we’ll ultimately never know for sure, but even for the standards of the late 18th century when the novel was set and the early 19th century when it was written, “I desire the company of a man who could sympathise with me, whose eyes would reply to mine. You may deem me romantic,” and “your form so divinely wrought, and beaming with beauty, has decayed, but your spirit still visits and consoles your unhappy friend,” probably weren’t standard platonic sentiments.

And honestly on that essay excerpt, that still sums my thoughts on that subject up pretty much perfectly. After all, a character in a book talking about his best friend going “I loved him with a mixture of reverence and affection that knew no bounds” as well said best friend tenderly nursing him back to health, and the character talking about how his body is “divinely wrought and beaming with beauty” and gently pressing his hand and referring to him constantly as “my dearest”, “my dear” and “my beloved”, while living together and travelling together and talking about how his voice “soothes” him and “cheats (him) into a transitory peace”, pretty gay!

And yes, before anyone says a single thing, if it wasn’t already obvious from the essay excerpt, I do understand “the important themes the novel is about”. I do understand that there are more themes and characters and subject matter, and more than that, I bloody love it! Because this is one of my favourite novels! Of-fucking-course I’m invested in it on a deeper level than “ooOoooh what classical literature characters can I RUIN with my gay agenda today!” But you commented this on a joke post, a joke post, again, on Tumblr. No harm but Jesus Christ if there is a singular platform I can go on and just post stupid bullshit about two book characters from 200 years ago being soft and gay without having to justify that yes, I did in fact read the book, and shock horror yes, I do know that there are other themes, it’s bloody Tumblr. (Absolutely love you lot btw especially all my lovely fantastic incredible mutuals all your takes and readings and art is 👌✨ chef’s kiss)

Oh and by the way, op, I noticed you reblogged this:

And to be honest if I had to say any take or reading was a misunderstanding of the text, it’d be that one (as well as “Victor is sexist for cutting women out of the creation process” takes – Christ that’s just gross. And feels mildly if not explicitly homophobic.)

So just for shits and giggles to counter that argument, here’s another excerpt from the same older essay as before:

Speaking of Hugo, it is rather interesting how many adaptations and literary criticisms seem to go down the route of the Hunchback of Notre Dame moral of “who is the monster and who is the man?”, suggesting that Victor is the “true monster” of the narrative. And, as much as I am a decent Victor Hugo fan, (I’m over 50% through Les Misérables, have you seen the size of that book? I’d have to be), in reality the point of the story is that neither Creator nor Creation are more monster nor man than the other – Victor mutilates corpses and brings the creature to life, and allows Justine to be executed without owning up to his actions, and The Creature murders a child and a multitude of other innocent people, Clerval and Elizabeth who had nothing to do with anything and Ernest left completely alone with his entire family dead. We can’t acknowledge The Creature’s sympathetic qualities without also acknowledging Victor’s, and regardless, sympathetic motivations don’t make up for immoral actions.

Also this meme, which I can’t for the absolute life of me remember who posted it originally I’m sorry I use it all the time in GCs whoever it was you’re so valid:

[alan-in-the-outernet]

I don’t really think Figment would run away from Victim, that’s not how it rolls I think.

It would probably snap back to its banter and such relatively quickly, as a way to distract itself from well.. EVERYTHING. And I think it would be very aware of its mental state, since it knows how the mind works, it used to be an unhealthy coping mechanism, after all.

True but you have to remember it's. It may be more aware of the mind but it's not used to having it's own mind. And it's not used to being PHYSICAL.

That's the kicker here. It's never been physical itself. It faintly knows what physical things felt like for Vic, but everytime it deals with a new sensation is overwhelming and almost tips it over the edge. It's never felt a hand on it. It's never actually eaten. It's never... anything.

And while it was an unhealthy coping mechanism... it was all mental. This? Is all very new for it. So it can try to banter, to cope... but that sense of being overwhelmed will never quite go away...

Until it becomes too much.