#I always feel kind of feverish? does that make sense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lincolndjarin · 1 year ago

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter three : the smitten paladin (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.6k

summary : reader does some reading

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You’re starting to think the planet isn’t the reason you’re so hot all the time.

You had woken up this morning feeling a bit better than you thought you’d be, your stomach is full of butterflies but you're still standing and considering the night you had you’re gonna take that as a win. Elaine and Lysa both seemed to sense that you were back in slightly better spirits and Lysa doesn’t bother to ask as she fetches you a dress that isn’t blue. You want to protest when she emerges from the closet with a simple green gown but you bite your tongue. Maybe he’ll like it.

You don’t care. Why should you care? Why the hell are you already sweating? Nothing has changed. He did one nice thing for you, so you forgive him. But you still don’t care.

Well… you care enough to ask them to leave your hair down, which they do. And you care enough to ask them to leave your face alone. (Save for some thin golden eyeliner.) You dismiss the girls with a thank you and give yourself just a moment alone.

You’re going to have a normal day. Not a great day, and not a good day. Just a normal day. You are going to go to the library today and you’re going to read. And you are going to talk to the Mandalorian. You are going to patch things up. Oh gods, what if he doesn’t want to patch things up? What if he thinks you’re just some unstable, bellyaching princess? Stop caring what he thinks. Normal day. Just go out there before he comes in here.

You take the book he had given you and you tuck it under your arm as you go out to greet him. As expected, he is there, just outside the door, and as expected he doesn’t speak first, so you do it instead.

“Good morning, Mando.”

He takes his time, observing your mood, his visor trained on you. You suddenly feel feverish.

“Morning, princess.” His voice is careful, almost like he’s testing the waters. You don’t know how to tell him you aren’t mad anymore, or that you’re okay now. You’re pretty sure both are true. So you just head towards the library.

“Come on sparkles.” Is all you say as you start walking. The silence isn’t necessarily comfortable but at least it feels bearable. Once there you settle into your familiar positions, you, seated in the reading nook, him, pulling up a chair across from you. You hopelessly want to say something but you don’t want to come off as desperate, and honestly you’re so anxious at this point you’re worried you’ll throw up if you try to speak. So you take out the book, making sure he can see the cover. Hoping he takes it as a peace offering, you pick it up from chapter two, where you’d left off after last night. And that is how you stay for several hours.

You read, flipping through the chapters of what ends up being a pretty corny book. It’s a predictable tale of forbidden love, the daughter of a blacksmith falling in love with a knight, blah blah blah, a little dull but entertaining enough to keep your attention for the most part. So much so that you’re able to completely forget that your every move is being watched.

Almost.

Because you get to chapter six, and suddenly, the book is… raunchier than you expected it to be.

And it’s sweltering in the library out of nowhere and you’re pretty sure you can’t blame Naboo this time.

You’re hyper aware of him now.

That he’s watching you. Well he’s always watching you, always has been, but now you can’t stop thinking about it because you’re sitting here, reading porn, and he’s sitting there, watching you.

You should close the book, take a break, get some water.

But you don’t.

Because suddenly the book is kind of good. For some reason you’re suddenly engrossed by the story of Oskar and Dorthea. That’s what you tell yourself. That you are captivated by the storytelling, not the way Oskar’s large hands are currently clutching Dorthea’s heaving bosom. You wonder if Oskar is wearing gloves when he does it. You should stop reading.

You can’t do this.

But… you have been neglecting certain urges of yours since arriving on Naboo. And now it’s been over three weeks and to say that you’re pent up would be putting it lightly.

So what’s the harm in reading something a little risqué? It’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, after all life as a newlywed wasn't exactly going the way you thought it would, so maybe this would help relieve a little bit of the stress that you’re very obviously suffering from at this point. So you allow yourself to read on, and everything is fine until she starts taking off his armor, because you can see a certain armor wearing nuisance sitting just over the top of your book. You start imagining it before you can stop yourself and the all too familiar heat washes over you.

This is the part where you remind yourself to stop.

Or…

You could indulge, just this once. There’s nothing wrong with that, an innocent little fantasy. It will help you enjoy your book more if you imagine the characters more clearly. And it’s so easy after that, to imagine Oskar the paladin in Beskar, funnily enough he really does remind you of Mando. He’s sarcastic and he’s witty but he is also rather gentle with the blacksmith's daughter when he needs to be.

He’s also quite rough with her when he needs to be.

You can’t help but wonder if Mando is similar to Oskar in that regard as well.

Okay you definitely can’t do this.

Unless of course you’re thinking about Oskar. There’s nothing wrong with that. He isn’t real. You can fantasize about him and it would be perfectly acceptable. You should do that instead. Fantasize about the not real character in your book and not on the very real Mandalorian sitting several feet away from you.

Just for a minute. Just to help relieve some of the tension that has been building in your body for weeks now. This is the smart and healthy thing to do, lest it spiral completely out of control. This is a good thing, this will dissipate the fog that has been clouding your judgment.

So you think about Oskar. Just Oskar. Stare at the pages of your book and think about Oskar. Tall, dark, and handsome Oskar.

He’s probably downright barbaric with it. Probably takes what he wants, he’s such a jackass. You bet he gives it just as hard as he takes it though, that overconfident prick probably loves it when you just fall to pieces for him.

Not you.

Dorthea.

Not him.

Oskar.

Think about Oskar.

Is he vocal? He’s always so quiet but when he does talk it’s like he can’t shut up. You get the sense that he likes feeling smarter than you. Or whoever it is you’re imaging in this scenario. He’d probably be just as rude in the bedroom. Just absolutely wreck you and then call you sweet names and his words would be kind and warm but he would use that condescending tone he uses when he knows he’s winning, and he’s always winning. You hate that he’s always winning, maybe you should come up with some rehearsed comebacks. Or would that be lame? He’d probably see right through that.

Oskar. You’re thinking about Oskar.

For Makers sake think about Oskar.

Oskar probably doesn’t have the patience to undo Dorthea’s complicated dresses. He probably just rips them right off of her, Oskar probably doesn’t even take the time to remove his helmet. For no reason in particular. He probably leaves it on, too consumed by his feral, untamed, need to ravage her. To devour her entirely with his hands, his stupid, pointlessly, gloved hands. He might lift the helmet enough just to bite the fingertips of the gloves to rip them off as swiftly as possible. Or maybe he’d let you- Dorthea , sink her teeth into them, make her remove them.

It’s unbearably hot now, and people sweat when they get hot.

That’s what you tell yourself when you feel a wetness pooling in a place you cannot think about right now lest you tear your dress off right here in front of him in the library to deal with it.

He could push you up against the shelves, no one ever comes in here. He could bend you over the reading nook you were currently sitting atop, or you could just join him in that chair, stare down into his visor and let him know who’s in charge.

Because you hate him. Obviously.

You want to be in charge because you know he’d detest that. You want to watch him melt in your hands, beg you for more. That’s the only reason. To see him reduced to nothing but a man, not this statue of steel and wit that he is constantly portraying. Just a man, you want to be the one thing on this entire stupid planet that makes him nothing but a man.

You definitely aren’t thinking about Oskar right now.

This doesn’t mean anything.

Stars, what has gotten into you today? You need to get laid. That’s gotta be it. Back on Hoth you were a princess without a husband, it was easy to find boys in your colony who would happily bed you whenever you desired. But not here, here you have a husband who won’t bed you, (thank the gods.) and an unbearable bodyguard who you can’t even see the face of so Maker why can’t you stop thinking about him. You could go to the market in the city, probably find a vibrator or something pretty easily. But you’re the princess of a very respected royal family now, you can’t exactly go strolling into a sex shop in broad daylight. And then of course there’s the Mando of it all. You can’t help but wonder what his reaction to that would be, would he follow you into that kind of establishment? He’d have to, right? He’s followed you everywhere else. What would he think if he saw you buying yourself a toy to keep you company? He has to know at this point that Kodo isn’t exactly satisfying your needs. He has to understand that you have needs, most people have needs. Does Mando have needs?

Does he ever think about your needs when he’s satisfying his?

Don’t.

You have to say it to yourself now.

Your face is surely bright red at this point, you consider if that’s something he likes. Does he like how easily riled up you are? How flustered you get at just the thought of him? Okay you were certainly overindulging at this point. You had to stop, there has to be a line and that line certainly is imagining what he might find attractive.

“Why don’t you try sounding it out.” He catches you off guard, unmoving as he speaks.

“What?” Maker, are you panting? Pull yourself together woman.

“I assume you’re stuck on a word, you’ve been on that page for nearly 15 minutes. Try sounding it out.”

Usually this behavior from him is the perfect thing to stop any untoward thoughts. Why isn’t it working? Why do you suddenly wanna shut him up in a completely different way?

“You’re a funny guy, have you considered being a comedian or do you just really like being a glorified babysitter?”

“I really like being a glorified babysitter.” He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. You loathe him.

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”

At least things are okay between you two. Things seem okay. This is normal. There’s a relief to be found in knowing that your relationship, (albeit antagonistic) seems to be repaired. That is until he of course has to ruin it by opening his mouth.

“How’s the book?”

Great.

“It’s good. Thank you for returning it to me…”

“Of course.” You hope he’ll drop it but it’s him so of course he doesn’t. “What’s it about?” You can hear the faux innocence practically dripping through the modulator. There’s no way he’s actually doing this.

“I don’t think you’d like it.”

“Why not? You have no idea what I like.”

Okay this has gone from inappropriate to downright intimate. What's his end goal here? You know that he can’t seriously be doing this. Maybe he’s playing some sort of game with you? Maybe he’s playing a game of chicken, if that’s the case then you certainly aren’t going to lose, and let him win? Hell no.

“It might be a little too intense for you.” You raise a single eyebrow, his move.

“Oh really? How so?” He leans back in the chair now. For Makers sake does he have to spread his legs so obscenely wide.

“Isn’t there some kind of Mandalorian vow of celibacy?” You have no idea but you plaster a naive look on your face.

“Nothing in the creed about that, princess.” How does he make the word princess sound so vulgar? Why is there a rush of molten heat through your veins when you find out he isn’t celibate.

This doesn’t mean anything.

“Oh? But I thought you weren’t allowed to take the armor off?” This shouldn’t make you perspire as much as you are. You aren’t doing anything wrong, you’re having a conversation, it’s not like you’re cheating on your husband by having a conversation.

“Just the helmet.” You knew that, of course, but it’s still a shame. You’d love to give his mouth something to do other than taunt you.

You need to get out of this library.

“Oh.” Great quick thinking. Real impressive comeback you moron.

“So?”

“So…?”

“The book, what’s it about?”

Of course he isn’t going to drop this. You should lie, this conversation can escalate very quickly if you’re not careful and considering how close you are to sticking your hand up your dress right here in front of him, you better be careful.

“It’s a cute little love story about a girl and a knight.”

He hums softly like he’s considering something while you consider lobbing the book at his head.

“Sounds charming.” Not a good sign that you can hear the derisive tone through the modulator already. “So what are you stuck on?”

Your eyes meet the page you’d left open while you were daydreaming, you manage to keep a straight face but you’re not exactly sure how you’re gonna ad-lib your way out of this seeing as Dorthea is currently bent over a hay bale in the stables and Oskar is currently “thrusting his pulsing member into her damp maidenhood.” Maker, this book is garbage.

You know what, why not push back? He always manages to tease you into silence or reduce you to a stuttering blushing mess, so why not grab at this chance to get the upper hand? He’s not the only one who can catch people off guard.

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?” You hold out the book at arms length and turn it ninety degrees. It isn’t a picture book but you still think it’s a bit funny to furrow your brow and pretend.

It works, he’s silent. Too silent, you worry you’ve gone too far again but after a few beats the modulator crackles to life once more.

“Didn’t realize the book had pictures, I must have missed them.” He crosses his arms and tilts his head ever so slightly.

Dank farrik. Why couldn’t you go one conversation without him dropping some ridiculous bomb that makes you look like an idiot, it’s like he’s dedicating his days to outsmarting you rather than protecting you. More importantly, you need to address the bantha in the room.

“You read this?” You don’t bother hiding the disbelief on your face, he already knows he’s got you so what's the point.

“You’re not the only one who’s bored, princess, when you’re alone, I’m alone with you. One of the many perks of silently standing behind you all the time. Someone had to go clean up the books you dropped, thought I’d give one of them a read.” You can’t believe this.

“So you’ve read The Smitten Paladin? ” The confusion muddling your brain right now is downright overwhelming, worst of all is now you can’t stop thinking about him reading the filth you’ve been enjoying.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell you how it ends.”

Maker, you want to chuck the book at him so bad right now, but you know it won’t stop his smug tone that fills the air between you. You need to get out, you need to be in your chambers and far, far away from the obnoxious, egotistical, self-righteous Mandalorian. So you stand up and close the book and start walking, of course he’s fluid in the way he matches you, almost like he anticipated your departure.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to spoil the happy ending.” Is all you can mutter out as you make haste towards your chambers, refusing to look at him the entire way.

This doesn’t mean anything. ✩

You cannot lock your door fast enough. You don’t bother turning on any lamps, you just collapse down on the edge of the bed and hike your dress up, no sense in wasting half an hour trying to get it off, not when there are far more important matters to attend to regarding getting off.

You waste no time shoving your hand down the front of you underwear, you’ve never been so thankful for all of the layers in your gowns because you’re soaked through your panties, you’re fingers are small and nimble so you easily swipe two digits through your folds, scooping up a bit of your wetness, back already arching as you just say fuck it and bury both fingers into your cunt.

The shaky sigh that leaves your lips is downright pornographic. Three weeks of pent up frustration all crashing down on you now as you bring your other hand up to cover your mouth, you start grinding against your palm, haphazardly doing everything in your power to put some friction against your swollen clit. Your hand can’t muffle your moans entirely as you curl your fingers against that spot that makes you sob into your wrist, you bite down onto the meat of your palm just below your thumb but you can’t stop the noises that slip from you as you curl your fingers a bit faster, thrusting them in and out of your drenched hole.

You wish your fingers were thicker, there’s barely any stretch with how small yours are, you can hit all the spots you need to push yourself towards that delectable edge but you can’t help but crave a little more. You don’t even bother trying to stop the inevitable, you’re too far gone at this point. Might as well let your mind wander to what it needs to to finish the job.

After all, it doesn’t mean anything.

How long does he wait outside your door before dismissing himself? With his helmet’s capabilities he could certainly hear what’s going on in here, is he out there right now? Eavesdropping as you fuck your own hand. Is he straining against his flight suit as he stands on the other side of that wall. Acting like he’s there to defend you when in reality he just wants to listen in, give himself to think about later. Or is he just palming himself through his trousers, not wanting to wait.

Realistically he went back to his own chambers the moment you closed the door.

You might be giving yourself a little too much credit but it’s your fantasy so you get to think whatever you need to get you there. Like why is the helmet kind of hot now? Was it always hot or are you just really horny right now? There’s just something so erotic about not being able to see his face, not being able to read his emotions behind the steel facade he puts up. He’s got so many utilities and attachments, it must be hard to get through all the layers. Might be nice if he left most of it on, took off just enough to get the job done. Does he have cuffs? If he’s an ex-bounty hunter he probably has cuffs. You know he has a blaster and a bunch of other weapons you don’t fully understand, you kind of wish someone would ambush you just so you could see him in action. Honestly he’s so terrifying to most people you’re pretty sure you might go your entire life without being attacked. He definitely has cuffs. He could storm in right now, cuff your hands above your head and finish what you started.

His fingers would probably work better than yours. You rock your hips down against your hand now as you can feel yourself slipping just the tiniest bit closer to that edge. You haven’t seen his hands but you can imagine. Even without the gloves just one of his fingers was probably as thick as the two you were working in and out of yourself currently.

Maker, with the gloves on he would probably have to work to get just one finger inside you.

You cum embarrassingly fast at the thought. It actually catches you off guard as you grind your palm against your clit just so and you’re seeing stars, soaking your already drenched panties as you withdraw your hand and collapse in a heap onto the bed, wiping your fingers off on the sheets. (You don’t sleep in this bed anyway so who cares.)

You decide it’s best to ignore anything you thought about in your sex-crazed state. You can’t be held accountable for anything you think of to get yourself across the finish line, you aren’t yourself in those circumstances.

It doesn’t mean anything.

It can’t mean anything.

Minds wander, people think of all sorts of things when they’re blinded by lust. Hell, back home you’d once thought about a medical droid to get you there.

So it doesn’t matter.

And it certainly doesn’t mean anything, you were pent up, you see him all the time, now that you’ve taken care of it, it won’t happen again.

Now that you’ve taken care of that you’re sure you’ll be back to normal, no more day dreaming about unattainable men who you despise. You close your eyes for a few minutes. Chest heaving as you struggle to fully recover from your hasty orgasm.

You give yourself some time to just lay like that, eyes closed, trying to steady your breath, you probably shouldn’t sleep, you haven’t gone to dinner yet but after such a shamefully swift and powerful climax you're positively drained. (Literally and figuratively.) So it won’t kill you to close your eyes for a few minutes.

You don’t know how much time passes but before you even know what’s happening you're standing in front of the mirror, hair disheveled.

You can’t get your dress off, can’t twist your arms behind you to reach the corset laces. You don’t want to wake Elaine or Lysa, you aren’t sure how late it is but you just can’t seem to unlace the bodice by yourself, you’re considering just sleeping in the infernal thing at this point. In your struggle you don’t hear the door open but you watch in the mirror as a familiar silver figure envelops you. How long had he been out there? What the hell was he doing here at this time of night?

“You look like you need a little help there princess.” The familiar crackle of the modulator consumes your senses, watching in the reflection of the mirror you can see the slow and deliberate removal of his gloves as he undoes your bodice, with a practiced agility. Everything is fuzzy. You want so badly to drink in every part of him that he is willing to give to you but it’s almost too much for your brain to comprehend right now. He takes his time with it, like he’s drawing it out. Tenderly pulling every string loose until you can slip out of the gown with ease.

You let it fall to the ground.

He stares at you in your reflection, his large bare hands wrap themselves around your exposed midriff as you’re left only in your undergarments for his eyes to devour. He’s so leisurely about it, not wanting to miss an inch. His fingertips dance across the bare skin of your stomach, it takes every ounce of restraint in you to not arch yourself back against him, you can’t stand the way he makes you want to throw your dignity to the wind. With the two of you facing the mirror like this you can see everything. His thumb begins to stroke the lace of your bra ever so slightly while his other hand skims against your sternum. His touches were so light that if you weren’t having a physical reaction to them you wouldn’t even be truly sure he was touching you at all.

“Did you wear that pretty dress for me, princess?” Maker, you must have died and gone to heaven. His voice, his stupid voice. His stupid gravely voice that left you weak in the knees no matter how often you heard it. “You looked so good, I knew you’d wear green today, so eager to please me…” The baritone of it goes straight to your core, and speaking of straight to your core, his left hand is traveling downwards ever so gradually. “Tell me what it is you want.”

You suppose this is it, moment of truth. He wants to hear what you have to say. You could tell him to fuck off, right here, right now. And honestly you’re positive he would leave if you told him to. You’re married, unhappily. But that doesn’t make this okay. Nothing could make this okay. Except for the way his hands clamp down on your waist just hard enough to make you whine but not hard enough to bruise. Well, that’s enough to cloud your judgment enough to make this okay.

“Tell me.” His palms begin to knead the soft flesh of your abdomen and you swear the sensation of that alone has him groaning and rutting against you from behind.

This view is obscene, watching him grope you. It’s a real spectacle he’s making, holding you up on your shaky knees in front of the floor length mirror so you can see everything he’s doing to your body.

“Use your words, princess. Speak up.” You didn’t think his voice could get more husky; he's practically growling. It’s a good thing he’s supporting you slightly because his words make your knees buckle.

Oh he loves this, loves having you so unraveled by him that you can’t even tell him what you so desperately need from him. You can feel just how much he loves this against your lower back right now.

“I want to hear you say it, sarad'ika. ” And that’s all it takes to break your resolve. Those two words you couldn’t remember no matter how hard you tried, trickling out of his modulator and you’re willing to surrender to the feelings you’ve been fighting for longer than you’d like to admit. So you say it, you admit it out loud for the first time. You admit it to yourself for the first time.

“You. I want you. ”

And you wake up. Still in your dress, still laying on the edge of your bed, still alone.

Fuck.

Well, that might mean something.

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honey-minded-hivemind · 5 months ago

Note

Some ideas for option 2

Rewind! Reader was experiencing sudden bursts of pain and went to the doctor alone, only to stumble up on Mr Sinister out of his disguise

Causing reader to have to run for their damn life as Mr Sinister tries catching them, maybe even gets close to actually catching them before reader either finds a way to slip away or something something Devine interference-

Cube anon

You'd been feeling sicker lately.

A lot sicker, actually.

Kevin had had to take you home about two weeks ago, seeing you about to pass out and struggling to move without stopping in pain. They'd been kind enough to stay over at your apartment, fixing you dinner amd feeding you and keeping a wet towel presses to your forehead and talking to some some their friends while you were trying to keep the worst of the pain at bay.

It was agony.

Your nails felt like they were on fire, the nailbeds raw and red and stinging sharply. Your mouth ached, your teeth hurt when you touched them and your gums felt sore and bled at any hars touches. Even your bones felt exhausted, like they were shifting under your skin. Your entire body felt feverish and cold and you couldn't stay warm enough or keep cool enough.

It felt like H*ll.

Which led you to here, the old clinic, looking for your old doctor.

The doors creaked as you peeked through them, your boots clacking loudly on the tiled floor. The air smelt of chemicals and cleaning supplies, the shadows seemed too dark and too deep, and each noise and echo made you shiver even more...

But you eventually came across a room, where you saw a shadowy figure waiting.

You hesitated.

It didn't.

"Why, child... come back so soon?"

Your spine goes rigid, feeling like ice filled each crac and joint.

"My my... yes... Reader, correct? It's been quite some time since we last met, face to face~" It loomed in the dark confines of the room, seeming to grow bigger and bigger with each word.

"..."

You couldn't squeeze anything past your throat. Whatever this was... it wasn't good...

"Cat got your tongue~? Hmmm... Always were such an antsy little thing~ But I fixed most of your flaws, my dear... Now... why don't you come closer, so Dr. Essex can fix this, too?"

You didn't waste a minute turning tail and running, panting and heart going a mile a minute as you fled from the dark being chasing behind you. You could hear it's cackle echo all around you, the darkness humming with malevolence. This... thing... wanted to hurt you. It might even kill you, if it had it's way.

You can't let it get it's hands on you.

You grab a bottle of rubbing alcohol as you run, clutching it tightly to your chest as you turn down a hall... Right into a dead end.

You freeze. You can feel the darkness writhing with something, the evil lurking within it...

And then hands are clutching at you, trying to drag you in.

You scream, kicking and thrashing, fighting as best you can against the demon trying to drag you under, bit all it does is make you feel weaker, your head fuzzing with fever. You shake, tears starting to slip down your cheeks.

You can't die here. You can't be taken to God knows where bu this creature. You can't leave Kevin- What would they think? That you abandoned them? That you were ungrateful? Or assume you weren't worth it? Simply forget about you? You yelled at the thought, crying out in despair.

You couldn't disappear like this.

In a shaky twist of the cap, you open the bottle of alcohol-

Then splash it in the creature's eyes, earning am enraged shriek as it releases you, scrambling at its eyes and cursing.

You don't think twice, running past it and down the next hall, making your way into the lobby-

And then you're pushing through the door, running as fast as you can, trying not to collapse on the pavement as you go back home...

It's quiet, when you enter your home.

You feel a sense of unease, stepping forward cautiously, worried, feeling like a naughty child about to be caught sneaking out...

But then you see Kevin, their back facing you, their front hidden from sight, the light from the TV casting their form in shadow.

"K-Kevin-" you start, "K-Kevin, I, I saw something- I'm so sorry, I swear I wasn't leaving you, I'm not going to leave again, we, we just need to hide, fast- Kevin, it's after me- it was horrifying, like- like some undead vampire, or, or some demon- God, I'm so sorry-"

"WhAt did you say you saw?"

You pause.

Something doesn't seem right...

"It, it looked like a being made of, like, shadows. It's face was as pale as death, or a corpse, and it's eyes, Kevin, they were blood red! It's teeth- oh f*ck it's teeth-! They were like needles- It was waiting there, it was after me, I'm so sorry Kevin, but you need to get out of here, before it comes after you-!"

"I'm not going anywhere, kit-cat." Their neck cracks, the snapping noise echoing in the silence.

"All of this time... all of this effort... And he StiLl found you... WhY?! WHY CoULdN'T hE LeAvE yOu ALoNe?!" Their body seems to shift, their form lengthening, growing taller, the skin becoming pale and their bones popping and shifting.

"K-Kevin...?"

The being stills...

Then it turns to face you, and you feel your heart sink to your stomach.

That... is that...

"I'm so sorry, kit-cat... I tried... but it isn't safe here anymore..." The being twitches, then steps closer.

You take a step back.

And it's eyes, bright and hollow and piercing, seem to widen.

"Kit-cat... it's okay... It's me, Kevin. I'm your friend, remember?" it croons softly, smiling at you as though trying to reassure you.

All you can do is shake uncontrollably, starting to hyperventilate. Your hands hurt, your head hurts, your mouth your teeth your eyes your back-

A screech comes out as you double over, clawing at your arms as deep agony rocks your core. You feel tears falling down your cheeks as you cry, hiccups sobs pouring out as the pain only gets worse. You dig your nails in deeper, only to feel sharp pain like daggers stabbing your skin. You glance down, breath shaking-

And see sharpened nails, curved and razor-sharpz covered in smears of dark red.

Your breath hitches, and you shakily stare up at the form of the creature you'd called Kevin. They're frozen, staring at you, shock soon turning to worry.

"Sweetie-!? Shhh, shhh, it's okay, let's calm down, okay? It's gonna be okay, just take a deep breath. See? In, and out. Come on, please, breath kitten, it's gonna be okay-"

You fall backwards, scrambling across the floor, until your back is against the wall. Your heart is beating too fast, your ribs hurt, your mouth is on fire, your teeth burn, your skin crawls, you're shaking and you can't stop-!

A hand comes near you and you scream, nails clawing into your arms and belly, bloody smears starting to stain your clothes. The being (Kevin?) took a step back, stuttering, lost on what to say-

"Reader. Stop hurting yourself. Now."

You freeze up, then slowly turn to look at the screen of the TV.

There, staring back at you, are the X-Men, eyes set on you, watching.

Your ears rush with blood, your mind going into a blind panic as the f*cking TV starts talking at you, the voices swelling as you cry out, tearing at your arms and head and trying to make everything stop-!

The room pops with noise, a loud static and blinding light-

And there's more distorted beings in there, towering over you, looking down, seeing you.

You can't make your legs get up, can't stop them as they come closer, Kevin trying to talk to you as arms and hands reach out, wrapping around your limbs and holding you down-

"Shhhh, it's gonna be okay, kid, yer gonna be okay-"

"Shhh, sweetie, it'll only take a minute-"

"Be gentle, don't hurt them-!"

"Take a deep breath, IN! Then out-"

"Let's calm you down, sweetheart-"

You hear the pop of something small, and try to twist your head around to see it. No matter how hard you thrash you can't free yourself, the grips on you too firm and your limbs held tightly. You see the light glint off something sharp-

"Shhhh, don't look, look over this way-"

And then there's a sharp prick in your arm, then the world starts to... tilt...

"Hey... that's it, sweetie... You're doing so well... Hmmmm, you feeling tired?" A hand is in your hair, smoothing it down and rubbing it lightly, massaging warmth into your chilled skin.

"Good job, kit, ya did real good. Let's get ya up and get ya situated-" Arms are wrapped around you, warm and strong and firm, sitting you up, wrapping around you, then hauling you into a careful hold, the limbs wrapped tight around you.

"Oh, kit-cat, it's okay. Shhhh... I know, I know it hurts so much, and everything is too much right now, and all you wanna do is take a nice, big nap. Why don't you close your eyes for a bit, hmmm~? That's it, you're safe, just relax..." Something is rubbing your back, making small circles and kneading the cold flesh through the wet fabric, causing the muscles to un-tense amd loosen...

"Shhhh... You're so good, kitten... Look at you, you took the medicine so well... You're just feeling tired, aren't you? So so tired... Shhhhh... Just rest~ We'll take care of everything~♡"

Your body is covered in something thick and soft, the arms around you keeping you tucked into their chest... Your head feels thick, your ache melting and waning under the medicine, tugging you down into blissful, quiet, warm darkness...

"Okay, team... let's go home~♡"

( @thewickedweiner @sugar-soda @weebwholovesuchihasasuke )

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen: the animated series #platonic yandere xmen 97 #platonic yandere kevin sydney #platonic yandere morph #platonic yandere scott summers #platonic yandere cyclops #platonic yandere logan howlett #platonic yandere wolverine #🔦rewind au

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angellurgy2 · 3 months ago

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hi this is a story i dont think i ever posted here where i was fucking around with writing a relatable dissociated victim. its currently unnamed and its about someone having their place in their own head fucked with really bad by some kind of hypnotist esque person.

A void swirls around me. my eyes are blanketed in a deep, ephemeral grayscale sky. stars of red and green and blue scatter around me, mixing together, granting a small beauty through the null. its like space, if it was imagined by a kid with aphantasia who’s never looked into the sky before. i used to love space when i was younger. this wondrous, beautiful extremity of the world, with so much potential. so much to learn, to explore. its awe-inspiring. there is nothing like that to take from this soulful space, though, for it is not a space in the sense of celestia, but a blank space. an empty fragment, visualized. is this supposed to be my ‘happy place’? i always wanted one of those.

i hear a piercing scream, echoing from the outside i cannot see. i recognize the voice, but i don’t know it. a shaking, grabbing at my form. who are you? it shouts at me. no one. im sorry. why am i sorry? is that an emotion, if so it might be the first semblance of one ive felt. i think it was more instinctual. sorry, im rambling. rambling to myself? stop apologizing, body. i have a body, huh. i begin to feel, it takes me a while to figure out what, while the shaking continues. oh, those are my legs, i guess? i remember having those. not the tactile sensation, but the existence. i dont think i use them much, they’re worn with cuts and bruises and the whole body aches as it steps onto its feet. i can feel my eyelashes flutter as i peer into the behind of my lids. they well with tears. why am i feeling, stop it. stop it. i don’t want this. i can move my arms again. i don’t like this, put me back. please. please stop touching me.

WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE.

not my voice. why does it sound like that. why do i sound like that. that’s not me. please stop? grabbing at me more, feverish touch, groping fingers, rotten. outside of existence.

the police are here.

nononononono not again. who- why. why. maybe i can run. fuck. the screaming’s inside now. i left it, please dont bring me back. my feet move of their own volition, dragging my desecrated corpse through the halls, out of the depths it hibernates. creaky steps up the wooden stairs, a door unlatching, her faint instructive whispering in my ear, the sound of heavy boots on the porch, i see nothing but noises.

words slip from my chapped lips, a routine carved into my instincts. “hello officer” i choke out. “hi sir.” i twitch. take his gun take his gun take his gun take his gun. sigh. its the shame shpeal as always. blah blah we’ve gotten some reports worried for your safety blah blah blah. traitors. they always do this when i disappear. let me die. the lies slip from my tongue so easily. im fine. they’re worried for nothing. i totally ate today yes. the blood stains aren’t fresh. the scars are old. no i dont know who that woman i- wait what woman? some thoughts finally rush to my head, i dont remember having a porch. wasn’t i in a studio? it would’ve been easier to die there what’s going on- a hand reaches into my hair. makes it feel better. yes of course i know “her”. yes i’m happy, can’t you see my smile? :)

I dont know if any of the pigs believe it but they leave without a second thought. fucking cops. pathetic. the lady yells out something nice at them. makes me squirm for a second. something angry bubbles up in the body’s head. i close the eyes and shut it down quick. no use for emotions in a carcass.

a hand tugs into the hem of my neck. my shirt. forgot i had one of those. forgot those were a thing, honestly. i hope its cute at least. my limp form is pulled backwards through the front door. i almost fall but something else picks us up. i start to lose myself in the greyscale again before the sanctity of my eyelids are forced open, gazing directly into the asynchronatic blue and hazel eyes of an unrecognizable being. i’d say her beauty startled me awake if i wasnt so unsure this is even real.

apparently she was talking the whole time, because now we’re in the living room. i think? i forgot what that’s supposed to look like. her voice now tuned to the ears, i jolt at the sudden audio input. she sees and tilts her head with a mock smile. i think. her eyes glare into me like she’s staring into my absent soul. “Mutt.”

dizzy. body moving away from me, again. so far. i watch it fall to its knees. fading. i can’t look at myself. she’s just smiling. bark! i feel familiar body spasms but don't see any physical representation. i never thought id miss the bodily prison. bark. bark. tilting its head to the side. my nonexistent hands clench tight. the woman brings her left leg to rest on her right, twirls her finger and we- it rolls over, instantaneously. like its ingrained into its programming. short-circuiting mental wires twist and fray in the head i unassuredly inhabit. pulling, twisting at cords between me and the form, voices berating myself for wanting back in as i thoughtlessly climb.

her eyes suddenly glare upwards, past my head, almost as if directly into the ‘me’ i can feel. another twisting grin, teethy and sharp. “are you alright, dear?” her voice is malevolence. staring into the sky, she lifts up her hand, causing the body to jump on its hind legs, twirling stupidly. another chuckle slips from her lips, reverberating all around me. “want back in?” teasing. who does she think she is- who even is she? i growl. not as a dog. she smiles again, and with a snap of her fingers i am slingshotted back into physicality, gasping for air, breathing new air into new lungs. i come out twitching uncontrollably, trying to forget, need to forget, get out of place again. i shut my eyes tight and pretend nothing is real. nothing is real, it cant be.

tsk tsk. “you’re not getting back out so easily, girl.” she growls, clicking her tongue. she does a quick pulling motion with her hand, and my body is suddenly flung forward with it. leashed. thrown into the armchair beneath her. i throw my hand at her face, without thinking, imprinting a bright red into her skin. i flinch. // add more here //

“who do you think you are, DOG.” she yells, my body wants to curl up into a ball. “i FIXED you, and you don’t even recognize who i am!” she presses and grinds the toe of her leather boot into my legs. into cuts i dont remember existing. i collapse the second pain courses through me. “you need me, girl.”

the air is choked out of me. ripped out exorbitantly. i trudge through the pain, look her in her perverse face and spit. bitch. she digs her boot harder into my leg. i squeal in a pitch i’ve never reached before.

“seems like someone needs some more time alone in her room-” she grins. the body shudders what does she even get from this? pleasure? what has she done to us? me. why is this so different. how can she make me be here? her hand pulling at the collar of my shirt jolts me out of thought. pinprick goosebumps run up my arm. body tics from the disembodied draft in the air. i am forced despite myself, dragged across dirty ceramic floors. i scream. i cry. i hit. i thrash. everything i can muster at once, leads to nothing. i remember the feeling of weight, yet she throws me from the floor into the back of the empty room with no effort. spine stings with anger. careless fucking-

“you’re gonna wish i had kept you disembodied. doll.” she leans against the doorway so non-chalantly. like im not quaking with pain. “i’ll make sure you dont forget this next time, at least.” and she pushes the door.

i scramble on the floor fighting the pain surging through my joints, clawing at the floorboards to get to the door as it slowly closes. no use. closing, closing, closing, my ragged dirty fingernails almost reach it but fall just short. the last thing i see before the door closes and the darkness takes hold is her twisted, eldritch smile mocking me through the gap.

#puppy writing #whatever who cares no one likes my writing at all and i should shut up forever blahblahblah im still gonna post it tho cuz it wont matter

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beauty-and-passion · 1 year ago

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What Makes the Perfect Gift?: A real Aside (and no stakes left)

As always, thank you for the people writing me every time there is something new SaSi-related, because I don't pay attention to Thomas' Youtube account anymore.

In this case, thank you twice, because I would've never paid attention until 2024, considering I had pretty clear plans for my holidays and they involved:

a Christmas trip with my family

a (hopefully!) New Year trip away from home (hopefully!)

But since my plans were too good, the universe decided "Fuck no" and gave me fucking Covid. So my Christmas plan blew away and here I am, slowly recovering for New Year. Thanks. Great.

So I apologize for taking quite some time to reply to comments, asks and everything else: until yesterday, I still had some fever and was unable to look at any screen without feeling even more feverish. But today I'm better, so here I am, finally watching and writing about this Aside.

I'll admit it: I was quite curious, because in the first ask, the anon told me there was a "video (?)", while the other talked about an episode. Me, being the cynical person I am, immediately thought it was Mr. Sander's new Christmas ad for his new sweaters.

But, to my joy, it was not. Glad to know that Mr. Sanders can do something SaSi-related that is not just an ad.

Honestly, this Aside is way, WAY better than the previous one. The characters' personalities are better, the interactions are better, everything is better. Even the moral and the writing of the episode are better.

Sure, there are still a few things here and there I do not like, but compared to the previous Aside, they're way less. Still, I will mention them all because of intellectual honesty and because it doesn’t make sense to ignore the bad to focus on the good only.

_______________________________

Where the fuck does everyone live?

The episode starts: Logan calls everyone, says they will do a Secret Santa and that "Janus and Remus will join us today".

First of all, I can understand why Virgil is groaning, but why Roman is groaning too? He got Janus for the Secret Santa, so he should already know Janus is joining them today. Otherwise, how was he supposed to give him his gift? By mailing it? I know it's a small inconsistency, but this is a small episode too, so there shouldn't be inconsistencies at all.

Second, Logan talks about Remus and Janus joining them, by saying that "they'll get here" and that "they came all this way to spend Christmas with us".

For me, this raises A LOT of questions because Logan uses the kind of language you would use if your aunts/grandparents come to visit you on Christmas - i.e. if someone who lives far away from you comes to your place.

But these people all live inside Thomas' mind. So how far do these two live? How does Thomas' mind works? And most importantly: is Thomas copying my headcanons about the mind and the Sides' rooms? In that case:

At least acknowledge you're taking inspiration from me, Mr. Sanders. It's not nice to steal ideas without admitting it.

When I said the mind is vast, I also explained that the Sides can move fairly quickly between planes and Janus can even jump from Unconscious to Subconscious in seconds. I also explained that Logan doesn't know how many actual planes there are in the mind, so why should he say that Janus and Remus had to come "all this way" to meet them, if he doesn't know how big "all this way" is?

If Mr. Sanders isn't inspired but he just decided now that the mind is huge (which contradicts his past idea, since he said in the past that the Sides live in rooms and every room changes according to the space Thomas is), at least offer more details about this new idea and think about them. You can't just change your canon and go with it. That's writing 101, you should already know that.

_______________________________

Janus has been replaced by his drunk doppelganger

I explained in my last post why Janus being a wine mom is funny and the reason is that it's subtle. It's not thrown in the face.

So no, Janus showing a massive wine bottle isn't funny, nor subtle. It's exactly what I meant by "thrown in your face".

And this saddens me because... do you remember his introduction? His first episodes? How suave he was? How focused he was on being this mysterious, charming, dark figure?

Ah yes, exactly like he is now: a laughing, bubbling, drunk idiot.

Seriously, does this look like the same character to you? Does this look like the same guy?

I don't know if Thomas didn't know how to handle Janus or straight-up forgot who he was supposed to be. In that case, please allow me to remind you all that Janus was supposed to be the bearer of Thomas' secrets, the embodiment of lies and (probably), the one who hides the last Side. Do you think this kind of figure should act more like a suave, mysterious guy or like a drunk idiot?

And yes, I know “alcohol funny ah ah”, but Janus is the last Side who should be a heavy drinker, considering how much self-control he needs and what kind of jobs he has.

It’s just sad to see such a character being mishandled like that, you know?

_______________________________

Patton's gift and the true Creativity

You know, people blamed Patton for giving Remus an air fryer because "it's the gift you give when you don't really know someone" and bla bla bla... but that's all bullshit and the reason is very simple: Remus is a creative force.

Yes, that's it, that's all you need. Remus is a creative force and to a creative force you can feed literally anything. It doesn't matter if it's an air fryer, a 200$ painting set or a single needle, Remus would've found a way to use all of them. Heck, Patton could've gifted him literal trash and Remus would've found a way to use that too.

Also if you notice, Remus doesn't hate the gift, on the contrary: he's extremely curious about it, he asks what he can fry inside it and when he leaves, he already has plans on how to use it. That's how Creativity works. That's how Remus works. And that proves what a great Creativity he is.

Remus truly is the best character.

_______________________________

Remus' gift and the unexpected wholesomeness

Listen, I'm not biased towards Remus... okay, maybe a little bit. But still, his gift is wholesome and here's why:

it's handmade! I mean, even if it's disgusting, he spent time making it by himself. That proves he cares about Virgil so much, to spend his time making something for him

It's handmade, which proves Remus is a creative force, because what's more creative than making something yourself?

Mr Fuzzy is probably the offspring of one of the Great Old Ones, considering it’s a monstrosity with too many eyes, no clear shape and its real name is something similar to the name of the Great Old Ones themselves

Mr Fuzzy is made with the stuff in the shower drain and that proves it's probably the offspring of Cthulhu because, you know, water

Virgil knows Remus gives a name to the stuff in his shower drain and that's like proof no. #700 they know each other very well

Remus is saving Virgil from Cthulhu, because when it wakes up, it will probably spare Virgil for taking care of its demonic offspring.

And most importantly:

M̶̨̖͈̟͕̰̠̀͑̊̓̍̒̅͠r̸̘̲̜̖͆͗̇͛͑͂́ ̶̼͎̽̓̊͗F̴̫̈́̈́̈́̔͆̀̎̈͘ụ̶̉z̵̧̢̜̖̘̩͒̎͛́͘ẑ̴̺̺͓̩̝͎͙̖̳̓̈́̇̄̈ͅy̶͕̱͔͖̿ͅ ̴̦̼͓͎͕̩̆̓́͑͠͠d̶͙͚̩͇̳̑̑͂͒̂̏͛̏̚ǫ̶̦̘̦̺̣̬͎͐ẽ̷̮̯͚͎̾̽̊̋s̴̛̟̮̻̱͕̗̼̹̭̐̐́̌̋͋̄̈́́n̶̡̢͓̺̔'̵̨̯̤̬̜͇̭̅́t̵̪͛̈̃̐͝ ̷̡̠̤̱͈̳̎͆͝͝͠ḽ̶̚i̶̯̱̙̟̼̪̭̳̹̅̎͋͋̓̊͗̇͛͌ǩ̷̪͘e̷͎̖̦̔̒̿̎ ̵͚̩̄̈́͑̑̾͆̇̒̎b̴̨̛͙͈̱̙̗̰̗̎̀̔̿̎̔͝ẽ̸̡̥̫̂̍̒̋́́̂͘̚ȋ̵̧̛͎̩̫͉̰̋͐̄̈́͊̐̀̑͜n̷̩̻͚͇̰̝̣̠̈̀g̵̺͉̔̈́̊͒̓̃̉̚͘͜ ̶̺̳͓͕͔̱͗͆̓̐̑̚͝͝d̷̬̘͚̘̬̣̭̙̼̃̏̓̾̔̌̀̍̽r̷̛̩̮̞̜̟̐͂́͘͜ͅo̸̧̢̗̝̣͙̘̟͆̀̊̃̉͌͜͠p̵̛̻̠͍̑̅̀́̈́p̷̨̡̖̙͙̥̹̥̞̓͋̈́̽̀e̶̡̳̣̟̖͐̒̾̿̐͝d̸̖͋͆̽̃̐͝

Partially related to that: I have a tiny little headcanon about Remus creating ungodly abominations and naming them like the Great Old Ones (like having a pet abomination called Shubby as reference to Shub-Niggurath). So seeing this little ball of fears and terrors made me kinda happy. What can I say? Somehow, my headcanons are always canon.

_______________________________

Virgil's gift and the problems with it

As soon as Logan proved he wasn't happy with Virgil's gift, instead of adding something more like "But, really, read the newspaper", Virgil kept silent and let Janus and Remus push Logan with their "o-oh, I bet you're angry, get angry".

Was it a reference to WTIT? If it was, then it was a lame one.

Virgil is anxious, fine, but he's not an idiot. And he has a way with words. So, why didn't he say something to make it clearer that there was something in the newspaper? Honestly, when he handed it to Logan, I thought the newspaper was the wrap and that there was something inside it: why Logan didn't think the same? Am I more clever than the embodiment of logic himself?

And, again, why is Virgil such an asshole? Seriously, what if Logan threw the newspaper away? What would Virgil do, then? Show the gift anyway? Not show it? Tell Logan there was supposed to be a puzzle and make him feel guilty (which would've been a huge dick move, because it was Virgil's fault, not Logan's)? Honestly, no idea.

It's just... sad to see Virgil acting like an asshole without a reason. Virgil isn't like that.

_______________________________

Logan's gift and the conceptual value of money

The mere fact Roman asked what he was supposed to do with 20$ proves that:

he's a worse Creativity than Remus

he doesn't deserve money

I already explained why you can feed anything to Creativity and Creativity would find a way to use it, so the first point is already covered.

Speaking of the second one, if I give someone money and they ask me what they should do with that, I would immediately take the money back because they clearly don't know the value of money. Money embodies basically everything and 20$ embodies everything you can buy with them.

So when you gift someone money, you don't gift them a piece of paper: you gift them a paint, a book, a toolbox, a dress, a dinner, a jewel. Gifting money means gifting all the endless possibilities enclosed in the money's value.

In other words, Logan's gift was the perfect hommage to Creativity: since you are a creative force, I give you everything you can have within this value. He literally gave Roman everything! What's more fitting for a Creativity?

The only flaw I can find in this, is that Logan and Roman are not real people, but mental representations, so they don't really need actual money. But if we consider the 20$ as a conceptual gift exactly because 20$ represents the countless possibilities they embody... then they work too.

And speaking some more about gifting money, this is truly the best gift, imho. For years people kept gifting me shitty books because "you like to read". So I had to accept stupid book after stupid book, pile them up, sell them and get the money to finally buy decent books. Instead of forcing me to do this stupid charade, they could've gifted me money straight away.

So my advice is: gift people money. Or gift cards. Or at least include a receipt, so if the other person doesn't like your gift, they can exchange it for something they like more with the same value.

Or, even simpler, just ask what the other person wants. Ask, it’s easier! Your gift won't be the most surprising thing ever, but it will surely be appreciated and used. I know, I do the same with my family every year. And, every year, the gifts are always super appreciated.

_______________________________

Janus' gift and how it was the most fitting one

When I saw the smaller box inside the bigger one, I imagined three different outcomes for this:

there will be an infinite number of boxes inside other boxes and we will see Patton unwrapping them on an even smaller level until he has to unwrap them atom by atom and it will never end

in the last box there will be a wedding ring because moceit is fucking canon

in the last box there will be an actual nice gift

For a moment I really thought we would've seen a wedding ring, but it turned out Janus knows Patton better than his friends - which is not surprising, considering how they keep treating him like an idiot.

And, honestly, I don't find anything wrong with this gift. it's nice, it's funny, it comes from the heart, it's exactly what Patton likes. And it matches Janus' personality too! He appears with something big but it makes you question it, because it’s too light: you assume it's fake, he's lying, he's mocking you. But if you insist, you keep going, see "past the lie", you will find the real gift: smaller than a huge gift, but much more meaningful.

It's perfect for Janus and it's the perfect gift he could've given to Patton. Seriously, I cannot understand how Thomas manages to make the best and the worst decisions about Janus at the same time. It takes a real mastery to do that.

_______________________________

Roman's gift and fuck the main plot

Okay, the bitchslap was funny... until I remembered that we probably won't get any closure about Roman mocking Janus for his name and Janus telling him he's the evil twin. All water under the bridge, I suppose. Glad to know it ended up like this, with a snap and nothing. That’s exactly what I wanted to see, not Roman growing insane, imprisoning Janus and threatening to kill him. Definitely not.

I'm not one to brag but oh gosh, I'm so happy I wrote my own take on the season 2 finale.

About the real gift: okay, Roman gave him an actual gift. That surprises me even more considering... well, POF. But hey, apparently POF is water under the bridge and it looks like WTIT is water under the bridge as well, because Roman isn't angry with Patton anymore. Wow, *so glad* to know so many stakes have been so brutally thrown on the ground like that. Great choice, definitely worth of a good writer.

Also: is this Janus really cold-blooded? Is he? Are you, weird, drunk doppelganger? I'm sorry, but every time I see this guy, I'm so confused by him almost being like the real one, I feel like I need to question him about everything.

_______________________________

How to solve a problem without even trying

Oh, I absolutely *adore* how Logan just goes "Uh, I have a lot of data, hey Roman wanna help? You know, making creativity and logic cooperate? It's not like it's a big deal a cooperation between us".

Ah yes, that's exactly what I wanted to see. Not Logan rejecting creativity because he's unable to see how he can be useful to it, not Remus forcing him to deal with the creative aspect for a little while, not Logan pushing his love for art down to the point he breaks, not to see him breaking down, not to see him slowly learning how to accept creativity in his life and how he can be useful for it...

This is a very, very personal opinion so you can disagree with it, but I find it extremely insulting to see Logan just casually offering a collaboration to Roman. If you read FSS3 you know how long it took me to develop this concept of "logic, art and creativity" and how Logan managed to work alongside Roman and Remus only in episode 13. Episode fucking 13 of 18 total.

For me, this was a HUGE theme. One of the most important because, hey, we're talking about creativity and logic, two of the most important aspects of every human being. This is the essence of humanity. And these two characters both have a lot to learn, so their cooperation perfectly connects with their personal growth...

But hey, apparently that's not an important topic for Mr. Sanders, fuck all of this, let's solve the topic with one single line.

Again: don't like to brag but oh gosh, I'm so happy I wrote my own take on the season 2 finale and the season 3.

_______________________________

Nico is even denser than Thomas

"What's the message?". Seriously. What could the message ever be. Coming from the guy that, when you met him, told you you looked cute and wanted to have a chance with you. The same guy you gifted a necklace.

Clearly the message is "I want to play Scrabble with you on the weekends" and not "I love you, you fucking moron". Clearly.

I don't like to brag, but at least my Nico was much more clever than this idiot.

_______________________________

So... was it good?

It was. It was a good Aside. I even managed to watch it twice, which is a huge improvement compared to the previous one.

The Sides are better than before, they're more IC too - except for Janus, who has been replaced by this weird drunk doppelganger.

The message isn't stupid nor out of the world, but it actually serves a purpose in the story of the episode itself. And yes, I know this is the bare minimum in terms of writing, but considering the last episode, this is WAY better.

The writing is better too, except for a couple inconsistencies (like Roman groaning despite knowing the dark boys will join).

What suffers the most is the connection to the main plot. This Aside supposedly takes place after WTIT (and that other Aside), but as we can see, there are no stakes left. No huge resentment between the Core Sides, no huge resentment between Roman and Janus. Logan calmed as well, Virgil too.

In other words: we reached the same situation pre-Janus introduction. They're all there, they argue and work together and sometimes do stupid shit and sometimes they do not. The climax of the story has been flattened out, to revert to the initial situation.

Did I expect it to happen? Honestly, yes. After three years of nothing and with Thomas being clearly more interested in carefree/comedy videos, of course this would happen.

Do I expect to see drama in the season 2 finale? At this point, I would be surprised if we ever see a season 2 finale. Probably Thomas will wait forever for inspiration to strike and, in the meantime, feed us an endless number of Asides with funnier, carefree topics, so he can enjoy his time and constantly postpone the drama.

Drama requires more work, after all. Drama requires attention, focus, precision. Comedy can be made like this, with a fun video written in a couple days. Drama needs to connect threads and do it properly.

I said it three times already but trust me, it's a huge fucking relief to know my whole take of season 3 exists, because thanks to that, you can see want I mean, when I say things like "creativity and logic's cooperation is a huge topic" or when I talk about how Janus should be handled. My work is far from perfect, sure, but imho, it's better than this. And this is a personal opinion, so you can disagree as much as you want.

(Speaking of that, I scheduled for December 29th my last post about FSS3, in which I add a couple of things regarding the future of SaSi, so... just keep an eye out for that)

That doesn’t mean I am blaming Thomas for making this Aside or for enjoying comedy more than drama. That’s perfectly fine and he can do anything he wants. Heck, this Aside is good too, so I’m not blaming him for that.

The only thing that saddens me is to see how we casually reverted to the beginning, with no real stakes anymore. We’re just… here, enjoying a comedy show. Which is not inherently bad per se, because there are a ton of great comedy shows. But considering what we saw and what SaSi could’ve been… it leaves a bitter taste, to see such great potential being ignored to revert the show's possible growth.

( Support me on Ko-fi )

_______________________________

TAGLIST:

@royalprinceroman @reesiereads @mudpuddlenl@allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia@whatishappeningrightnow @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling @payte @hypnossanders @idontreallyknow24 @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical @patton-cake @hereissananxiousmess @purplebronzeandblue @cynicalandsarcastic @lost-in-thought-20 @andtheyreonfire

@riseofthewerewolf @rosesandlove44 @chewy-rubies @groaaaaan @arya-skywalker @csi-baker-street-babes @queen-of-all-things-snuggly

@dracayd-universe @starlightnyx @stubbornness-and-spite @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing

@thatoneloudowl @grayson-22 @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella @boopypastaissalty @nevenastark @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside @coldbookworm @snixxxsmythe @charmingcritter @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #I would've handled things differently #and the great thing is that I can show you HOW #ts spoilers #what makes the perfect gift

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 1 year ago

Text

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors.

Kate: "Thank you for accompanying me on my shopping trip, Ellis."

Ellis: "Hm, feel free to call me anytime you need help."

Ellis, illuminated by the setting sun, smiled as he effortlessly carried a large shopping bag.

The street was filled with the aroma of delicious food as the townspeople prepared dinner.

I felt hungry, but at the same time, I felt light on my feet as we headed home.

(Huh?)

Kate: "Ellis, the way home is this way."

I hurriedly called out to him as he veered off to a side street while walking next to me.

Kate: "Is that a shortcut, by any chance?"

Ellis: "Ah, no. I was just lost in thought. Sorry..."

He returned to my side, but his steps were unsteady.

Kate: "A-Are you okay?"

Ellis: "I feel a little feverish."

He mumbled, and his slender body swayed toward me.

Kate: "Ellis!?"

Kate: "I'm sorry. I took you out without realizing you weren't feeling well."

After returning to the castle, Roger checked on Ellis and diagnosed him with a cold. Ellis was now resting in the infirmary bed.

(Why didn't I notice this earlier?)

He always took on my requests without complaint, and I took advantage of that kindness.

Ellis: "I rarely catch a cold, so I didn't notice either. Sorry for worrying you."

Even when he wasn't feeling well, he was still concerned about me.

Kate: "Don't apologize. Just take it easy for now."

Ellis: "Okay."

He nodded slightly and pulled the blanket up to his chest.

Seeing him lying down like that, I couldn't help but feel concerned.

Kate: "Um, if it's okay with you, I can take care of you."

Kate: "I got some lemon jelly from the kitchen! It's a staple for when you have a cold."

Kate: "If you're feeling sweaty, I can help you wipe yourself with a warm towel."

Kate: "And if you need water, ice, or anything else, just let me know!"

Ellis: "........"

I spoke rapidly, and Ellis, on the bed, widened his eyes.

Kate: "Sorry. You're not feeling well, and yet I'm being noisy."

(Of course, I'm worried about him being sick, but I want to repay him for everything he has done for me. I just got too carried away.)

Ellis: "It's okay, you're not noisy. More like lively, maybe?"

Kate: "I'll be careful."

His choice of words, careful not to hurt my feelings, made me feel touched.

(Since he's counting on me to look after him, I've got to be dependable.)

Kate: "First, you need to take your medicine. Would you like something to eat?"

Ellis: "I want to eat the lemon jelly you brought."

Kate: "You have an appetite. That's good. Here you go."

I offered him the jelly with a spoon, but he didn't take it.

Ellis: "I'm feeling a bit weak, so could you feed me?"

Kate: "Sure! Open your mouth."

Ellis: "Mhm."

I gently placed the spoon into his slightly open mouth.

Kate: "How is it?"

Ellis: "It's delicious."

Kate: "Hehe, I'm glad. Let's go for the second bite then, say ahh~"

Ellis: "Aahh~"

Ellis, prompted by me, opened his mouth defenselessly, like a baby bird receiving food from its parent.

He looked so happy and eagerly accepted the spoon without any hesitation.

Before I knew it, he had finished eating the jelly.

Kate: "Is there anything else you'd like? Feel free to ask me anything."

Ellis: "Anything else, huh?"

He let his gaze wander and stopped at the jug I'd brought.

Ellis: "Could you give me some water next?"

Kate: "Sure!"

As I continued to tend to him, a sense of protectiveness welled up within me. After that, I went on to assist him with his request.

Kate: "I've done everything I can to help. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Ellis: "In that case, I want you to sleep next to me."

Kate: "Sleep next to you!?"

(Does that count as part of taking care of him?)

Ellis: "I just thought it'd be warmer if I held you. Is that okay?"

(His pleading look makes it impossible to refuse.)

Kate: "Alright then, excuse me."

I gathered my courage and gently climbed onto the bed.

(I need to leave enough space so he can rest comfortably.)

Ellis: "You'll fall off if you stay at the edge like that."

He gently pulled me closer as I hesitantly lay down.

Kate: "..........."

I pressed my face against his chest, feeling like I was about to stop breathing.

The faint scent of soap and his warmth sent my heart racing.

Ellis: "Just as I thought, you're warm. Thank you, Kate."

Kate: "You're welcome. I'm glad I could be of help."

I replied as best I could while trying to calm my racing heart.

(I'm feeling anxious, but I'm glad I can help him.)

Ellis: "Can we talk for a bit until I can fall asleep?"

Kate: "Of course. What would you like to talk about?"

Ellis: "I have something I want to ask."

Ellis: "Kate, how happy were you to be with me today?"

Kate: "Huh?"

Ellis’s unexpected question caught me off guard.

He always asked people if they were happy, but I never expected him to ask me that today.

(It’s hard to say I’m happy, considering he caught a cold, but this question must have some important meaning for him.)

(I need to think about it and give him a proper answer.)

Kate: “Looking back, I realize that nursing you back to health made me happy.”

(Feeding him, giving him water, and doing everything he asked一w-wait, could it be...)

Kate: “Did you let me take care of you to make me happy?”

Ellis: “That might be one way to look at it.”

(He saw right through my feelings.)

Surprised, I couldn’t help but smile, thinking how typical this was of him.

Kate: “You’re always so kind. I wanted to repay your kindness, but it looks like I owe you even more now.”

Ellis: “It’s not like that. I really appreciated you taking care of me, and it’s true that I wanted to be with you.”

Kate: “In that case, I’m glad.”

Knowing that he said it sincerely, not just to make me happy, made me even happier.

(Can I ever repay him with as much happiness in return, using my own efforts?)

I felt a strong desire to do so, even though I couldn’t think of concrete ways to do it.

(For now, I’ll just focus on what I can do.)

Kate: “Taking care of you made me happy, but I'll be even happier when you get better.”

Ellis: “I see. Then you don't have to worry.”

Ellis: “I’m sure I’ll get better soon since you took care of me.”

#ikemen villains #ikemen villain #ikevil ellis #ellis twilight #ikevil translations #cybird #ikevil

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bubbletimestories · 11 months ago

Text

Loki using hypnosis to help Y/N sleep (Ask)

Here for @coldalienpersonagoth , sorry for the delay. Lot of things happened ^^' (and in a way, my newfound love helped me a bit writing this.)

The blanket weighs too heavily on your shoulders, but every time you push it away, the cold comes over you and you put it up furiously. You'd done everything you could to get to sleep: avoid screens, read a little, get into bed at the first yawn. But the fact remains that your brain refuses to pause, to switch off your train of thought for a few hours. Tomorrow you have to get up early, you need that night's sleep. However, the hours go by and you're still wide awake. It's a vicious circle of irritation, fatigue and anxiety that embraces and suffocates you. You let out the umpteenth sigh as you turn over, your body tense and feverish. The bedroom door ajar, Loki stands on the threshold and despite the darkness, you can make out his concern. Loki, who sleeps so little, has been listening to you spinning for the past two hours and can sense your annoyance. With his supple gait, the god enters the room and comes to sit on the edge of the bed as you apologize for disturbing him, as if it were your fault. The young man dismisses it all with a wave of his hand.

"It's alright, my love. Tell me instead what preoccupies your mind, what clutters your head and clouds it."

You know he's sincere, waiting for you to confide in him, and he's always been good at relieving your conscience of its clouds. So you step aside to let him lie beside you, relieved that he has broken your isolation and solitude. It doesn't take long for the words to flow from your lips, and it does you good to express aloud what's haunting you. Your work stresses you out, you have a lot to think about, to anticipate, you feel like you're swimming against the tide while your colleagues are on the shore. You work so hard you're sick with fatigue and yet you're never satisfied, it's never enough.

Loki listens to you without interrupting, one hand resting in your hair, his slender fingers slipping between your locks in a very gentle movement, a delicate caress. After several long minutes, you catch your breath and realize that having poured all your anguish into the dark leaves you with an emptier head, as if you'd pulled the plug out of a bathtub that's about to overflow. Relieved, you hug the Asgardian, who continues to stroke your hair without saying a word, as you seek neither advice nor approval. You're just looking to get it off your chest, and you have.

Have your eyes gotten used to the dark? You can make out your lover's features better, the room bathed in a slightly flickering bluish glow, like the beating of a calmed heart. Loki closes his arms around you, not enough to feel trapped but enough to limit your nervous movements, like a weighted blanket providing a welcome cocoon. His hands keep coming and going, one in your hair, the other down your back, while his lips graze the top of your head. You relax, tenderly caressing his chest as a sweet scent reaches you, the kind that makes you smile, that soothes. You know it's the god who summons it ; he knows your tastes, what pleases you. The silence seems less oppressive, and you struggle to string your thoughts together, simply concentrating on this sensation of well-being, the gentle warmth at your back, the presence of the one you love so close to you.

Loki doesn't need words to calm the flow of your thoughts; his embrace alone conveys his intention. "Rest, my beloved. Lay your weary head on my shoulder and deposit your sorrows, entrust them to me. I promise, I promise to take care of you. You can close your eyes, I'll watch over you." You could almost hear those words in your mind, the softness of his voice in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes close, you try to keep them open, to look at Loki to enjoy this moment, but it's an uphill struggle.

The young man smiles, places his hand on your cheek to part a lock, his warm palm overcoming your last resistance. Your whole body relaxes, your mind silent, soothed by the warmth of his caresses. Unless there's something magical in the air. It's only when your breath slows and deepens that Loki removes the sweet smell, returning the room to its original darkness. He won't slip away tonight; he'll remain your cocoon for the night, your haven so you can rest fully. Sleep well, my love.

#fic #loki x reader #help to sleep #hypnosis

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 6 months ago

Text

By: Peter Wright

Published: Aug 1, 2023

At fifteen years of age I left school to start a blacksmithing trade. It was a physically demanding job but at the same time it was immensely creative and satisfying to learn about the physical properties of metals and their various states of malleability. When metal is in a red hot state it’s very similar in consistency to pottery clay which can be easily pushed, pulled, stretched, twisted, flattened, or poured – pretty much whatever you wanted to do with it. The only limitation was knowledge of how to use the hundreds of different grabbing tools, pincers, tongs, clamps, and hammers, but like any skill this would all come in time, with practice and with quality male mentorship.

While on the path of learning these skills I noticed a subsidiary layer of activity that was always accompanying the work, a psychological layer of emotional processes that seemed to mysteriously mingle with each task. If I was enjoying life, I tended to marvel more at the rainbow colours that would appear in the metal when grinding or heating it to varying degrees, or if I was experiencing frustration, anxiety or anger about something, I noticed that I was hammering a hot blade more aggressively than usual, generating a strange kind of relief and, I discovered, even further relief if I deliberately hit the object harder and with extra blows. Yet again I learned that if my hammering was getting too feverish I could at any moment choose to “quench” the hot blade in cold water, bringing an altogether different kind of relief.

Even at this young age I was consciously aware of how I was regulating my emotions via these acts, and of how this strange synchronicity of tasks formed a complement. I also learned to make good use of physical work to regulate my emotions when I needed to establish any kind of baseline equilibrium. This wasn’t a result of some special genius or education, nor from doing sessions with a psychologist or counsellor – it was my male nature understanding how to regulate itself.

In fact not only the tasks of blacksmithing, but any physical activity soon revealed itself as a project I would ‘use’ for a canvas to regulate emotions, and I could equally choose which physical activity to engage in based on what my desired outcome was – release of anger or frustration, to generate comfort, or perhaps to affirm or increase my enjoyment of life. All of this happened in a natural way as I engaged in work, various sports, and recreational activities (as it does for most men) without need to say a single word about my feelings to anyone. Furthermore, not only was I able to regulate my own emotions in this way, but I found I could equally use these techniques to help regulate the emotions of friends and family; if a friend was struggling in some way I would invite them on a mountain hike, camping, fishing, or to the cinema where they could quietly undergo the secret alchemy that I had found so helpful. Helping friends made me feel good too... was there anything I could not do with this wisdom?

As for most young men this made intuitive sense, though I would later add a layer of sophistication to that understanding when I studied the psychology of emotional processing. There I learned that while people can express emotions via physical acts and gestures, or alternatively by conversing about emotional issues, men tend to specialise more in action-based regulation of emotion than do women who tend to specialise more in verbal regulation of emotions.

With this acquired knowledge about men’s emotional awareness, imagine my surprise when I opened a study booklet written by one-time APA president Ronald Levant, published in 1997, claiming most men cannot understand their own nor other people’s feelings: “One striking and far-reaching consequence of the male socialization ordeal is the inability to differentiate and identify their emotions... In its most basic sense, to live detached from one’s emotions is to live isolated from oneself as well as from others – a condition that precludes true intimacy.”

This claim forms the basis of the theory that most men are severely lacking in emotional intelligence, and that even were they to discover some fragments of emotional awareness they would not know how to express it in words, such is the depth of male handicap. Levant refers to this condition as a normative male form of ‘alexithymia’ (a term meaning low emotional intelligence) which results in men being unable to read their emotions: “Lacking this emotional awareness, when asked to identify their feelings, they tend to rely on cognition and try to logically deduce how they should feel. They cannot do what is automatic for most women - simply sense inwardly, feel the feeling, and let the verbal description come to mind.”

According to this theory, men’s lives are guided by action empathy, which are said to be an inadequate substitute for genuine emotional empathy, a skill typically displayed by most women. Action empathy is defined as the ability to see physical motivations from another person's point of view, and to focus on which concrete actions those people might perform, but that men otherwise do not understand emotional empathy in the way women do – women who are able to take another person's perspective and know how they feel. “Action empathy also differs from emotional empathy in terms of its aim. Emotional empathy is usually employed to help another person and is thus prosocial, whereas action empathy is usually employed in the service of the self.”

As a result of men’s claimed low emotional intelligence, they are said to become strangers to their own emotional life, unconsciously transmuting their vulnerable emotions into anger and aggression, while also tending to extrude their caring emotions through the narrow channel of sexuality.

Far from being evidence of low emotional intelligence, however, men’s tendency to use action can be better understood as a form of emotional acumen. Some studies of emotional processing indicate that men and boys are able to identify the specifics of emotional arousal in themselves and others as well as do women – emotions like jealousy, love, anger, sadness, anxiety, and so on. For example, one study of 1285 men and women found that while women were more proficient at verbalizing feelings, men and women were equally proficient at identifying feelings, and another study by Fischer et al. of more than 5000 participants’ ability to perceive facial emotions found “no gender differences in the perception of target emotions”. Fischer et al. comment that this finding “diverges from various earlier reviews and meta-analyses on gender differences in emotion accuracy”. They speculate that this difference might be because earlier research tended to use student samples, whereas the participants in their study were from a range of ages and backgrounds.

The second observation, as outlined above, is that men and boys may choose to regulate emotions not by verbalising them so much (women’s preferred method) but by taking intelligent action. By way of example a woman might talk with her melancholic friend about what is worrying her in order to cheer her up; the man may invite the same melancholic friend to the movies; both responses - talking, or acting - serve to intelligently modulate emotions.

It is an error to conflate these two separate features of emotional processing as if they were one and the same: 1. recognising emotions, or 2. verbalising feelings. Men, like women, can usually recognise the full range of emotional phenomena but they may choose to respond to that knowledge in a very different manner than does the average woman. Men often choose to respond to such awareness by doing something pragmatic instead of verbalising feelings.

Talking about doings

The two ways of regulating emotions have implications for the field of mental health, which relies predominately on talking therapy – in particular talking about feelings. Does this not suggest that there could be, and perhaps needs to be, more emphasis on discussing the therapeutic value of action? It may not be practical to conduct therapy while engaged in physical activity such as a gym workout or while out walking in the streets, but the therapeutic discussion can at least focus more on the “doing” aspects of a man’s life. For example a therapist might ask how did problem XYZ make a man act out, along with exploring which physical activities or responses might help him to modulate such emotions more optimally in future. Does riding a Jet Ski, or going for a jog, or building some wooden furniture make him feel better or worse? Does that difficult manoeuvre in the video game remind of difficulties in his relationship with his girlfriend? Does the same video game provide some optimism that if he can get past the difficult manoeuvre within the game then perhaps he can find a way around the impasse with his girlfriend? Activities like these provide a symbolic canvas on which men project, and then work through various scenarios of real life, with potential to shift affective resonances in the process.

When a man talks about how he operated a lathe, did some welding, restored a bit of discarded and broken furniture, might he be sharing a strategy of how he successfully redirected suicidal feelings? Perhaps we should not be so quick to shut down these conversations with accusations of being work obsessed, effectively stymieing natural male expressions with injunctions to talk less about activities and to communicate more effusively with feelings words. For many men, activities are the preferred canvases on which they can process feelings and carve out some genuine psychological equilibrium.

This is probably a reason why men talk so much about work, sports, building things, computer games, recreational activities – it may be their preferred way of communicating the ways they wrestle with psychological issues. Sadly, the therapeutic industry is quick to chastise men’s preference for intelligent actions, conflating them with pathological reflexes such as unconscious acts of aggression, dependence on drugs and booze, and other destructive versions of so-called “acting-out” as they are so often branded.

Therapies centred in discussion of physical activities, or conversely centred in sharing strings of feeling-words, can both serve as forms of communication. With this in mind it’s perhaps time for therapy to free itself from looking exclusively into the mirror of feelings so it can look out of the window at the range of concrete activities that also serve the psyche. The reaction of men to this approach might surprise us all.

Men are not broken women.

#Peter Wright #mental health #psychology #human psychology #male psychology #emotional intelligence #religion is a mental illness

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rick-rayson · 2 years ago

Note

*vibrates excitedly* okay okay then could you plz do Yara Flor sfw alphabet 💖😍💖😍💖😍

YARA FLOR - SFW ALPHABET

A/N: 100 posts wooHOOO. AND it's of my baby.. that I haven't read in a long time ngl. As a result, I do apologize in advance if it's OOC!

A - Affection: How do they show affection?

Deeply affectionate despite not wanting to come off as too smothering. She likes to think she's slick when she brushes against you, always sits next to you, and gets you things that remind her of you when she's out. Whenever she catches herself in the act and gets embarrassed, prepared to be met with ramblings of, "What? I can't say hello?", "Is it wrong to be caring?".

B - Beauty: What do they find beautiful? What do they look for?

Feel like she likes intelligent, meek people. Watched some really horrible stereotypical TV show with Jon or something and found the nerdy characters cute. Especially likes it when someone who is usually reserved is still able to take initiative, very specific but she likes it. Curly hair !! I feel like she finds curly hair really beautiful. She also loves locs with pretty beads, she finds them super pleasing to hear.

C - Cuddles: What kind of cuddler are they? Do they like cuddles?

You will never, EVER get her to verbally state that she likes cuddling, ask her and she'll scoff thinking that's a legitimate answer to your question.

But catch her when she's sleepy and see just how easily she melts against you. When she's awake still her hold on you is featherlight.. until she falls asleep. Then pray to the gods that she doesn't crush you in her tight bear hugs.

D - Devotion: How devoted are they? Are they all in?

Is that even a question? Yara is unapologetically sincere in how she holds herself, and if she's willing to share herself with you then you gotta be pretty damn important to her.

With Yara you are blessed with the utmost assurity that wherever she ventures, and wherever she finds herself, she's still your Yara. She may not be explicitly forthright with her loyalty, but she doesn't have to be. She's a solid person in your life.

E - Embrace: How do they hug?

If you're taller than her she goes for the midriff or the neck, shorter and she'll embrace you around your shoulders. She's the type to sway a bit if the hug is long. She's the type to catch you off guard with how staggering her hugging can be.

F - Flaws: What are some of their faults?

Yara is stubborn to a fault, which is either good or bad depending on the situation.

She tends to have plans and goals that she will stick to no matter what, which makes it hard to collaborate with her.

"It's either my way or the highway, except if you pick the highway I'll be sad so don't do it >:("

G - Gentle: How gentle are they?

She tries to be gentle for the sake of others, a sense of responsibility over herself, both physically and emotionally she tries.

H - Honesty: How honest are they about what they don't like and what they do?

Pretty dang honest. If you're someone from the Justice League it's a no from her on the dating scene. She can be seen as an occasionally blunt person but she's good with her words.

On the other end she's honest about what she does like too.

I - I love you: How long does it take for them to say it?

I'm stuck between thinking she could go a while without saying it, or immediately say it to you unabashed after like a couple weeks. There's like no in-between.

J - Jealousy: How jealous are they?

It's not that she's jealous it's just that why should she keep silent about how you're her partner? Especially to strangers that don't seem to be getting the hint?

Aside from that though she's not painfully jealous, but she will put someone in their place it she has to.

K - Kisses: How are they as a kisser?

Yara is something else, one part of her has you convinced she's never kissed anyone in her life, and the other part has you believing she's the goddess of kisses.

Deep, feverish kisser, the type to leave you dizzy from it. Her warm hands cradling your skin as her lips plaster onto yours and even that's not enough. Does it until sbe leaves you breathless.

L - Little Ones: Do they want kids?

Not anytime soon, Yara still has adventures far ahead of her to think about kids.

M - Mornings: How are mornings spent with them?

Can't really tell who's the first to wake up, but Yara's usually the one to get up first. She brings you and herself something to drink as you sit in bed, washing away your drowsiness and planning for the day ahead between soft mutterings. Mornings with Yara is liken to bathing under sunbeams.

N - Nervousness: What gets them nervous? What are they scared about when it comes to the relationship?

She's scared that she's too out of sync with other people, that due to her rather unique parentage and upbringing that there's a disconnect between her and others. It's harder to notice among the Future State JL because well, they're like her. But she's not fond of being tied down to such a team anyways.

O - Openness: How open are they?

Generally a pretty open person, she has her secrets (like where she stashes extra snacks for Jerry) but none that are malicious or that would put the relationship in jeopardy.

P - Patience: How patient are they?

Yara... Isn't the most patient person. Those types that tap their foot and look around to find something to distract them from the time, that's Yara.

She can be quick to anger but not with her relationships, mostly at the misgivings of others.

Q - Quiet Moment: Share a quiet moment

She takes you flying on Jerry in the afternoon, waiting for the sun to set as the two of you take in the flowing wind and the beauty of the world that's now so small in your eyes. Such an occasion would usually warrant laughter and cheers loud enough to hurt your throats, but in this moment, it's nothing short of euphoric.

R - Romance: How romantic are they?

OhohohOOOOOO... She's a mess. Tries to impress you and make you swoon over her and she's a little rusty, but it's hard to say that to her when she's beaming at you as though you're the reason for worship. The sun and moon. When she's not trying so hard to woo you, and does her own thing from the sincerity in her heart, she has you smitten.

S - Support: How do they support their s/o? Are they protective?

She's willing to go above, beyond, and below (coughcough the Underworld) for you. Yara knows what it's like to fail to protect others, so she's so devoted to your safety and wellbeing.

T - Try: How much effort do they put into the relationship?

Yara's swept with puppy love and then some when it comes to the relationship at first. She puts in a lot of effort.

U - Unspoken Words: What do they wish they could say?

She wishes she could say how much you mean to her without wanting to cringe at how sappy she is.

V - Vulnerability: How do they show vulnerability?

She doesn't, doesn't try to at least. But you can tell with the way her body relaxes at the sight of you, when her hand searches for just a bit of you to ground herself in, to commit to her memory the touch of your skin. You kinda have to figure it out based on visual cues, because the words die in her throat when she has you near.

W - Whole: Would they feel incomplete without their s/o?

She'd definitely feel crushed if you were in a relationship for a while, but she'd be able to move forward, even if her heart hurts.

X - XOXO: What's a loving gesture you should expect from them?

Expect get-away's, it helps Yara and she hopes it helps you, the two of you don't even have to do anything. Once or twice a week Yara just brings food and takes you somewhere to be alone. Being a member of the Justice League can require her to prioritize the job over most things, but you're still important to her and she will make it apparent.

Y - Yearning: How much do they miss their s/o?

More than she'd like to admit. Whenever she gets a little bit of quiet time between the work she does, her mind automatically thinks of you.

Z - Zzz: Sleeping with them, how does it go?

Snores. (/hj) grips onto whatever part of you she can find. Certified duvet thief through and through. Sprawls out until the two of you are a mess of limbs.

#dc comics #dc x reader #dc x y/n #dc x you #yara flor x you #yara flor x y/n #yara flor x reader #future state wonder woman #wonder woman x reader #dcu #dcu comics #dc #dc future state #future state justice league

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thisisarcanereverie · 2 years ago

Text

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

Warnings: Upsetting topics such as Marc being toxic slightly. Face sitting, fingering, probably crappy it’s been a while since I wrote a pure smut fic, there is little to no plot just smut. Light angst. Also I do not own any of the pictures, I tried my best it's my first time putting a collage like this on here so there ya go.

================================================

You breathe him in, the smell of cedar and spice filling your senses. His lips mold onto yours in a gentle kiss, holding promises that you both knew he wouldn’t keep. He tasted like false hope and sin, both intoxicating and the recipe for your ruination; but you don’t care. How could you? You’re surrounded by him, his smell, his lips, his touch. All of it, both too little and too much, a pleasant buzz forms under your skin as you can feel your need for him grow into something with teeth and claws. He doesn’t say much in these interactions, but he looks at you with those dark eyes, glistening in the city light that bleeds through the crack of the curtains. you could spend hours in them, counting every star his midnight eyes caught in the light.

His lips travel their familiar path from your lips to your throat, you feel his breath against your skin as his teeth nip and his lips kiss as an empty silent apology. You cling to him as your breathing hitches, his hands find purchase at your hips, kneading the flesh that’s there. You run your hands through his curls, the soft ringlets flow effortlessly through your fingers. you don’t even try to control the breathy moans that tumble out of your mouth as he finds the one spot on your neck that sends shivers running through you. His hands move from your hips, his fingers dancing along your skin leaving a trail of goosebumps and fire in their wake. You feel him moan as you fingers grip his hair tighter, your back arches into him as if he wasn’t close enough.

It was strange, this thing with Marc Spector. If he were anyone else you would’ve told him to drop dead the moment you saw him on the other side of your door, but instead you let him in again and again; like he’s a lesson you refuse to learn. He’d hand you the flowers he brought with him, the kind someone would get last minute before checking out at the grocery store; and a card that said all things that he wouldn’t. You would fall for it, like you always did, and welcome him in with open arms; but you know the day is coming, where he wouldn’t darken your doorway again or you will lock the door instead of turning the knob. Until then, though, you let him kiss you and hold you and let him take you over the edge again and again until he was satisfied.

You struggle for air as his fingers find that spot inside you that makes your toes curl and you throb. You hold onto him like he’s the only thing holding you to the ground, he repeats the motion as his lips find themselves at the tops of your breasts. He looked up at you, eyes dark and wet and full of hunger; something so ravenous and thirsty that it reminded you of yours. His gaze never left yours as his mouth latched onto the peak of your right breast, you choke at the feel of his canines merely grazing you as his thumb draws lazy circles on your clit. Your hands travel from his hair to venture further south, merely ghosting over his feverish skin. You watch with subtle fascination at the trail of goosebumps that follows your touch; and for a brief moment you believe that you have the same effect on him as he does you.

Your hands make it no further than his chest before he lets your breast go, a thin, clear strand still connecting you and him before it breaks. His ministrations below have slowed, letting the knot that has formed to ebb away. You groan lightly and furrow your brows, you had been on the verge of heaven only to have had it slip through your grasp. There was a moment of heated silence, a tease really, one full of fire and an unbreaking stare; and as he takes your hands off of his chest and holds them you had started to wonder if maybe you had crossed a line of some kind.

Until he started to lean back onto the cotton comforter below, his eyes not leaving yours. His hands move from your hands to your bare hips, caressing the soft flesh first before gripping it solidly.

“Up here.” is all he rasped. At first you were unsure, slightly afraid you would suffocate him, that was until in a brief flash you went from sitting above his bulge to his shoulders. You didn’t even register him lifting you. You hover for a moment until you see the look in his eyes, his gaze was feral and you feared that if you hesitated for a second longer he may go mad. So slowly you began to put weight onto him, until suddenly you were pulled in all at once. Your full weight comes crashing down onto him, his hands harshly kneading the flesh of your ass as he roughly pulls you further into him. You don't even have time to worry that you might be suffocating him as he works you into another lust filled frenzy.

This, this and your stubborn heart is what always makes you reopen that door and to forgive and forget every transgression he's ever made. He eats you out as though he hasn't had a decent meal in years, like Erysichthon when the gods cursed him with a hunger that could never be sated.

His war worn hands grip you as though you run the moment he lets go. You grip the headboard until your knuckles whiten and your fingers ache. You don't mind though, your mind is too clouded by the bliss he's giving you. His nose brushes against your clit as he inhales you. You feel the knot your abdomen start to form as your toes curl. Marc must sense it as his eyes impossibly grew darker. You could already feel the bruises start to form as his grip tightens and his efforts double fold. You let out a choked moan as tears prick the corners of your eyes, you swear to every god that you will kill him if he stops what he's doing. An empty oath that you know you'll never follow through on. You let out a string of curses as your eyes roll into the back of your head, you don't even register your hands leaving the headboard to curl themselves around his dark ringlets. The knot is impossibly tight now, it's almost painful how close you were. The feeling similar to looking over a steep cliff and knowing that one gust, one push and you'd fall, weightless as you crash.

You barely register one of his hands leaving their vice grip on your waist to one of your hands in his hair, gently coaxing your digits to let go. His fingers replace the soft hair previously in your grasp, his hand holds yours gently; contrasting the rough way his other grips your waist and the way he is devouring you, body and soul. it isn't until you see the look in his eyes, as though the world could be burning and he wouldn't look away from you for a moment that you feel the knot inside you burst like fireworks. Lightning courses through your body and electrifies your nerves. A scream you did not register leaving you escapes, it's choked and primal and filled with every feral thought and want in you. It leaves you throbbing and with wet cheeks. He doesn't stop as he rips another one from you again, faster than the last one but leaves you feeling boneless all the same. You practically have to rip yourself away from him, otherwise he would drain you until you were nothing left but a husk. You were prepared to take care of him only to find a large wet patch decorating his briefs instead. You could feel a ridiculous amount of pride swell in you as you brought this man to his release with just the taste of you alone.

Marc takes a moment to breathe and lay with his arms around you for a brief moment before getting up to rid himself of the soiled underwear and go to the bathroom to grab a soft, warm wet cloth to clean you up with. While he's gone you can't help but relive what brought you to this moment, you both fought. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, and it happened more often than you cared to admit. You simply had asked a question, one that you didn't think was so hard to answer. You asked where he ran off to most days of the week, and why you had never in 3 years of dating been over at his. He could've said anything, that he lived with annoying flatmates or his parents and you would've believed him. Instead, though, he had fought you on it and told you it wasn't any of your business. You tried not to think of what came after that, of what he said to you and how he slammed the door behind him as he left.

You were a fool, you knew that, you knew you would continue being the fool for him. You will ignore every red flag about him, you will kiss every new scar and never ask where they came from. Because if that was the price you had to pay to have his midnight eyes on you longer, his kisses linger, or for that addicting touch of his to stay with you longer then you were willing to pay it.

You were ok with being an afterthought, so long as you were a thought at all.

So as you laid that night next to him, curled into his arms breathing in that spiced scent of his. You relished in his mar and once again donned your rose tinted lenses, making all his red flags look like any other; and made peace with the fact that some people never learned their lesson.

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limpfisted · 1 year ago

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So in dnd canon player characters CANT turn into devils. And in fact, if bg3 went by regular rules, wyll would just have been punished by having a few devil features

But the game INSISTS his soul was dragged thru hell and he's a devil now

Tbh this makes no sense bc he doesn't look like any of the many kinds of devils. He just has horns and a tiefling eye

But there are fun ways to play with wyll and being a devil regardless

As well as the fact that his "soul" is owned by a devil

So here's a quick round up of some of my own homebrew wyll is an actual devil now hcs

Wyll is naturally lawful good. As a devil, he is tempted ever more by violence and taking advantage of others, but also "deals." While wyll cannot make a contract himself, he is hungry and greedy for high emotional connection and intimate promises. His own charred, damaged, and sold soul longs to nibble and draw the energy off of others, almost vampirically.

He doesn't act on these feelings. It doesn't mean he doesn't have them. Wyll even before the transformation was a person about control and repression. He thought he could CHOOSE and take advantage of his powers with mizora, the tadpoles, etc. Ironically, it may be his transformation into a devil and the want to make "deals" that helps nudge him in the direction of wanting to deal with mizora more to get out of his contract

Physical symptoms

Devils are hot, devils are smelly. Wyll is not used to his own blood and heat and smell. Its overwhelming. He feels feverish near constantly, he's almost always slightly damp with sweat

The weight of his horns and the new positions he has to sleep in give him headaches, and muscle aches. Hes used to being sore, but this is a new extra level hes not used to

In general I have the hc that bc mizora had a grip on his soul---he felt an icy grip in his chest and stomach all the time that made him feel uncomfortably full all the time, sometimes to the point of nausea

Now he STILL has that, but now he also feels hungry all the time, in a way food can't fill

There's also in general mood swings

Wyll is a very clean person who takes great care of himself and the way he presents himself

As a transmasc person going thru a THIRD puberty of sorts, he is now even more methodical about his skin care routine. He hates how much he sweats and he hates how he smells and he hates that his teeth don't fit in his mouth and he has to practice saying all the pretty things he wants to say even more than he already does in his head

Also its a cop out he turns back into a human, thats boring, these changes are just Forever and he gets used to them

In general I think wyll is growing wings! For a fun treat. Over time, wyll will be able to develop his own powers as a devil. He doesn't have mizora, but also he doesn't need her. He has claws and fangs and can develop his own magic if he practices. He doesn't know how to, so this would be an extremely long process that would probably only take place in his blade of avernus path

Tho he doesn't realize it he is now also functionally immortal except if he is killed in Hell

Why would mizora do this to him, u ask. Give him all this power. Its clearly not just a punishment

Well he wasn't supposed to get out of his contract... it was just a sneak preview of his life when he died and got sent to the blood war. These past 7 years wyll HAS been fighting the blood war as one of zariels minions honestly. I dont think mizora or zariel ever thought he would legimately break his pact. And even if he did. Hes a 26 year old human with a good, good, self sacrificial heart who thinks he can take on any evil and HAS to. Hes easy to manipulate

And furthermore. I think zariel and mizora have been watching "the heart of baldurs gate" all his life just waiting to strike

There are ends for wyll where he's in a pact with a devil, and is a devil, and is the grand Duke of baldurs gate

Even if wyll ISNT the grand Duke of baldurs gate

His father talks about being hellstouched himself now! (A story for another time, he says)

Wylls Origin bio straight up says he's a pawn in a war he doesn't understand

Will we ever know the hells plans for wyll! No! But I doubt even getting out of his pact is as big a wrench in mizora and zariel's plans as we are led to believe. If mizora legit cared that wyll wasn't in a pact anymore. Why is she still fucking here. (Go away no one wants u here wench. But I digress.)

#my wyll also kind of glows with hellfire beneath the skin in the dark #fun times

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sirthisisa-wendys · 2 years ago

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hi, how are u? im not one to make any requests but hmm- being married to wakasa and all of a sudden hes thinking its a good time to have a baby? like he wakes up and a little light goes on in his head when he sees you taking care of a baby?? idkkkk but i melting when think about waka being a dad... (ignore it if it bothers u)

The Godson: Wakasa Imaushi x Fem!Reader

wc: 532

tw: fluff

masterlist

"You want a hot dog or a hamburger?"

"Hamburger!"

Waka looks down at the various tykes running around his legs, eyeing each with a sense of...

"Waka, are you hungry?" Keizo appears in his field of vision, the bulky man holding a Diet Coke and a plate full of fresh fruit.

"Uh..." Waka whispers, his hair flying into his face as a slight breeze tousles his locks. "No, thanks. I'll just--"

"Daddy, can you put me on your shoulders?" Keizo looks at his daughter, who is wide-eyed and pleading with him silently.

"Once you're done eating," Keizo answers, smiling. "Go play with your friends for a bit." The girl runs off, and Wakasa watches her, her black locks similar to Keizo's before he dyed his hair white. His wife comes up behind him, her stomach round and full with another child. A son.

Wakasa walks off toward the kitchen, where you're standing, gossiping with the others and holding a wine glass. He gives you a small smile, then ducks into the bathroom, clutching his chest. He inhales deeply, then exhales again, frowning. What is this feeling? It's a tight feeling, one that's mildly uncomfortable and kind of... weird.

Only when he's lying in bed and spooning you does he realize what that feeling is: jealousy. Wants and needs he had previously buried upon reflecting on his childhood come bubbling back up, and in the morning, he sits up and inhales deeply.

"Mmmm," you groan, sensing Waka's departure from your side. "What's wrong, baby?"

"I think we should try for a baby." I want to be a father.

"You think so?" you ask groggily, yawning. "You really want to try?"

"Yeah," Waka murmurs. "I want to."

It's impossible to convince Waka otherwise. He's eager to try, start a family, begin the second half of his life, and explore fatherhood with his friends. It's evident in how he keeps you from getting to work on time with his feverish kisses and bucking hips, how he feeds you well before promoting cuddling by the TV, and the physical closeness that was once reserved for date nights.

"Are you feeling okay?" Wakasa asks weeks later, pulling you close and kissing the space beneath your earlobe.

"I'm feeling good," you answer lovingly. "Actually, I feel great."

"Good." Waka opens his phone and looks at the ovulation calendar with interest before putting it back in his pocket. "Do you think we would be good parents?"

"I think you'd be an amazing father," you coo, kissing his cheek. "You're always so gentle and kind. And you'd be so good with babies."

"I've never held one in my life," Waka chuckles, frowning. "I should probably get some practice."

That practice includes holding Keizo's second child, the newborn cooing and gurgling with closed eyes. Wakasa isn't sure how everything's supposed to go, but when Keizo advises him on holding his godson, Waka finds comfort in looking at the child and imagining it's his own.

"Think you can handle it?" Keizo wonders, chuckling at the way Waka precariously holds his child.

"I think I can..." Waka murmurs, smiling down at the baby and stroking his cheek. "I'm ready for this."

#wakasa imaushi x reader #imaushi wakasa #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers

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mimiruku · 4 months ago

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Yeah you didn't reblog that ask but I'm glad you finally did now!! Cx anyway for Mimi: "2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?", "19. How does your OC behave when enraged?" and "21. "Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?"

█ 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐘 𝐎𝐂 𝐀𝐒𝐊 ⸻ ( ⚝ )

╰┈➤ 02. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them ?

Likely, a story told many times before ! But, it's difficult to read Miruku as someone that ever really experienced negative things — he is always happy, always healthy, always okay, which are not entirely true. He is deeply and inconsolably miserable. . . fortunately, this emptiness did not bleed into his relationship with others, it's a childish logic of putting two and two together , but he concluded that he rather not people experience the same unpleasurable life.

More significantly however, is how he is perceived to be kind, friendly, and a social person , none of which comes intrinsic to him nor true. He has no particular strong sentiments towards others, yet he'd make great effort to treat people with immense carefullness and tenderness, this is what makes most sense ; ( naturally, you would not want to be treated badly! )

This sentiments are difficult for him to express, so he makes no attempt too , how do you say ? "I do not care about you, nor need you in my life, but I wish you great happiness and if you need me to be happy, then I'll accompany you for as long as you need." corporate style.

╰┈➤ 19. How does your OC behave when enraged ?

An extremely rare occurrence, you have to be a diabolical evil entity to have been able to make him fee l ENRAGED of all things ?! That's a feat in itself, seeing that he is more likely to experience heartbreak than absolute anger , with that said, this too would have been an entirely physical experience. Throat clamping, voice lost — dizzy with his heart beat running a million miles , I think if he isn't able to calm himself quickly enough, he'd have physically give ; he could cry like a child and hurl all at the same time. I think worst of all tho, is the state of affairs after the initial shock , out of commission likely, feverish , sick and cold. If he still has responsibilities, he'd push through & carry on, gather his personhood that's most pleasing, but anger and hate are things he does not know how to carry, he might be confuse too ; why must i feel this way ? why are you hurting me?

╰┈➤ 21. Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders ? How do they handle it ?

CONTENT WARNING : Attempted Suicide, aspd, depression ... possessive behavior ??

Both Undiagnosed, but our boy experiences some gnarly Antisocial personality disorder & major depressive disorder in children, he is unable to connect with people in any normal capacity, a sort of plexiglass between you and him and admittedly a detachment towards himself as a whole also occurs, unfortunately because of this — he has no particular regard towards his life and has attempted to take it, if you asked why , he would have no particular answer, really there is none at all. He is alive particularly because he was asked too and that he promised to accompany Momina for as long as she needed him around. Later in life, he had express the same sentiments towards Reborn and Takeshi, that if possible they could spend time together a while.

Even with these specks of light in his life, it remains apparent ( if you watched him close enough ) that something isn't entirely right with him , always grieving, unable to understand the most common interpersonal connections and always, always displaced. It seems like being around people trully pains him, as though he's not equipped to be around anyone much as he tries, with that said because of these aches and pains, he is quite appreciative of those that chooses him in spite of it all .

A complex does form early in his life too : If you're going to choose me, choose only me but also? only love me in the way I want you too , LOVE ME CORRECTLY, a push and a pull that doesn't make sense at all, relationships with him is frankly odd , maybe tiresome and debilitating to some ... whether that's worth all the trouble is up to you!

As I've softly touched before, all these issues are often handled through somewhat child like problem solving , he thinks "people hurt when you are mean, so he refrains from being 'mean'" , he thinks "love should be kind, careful and feels good." so he does so without hesitation. This is all of course done through trial and error, so ridiculous things may happen here and there .

#dreamieparadise #𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒄. ⸻ ◜ character analysis／ miruku◞#* this is such a messy set of questions fkskdkd Miruku sounds CRAZY 😭😭😭😭 writing it down for a full picture is new to em #* PLEASE PLEASE BE CAREFUL WHEN READING VKDMDNDKDKDKKD

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outeremissary · 8 months ago

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🍳 🔮 🔎 for Kasander?

Thanks for the ask! This was fun for shaping some floating ideas into something more solid, hehe.

[prompt list]

🍳 — cooking

Kasander is a terrible cook. They have no experience whatsoever preparing food, they're easily distracted, and they have no sense of restraint at all. The concept of "flavors that don't go together" is still a work in progress and Kas has a pretty high threshold for food that sucks on top of that. They're perfectly fine at making food that they find edible and decently tasty (even if they wouldn't consider it as good as what someone else makes) that is probably safe for consumption and not raw, but they cannot be trusted to cook for anyone else. They mean well. They really do. They believe strongly in their ability to help others out by doing the cooking, or making something to cheer someone else up, or just helping Gale out, but they can't be allowed to do this. For everyone's sake. Getting Kas a task so they feel useful enough to stop hanging around the campfire trying to contribute is necessary for every meal.

🔮 — magic

Kas has a somewhat weird relationship to magic- they've never been formally taught, they don't find magic any easier to learn than it was before, and it's not something they're interested in for its own sake. But as a paladin they are able to channel magic, and for a paladin they're also really good at it. The fervent, feverish belief that powers this ability is something that Kas never questions, and for them magic isn't so much a thing that they're doing as a thing that happens when they badly need something to happen. The gap between thinking "I need to help" or "I need to hit harder" or "I need to understand" or "I need it to hurt" and something happening is so small that it hardly feels like they're doing anything at all. They wouldn't be able to explain their magic, and they don't tend to think of it in terms of discrete spells, abilities, and effects so much as desires, associated actions, and ranges of results. It's pure instinct and they'd say as much. For them, there's not a lot of reason to think much more about it. It works and they're grateful it does. That's enough.

🔎 — investigating

Investigating is kind of a tossup for Kas- they have very sharp senses and can notice a lot of things that other people can't, but they don't always know how to parse that information to determine what's unusual and what isn't. It's easy for them to discard information as irrelevant that they'd benefit from following up on. And when it comes to anything involving people, they're dead in the water. That 8 Wis really drags them down. They tend to take other people at their word and aren't very good at picking up on tells in social interactions. Overall Kas is a lot better at helping someone who's better at organizing and prioritizing information investigate- they can contribute a lot with someone to ask them questions about what they're picking up on and guide them through what to do. Once that information has been vocalized it's easier for another investigator or Kasander to stitch it together into something useful.

#kas is a menace with cooking. a helpful menace. or a menace trying very hard to be helpful. but a menace.#as for magic... kas had 18 cha very early so I like to think they're pretty effective at what they do even if they don't know how #the raw force of personality definition of cha is very true of kas I think #ask game #ask me emithing #kasander #emi plays bg3 #arendaes

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fairyniceyeah · 9 months ago

Text

Full Masterlist

Note: This "full" Masterlist does not contain the fics from June of Doom 2024, Sicktember 2024 and My Advent calendar since there are so many short fics. Please use the links below!

⌛ ATEEZ ⌛

Whole group:

ATEEZ Headcanons - Emeto ATEEZ Headcanons - Dizzy/Feverish ATEEZ Headcanons - Taking medication ATEEZ Headcanons - Headaches & Migraines ATEEZ Headcanons - Sick but not sick enough to stay home

🐿️ Hongjoong:

Drink up, one more, drink up Filming for Fever Road Ep. 4 is going well until Hongjoong is required to drink the fish sauce… [CW: emeto, allergic reaction, stye, IVs]

Nobody loves you like (we) do After going to bed early during film night Hongjoong starts feeling unwell, his members come to the rescue. [CW: emeto]

I know, I’m with you, lean on Jongho and Hongjoong suffer from food poisoning on the way to an MV filming. [CW: emeto]

Wash it away, oh, make it rain now Translation issues cause Hongjoong to eat something he has an intolerance to at Coachella and he needs Seonghwa to help him out of the public eye. [CW: emeto, kind of public emeto, medics, IVs]

We can make everything together San fetches Seonghwa and Hongjoong when Yunho starts feeling unwell at night. The MATZ hyungs stay up with the sick member, taking care of him. Hongjoong gets sympathy sick. [CW: emeto, bad dreams]

I’m not okay Filming for the "NOT OKAY" M/V overwhelms Hongjoong. Wooyoung senses his hyung needs some comfort and tlc. [CW: mental health issues, mentions of trauma]

Thank you for being on my side Hongjoong is hit by a bad bout of the stomach flu. Still their manager forces him to go to a meeting with the most important people in the company. Seonghwa just wants the day to end but it only gets worse from then on. [CW: emeto, diarrhoea, idol mistreatment, hospitals, appendicitis, surgery, sasaeng fans]

Tears in diamond Hongjoong is sick, overwhelmed and in need of taking care of. Too bad that Award season was in the near future. Yet he doesn’t make it through, collapsing backstage. [CW: emeto, idol mistreatment, hospitals, CPR, critical medical conditions]

Spelling Colour with a "U" - ao3 Hongjoong struggles with differentiating between being ATEEZ strong captain and just being human. The Mayfly rap-unit and his members help him find balance again - especially as his food intolerances get in the way. [CW: emeto, insecurity, mental health issues, mentions of Mingi's hiatus]

⭐ Seonghwa:

Passion Young Fever Seonghwa just wants to sleep but soon Hongjoong realizes he is running a fever. Seonghwa tries to push through but it doesn’t end up well. [CW: fainting]

We must going on Seonghwa’s bronchitis rears its ugly head during a meeting. Mingi always pays attention to his hyung's wellbeing. [CW: mentions of fainting, emeto]

🐶 Yunho:

I will stay for you Seonghwa finds a very ill Yunho in the bathroom, minutes before they need to be on stage. [CW: emeto]

Oh, love is something good for us to share Yunho is suffering from heat exhaustion at Coachella but he soon finds help from unusual caretakers – The Rose hyungs. But Dojoon and Jaehyeong themselves are not doing good either. (The Rose - Crossover) [CW: emeto, talk of fainting]

We can make everything together San fetches Seonghwa and Hongjoong when Yunho starts feeling unwell at night. The MATZ hyungs stay up with the sick member, taking care of him. [CW: emeto, bad dreams]

You’ll be alright, just take it slow Yunho wakes up feeling sick but begs Hongjoong to let him come to practice. It goes as well as one would think. [CW: emeto]

I’m ready for the dark Yunho is struggling to get through a grueling dance practice. He drops the moment it’s over. [CW: emeto, fainting]

👑 Yeosang

No more, keep your soul The morning before a concert Yeosang starts feeling awful to a point where he wishes to just be unable to perform but despite Hongjoong’s protests he is forced to be on stage. [CW: emeto, fainting, medics, hospital, idol mistreatment, self-doubt, open ending]

⛰️ San

I don’t wanna be alone At the park with his members San suddenly starts feeling sick and Hongjoong comes to the rescue. [CW: emeto]

Hold me tight San sits out during filming for a stomach ache … turns out it’s not just a stomach ache… [CW: emeto, pain, diarrhea (in the context of illness, mentioned), ambulance, hospitals, surgery, IVs]

🦊 Wooyoung:

My Aurora Wooyoung wakes up sick – literally. He is feeling awful but his captain makes it better. [CW: emeto]

I don’t wanna stop until the break of dawn Wooyoung is sick, again. Seonghwa corners him only to find him burning up and overwhelmed. [CW: mentions of death]

🧸 Jongho:

I want to feeling my life Jongho is not doing well on ISAC day but he doesn’t want to burden his hyungs. Luckily Stray Kids' Seungmin notices and gets his Lee Know-hyung who helps the ATEEZ maknae. [CW: emeto, kind of public emeto]

I know, I’m with you, lean on Jongho and Hongjoong suffer from food poisoning on the way to an MV filming. [CW: emeto]

💎 Seventeen 💎

Whole group:

I love my team, I love my crew I While filming on a small sailing boat a few SVT members start feeling sick - the very contagious norovirus is the most likely reason. [CW: emeto, diarrhea in the context of illness] I love my team, I love my crew II Seungcheol, Jeonghan and the manager check on the sick members. The group has to decide how to go on as all are at risk of contagion. [CW: emeto, diarrhea in the context of illness] I love my team, I love my crew III Priority is to get the sick members comfortable. [CW: emeto, diarrhea in the context of illness, nightmares] I love my team, I love my crew IV Jeonghan quickly learns that taking care of so many sick members is a hard task, even with a medic helping them out. [CW: emeto, diarrhea in the context of illness, fainting, IVs] I love my team, I love my crew V Jun receives bad news. [CW: emeto, high fevers, IVs] I love my team, I love my crew VI Jeonghan and Jun are faced with deciding which member receives the last medication. [CW: emeto, diarrhea in the context of illness, fevers, IVs] I love my team, I love my crew VII The decision is made. And, consequently, Jeonghan falls apart. [CW: emeto, mentions of diarrhea in the context of illness, fevers, IVs]

All 13 parts of my heart I Small arguments between members were not uncommon - after all they lived and worked and ate and slept and laughed and cried and spent their free time together without any breaks for most of the year. There were so many vastly different and too similar personalities in the group that disagreements happened often enough. Seldomly it turned into something bigger - until it did. [CW: fighting] All 13 parts of my heart II "Do you truly care about your leader-title and reputation more than the members? I thought better of you, Choi Seungcheol." [CW: fighting]

🍒 S.Coups/Seungcheol:

You’re (our) Headliner Seungcheol starts throwing up on a trip with only members of the maknae line to help him. It’s strange to be on the other side for once. [CW: emeto]

🐈‍⬛ Wonwoo:

I’ll always be with you After everything went wrong on the flight to LA, Seungcheol just

🍚 Woozi/Jihoon:

I’m tryin’ to hold on Wonwoo and Seungcheol notice that Woozi isn't feeling well during a filming. While he manages to push through the aftermath gets worse. [CW: emeto]

Stay here with me After staying up with a sick Hoshi during In the Soop Jihoon catches his stomach bug, which causes a very unpleasant ride home. [CW: emeto]

What kind of future Turning thirty had seemed so far away when they had debuted. [CW: enlistment, minor blood]

At the party, cheers Jihoon tries alcohol for the first time at his birthday party. He wishes he hadn’t. [CW: emeto]

Won't let them break your heart Lately it felt like that was all he was to them: A producer and a unit leader. Jihoon is tired of being Woozi all the time. [CW: insecurity]

A silent war we never wanted I A silent war we never wanted II A silent war we never wanted III All it took was a frozen monitor, a panicked maknae and about five delayed clicks to delete a whole song on his computer. Jihoon is already so scared and unwell and now he needs to write a whole new song to give to the executives in an impossible time-frame. [CW: emeto, insecurity, fights, idol mistreatment]

🐸 Minghao/The8:

You don’t have to be alone Wonwoo quickly realises that Minghao isn’t feeling well during a GoSe Epsiode. [CW: emeto]

🍊Seungkwan:

Without you, I’m so lonely Seungkwan is stricken down by the flu during the Follow Tour in Japan. Jeonghan takes care of him but Seungkwan misses Seungcheol. [CW: emeto]

‘Cause you’re my flower Jihoon returns from the studio only to find a sick Seungkwan in the bathroom. [CW: emeto]

🧭 Stray Kids 🧭

Whole Group:

Stray Kids Headcanons - Emeto Stray Kids Headcanons - Food poisoning

🐰 Lee Know:

Please don't care about me, it's okay Minho doesn’t feel well all evening and when he gets sick at night he reluctantly asks for help from his Channie-hyung. [CW: emeto]

🥟 Hyunjin:

I’ll never make you lonely Chan wakes up to a sick Hyunjin in the middle of the night. [CW: emeto]

🐶 Seungmin:

I’m afraid, I’m in pain, I’m okay After all the concerts and travels Seungmin gets an ear infection: He can either stay behind in America or attempt the painful plane travel with his members… [CW: emeto, medics, IVs]

You got me losing patience Seungmin slips on stage and to make matters worse, it’s because he is already sick with the stomach flu. Getting treatment at the hospital doesn’t go well. [CW: emeto, injuries, blood, needles, hospitals]

🌹 The Rose 🌹

Whole group:

The Rose Headcanons - Motionsick The Rose Headcanons - Sick but not sick enough to stay home

🤍 Woosung/Sammy:

'Cause everybody fears the one Hajoon has got the stomach flu – bad thing is: Woosung is terribly emetophobic. Jaehyeong comforts his hyung. Companion piece to Don’t you worry cause I’m with you now. [CW: emeto, panic attacks, emetophobia]

Deep inside my complex mind Backstory to ‘Cause everybody fears the one and Don’t you worry cause I’m with you now. Woosung is sick with the stomach flu for the first time with the members and the panic gets too much. [CW: mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts, emeto, fainting, panic attacks, emetophobia, paramedics, ambulances, hospitals]

I got you, you got me, nothin' in the way I I got you, you got me, nothin' in the way II Woosung falls during the preparation for their tour and injures his foot badly. Waiting at the hospital takes much longer than he can endure. [CW: injury, fainting, hospitals, nausea, emeto, IVs]

Don't forget when you were a child Woosung returns home to his eomma to relax during his time off. His stomach has other ideas. [CW: emeto]

❤️ Dojoon/Leo:

Oh, love is something good for us to share ATEEZ’ Yunho is suffering from heat exhaustion at Coachella but he soon finds help from unusual caretakers – The Rose hyungs. But Dojoon and Jaehyeong themselves are not doing good either. (ATEEZ - Crossover) [CW: emeto, talk of fainting]

🩵 Hajoon/Dylan:

Don’t you worry cause I’m with you now Hajoon starts feeling sick at night and is unable to leave the bathroom. Loneliness and guilt plague him as Jaehyeong is focused on the panicked Woosung whose emetophobia Hajoon triggered. Companion piece to ‘Cause everybody fears the one. [CW: emeto, guilt]

It’s better to be held than holding on Hajoon nearly throws up during the Q&A before a concert, is unable to keep anything down and still - despite his members worries - he insists on performing for Black Roses. [CW: emeto, kind of public emeto]

I'm under cold rain again After a week of vacation with his parents Hajoon is ready to see his members again. But instead he is sick, a few hours away, alone and the security guards are more than rude to him. All he wants to be is home. [CW: emeto, kind of public emeto, idol mistreatment]

💙 Hajoon Insecure Series:

Angel During a concert Hajoon suddenly starts feeling lonely and separated from his members. [CW: low self-esteem] Nauseous Hajoon overhears a conversation between his members that wasn’t for his ears. [CW: low self-esteem] Eclipse Why is Woosung so kind to him when hours ago he wanted to get rid of him? [CW: low self-esteem, faking sick, "migraine", mentions of "nausea"] Take Me Down Hajoon accidentally burns his hands, making himself useless as a drummer. [CW: low self-esteem, burns, intentional worsening of pain] Sorry Getting drunk is the only way Hajoon feels like he can deal with everything. [CW: low self-esteem, drunkness, alcohol consumption, emeto] Alive Was there truly a use for the Blue Rose? [CW: low self-esteem, loneliness] Sour It’s time to say what he needs to say. [CW: low self-esteem] Time Is it the last time I hold your hand? [CW: low self-esteem]

Eclipse - Gold Star The director's cut of Eclipse.

🩷 Jaehyeong/Jeff:

Individual masterlists:

Fairy's Masterlist - ATEEZFairy's Masterlist - Stray KidsFairy's Masterlist - The Rose Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN Fairy's June of Doom 2024 Fairy's Sicktember 2024 Fairy's Advent Calendar 2024 - You made my dawn

Here is the link to the Request list for Fairy for an idea of upcoming fics!

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