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megamindsecretlair · 2 days ago

Text

Make Me Weak, Part 2

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sex acts and sexual issues. Hair pulling, PIV, condom use. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: You followed Dr. Richmond’s instructions to the best of your ability. You spent so much time in your mind that willingly descending into your body was an experience that opened your eyes to how much you had neglected. Your second session forces you to confront more truths than what you were ready for.

Terry reaches some conclusions of his own as he tries to shake whatever is ailing him by disappearing between Tasia’s thighs. Yet his mind is on you, on your thoughts and words. During the second session, he can’t help but push you beyond your limit.

Word Count: 5,018k

Part 1 | AO3 Link

A/N: I'n back babbyyyy. I got so inspired reading so many lovely fics. Plus the encouraging asks really helped. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You

Hot steam rolled out from the shower as you set it to your desired temperature. You faced yourself in the mirror, thinking over Dr. Richmond’s words. You supposed that there was some truth to what he had told you.

Most people did start by exploring their own bodies first. It must be so easy for guys. Close the door, grab some lotion, and rub one out. Girls on the other hand…your life was constantly spent in a state of panic.

Panic that anything on your person would make your mother snap. Harsh criticisms hidden behind “just talkin’ shit” that Black people liked to hide behind. You were too sensitive to jokey-joke with when you weren’t able to reciprocate. It’s not like you could talk about your mom. It’s not like you could throw insults back in her face and tell her to take it in stride.

Panic that you could be caught or exposed at any point. You were a grown woman, yes. You were also taught to believe that you needed to act as if someone was watching. You believed there was some kind of life after all this and so wouldn’t it stand to reason that someone or something would be looking at you? Or worse, someone would come flying through your door because your family lacked boundaries?

Panic that you didn’t know what lay on the other side of an orgasm. How would you feel? How would you look? Surely something like that changed a person. Feeling that rush of relief for the first time had to be special. Had to be amazing. Otherwise, why would anyone ever be obsessed with sex?

Panic that you’d never reach that peak and fall over. Never feel that rush of euphoria that everyone talked about. Porn, books, friend groups. You always felt left out and you didn’t want to anymore, dammit.

You watched yourself in the mirror as steam overtook it, inch by inch. Until you were only staring at your eyes and the disbelief written all over your face. Would this even work? Were you wasting your time?

“I need total, focused commitment from you.”

Dr. Richmond’s sultry voice skittered along your naked skin. Goosebumps raised on your flesh from the cold air moving through the house. You would be focused. You would be committed. This was something you wanted so badly, you were fucking desperate.

So you took deep, measured breaths using the Box method a previous therapist told you about. You inhaled for a count of four, held for four, exhaled for a count of four, and then held it for four. You repeated the process, doing a full body scan.

You focused on your head, starting with your scalp. You focused on your forehead, feeling the tension melt away and your eyebrows start to relax. You hadn’t even realized that you had it scrunched.

You brought your attention to your eyes, unfocusing them, and allowed them to close. You repeated the process, breathing the entire time, settling down into your body when your mind wanted so badly to escape. To flee. To leave the Horrors.

When you felt your mind drift, you didn’t chastise yourself. You continued to breathe, focusing on your breaths until you continued with your scan. Your body relaxed fraction by fraction. Your shoulders lowered from up around your neck. Aches and pains became more prominent.

Your belly expanded and you sighed. You hadn’t even noticed how often you clenched your stomach, never allowing yourself a full breath. You always had to be on edge. Never knew where the next danger was coming from. What new fresh hell you would encounter just around the corner.

By the time you reached your feet, you felt more relaxed than you had in a long time. Your body prickled with your newfound awareness. Steam caressed your bareskin and you quickly hopped in the shower, letting the warm water cascade across your body.

The water felt different on your body. Each droplet may as well have been a tiny earthquake, popping all over your skin and making you tingle. This…wasn’t too bad.

You lathered up your facial scrub and gently moisturized your face, soothing the stiff areas. Your jaw popped as it loosened and you moaned from the relief.

How long? How long have you spent outside of your body? A stranger to it? A foreigner to this vessel you carried around? Had you truly loved your body when you were so alien to it? Or had you just learned to layer on the armor and pretend?

God, you felt like crying. With one session, Dr. Richmond already had you re-thinking your entire life. Like the answer was there in your face the entire time and you just needed him to shine a light on it.

You rinsed your face while you grabbed a washcloth and lathered up with your favorite soap. You added body wash and then took your time trailing the washcloth around your body. Starting with your neck, you worked your way down to your chest.

You took your time feeling the rough cloth against your smooth, watery skin. You rounded the washcloth across your nipples and they beaded under the slow torture. Oh, this was new. This was very nice.

You were focused, letting the water act as a sound machine, lulling you into a further relaxed state. You followed the washcloth with your hand, moving over and under your areolas and nipples. You pinched your nipples and gave it a tug. You gasped from the responding tug in your pussy.

You moved on, remembering Dr. Richmond’s words about not making it sexual. But fuck, how could you not?

Heat flushed beneath your skin that had nothing to do with the hot water on your body. You washed your back and then moved lower, skirting your throbbing pussy and washed your legs and dug the cloth between your toes.

On the way up, your fingers glided around your mound, your hips pushing forward. Your breathing turned rapid, feeling yourself getting more and more excited. Your brain turned to mush, retreating from your actions. Like it wanted to picture something else. You shook your head, and started up with your Box breathing again.

You stopped mid-shower to reorient yourself and get yourself back into that zone of ultimate calm. If Dr. Richmond were there…

You focused on what he might say. There was no rush. There was no rulebook for this sort of thing. There was no reason to chastise yourself. There was no test to pass or box you had to check in order to achieve an orgasm. You just needed to relax, dammit.

Slowly, achingly slow, you went back to that calm. You continued lathering up your body and then rinsed the soap off. You repeated the process, adding more soap to thoroughly wash your body. To enjoy the feel of the cloth and water and soap on your skin. On your body.

“This is the only body you’ll ever have so it’s time to think beyond simple body maintenance. Admire your body.”

This was the only body you would ever have. It was time you stopped treating it like the enemy.

You turned off the water and then got out. The chill air hit the water on your back and you shrieked and shivered, quickly drying off. You went through your nightly routine, taking care of your teeth, face, and deodorant. You sat down on a decorated stool in your bathroom to apply your lotion.

As instructed, you looked at your body. Every mole, every scar, every bump, and every wayward hair. Being in your body was weird to say the least. You had to disassociate to survive your childhood and you never learned to drop those defenses. Your body never realized that it wasn't at war anymore. Or perhaps it was and this was battle fatigue. You were so damn tired.

You massaged the lotion into your skin and then slipped in your panties. You pulled on an ankle bracelet you got while visiting New York once and it made you feel extra pretty, so why not. You turned on your bedside light and pulled out a notebook.

You started a new entry and wrote about the sensations and revelations you experienced. Some of it you would discuss with Dr. Richmond and some of it was never leaving your grave. It felt good to get it all out, uninterrupted.

Sometimes, venting to someone else just gave them room to talk over you. To steer the direction back to them. Brooklyn was like that. In an effort to relate, she ended up taking over the convo and made it about her situation. Then you ended up comforting her about her issue and never feeling truly heard about yours.

In a journal however, you pretended that you were just relaying it to a friend. The type of friend who allowed you to speak. To get your jumbled thoughts out without getting mad or trying overshadow you.

Done, you collapsed against your bed as if every ounce of strength left your body. You breathed through it, allowed your body to rest for a moment. The hell kind of voo-doo shit did your therapist put you through?

Immediately, warning bells went off in your mind. Surely, you would be whisked away to some super important task around the house. Surely, your phone would ring with some awful accident you had to attend to. Surely…nothing. You were drained. You had nothing.

You had just enough energy to put the journal up, turn off the light, and drift off to the deepest sleep of your life.

Terry

Tasia bounced like a porn star on Terry’s dick and it wasn’t doing a damn thing for him. He felt himself getting soft the more Tasia shuddered with her pleasure. At least one of them was having fun.

Maybe he rushed this. Too intent on getting you out of his mind that he hopped immediately into Tasia’s warm heat and didn’t consider that there was no substitution. He knew it was irrational to be drawn to you so fast. After only one session. He was conflicted on that front, but it went beyond just looks.

Your case, your assessments, your willingness to try, and your obvious smarts was a cocktail shooting through his veins and turning his body liquid. The perfect sub was dropped into his lap and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

And as a man used to getting his way in the bedroom, it stuck in his craw that he couldn’t have you. That it wasn’t your pussy that his dick disappeared inside of. Would you moan loudly? Were you shy in the bedroom? Were you enthusiastic?

What would your mouth look like taking the full length of him? How far down could you suck him? Did that same determination translate to the bedroom?

Tasia grunted beneath him as his dick rose back to life, thoughts of you turning him harder than a brick. He could build a house with how hard he was at the moment, picturing the curves on your body. The natural handles in your waist for his big hands to wrap around. To hold.

He moaned, picturing it all so clearly. His thumbs would dig into your back. The sounds you would make. His hips jerked just thinking of pounding into you. No mercy. You weren’t some fragile flower. Your insightful thoughts were like a mirror to his own. He wanted to explore with you. And the fact that he couldn’t had him pulling Tasia’s hair back.

“Call me Dr. Richmond,” he commanded.

“Yes, D-Dr. Richmond,” Tasia moaned. It was starting to piss him off.

“Softer,” he said.

“Yes, Dr. Richmond,” she said, bringing her voice lower, softer. It was nowhere near your voice, but it’d do for the fantasy he concocted in his head. He didn’t have time for any extra tricks tonight. He just needed to get to the other side of his nut.

He closed his eyes and thought about your case. He wondered if you were doing as you were told. He wondered how well you would take commands in the bedroom. If he even had to give commands at all. If you’d instinctively know what he needed when he needed it. Tasia used to know that. Tasia used to have him out of breath.

Now…she was a beautiful girl with deep mocha skin, a cute face, and wide expressive eyes. She was like a little doe in a meadow somewhere. He was attracted to the overall softness of her and of her body. The natural way she seemed to know what he needed.

Perhaps it was him that had changed. His tastes. He was no longer interested in a casual sub-relationship. Perhaps he wanted a more permanent sub. One he could explore every single nasty fantasy with and never get bored. He was getting older, getting into his early-thirties without a significant partner.

And that was what he wanted. A partner. An equal. Someone he raced home to see or spent his days thinking about how he would break her and put her back together like a puzzle box.

Terry groaned and came into the condom, gripping Tasia’s asscheeks for dear life. It was one of the hardest climaxes he ever experienced. His release triggered hers, causing her to fall forward as her pussy gripped his dick.

He pulled out and immediately disposed of the condom, coming back to help clean up Tasia.

“That was…different,” she said, using the word in place of something else. He didn’t want his reputation to slacken in that regard, but hell, this whole thing had been a mistake. He still made sure she came twice before he did, but he usually put more oomph into his sexual exploits.

He usually had Tasia popping her pussy on his face, or contorting her like a pretzel. Now…he was just over it. Over trying to impress someone that wasn’t permanent in his life. That he couldn’t play with whenever he wanted. He was no longer excited at the prospect of making many women cum. He just wanted to make one cum over and over again. He wanted to collect each one like trophies.

Terry grabbed Tasia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Forgive me. Tonight should’ve probably been a gym night,” he said. He smiled for good measure, but it was a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, I’m not complaining. That dick still know how to rock my world,” she said. She stood up, pulling on her sweats and sweatshirt, and slipping on her sneakers. He sat down on the bed and watched her, not feeling an ounce of desire.

She leaned over and grabbed his chin, making him look up at her. “You take care of yourself and whatever or whoever got you in this funk. And if you need more relief, you know my number,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another close-lipped smile. Tasia had been one of his longest play partners, he’d be sorry to see her go. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, showing herself out.

Terry sat in his fancy bedroom in his fancy house, staring at the empty archway Tasia disappeared through. His mind and body told him that he was ready for something more. Something tangible. Something he could hold and never let go. He only hoped he found it soon.

You

You clutched your journal to your chest as you sat in Dr. Richmond’s office. Nothing about it had changed except the man himself. He chose to wear a cream colored outfit. A soft, oatmeal colored sweater and khaki pants with white sneakers. His gold rimmed glasses flashed every so often from the light overhead and you couldn’t help catching every single thing about him. If only to distract you from your racing thoughts.

It was one thing to live in your body when you were in the comfort of your own bathroom. Your mind escaped once more, retreated to the safest place you knew. Your knee bounced with nervousness.

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. This is a safe space. It’s your space. You get to decide what we do here,” he said.

You closed your eyes to the sound of his voice. If he wasn’t so damn helpful, you’d ask for someone else. Literally, anyone else. But he was the first therapist to give you a glimpse of the other side. You wanted that more than you were embarrassed.

“No, I want to share. I need to share,” you said. You licked your lips and then cracked open your journal. You skimmed over things you didn’t want to reveal just yet. Too embarrassing for a second meeting, of course.

“I think…I think my mind is safer. I am constantly on alert that I’m “doing the right thing”, as opposed to what actually makes me happy,” you said.

When you didn’t say anything, Terry leaned back in his seat. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the golden brown of his forearms. Your mind emptied of any other thought until he cleared his throat. “Can you expand on that?”

You looked up into his eyes before heat rushed to your ears. You looked back at your journal, focusing on that rather than his lush, pink lips.

You told him more about how you reached this conclusion. That there was a standard for being Black that you never quite achieved. That at any moment, multiple mobs of people were coming for your Black card. Or, you were constantly trying to over-achieve at school. You had to work twice as hard, had to be the smartest in the class, because if you came home with a B, your mom went on a long rant about being stupid and never achieving anything real in life. Or how everyone praised you at work for going above and beyond and then got mad when you couldn’t sustain it. You were constantly on the lookout for someone else’s standard.

“I have so many fucking voices in my ear, telling me to do this or do that. And I fucking hate it. Which is wild considering that that’s what I seek in a sexual partner,” you said.

Dr. Richmond smiled and nodded. “Your mind is trying to re-contextualize your upbringing. Being submissive is actually about putting yourself in the position of power. A dom is only as good as how well he treats his sub. It’s about the ultimate act of trust on the submissive’s part,” he explained.

“Yes! And how can I trust that someone isn’t going to…take what I say or want and abuse that or make fun of me for it?” You asked. You played with the corner of your journal, not willing to look at Dr. Richmond. You didn’t need to see the pathetic pity in his steel blue eyes.

“You have to stand resolute in what you want. You have to recognize that pleasure and sex is about give and take. Trust and acceptance. The right partner isn’t going to make fun of you, abuse you, or rush you,” he said.

You sighed and leaned back on the brown sofa. You felt like you were chasing a unicorn. What kind of guy was willing to be dominant and care about your needs? Reassure you when you needed and took control when your body sent massive panicked waves at him? Took care of the trust you were placing in him to help you relax and cum? While also being physically attractive to you and have you be attracted to him; not a chubby chaser, not a creep, and not an abuser?

It was impossible. Hopeless.

“If you’re comfortable, tell me more about what you found,” he said.

You took your mind off of your dream mystery man. When the fuck was it going to be your turn?

You scanned your journal once more, noting the sensations about actually living inside your body. “I think when I feel an orgasm approaching, I get scared. And that could be part of why I’m blocking it, but even when I’m alone, I don’t know what it feels like. Or…”

“Or…?” Dr. Richmond prompted.

You grimaced. Fuck, this was so hard to put into words. Too hard to expose yourself like this. But did you want to reach your sixties, seventies, never having a true orgasm? Never finding your way to actual release?

“Or, there’s no way to control the orgasm,” you said.

Dr. Richmond nodded. “The goal isn’t to control it, you know,” he said.

“I know!” You groaned and stood up. You thought better on your feet. Or maybe when you had something to do, you were better able to regulate the jumble of emotions inside of you. No wonder your emotions were all over the place. You spent too long disassociating, too long in your mind and not enough in your body.

“What benefit do you get from being in control all the time?” The scratch of his pen on the notebook drew your attention to him. To his pretty face, dark eyelashes, and push lips. You watched as he wrote in his notebook. Watched the lines and planes of his gorgeous face. His short curled afro.

“If I’m in control, if I never look weak or stupid or incompetent, then I win. I win at life. And all my bullies, from school to home are all wrong. There’s nothing wrong with me because I know what to do. I know what to say. I’m not an alien,” you said, taking a deep breath at the revelation.

Whatever your insurance company was paying him, they needed to double it. You admitted things you never had in the past. Your previous therapists attacked your problem sex first, focusing on different methods you could try. Some wanted you to describe, in detail, whatever you did to get yourself off. Safe to say they weren’t practicing ever again.

“Do you believe there’s something wrong with you?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat, giving you an unflinching stare. His face gave away nothing, revealed nothing, as you thought through his question.

“All the fucking time. Why else do friends keep leaving me? Or guys don’t want me? Or my mom is…my mom,” you said.

“Have you considered that you aren’t the problem?” He asked.

“How could I not be? I’m the only common denominator,” you said. You flopped back onto the couch but it wasn’t that soft. It thudded under your weight and you took a deep breath. Fuck, you wanted to cry. Tears pricked your eyes, turning them hot and itchy. You refused to cry in front of this man.

This strange, quiet man who seemed to read you like one of the many books on his bookshelf. No wonder he had so many degrees. He could drag a full confession from a mute.

“That may be true. But, bear with me, consider that you aren’t the problem. If you take yourself out of the equation, what are you left with?” He asked. He leaned forward on his desk and the sudden intensity of the question made your mind blank.

You had…nothing. No explanation, no back up. You were used to making yourself the problem. The issue had to be you. If it wasn’t you…

You shrugged your shoulders and looked away from him. The silence stretched on, so quiet you could hear the quiet tick of the clock on the wall.

“Don’t shy away now, dig into it. If it’s not you, then…?” Dr. Richmond prompted.

The question only seemed to make you clamp up. Your tongue swelled. Your throat constricted. If it wasn’t you, then what? Everyone was incapable of giving you what you wanted? Everyone just had an agenda against you? Please, that was narcissistic as hell.

Dr. Richmond stood up from his desk and took off his glasses. He pulled out a drawer and retrieved a glass cleaner cloth. He cleaned his glasses and walked around the front of his desk.

“Consider, for a moment, that other people have deficiencies as well. That people congregate in groups because biologically, it’s safer. We seek groups to be in and when we can’t find one, we tend to think that we’re the problem. That we are outcasts, getting left out to defend ourselves. But all that means is that we haven’t found our group yet. You’re trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. You don’t belong with the squares, so no, you won’t fit in with them.

“The same goes for sex. Everybody has their preferences. People have their kinks, their needs. When those needs aren’t meant, society teaches us to look at our own deficiencies rather than someone else’s. Perhaps the man you need sexually is far different from the men you take to bed,” he said. He waved around his glasses as he spoke, drawing attention to his massive hands.

Seriously, they were huge. Like two lion paws that could strike down someone with one hit. He held his glasses by the frame, waving it around delicately as he spoke. You were still paying attention to his words, but fuck…he was unreal.

“But how do I find the man that I need sexually?” You asked.

Terry

Terry inwardly groaned as you asked him that. Plenty of suggestions came to mind, each too crass to suggest. How could he tell you to go into another man’s arms? How could he send you to another man to unleash that hidden hellcat within you and he wouldn’t get to experience it?

He needed to end this. End this before it even began. He placed his glasses back on his face and crossed a line that he never thought he would. “I think we have more work to do to adjust the way you think about sex before we get into how you attract what you’re seeking. In fact, I’d suggest you abstain from sex until we get deeper into this,” he said.

“Abstain?” You snorted and he fought a smile. Your face showed absolute disgust, like the mere thought was abhorrent.

“Abstain. From what you’ve told me and what’s in your file, you jumped from overcoming your initial thoughts and reluctance about sex right to jumping into bed. Without really, truly exploring yourself first. Kids explore their bodies all the time right? They grow conscious of themselves and start thinking about hey, my equipment is different from someone else’s equipment,” he said.

You couldn’t help but giggle and it caused him to smirk in return. Yes, it was silly. Talking about sex was silly. But it was true. “And as you start to notice people that you’re attracted to, you start to grow conscious of hormones in your system. Brain chemistry. All the fun stuff that goes into attraction. You start to touch yourself more, explore your preferences through porn or books or experimentation.”

You cringed when he brought up experimentation. He tilted his head. “Did you go through an experimentation phase?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and sighed as if it were the last question you wanted to answer. You completely fascinated him. He had no idea what would come out of your mouth next. How you would respond to certain questions or ideas.

He snuck a glance at the clock, he was nearing the end of the session. He flexed his jaw. This was so damn irritating. By the time you were willing to open up, it was time to end it. He wished he could carve out a month of sessions to get you to lower your defenses and let him inside.

“No? I grew up in the wrong generation. All everyone thought about was sex and while I did too, no one was checking for the fat Black nerds unless it was a prank. And I saw everything as a prank. I was always getting pointed at, made fun of, stared at. Jesus, being exposed fucking sucks! So, no, I didn’t experiment. There was no one to fucking experiment with.

“And it wasn’t like I could go ten feet from my mom without her up my ass about where I was going. Claiming she just didn’t want me to get snatched when all she really wanted was just to control me. To not let me end up like her. Young and pregnant,” you practically yelled, spewing way more vitriol than he expected.

He figured it was a sore spot for you by the way you grimaced, but he hadn’t been expecting…that. Again, he balled his fists thinking of every person that ever let you down. Every person that was supposed to uplift you, guide you, help you, all dropped the ball in teaching you about self love.

Every experience every kid was supposed to have was denied to you. Instead of being asked out with interest, with sincerity, boys treated it like a prank. He was wild in his youth, he wasn’t always nice to people, or he went through life like a little gremlin. But he liked to think he mellowed somewhat in high school. Treating everyone with respect. From the nerds to the jocks. He didn’t know what not trusting people’s words felt like. Like everything that someone said came laced with poisoned barbs ready to sting.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whispered. Your lip trembled but no tears fell down your face.

Fuck, even now you were trying to hold everything in. Control a natural response to something painful. “When was the last time you cried?” Terry asked.

You stood up and snatched your purse and journal from the couch. “Session’s up, right?” You asked. You avoided looking at him as you rushed to the exit. The faux glass door clanged against the wall as you threw open the door and left, steps echoing on the linoleum flooring.

He stared at the door as it lazily swung back and he wondered. And he pondered.

Wheww, need more? The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1

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dreamerdrop · 2 days ago

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Oh God, yeah. During the war, Julian is basically going full into survival mode. He's pulling away from people, he's keeping his mouth shut, he's basically letting himself turn into a hollow shell that just looks like him because everything is so exhausting and he doesn't really... have it in him to be himself anymore.

I feel like I personally give kind of a pass to most of the characters on DS9 being jerks about Julian being obviously autistic for the sole reason that... one of the things I like about DS9 is that they're all pretty messed up in one way or another. Miles is allergic to voicing emotions and sentiments out loud (despite Keiko's best efforts, but she's also not great at it herself), Jadzia is shown constantly to have a REALLY inappropriate and poorly timed sense of humour, Kira is... Kira, and her issues mean that Julian's issues basically rub against each other like sandpaper.

Garak is interesting in how his dynamic intersects with Julian being autistic though. Garak seems to delight in Julian doing things like being blunt, infodumping, etc. Garak is someone who would drive ME a little nuts IRL because his specific brand of enigmatic behaviour would wreak hell on my lack of self esteem and inability to trust my judgement...

But for Julian, it seems to be a huge part of the draw. I think, in part, it's because Garak does seem to recognise when he's pushed too far and then, in his own weird way, often... relents a little.

Like in Cardassians, on the shuttlecraft. Julian basically says, very bluntly, "Garak stop talking in riddles this is serious and I don't want to play games anymore" and Garak immediately goes "alright fine here I'll talk as plainly as I am comfortable with".

Or, in an odd way, the scene on the Defiant during... season 6? Where Garak is basically insulting Julian over his augmented status. That scene is a little rough, even with the knowledge that this is effectively flirting for Garak, but. There's something in it that actually stands out to me as Garak trying to relent a little.

Specifically, his comment about Julian being a Vulcan. Julian is sensitive about his augmented status. Garak knows this. Garak insults him over it, and then towards the end of that little spat, saying "you're not genetically engineered, you're a vulcan", it kind of... reads as like, Garak trying to steer the conversation back to something playful, something that isn't actually attacking Julian.

(And there's obviously a lot to be said for how Julian is somewhat smiling to himself at the end of that scene.)

I think there's something similar to that in his dynamic with the others. I don't think any of them really have particularly good social skills, honestly. Jadzia comes closest but her levels of extroversion and enthusiasm mean she's often putting her foot in her mouth too. (... oh that's why she and Julian make good friends, they both have the party autism.)

Thing is, I think if Julian ever actually said to any of them "hey that actually kind of upsets me could we not" and they realized he meant it, they would apologize and mean it, but because everyone on that station is messed up and lacking in social skills, they all kind of constantly end up battering against each other with poorly timed jokes and insensitive remarks and dismissal of trauma and none of them ever figure out how to address any of it.

Narratively, though, Julian's trauma gets brushed over more than almost anyone else's, and that DOES piss me off about the writing. Even before we get to the augmentation aspect (which is taken seriously as traumatic for exactly ONE episode), a lot of the time Julian's issues just... get kind of tossed to one side.

Character wise, I think Julian is the type to focus on other people's issues so he doesn't have to acknowledge his own, but the way the show itself often ignores those issues does REALLY grate on me.

Julian Bashir walks a very fine, maddening line between “self-loathing imposter syndrome who knows almost everyone who speaks to him for more than a minute finds him insufferable” and “incredibly self assured and annoyingly arrogant to the point of a minor god complex”.

He knows he’s attractive, he thinks he’s charming as all hell, he knows he’s the smartest person in the room (while also being acutely aware he’s going to put his foot in his mouth any second now), and he just swings wildly between “I don’t deserve anything I have, none of this is mine, my life is not my own, I am a monster” and “HELL YEAH LOOK HOW COOL AND SMART I AM GUYS ARE YOU LOOKING ARE YOU LOOKING”.

And then there’s episodes that reveal that underneath that annoying arrogance, at the very core of who he is, he really, really just wants to help people, and if he fucks that up he WILL take it personally and hold himself responsible even if there’s no way he could have known and like. Can you imagine what his first patient death was like for him. Can you imagine what a fucking nightmare his brain must be 24/7.

He is somehow as inherently self assured as he is in need of constant validation for his ego because you can SEE him break a little when that ego fails him, even a little, and it’s just.

He’s very fun to write. I hate him. (I love him so much, but oh my god.)

#star trek #star trek ds9 #julian bashir #stella talks #.This got really long sorry i started doing garashir meta halfway and then just got really mad at the writers.#.julians issues get SO BRUSHED OVER in the show and i just???????#.GIVE HIM A RECOVERY ARC LIKE EVERYONE ELSE HE DESERVES IT PLEASE.

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jazeswhbhaven · 2 days ago

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Successful Hunt in Heaven | React | Spoilers | Full Summary

Alright ya'll here I am.

And it's bad news from me.

I...did not particularly enjoy the story whatsoever.

TLDR if you don't wanna read my entire react: Don't waste your seals, just wait the three months

Now, some of ya'll may like it cause you're that big of a Satan stan, but he has a ship with my OC and a fankid and I'm STILL shaking my head at this. Like why ya'll do him like this, PB?

What I will do different for this react is, basically bullet summary as most of this card is what it is and then give ya'll some highlight screenshots that I found mildly amusing.

What goes down from the prologue(part 1):

MC is feeling cocky about being in Gabriel's body and almost fucks it up but saves themselves. Because of that cockiness though, they are literally just brain mush the entire story.

Things to note, that Satan was in restraints, those restraints were tight but not tight enough to where he could still speak and move enough. He was cussin' MC out ya'll like how he should cause he hates Gabriel.

I would want to say that this is a good revenge potential but it wasn't. Essentially MC didn't disclose that it was them who was disguised. The entire time Satan believed it was Gabriel who was touching him, jacking him off, and allowing lower angels to touch his dick. Even if it's just the tip.

MC even went as far as to punch him in the stomach? Punched him good until he was close to coming.

MC wanted to take off the chastity belt, which to me? Nah. You wouldn't even know how to use Gabriel's dick, let's not. Couldn't even properly cum or jack off.

Turns out though that Gabriel is not conscious this entire time. He has no idea what's happening.

Long story short, Satan is getting molested, punched, and traumatized in front of an audience thinking he had feelings for Gabriel and that's why he was aroused and reacting. I don't even feel like the specifics here because it was just that rushed and bland of writing for this. What happens in the end, mind you this is very last part of the story. Satan finally realizes it's MC. The spell breaks, they go home on his motorcycle, and he only went there because there was an angel with MC's hair color.

Ya'll. Satan is not that fucking dumb. Sorry not sorry, but like he can be a goof ball, but he'd never mistake an angel for MC in his entire life time. That wasn't Satan, that was his lost twin Sam or something.

What I expected:

I honestly thought this was going to be similar to Levi's story. Satan got captured due to being weakened by something, perhaps a new trap the angels set up, the restraints being so good he couldn't escape, and he and MC roleplaying in front of the angels and they get so lost in it that's what breaks the spell.

I wanted Satan to be like "MC looks like Gabriel, which pisses me the fuck off but I know it's them so I'm fucking horny as hell and I just want to feel good. This is how it would feel being teased and licked by an angel..."

But nope. Got MC being badly written, pretty much going in on Satan and playing into their own weird kink of pretending to be a high rank angel while punching, and jacking off Satan. There wasn't really any point to it half the time, if Satan hadn't of clocked them in the end, he would have never known it was them at all even though MC was being very sloppy on acting like how Gabriel would torture someone.

Good Parts:

Satan's expressions, and Satan cussing MC out thinking that they are Gabriel.

Satan questioning his attraction, he just can't place why "Gabriel's" touch is arousing him and he can't understand why this angel he hates so much looks so turned on by this moment.

Satan pretty much saying at the end that he's going to go in on MC's ass when they get home. Like I'm pretty sure all holes will be s o r e because MC insulted him, punched him, slapped him, choked him, made him cum forcefully like three times from both dick and horns.

Satan's dick looked pretty in the position he was in and I liked his little red underwear. Click here for the goodies~

The okay?? why?? parts:

MC allowing the angels to touch him. Gabriel for one if he was in character would never allow them to touch his "prey". Like? What and who was this for?

Satan not being able to tell who it was for the majority of the story. He's a King tbh, so he should have seen through the spell.

Satan being a dummy dum and getting himself kidnapped because he thought MC was captured by mistaking an ANGEL that looks nothing like them....

Being robbed of the Satan's potential in the roleplay scenario. Imagine if you will-

Satan knowing that it's MC, and he's trying so hard to make it believable that he doesn't like any of what's going on. At the same time, MC is doing an impersonation of Gabriel so well he can't help but get upset. Why is MC so good at this? Do they actually like Gabriel enough to mimic him? Fuck that. And fuck being kidnapped and in these restraints. He wants MC so badly. To pull off that charade and to get fucked so deep there's nothing but rage flowing from the both of them. And did he really find some attraction to the angel? FUCK THAT. What a stupid thought, so stupid it pisses him off too. Only MC can make him feel a series of rage and jealously swirled so deliciously he wants nothing but that in his veins.

MC's personality being even more unsavory than usual. If ya'll compared to how they act in Levi's torture card you'd swear they were just suddenly taking on some odd sadistic personality that has nothing to do with them nor Gabriel. Er'body was confused.

The audience, the angels, Satan, just...lol

Overall Rating:

4.5/10

Like...idk ya'll the fourth Satan card was just a let down. The other three he has were so much better. Even the adore mode was ass. I wanted to see him moving, cussin' and spitting. The VA put his entire foot in this and it doesn't match Satan's energy in secret club at all. Might as well just play it on SFW mode if you wanna hear his VA moan some fierce in your ear.

Nice homage to Hellraiser, could have used a cooler name imo but OH WELL. Pinhead would be shaking his head rn.

NOW don't get me wrong, some of ya'll may like this. And if you do, please don't @ me or come for me as it's not that serious. I was frankly bored ya'll. IMO It's not worth wasting your seals just wait for it to be available in the regular banner. My expectations for how Satan would react in this moment was downplayed. Even if I felt like shipping the angels with the kings, this just didn't hit.

Live photo of one of Ronove's cats disapproving.

OKAY Screenshot time~

He is legitimately so pissed off ya'll I was like OH

Yeah because you were just goin' off the rails....it's a good thing you at least had the angels hang in the back otherwise they would have clocked you MC.

I just like his face here. Mhm mhm.

Apparently ya'll that is the face of a sinner. Satan is a filthy filthy sweat covered sinner (laugh with me because lmao)

I'm crying. So it's just shrinking, growing, shrinking, growing, just being confused as fuck the poor wang noodle.

Oh Satan....he's so angry the poor bby. This would be hotter if he was irritated by something I truly did. Lol

At the same time, I feel these lines would be good for that roleplay...

I'm crying because Gabriel doesn't talk like this and yet Satan still hasn't caught on yet.

Now Satan, don't discredit virgins...some of them be knowin' a lot more than you think. (right now tho "MC/Gabe" is kissing him through the gag)

again. gimmie dis face. he does the eye roll orgasm so well.

here we go again with that fishy smell thing

Gabriel in his sub conscious rn

He can get away with calling us a bitch. I'm a bad bitch. A baddie. I'll insult you any day Satan just because. He'd call it foreplay.

LMAOOOOOOO

So that ends with the screenshots ya'll. You see how there wasn't really much to show because it's basically just what I said in the summary? But anyways, I did get a peek at a couple things that bumps the rating up for me to a 4.5....(note the changes)

Date Story/Chat Summary:

This time around Satan sustained more damage and the marks left behind are staying longer than usual. Sitri thinks this is a problem, Satan don't give a shit because MC gave them to him.

Satan getting jealous of MC requesting him to get healed because he thinks they learned it from another healing devil is cute.

He's very cuddly, we knew this but it's just nice to see this again.

MC and Satan have a talk about what happened up in Heaven and well it's also nice to see him be serious about his feelings and how MC should feel, etc. Mature Satan is mature.

He can smell when MC is horny btw. Idk this is so hot of him. But I also always had a HC that all devils could smell just about anything. When your cycle is coming, ovulation, other bodily things.

He likes the fact that MC was confident enough to insult him so boldly even though he pointed out they were in Gabriel's body.

He can't stand it that Paimon sews his decapitated teddy bear heads, the cotton is supposed to leak. At the same time he likes that Paimon adds sparkly beads for the eyes so it looks like they "glow"

His hand are so pretty with those sharp nails.

He has so many photos of his motorcycle he has two phones. He loves his bike that much to where he refers to it as his lover.

He doodles when he's bored at meetings.

That does it folks!!!! As per usual, if you've made it to the end thank you thank you to my dear moot/friends who help fuel my delusions and ramblings. Without ya'll my blog would just be...whelp a bunch of Astra in your face lmao (honestly tho she should be she's great)

Stay lovely, love up on your bois, -your lovely admin💖💕

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb spoilers #whb screenshots #cw sadism #mdni #whb mdni #kissing satan because he deserves a better card story #for those who do like it you've got no smoke from me honestly #this just didn't hit for me #jazewhbreacts🖤

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yanderedrabbles · 23 hours ago

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Sunk and Gone

Yandere! Gangster x Mafia Boss! Reader

Fluff, needy yandere, age difference, slightly suggestive content

He was just some dumb kid who played with fire.

Before he knew it, he was getting his ass kicked by the real deal, the big time guys.

He dropped your name out of pure desperation. He had no clue who you were really. He just wanted to save his own skin.

He never expected you to actually show up.

In your white tailored suit, you were like some mafioso guardian angel.

You tilted his chin up to face you and he couldn't bear to meet your eyes. You were goddamn terrifying.

"This little punk says he's one of mine?"

You lazily blew your cigar smoke into his face. It was black cherry, high class stuff. He can still remember the taste of it on his tongue, the way it made his whole body tingle.

He thought he was done for. You were probably gonna set your own guys on him for dropping names he had no business knowing.

He never expect you to save him.

His beat down gurus were cussing up a storm, saying he practically maimed one of their guys, he wouldn't even be able to walk for a week.

What bullshit. The most he did was give the guy a shiner before he was getting his own ass kicked.

You smiled at him then, like you knew exactly how much crap they were spewing.

You nodded and your guys threw a fat stack of cash on the table. All 100s. God, there must have been at least 5k just sitting there.

You hauled him to his feet and that's when he realised you were stronger than you looked too.

"Why?"

He barely even managed to ask that.

You were trying to light a new cigar and get back in your fancy car, but your lighter was just throwing up sparks.

He found himself reaching into his pocket and pulling out his shitty gas station lighter. He struck a flame and held it out to you.

You leaned in and caught his eyes for the second time that night. The flame was dancing in your eyes and you looked just like the devil.

He was sunk right then and there and he knew it.

He showed up outside your office everyday, waiting with his lighter clasped in his sweaty palm.

Everyday without fail, you would give him a chance to light one of your smokes for you.

"Don't you got someplace better to be kid?"

"No ma'am."

And he kept doing it, rain or shine or snow. On bad days, he'd bring his umbrella and unfurl it for you before you even stepped out of the car.

"You shouldn't keep hanging around kid. It ain't safe."

"I know ma'am."

He stayed, despite the dirty looks from the gangsters, despite the way they bumped into him hard enough to bruise. He stayed, stubborn as a goddamn mule, until you gave up on getting rid of him.

"I got a job for you kid."

"Anything you ask ma'am."

Oh he was a sucker for you. You had him hook, line and sinker without even trying.

And he worked hard. Running errands and then pushing drugs and then beating down the folks you set him loose on. There weren't any limits anymore, no line he wouldn't cross for you.

After a while, you let him in your guard rotation. And he was in bliss. He watched you constantly.

Hell, he couldn't take his eyes off you even if he wanted to. The capo himself said he was impressed with his diligence.

"Come here kid. You ever had oysters before?'

"No ma'am."

You were in one of your favourite restaurants, finishing up your meal and just drunk enough to have given yourself a pretty flush across your cheeks.

You made him lean toward you and gripped his chin before tilting the oyster into his mouth. It was salty and soft and his mind was going awful dirty awful fast.

After that he would order oysters whenever he could. He could almost feel your fingers on his skin when he ate them.

And soon he was part of your interrogation crew. His shirt sleeves rolled up and his forearms splattered with blood. He was putting on muscle now too and his punch hurt worse than a hammer to the face.

One unlucky son of a bitch made the mistake of insulting you right in front of him. God help him, when the anger cleared, the man's face was nothing more than pulp.

And you were watching him. One arm crossed under your breasts with the other balanced on it, a cigarette held up to your lips.

"You're a real good guard dog, you know that kid?"

"Thank you ma'am."

The next time you summoned him, you were in your office. Your heels were off and your legs were crossed, your stockings showing off the curves of your feet.

"Grab that pen for me."

It was on the floor under a side table and he had to get down on his knees to get it. When he moved to stand, you interrupted him.

"Don't get up. But bring it here."

"Yes ma'am."

He was grinning like a dog in heat. He put the pen in between his teeth and crawled on his hands and knees to you.

He sat at your feet like a goddamn puppy, his boner so fucking hard he thought it would rip through his trousers.

You cupped his chin in your palm and looked down at him. From down here, your legs looked a mile long and he wanted to lick every inch.

"You're such a loyal little thing, you know that?"

"Ysss mmm."

It was muffled because he still had that fucking pen in his mouth. And he was damn thankful for it too. Without something to bite onto, he was sure he'd actually be panting.

You took it carefully out of his mouth. A string of saliva followed it and you twitched your thumb across his lips to break the connection.

"Good boy."

You turned away from him, shaking the pen off a little and getting back to the books you were balancing.

He whimpered.

He actually fucking whimpered.

You smirked a little at that and shooed him away with one perfectly manicured hand. He dragged his feet walking out of there, his boner killing all higher thinking. Just hoping and praying you would call him back.

He turned to look at you before he closed the door. You had your face resting in one hand and you were tapping the pen against your lips with the other. Your eyes were entirely focused on your books.

He was your loyal dog. Now and always.

And he felt it all over again. He was sunk - hook, line and sinker.

#big makima and denji vibes #oh he's down bad #loyal as a dog #needy yandere #age difference #yandere mafia #older reader #x reader #reader insert #yandere drabble #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere gangster #puppy yandere

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gothamite-rambler · 1 day ago

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A Phone Call from Jail - Kylar Got his Ass Beat Again

Wayne Manor - Study - Night

The dim light of the study casted long shadows across the room. Bruce Wayne stood alone, gazing out the window, mentally preparing for his nightly patrol as Batman. The tranquility was quickly interrupted by his cell phone ringing.

Bruce (furrowing his brows): And just like that… the moment is ruined.

Feeling a sense of unease, he answered the phone and was greeted by an automated female voice.

Automated voice: This is the Gotham City Jail. You have a collect call from—

The voice cut off as a familiar one interrupted, laced with guilt.

Jason (on the other end of the line): Um, Jason Todd.

Bruce's brows furrowed in confusion. Jason had gone six months without getting arrested and had sworn he would try to avoid ending up in Gotham Jail. He had to pay five hundred dollars for it, but still.

Automated voice: Do you accept the charges?

Bruce (irritated): Do I accept the charges? What the hell? Is this a joke?

Jason (shouting): Say yes Bruce! It's your son!

Bruce stared at the phone, insulted that he was being yelled at when he had to go out to patrol as Batman in an hour. He rolled his eyes believing his son's claims.

Bruce (annoyed): Yes, I accept the charges. Jason, explain.

Jason: Bruce… um, loving father of mine, um... funny story… me and Dick kind of ended up in jail as you heard and it's not a big deal what we were arrested for. Can you, uh… come get us and bring… bail money?

Bruce (concerned): Why do you need me to pick you up from jail? How did you both get arrested? Are you in your suits?

Jason (angry): We're not in our suits, you dumbass! The... business suits are at home, okay? When can you get here?

Bruce pulled the phone away, slightly irritated.

Bruce (aggravated): A simple no would have sufficed. Before I drive down to jail, start explaining why you and Dick are there.

There’s a pause, and Bruce can almost hear Jason debating with himself.

Bruce (demanding parent voice): I'm not leaving until you explain why you got arrested. Tick tock, detective.

Jason groaned knowing Bruce wasn't kidding around.

Jason: Well… long story short, Tim was dealing with this asshole homophobe at work. I talked him… for the sake of this recorded call, just know I ‘talked’ to him. He left Tim alone for a few days, but I guess he has a screw loose and decided to confront Tim while he was out to dinner with us. The guy was calling him a bunch of awful names—saying his reputation was ruined at work because people found out he was the one who left a slur keyed into Tim's car and a lot of words even I wouldn’t say—and then he ended it by calling Tim a dirty… bundle of sticks. Yeah.

Before Bruce could respond, the phone was wrestled away and another voice entered the call.

Dick (enraged): He called him a slur, that slur, so we beat his ass accordingly!

Jason jumped back in, a hint of admiration in his tone.

Jason: I will just take the phone back. What he said was true and man we... we kind of lost it. Surprisingly, Dick did the most damage.

Dick (in the background): This is stupid! How come we get arrested for doing a civic duty?

Jason: Would you sit down and breathe or something? Christ.

Silence fell as Bruce processed everything he had learned, his hands clenching as anger and worry swirled inside him. He was unaware that any of this was happening, but he knew how Tim liked to downplay issues, even when cases like this were anything but trivial.

Jason (confused by the long silence): Bruce… you there?

Taking a deep breath, Bruce spoke, unable to hide his irritated but steady voice.

Bruce: Just counting to ten so I can calm down. Why didn't Tim tell me any of this?

Jason: He... he didn't want to make the workers think he was running to his father for help. I don't get it, but you know how Tim is. Don't tell him I said this either, but it actually has been affecting him. A lot.

Bruce (struggling to keep his voice steady): I will... reassure him I'm here to help later tonight, thank you telling me this. Last question what was the worker's name?

Jason (disgust in his voice): Kylar.

Bruce felt a tightening in his chest hearing that name. Kylar has been hired on and Bruce saw him as one of the weaker workers, and now he had a better reason to fire him.

Bruce: Hn, that guy? I never liked him. He’s fired. I’ll make sure he’s personally escorted out of the building, and if he tries to harm Tim—

Jason (reminding his father): This is a recorded line.

Bruce (exhaling to calm himself): Right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

Jason (a hint of relief): Cool.

With the call ended, Bruce slipped the phone back into his pocket, considering the whirlwind of emotions stirred by the conversation. As he stood there, reflecting on his sons’ reckless yet fierce protectiveness, he felt a mix of pride and frustration. The loyalty they displayed, despite their complicated pasts, only deepened his care for them.

With determination, Bruce left his study, knowing that night would be about more than just bailing his sons out of jail. It would be about setting boundaries and ensuring Tim felt safe at work.

Stepping outside, the cool night air rushed to greet him. Gotham sprawled across the horizon—a city of shadows and complexities. As both a vigilante and a father, he had to tread carefully.

His stride quickened, fueled by a protective instinct. The Batfamily always found trouble, but he would fiercely defend them, no matter what.

Don’t Mess with Tim Drake or his family will deal with you: Kylar

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willicebattlecatsblog · 2 days ago

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pov : willice rants about The Broken Code Jayfeather (SPOILERS FOR THE BROKEN CODE)

It's been a full year now that I decided to re-read every single Warrior Cats books, as a teenager I stopped at OotS, so I re-read all of TPB, TNP, PoT and OotS. I am done with DotC (I have many opinions) and just finished AvoS, so I am starting TBC (currently at book 2).

Clearly the Writing Team™ has big, big issues with how to handle Jayfeather and his personality. Jayfeather was meant te be blunt and to freely voice his anger and concerns with little respects for other feelings sometimes, but he was never meant to be outright mean and antagonistic, was he ?

He went from a personal favorite of mine in PoT and OotS to a very unlikable character in TBC. He actively bullies and isolates Twigkit in AvoS (when he was previously known to be patient with kits??), but I can tolerate this mischaracterization i guess

But TBC Jayfeather ??? I don't know if it's just the Writing Team™ being extremely bad at understanding his character, or if it's the first symptoms of the Onestar disease, but I am kind of scared of how he will evolve in the 4 following books :(((

In the first two books of TBC, Jayfeather can hardly go through a single conversation with / about Shadowsight without straight up insulting him, his intelligence and competences. He had opinions about Willowshine and Kestrelflight, but he would rarely, if ever, straight up disrespect them to their face like that. Now, he actively participates in all the gossip around Shadowsight and characters will say "Jayfeather said Shadowsight is just a featherhead !" because Jay's opinion is that valued and important. (idk the actual English insults, all my books are in French, so you will have to suffer the French horrors sorry guys 😔)

At some point, during a Gathering, Jayfeather just tells everyone that Mothwing doesn't believe in StarClan. In front of the five Clans, the leaders, the deputies, the other warriors, like, everyone. Just because he was personally pissed at her opinion.

Just as a reminder, the Clans are all extremely faithful and the lack of faith has been a plot point several times, showing emphasis on how important it is for all cats to show devotion to StarClan. Medicine cats are literally meant to talk to StarClan. And in general, the Clans are known to be agressive to anyone who doesn't respect StarClan, thinking that if you don't follow StarClan's commands then you don't have any moral values at all.

Another reminder, Mothwing is not only the daughter of Tigerclawstar, she is also an ex rogue. She got her medicine cat title only because her brother created a fake omen, because her status as an ex-rogue made her an outcast in her own Clan. Mothwing has been known to be more vulnerable to isolation than other medicine cats.

So huh, yeah, Jayfeather just put Mothwing, an already vulnerable she-cat, in extreme danger, throwing her under the bus in front of absolutely everyone, including her own leader, her own deputy, most of her clanmates, and most of the other Clans members. Mothwing is shocked, obviously, and quickly says that she does believe StarClan is real, just isn't devoted to them.

The response of the Clans to this revelation is so out of character and disconnected from their agressive violent culture that I had to re-read the whole thing a few times.

The Clans just go "weird flex mothwing, but ok" and go back to their business (business being : questioning why StarClan isn't communicating with them anymore). From what I know, the revelation Jayfeather just made is never going to impact the story ever again because Mothwing gets banished for the crime of being a ShadowClan cat's child. So this whole scene is just there to show that Jayfeather will use precious informations against others if he gets annoyed at them ??? I don't know if this is bad writing or character assassination at this point man😔my po3 jayfeather would never.

None the less, Jayfeather KNEW how dangerous such a revelation could have been. Every single medicine cat, including her own apprentice Willowshine, kept the secret, because they all KNEW it would endanger Mothwing if the Clans discovered the state of her faith. This was literally a plot point in TNP with Leafpool like COME ON WRITING TEAM™ YOU HAVE TO LOCK IN !!!!!

I know this scene is canon (sadly), but this depiction of Jayfeather is just so alien to me. Jayfeather knows what it's like to be different and to be special, why would he insult Shadowsight over and over again when the kid is obviously struggling ? Also Jayfeather has been accused of murder and was on thin ice at some point, he knows what it's like to be accused in front of a whole Gathering, why would he do that to Mothwing out of all cats ???

Do you have any opinions on this ? Do you think this is just normal Jayfeather behavior, or do you think it is the Writing Team struggling to grasp Jay's personality ? I would like to know what you feel about that because from all the fandom discourse I did read, no one ever talked about how flabbergasting Jayfeather's behavior would be

In conclusion the real impostor is jayfeather

#txt

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rpgchoices · 15 hours ago

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More on Davrin's past, arc and journal (part 2)

Part one where I wrote down all the banter about Davrin's Dalish past is here!

I wanted to put all codex (I could find) in order, divided by topic! (Also I wanted to say I will post more Davrin stuff on my personal blog @lucrezianoin haha to not fill this one with just Davrin!)

This is divided in:

Davrin's past and his feelings of guilt for the Dalish clan

Weisshaupt being the only home he has

Meeting Assan and the griffons (and naming Assan)

The Warden vs Nature choice for the griffons

Other (stuff on the Gloom Howler etc.)

Davrin's past and Dalish clan

Just a bit more here on Davrin's guilt for leaving his clan and we do get the confirmation that Davrin has not seen Eldrin since his kids days, and contacted him thanks to a chat with Rook.

Also interesting that the way Davrin was treated by Eldrin is very similar to the way Davrin treats Assan at the start. In the quest we also find out Eldrin was quite harsh (making him eat Halla food as a way to learn, which led to hours of hallucinations and sickness, and kicking his butt when he felt Davrin was wrong).

We don't really get that deep into it, but I like that while Davrin firmly believes in "Throw yourself at it, if you don't learn you get hurt" for himself, he squanders that idea pretty easily when it comes to Assan, even going so far as to start wonder if there is a "non fighting" future for Assan.

I will put this codex later on but I also wanted to show it here for Davrin's past, in "The Nature of Griffons" Davrin says: "Talking to Rook about Assan's insticts got me thinking. Can you change something you're born with? Or are we blank slates who can make our own way? Was I born a monster hunter, destined to do this job, or did I have a choice?" which makes me scream because I need to know what happened in his clan.

From the banter and his personal quests we know that Davrin hunted everything, and then started going to Eldrin's during the summers and he learnt to hurt darkness (monsters) and things that threatened the forest. Did he have a drive to hunt that Eldrin needed to re-direct, where were his parents? Were they the ones sending him to Eldrin? And why is it that a talk of nature vs nurture and his Dalish clan makes him think only of Eldrin and not his parents? (We realistically can imagine Davrin's mother is alive, given that during the gym scene Taash insults her and Davrin says "She can take it" when Taash apologize).

Weisshaupt (and the fall of Weisshaupt)

Davrin often talks about Weissaupt with affection and jokingly but the code really expresses that Weissaupt was his only home.

When Davrin leaves to follow Rook we find out that he knows the First Warden would not take him back. He describes the fortress in detail (loved the "libraries of books I'll never read, getting bruised and battered while sparring etc." as some nostalgic positive thing - miserable and exhilarating). And of course "It's the only home I got", which is telling knowing how he feels about his clan never taking him back if he asked.

And then the heartbreaking entry for Weisshaupt fall.

There are a few other entries:

Which also has a bit about Assan: "I have been thinking of Assan as an assignment: something I need to protect until he finishes his training. But we're in this together now, and it's time to lick our wounds and move on. I'm all he's got, and in some ways, he's all I've got."

How Davrin got to work with Griffons and meeting Assan

My favorite entries are about how Davrin got his assignement and how sweet he was on Assan (unknowingly!!) since the start!

We find out it was the First Warden (from Weisshaupt) that sent him to the assignment. I am still unsure how it works for a Warden who is a Monster Hunter, but we know from the entries that Davrin lived at Weisshaupt and considered it his home, so I supposed he was just sent here and there? Like a specialized Warden? He also mentions he was sent as a bodyguard, basically, and he seems both fascinated and a bit skeptical (they poop a lot haha, and he admires Lancit's patience).

And then he meets Assan. "There's one griffon, this little guy." From Endril's words we know Davrin used to be small and scrawny as a kid, so I wonder if he saw himself in Assan. "He's a little slow on the uptake, but he's fast in the air." And so Davrin suggests the name Assan for him. And my favorite part "If I do nothing else in this life, at least I can say I got to name a griffon".

We also have these late entries about the nature of griffons and Davrin's realization that they are not "made" for fighting by nature, but taught so. "Can griffons do anything else? Would they want to? I wonder". Also he is such a dad, writing about Assan's first taste of an apple.

About Assan and the halla, Davrin writes "the instincts of a dog herding sheep", and I personally think it is about learning. There is a moment in the dialogue at the start of Davrin's recruital where we find out that griffons learn better in groups, they clearly are very social animals. I fully believe Assan fed the Halla simply because he saw Davrin doing that, he learnt from watching, he sees Davrin taking care of Halla so he learns that is the thing to do and how it is done.

Then we have some notes on Griffon's extinctions, and a note about Assan's love for gingerwort truffles (which Davrin tried and did not like.. we also find out Davrin hates broccoli... please Davrin... I love broccoli...)

Warden Griffons vs Arlathan Griffons

These are the two different notes:

Interesting the "Warden" choice starts with "Deciding where the griffons should go wasn't easy" which is not present in the Arlathan choice. I do not think there is a right/wrong choice, but after reading this I will always lean more towards Arlathan.

"it's time they got a chance to explore nature instead. The griffons are going to love Arlathan"

Other codex

Interesting that he says he does feel sympathy for Isseya.

#davrin #assan #datv #veilguard #dragon age #grey wardens #weisshaupt #veilguard spoilers #meta #da meta

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querkynchaotic · 2 days ago

Text

Obliviate

mary macdonald microfic - canon compliant

(quoted choices by messermoon for dumbledore's first line)

The first time she thought about it was when Marlene died.

It had been months since she had used magic and years since she had stepped foot into Diagon Alley. Actually, after Hogwarts ended, the only time she had seen a wizard or a witch who wasn't one of her friends was in St Mungo's, when Lily had given birth to Harry.

The problem is, once you think about something, there is no unthinking it. The more she tried to get that idea out of her head, the more she thought about it. And as things got worse, that little voice in the back of her mind became more and more oppressive.

"What if you just forgot about it all ?"

Forget about the bullying in school, the glares, the insults, the double standards, the spells behind her back. The death eaters who had already killed so many of her friends. The attacks on Muggles she felt were directed against her. Knowing who had done it, knowing why, and having to hear the explanations the muggle news gave. Knowing the truth.

Knowing became too much. And she understood why they all wanted to fight -- James Potter wouldn't be James Potter if he wasn't risking his life to make the world a better place -- but she just. Didn't have anything to fight for. The wizarding world didn't mean as much to her as it did to them, and she didn't see why she would fight for a place where she was so unwelcome.

So she thought about it. Forgetting everything. But there was too much to forget. And Lily was still here, Sirius was still here, and they needed her. She couldn't be that selfish and let them down.

So, she only thought about it. As something to calm herself in the middle of the night, the kind of horrible thought that weirdly brings you comfort, thinking "if everything goes to shit, I'll just forget about it."

She just never imagined it would get that bad.

Because after Marlene died, Dorcas went a bit crazy. And then she died. And then Lily disappeared. When Harry was 6 months old, her and James went MIA. Sirius wouldn't tell her anything, they mostly talked about Remus, and the more they did, the more Mary wondered how they would ever come back from that. But she never wondered if they would come back from that. I mean, they were Sirius and Remus, for goodness' sake.

And then.

And then Lily died. And James. And Sirius had betrayed them. And he had killed Peter. And the world fell apart.

She's in Dumbledore's office with Petunia Dursley, ready to leave, when Dumbledore says :

“You will leave Harry Potter where he is. You will not speak to him, you will not write to him, you will have no contact with him at all.”

She feels like she's in a dream. She's outside of her own body, watching herself in that office, with that man. Right now, she doesn't see a war hero, or a rebel, or a headmaster : she sees the reason why so many of her friends are dead. No, not "so many" : all of them. Because the two who are left might as well be.

"He can't..." Her voice sounds weird, like she's hearing it on tape. Like it's someone else speaking. It's completely void of emotion, as well. It catches her off guard. But maybe she doesn't have anything left to feel. "He can't know I exist ?"

The old man smiles, all trace of coldness gone. "I'm glad we understand each other."

"Then I want you to obliviate me".

The voice in her head isn't a voice in her head anymore. It's not an intruder telling her "you could forget about it" ; it's her thinking "I'm going to forget everything". It's her saying it out loud.

"I beg your pardon ?"

"You heard me. You want me to leave Harry alone ? That's the thing I ask in return." Her voice is mechanic, daring, like her emotions are turned off. Usually, that's not a good thing, because it's even more of a mess when you turn them back on. Hopefully, this time, she won't have to go through that.

"I don't understand. What are you asking ?"

God, she had forgotten Petunia was here.

"Obliviate. It's a spell that erases your memory." She doesn't bother waiting for Petunia's reaction, turning her attention back to Dumbledore. "You said I'm reluctant to being involved, right ? Well, this is me not getting involved. With any of it, actually. I don't want to remember the war, I don't want to remember how it ended, or why it started, I don't... I don't even want to remember your stupid school. I want to forget that magic exists."

A surprised gasp comes out of Petunia's mouth, and then the mask is back on, and she looks full of disdain once again. "I understand that. I always told Lily it was better to be normal than a freak."

Mary wants to tell her she's wrong. She wants to tell her that magic can be beautiful. But right now she doesn't remember why. Magic is beautiful when it's someone's magic, and everyone magical Mary loved is dead.

For Lily's sake, for all the times Mary held her while she cried missing her sister, she wants to tell Petunia she's wrong. That she loves being a witch. But she's so tired. And right now, she really doesn't.

She wishes she had someone on her side, to argue with Petunia so she doesn't have to. To jump into the fight for her.

But isn't that what they did ? Jump into the fight for people like you ? And where did that get them ?

Absolutely fucking nowhere.

"How far back are we talking about ?" Dumbledore's voice snaps her back into reality. He's looking at her with piercing blue eyes. God how she hates him. But she's also relieved, like this man is finally gonna take away some of the pain he caused her.

"Everything. Just erase everything from when I was eleven years old."

"I would not recommend that. You would wake up with ten years of your life missing, and you would start asking questions. Trying to fill the gaps."

"Can't you..." She sighs. She's so fucking tired. And more than anything, she wants to go to sleep. Physically and metaphorically.

"Can't you leave some stuff then ? So I don't wonder and get nosy about my own life ?"

"One simple way to do that would be for you to extract your memories from your brain. That way we could choose which ones..."

"For you to have them ?" She cuts him sharply. "And keep them in little bottles and look through them whenever you like ?" She scoffs "That's not bloody likely. Aren't you supposed to be a good wizard ? Like, really talented ? Can't you manage to... I don't know, make your obliviate a little selective ?"

"I could leave some memories of school, the ones that don't imply magic, but it would be very blurry. You wouldn't have much. And I can't let you keep any memories that date from after school. That would leave too many blanks you would want to fill."

She sighs. Closes her eyes. Lets that sink in.

He's going to do it. He's actually going to do it. This is it. This is where her pain stops.

What a bastard though, she thinks with a chuckle. She opens her eyes.

"It's fine. Just... Imply that we fell out of touch after school. I have a lot of memories that don't include them. I'll be fine."

"Very well. Mrs Dursley, if you would like to step back."

And suddenly, she sees everything. Like she's going to die and her whole life flashes before her eyes. All her magical life, anyways. It's like her brain knows what to focus on, in a last desperate attempt to keep it.

She's going to forget Lily's wedding. She's going to forget Harry. She's going to forget Sirius' and Remus' flat. She's going to forget Marlene's 19th birthday party. She's going to forget the trip they all made to France.

She's going to forget about Quidditch. James flying on his broom, Marlene and Sirius throwing bludgers at each other, Lily cheering them on, Remus reading in the stands, Peter with a red and gold scarf and pink cheeks.

She's going to forget how it feels to fly.

She's going to forget about potions. Lily giggling when they made Amortentia. Marlene mortified when hers smelled like Dorcas, Sirius and Remus thinking theirs didn't work because they were brewing it together.

The classes. The spells. Peter's magical chessboard, the owls, running in the Forbidden Forest, enchanting objects so they would dance, getting back at the boys and pranking them, getting drunk with Firewhiskey in the Leaky Cauldron, ...

She's going to forget Hogsmeade.

Trying to do magical make up. Sirius' magical moon phase tattoo. The first time she saw a unicorn. James' elf Minnie. The magical fireworks on New Year's Eve.

She's going to forget how it feels to cast a Patronus.

All there, in a second, she sees Lily smiling and Marls dancing and Remus...

"Obliviate"

When she comes home from university, she finds pictures of her school friends on the floor. She doesn't remember taking them out of the boxes, but she's feeling a bit light headed and really, really tired, so that must be it.

She picks up a picture of her and the girls. God, she hasn't seen them in ages. She smiles. She wonders what they're up to now. Mentally tells herself off for not having made the effort to stay in touch. It wouldn't make much sense to seek them out now, four years later.

Isn't it crazy, how you can spend your entire time with people, live with them, and then... They all went to different universities and fell out of touch, or at least that's what she assumes because right now she can't remember discussing their future, or what Lily wanted to study.

Oh well. She's ready to bet one day she'll turn on the sports channel and see Marls on TV, though she can't remember which sport it was she was really into. Or she'll stumble across a book written by Remus at the library, though she thinks she would remember if he had gone on to study Literature just like she did ?

"I really need to sleep" she mumbles to herself.

She picks up the photos, puts them back in their box, and goes to bed.

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angelshizuka · 2 days ago

Note

One of the most annoying criticisms of Stolas I see is that he 'doesn't really know Blitz'. It's true there are things they don't know about one another, especially regarding their respective trauma, but Seeing Stars has Stolas see Blitz being kind of a disaster and it doesn't change his love for him. Blitz never opens up about his past and is the one who explicitly was trying to keep Stolas at arm's length, who dismissed Stolas calling him with absolutely zero sexual expectations as him "pretending to care", yet somehow Stolas is the one at fault? For not better knowing a guy who didn't want to let him in?

I also fail to see how that's a bad thing in the first place? Like... duh. Stolas not knowing the real Blitz and slowly getting to meet him is the entire point. It's also one of the reasons why he's been treating Blitz differently. He used to think Blitz was into the flirting, learned he wasn't, then stopped. Just to give an example.

At this point in the story Stolas has seen a lot of who the real Blitz is, the main hurdle still standing in the way is that Stolas still doesn't know the answers to "why", so he has no idea how to navigate the real Blitz when Stolas gets rightfully upset after being screamed at and insulted by him. Same goes for Blitz, he's starting to see Stolas a person, instead of an allmighty invulnerable prince, but has no idea of Stolas' trauma and how bad is home life really is.

FM and AT was the rock bottom of their relationship, we're barely halfway through the story and it's only uphill from here for them (with assumingly a few dips here and there, because no process is liniar).

Speaking of, even when Stolas saw Blitz at his worst, it still didn't stop his feelings. He still loves Blitz and wants to be with him, he literally said so himself. Stolas has long gone past being in love with the idea of Blitz and loves Blitz for who he really is, even in AT he showed he was willing to listen and only left because Blitz literally screamed in his face (which again, might I remind people, is a trauma response he deserves to get away from).

(And during the party Stolas was drunk. Blitz, I love you, but you gotta work on your timing...)

#helluva boss #stolas goetia #stolas #blitzø #blitzo #blitz #stolitz #hellaverse #anon #ask

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weemietime · 1 day ago

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You know, it actually amazes me how nobody questions you if you're pro palestine they see it as regular advocacy (even if you genuinely veer into antisemitism like nobody gives a shit anymore sadly) but the second you say something around "guys maybe this isn't a genocide or at the very least not in genocidal intention" you get interrogated like a suspect and are told to stfu and know better. To be fair, I really don't know better and would more than love to but my problem is that some white 'activists' on here who reblog scams and are no less misinformed don't get the same treatment. Its almost like because since I'm brown, people expect me to hate or be indifferent to israel.

Sorry for the rant but it really feels kinda like a double standard

Unfortunately I suspect it's because of a kind of false-positive blindness, i.e they are operating under a standard of "better safe than sorry" when it comes to accusing Israel of genocide without comprehending how unfounded accusations themselves cause massive harm and are a large factor in how antisemitism takes root and shapes the landscape of one's community.

And we are seeing the product in real time across Europe, the place we are supposedly intended to "go back to." It's nothing new, this is what antisemitism has looked like for thousands of years. We have always been cast in the role of invader-colonizer, in fact the Nazis themselves said the exact same shit.

With sadly a hefty dose of racism on top, as so many white activists are fundamentally incapable of breaking the lens through which they see all things as a racial dichotomy (only now they're "awake" so they just reverse the dichotomy from white = good to white = bad). People see you as non-white, ergo Good, so when you don't toe the party line you are cast into the role of basically collaborator.

It's why I've always viewed insults like Uncle Tom etc to be a form of racism (especially when used by whites) as it's often levied against anyone who fails to be a "good minority" and know their place.

#weemie #politics #jumblr #israel #palestine #antisemitism #i/p #gaza #leftist antisemitism #ask

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codename-adler · 1 day ago

Note

5 and kevseth then? (I forgor to add the characters in the other ask Im sorry)

- @constelationprize

@constelationprize WITH PLEASURE. (never be sorry)(let ME be sorry for how late this is......)

Do Not (Help Me)

AU in which Riko almost got Seth killed, but he survived, though he is now severely injured.

Kevin undoes Seth's shoes for him as the rest of the Foxes leave the dorm, Neil and Matt walking away from the bedroom with puzzled looks but refusing to get involved.

Seth stays put on his bed, eyes nearly bulging out as he watches Kevin carefully slip the shoes from his feet and putting them away neatly by the nightstand. It takes a few moments for words to come to him. Insults and questions battle it out on his tongue, but feeling weak, feeling inferior, banged up as he was in front of the Son of Exy, curses win.

"The fuck are you doing," Seth bites out. Kevin stares up at him, dead serious.

"What does it look like? I'm taking off your shoes, because you obviously can't with your fucked arm," Kevin replies evenly, moving to Seth's socks next.

Seth jerks his feet away from Kevin's hands, uncomfortable and lost, but the abrupt movement causes pain to shoot up his shoulder and neck, and down his back. Kevin catches him before he falls off the bed.

"Would you stay still for two goddamn minutes?" Kevin grinds out.

"Why? Why are you helping me?"

Kevin removes his hand from Seth's uninjured shoulder, slowly. They stare at each other, for too many beats too long, before Kevin looks away, eyes falling to the ground. His jaw flexes, words fighting on his tongue, too. He has one chance here. One. He can be the bigger person, or he can be Riko.

"Your life is not worthless simply because you are less talented than me. And all that."

Seth's eyes widen with anger. "Who told you that."

"Neil."

"Fucker."

"You're right, you know," Kevin continues, arming himself with patience.

"I don't give a shit," Seth replies angrily, eyes rimmed red.

"Then let me talk. Won't hurt, right?"

"Could hurt a whole fucking lot, actually. But hey, do as you please, your majesty. We both know you’ll do what you want anyway. It’s not like I can run anywhere, can I? Your shitty existence made sure of that."

"Exactly. My existence. I… brought this on you. And I didn’t understand. I didn’t… I didn’t give a shit. Now you’ve been targeted. Hurt. It is not the first time this has happened. I walked away once, and I’m still paying the price, but not as much as he is. Getting him out will take… time, if that is even possible. You, on the other hand, I can manage."

"Fuck you."

"Later. For now I’m offering you a deal. A chance to prove everyone wrong about who you are, what you deserve, what you’re worth. I can train you as hard as Neil. I can make you go Pro with absolute certainty. Court, that’s debatable. We’ll see how much of yourself you give me," Kevin pushes on. "You get revenge, recognition."

"Oh yeah? And what's in it for you, huh?" Seth taunts, feeling all too vulnerable.

"Absolution."

#ty constelation <3 #i wish i could write more to this but i'm stuck :/#my asks #aftg ask #dialogue prompt #kevseth #kevin day #seth gordon #aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #mi princesita #sethposting

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sanddollarpoems · 3 days ago

Text

The truth is, I started in a very different place than I am now. Perhaps I am the evidence of evolution, that a person can go from one side to the other in a matter of years. I have family and friends who still think the same way. They echo the same hurtful words. They babble the same disrespectful slogans.

Last week, while feeling scared, disappointed, and emotionally bruised, I had to explain why people like me felt like I did. I had to be the adult, take the slander, and share about why people like me who didn't agree, people who feared for their rights as a human, were angry and sad and upset.

To be fair, I grew up on the other side. I grew up listening to my dad rage against the "flaming liberals" and the "fema-nat-zees," listening to Rush Limbaugh, and conservative talk radio. And as I grew up, the information I was fed was consistent. I was surrounded by people of like minds, and it was very easy to agree. No one challenged me. No one asked me WHY I thought what I did. No one pointed out my racism, my hurtful words, or my prejudice.

I got married young to a man who enjoyed telling me how to think and what to believe. And perhaps that's when I started feeling the cracks in my belief system. I started having my own thoughts, secretly, of course. I started struggling with the things that didn't add up.

It's so easy to pick someone's motives if you don't know that person. It's so easy to "other" them if they don't fit into your tiny understanding of the world. But God has a sense of humor. He gave me a double dose of empathy and compassion. I started meeting people, and they didn't fit into my categories. I started meeting people who I couldn't make sense of. I started meeting people who I had been taught to hate. But I didn't hate them. They were just people who hoped, and loved, and lived just like me. In fact, I started seeing they were all just like me.

And then, I became the "other." With my divorce, 90% of the people I had called friends, left me. My church, who had been like a family to me, left me. I was the sinner. I was the outcast. And because I was a victim of abuse, I had been talked out of asking for child support, even though he made over three times what I did. Now, I was also the woman standing in line at the grocery store, using my EBT "food stamps." I was a "leech on society," as my dad would say.

Remember how I said God has a great sense of humor? Well, guess who were the ones to come around me and support me and love me and lift me up? That's right. It was the people who I used to "other." It was the single mom's, the LGBTQ, the "flaming liberals," the atheists, the women of color...

For the first time in my life, there was no judgment, just kindness. There were no impossible standards, no mistreatment for being different, no more expectations to conform. There was freedom.

I have since come to a place where all those things my dad used to insult people with are now true of me. And this past week, as my friend was talking about the "woke morons," I gently told her that I'm one of those.

The truth is, we're all just people. We all want safety and well-being for ourselves and our families. A lot of us want that for our communities, and some even want it for the world. Most of the people I've met on both sides are generally good-hearted people. We all have been taught to say hurtful things, to believe hurtful things, and sometimes to even do hurtful things to "others." But I believe that for most people, these are learned behaviors.

My dad used to quote the Bible and say, "believing that there's good in people is a lie. Everyone is evil if they're not a Christian." These days, I believe God made humans in his own image. And having kindness and love are the traits that everyone has inherited from him. These are the things I have seen in others. And so I continue to believe that everyone has the ability for great kindness, and if we all exercised that kindness more readily, this world will not be such a scary place for any of us. Even if we don't all agree on the politics.

#sanddollarpoems #spilled ink #prose #my thoughts #personal #politics #and polarization #and my past

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robolvrr · 17 hours ago

Text

silk baby ✧⁠*°•

idw prowl x gn! human reader

nsfw. tags: lingerie, hatesex, petplay (wink), humiliation kink. let's get kinky.

you infuriate him.

it's almost insulting. the uniform your kind has given you, the shiny, golden lapels and glittering badge. you've served no war, fought no battles and have a fraction, no, a blink of his lifetimes experience in diplomacy.

when he first heard of your transfer from optimus himself he scoffed audibly.

files upon files were downloaded and analyzed of you immediately.

you're young. all of your people compared to cybertronians are. but you're still fresh-faced, no scars of time and still speak in those sweet, hopeful hums that makes his spark crackle.

he decides that reaction is hate.

and he shouldn't be feeling it, shouldn't be questioning his alliance and the brand on his chassis when he thinks about how easy this entire miserable planet could be wiped from the plane of existence.

somehow, humanity has managed to cause so many problems that not even his processors and planning can delegate the stress of having to pretend he was anything but superior to the generals, captains and presidents that adored to speak to them as if they were subordinate.

when you first meet prowl, you think, he must despise you. his frown on his angular features is stubborn and unmoving. he speaks to you like you're inconvenient.

"this is all wrong."

"do you even check your notes?"

"i am shocked to see just why they chose you for this role."

"don't bother me again until you find your voice. stop stuttering like a fool. you're an advisor, are you not?"

he's cruel. you're unable to find a response as he always slinks away, before you can seek a fellow autobot to properly report him.

sometimes, you can see the smirk in that disapproving gaze.

you do what most humans do. try to adapt. try to appeal. he likes to think in his spare time of you as a slobbering dog, trailing his pedes on all fours. drooling for even an opportunity of companionship.

you, on the floor. crawling. that's a bitterly tasty thought, indeed.

the rejected sentiments are visibly breaking you, slowly over time. starts with you trying to relieve his load in reports. attending his meetings, even though you're not required. he even heard you trying to argue with your own command, in some hopes they'd lessen their restraints on their current agreements with the extraterrestrials.

it's laughable. did he ask for any of this? no. you still do it.

dog. filthy, needy, pretty dog.

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

you're frustrated.

you have so much pressure on you, all the time. all the poli-sci courses and straight a's don't compare or prepare for being the middle man between the united states and co governmental bigheads and literal, walking cars.

and jets. and motorcycles, you learn.

you should be out at parties. kissing boys and girls and someone you don't remember, crying about tests and complaining to your friends about the shitty sink and your shitty landlord.

instead you get this opportunity shoved in your lap.

to be taken seriously, you pin yourself in sleek hairstyles and make sure your appearance is flawless. your boots are polished. you smell like fresh laundry and evergreen.

most of the autobots have taken a liking to you, or at least listen to your points. most have gotten the common sense having lived on earth for as long as they had to not purposefully offend.

prowl? oh no. no, he made a point to make sure you felt belittled.

why does his opinion mean so much to you? is it because his tone is always cold? is it because you feel metaphorically and literally pinned under his gaze, some twitching fly beneath his precise needle?

he knows each and every weak spot in that barely nurtured ego of yours to jab.

you lie to yourself. lie that it makes you stronger. laugh like he's just jealous.

your sheets are sweaty. his voice is level, that you remember.

his hands. servos. so articulate.

you should feel sick when your own weasels from between your thighs.

you should feel ill for thinking of him when you see the slick wetness dripping down your forearm.

would he tell you you did a good job?

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

the teapot in the shared downtime area whistles.

you're drowsy. caffeine does little to put any pep to your step so you resort to accepting your fate, hoping to bullshit your way through your rotation and worry about the repercussions later. today was boring. that was the issue - you're drained and understimulated.

not long enough it seems.

"slacking off, mm?"

a visible shake flirts up along your spine. the look you give over your shoulder is barely short of disrespectful.

"there is nothing else of importance for me to do. why would this room exist if not to relax between shifts?"

prowl towers. the doorways are higher, larger, to accommodate for humanity's new, glossy allies. you ignore the way his optics narrow. like he's studying you. like you've already fucked up.

"sounds more like failed excuses to me, diplomat. though.."

he's close. too close. uncanny valley crawls in your stomach as you struggle to forget nights ago. the dusting of his metal plates pattern similar to freckles.

that'd be cute if he wasn't awful.

".. mm, yes. you humans are so delusional. it's admirable, truly. patting yourself on your backs but too lazy to put in the effort to earn anything."

now it's your turn to frown.

"you're wrong. i work my ass off-"

"tsk, tsk, language."

"oh, fuck off!"

the tea kettle steams loud. and then it's jostled off the burner and you're scrambling, a scream caught in your throat.

cybertronians are strong. beasts, truly. they come in all shapes, sizes and talents but one thing is clear - they're living, breathing metal. there is little that can actually harm them.

prowl has your chin snatched between his digits. his helm is close and he has no need to breathe, but his ex-vents are sharp and his voice is still deliciously icy.

"see? animals, all of you. mutt. you bark and whine and complain. and i was supposed to take you seriously?"

your work shirt has lifted up your midriff. you ignore the throbbing at your core.

either he knows or he doesn't care, though it's prowl and it's rare he's in the dark.

there is no imagining how his vocals dip.

"predictable."

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

prowl finds fabric to be gaudy.

a prized trade elsewhere is commodity down here. he is much more trained on revealing what lays under that tight, useless suit of yours.

he doesn't bother answering any of your questions, only responding by yanking you by the back of your hair and letting his dentae sink into the flesh of your neck until it bruised.

he's rough. he knows you cannot take it, so when you're crying out to a god he doesn't know, his smile finally starts to edge his otherwise stern expression.

"good."

there's a snarl of disgust and despair when he gets all the buttons loose.

you are a spike tease.

underneath the bravado is the coverings of a slut.

it's gorgeous. soft, genuine silk. the straps are thin and bows dangle at the connections to heart-shaped lace that barely covers your chest. there's frill.

he tears a thread and unweaves it, just as he does with you.

your panties are yanked down your legs. they leave a red mark with how roughly he deposits them ..

for future observation.

his grip wrenches your hips, until a hole is found and he's jamming in and you're mewling, panting, huffing for him.

the "i hate you"s and "you're terrible"s just piston his pace faster.

his audials resort to memory banks that store all the pitiful expressions you make. he gets you on your hands and knees after all and when he's clutching your throat between sloppy thrusts, his grin is sharp and horrid.

"bark, puppy."

robolvrr 2024.

#prowl x reader #idw prowl #maccadam #transformers #transformers x reader #first contact au #/nsft #/nsfw #robo making hot toxic smut before bedtime?#more likely than you think babes

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bapple117 · 1 day ago

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it's such a massive waste that you would send Say Hello Wave Good Bye like that. You had all that story potentiall and you're just throwing it away because you got bored??? or something? That's such an insult to all the people that followed your works and supported you. You look to be doing just fine writing things for other fandoms. Seems really lame. unsubbed. You clearly have no consideration for your faithful readers at all. why don't you finish fics before starting fresh ones in the future!!

I don't even know what to say. Thanks for making me cry on a random-ass thursday, my dude. Hope you feel really good about that.

I did the best I could with what I had. I think if you knew the ins and outs of the kind of year I've had, what I've been going through, maybe you'd exercise a little more compassion. As it is, you can't read my mind or see my life story, so. It's easy to be rude behind the wall of anonymity, isn't it?

Well whatever bit of anger you needed to get out, I hope it was worth needlessly upsetting someone who's already struggling. Good job.

#q&a

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emmanuellececchi · 2 days ago

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Thanks for the tag @errruvande. Let's do this. (edit : @celeluwhenfics I had already answered so, here you go!)

Fanfic writer interview

How many work do u have on AO3?

What's your total AO3 word count?

71 000+

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes

Two of a kind (Sif x Loki)

Between a song and a book (Joshua Rosfield x reader)

A snowball fight (Joshua Rosfield x reader)

it has to be elves (Sif x Loki - gift exchange)

A momentous wedding

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always try to answer to comments. One: it feels good to see someone not only take time to read my story but also took the time to comment. Two: I love interacting with people and that could lead to fantastic exchange.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

At the moment I'll say "The end of Gimli son of Gloin" but... it is a "normal" end for him so.... I am not sure. On the other hand, "Two of a kind" has a kinda open ending.... I wanted to write more but lost the muse. There is also another fic with a real angsty end but it is yet in the editing process. But I largely prefer happy ending.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I would say "Two of a kind" because it begins rather dark? So it'll be in contrast to the rest of the story.

Do you write crossovers?

Not at the moment. Never really cross my mind.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Ah. yes. Because I said it was a "finished" work (it was) but I didn't posted the whole story at once. I was new and I tried to explain as kindly as possible. But the reader just kept insulting me, even after I changed the status, saying they would contact AO3 because I was a lier and so on... It was unsettling to say the least.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

At the moment, there's no "smut" per say but "It has to be elves" is rated Mature. Because Sif and Loki can have it hot (hihihi).

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Same answer, not that I know of.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have a few co-ideas, and I would really like to try. So no. BUT most of my fanfics have been edited/corrected by others so there's always a bit of another author in there. so yes.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

I will say, because it is the purest for me and one I hold dear : Gimli x Galadriel.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I have a ton of WIP that are hoping I'll finish them. And I am not going to list them here, because there's just too many.

What are your writing strengths?

No ideas. I guess.... My characters emotions? The little details in a scene? difficult to say.

What are your writing weaknesses?

My lack of vocabulary. Either I write too much in block or it's telegraphic. I use far too many times the same words.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think it's fun, as long as you let the reader a way to understand what is going on.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Maybe FFXIV. I really love the characters in this game. Or Dragon Age.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

Written and published : "Two of Kind" because it was my first long, multi-chapters fic that I published, and because I thought about putting Loki behind a wall of energy before the Dark World. I was so smug.

tagging without any pressure : @konartiste @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @sotwk @dilettantefeminist and @ass-deep-in-demons and whoever would like to share with us their AO3!

Fanfic writer interview

Thank you @thelettersfromnoone for the tag!! 💖

How many work do u have on AO3?

3, not your local AO3 girlie lmao

What's your total AO3 word count?

8 534

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes

I'll go with Tumblr ones, cause from my 3 AO3 works the biggest number I got is 31 lmao

Anyone but you (Legolas x f!reader)

Night watch (Legolas x Reader)

Well-deserved rest (Haldir x f!Reader)

One messy night (Boromir x f!Reader)

Transition (Haldir x f!Reader)

Honorable mention (since it's not fics but headcanons)

Green Council receiving a hot pic from you (HotD)

TLK men's reaction on being pet named

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always try to respond to comments! These little things are brightening up my day, so I wanna let the people know that they are my heroes hahaha

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I really think it's Transition. All in all it's a pretty dark story, a bit depressing I think (I had these intentions while writing at least).

Otherwise, I don't think I have angsty endings fics?

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

New family members for sure!! Was thinking hard what to choose, cause I think all of my happy ending fics are on the pretty same level on a happy scale, but I remember that I have this gen, non romantic baby and I love it so much ❤️‍🩹 There's a little TLK OMC for y'all

Do you write crossovers?

I wanted to say I've never done this BUT THEN!!! My Assassin's Creed (Ezio) x LOTR little headcanon!!! My beloved child!!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, not that I remember getting any hate on my fics

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, tho not much and on rare occasions. I used to write a lot of smut when I was younger (a teen), then I stopped being comfortable with it for a wild few years (tho reading never made me uncomfortable lmao).

Now I started writing smut again, idk what kind? Don't really understand what does that mean lol F x M traditional sex? Pretty detailed? If so, then yes lmao

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't know 😂 Maybe, maybe not. I think rather not.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge, I don't think so.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

We tried with my friend a long long time ago. Didn't go well lmao It's hard and kinda stressing, cause you never know what the other person is gonna write (at least we had this SURPRISE system), so... You kinda have zero plot cause everything you want to write plot-wise can be ruined by the second person's plot lmao

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Athelnar?? Athelstan and Ragnar were my first ever OTP (quickly followed by Alfred and Uhtred). You could never beat that Athelnar shit out of my body lmao I've never written for them, but oh I do love them boys!

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Now, that's the HARSH one lmao

I think I have at least 3 OC stories that I really wanna write (2 for TLK and one for LOTR), but I'm scared that I will never actually do it. I never was good with multi chaptered stories, and these are indeed not a one shots 🥲

What are your writing strengths?

Ugh... I don't know? I think I was pretty good with dialogues and descriptions of the surroundings to build the atmosphere. But... I guess it's not for me to decide but for the readers?

What are your writing weaknesses?

I rarely finish what I've started lmao I should write everything in one go or else I'll never finish it... Or will finish it in two months even if it's a 2k words one shot

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I love them! I've only done it with my LOTR fics (with Sindarin) but I really love it. But I really love it when the language is different from the language of the settings? Like, if the story is happening in England and everyone is English, but you have two characters who can speak idk Dutch, let them have a Dutch language in their dialogue. I had a rant post about it not that long ago actually lmao You have to think about your in-universe language

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

Ahhh Bungou Stray Dogs! I love them, and I'd gladly try to write something for them. Not a character/character but reader my beloved.

And maybe Stephane Narcisse (reign) my beloved and a reader

What's your favorite fic you've written?

The blood on my hands (Eomer) and Peace (Finan) are definitely my fave ones I think. They are dark and both explore some trauma

No pressure tags: @whitedarkmoonflower @lord-aldhelm @holy3cake @gemini-mama @emilyhufflepufftlk @persephones-journey @solinarimoon @mrsalwayswrite @emmanuellececchi @bilbotargaryen @levithestripper @mrsarnasdelicious @paula-in-dreamland

#tag games #fanfic writer interview

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