#I mean not that I was right that it is a recovery tool because I knew that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whiskeynwriting · 2 years ago

Note

Part 2 to eyes on me, pretty please 🙏🏼😩

I freaking love Bones

Welllll if you insist.

(I'm so flattered that you love Bones, and that you adored "Eyes On Me" so much omg)

Lucky

Simon “Ghost” Riley x OFC “Bones”

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Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Smoking, mentions of alcohol use, angst (only in the beginning), size difference, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), mentions of spanking, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex

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A/N: Here's part two to "Eyes On Me" (;

Also dear Jesus I just love this picture of him

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

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Heartbreak isn’t the right word, it’s too childish and naïve for you to use. You’re… surprised. Surprised and a little hurt, honestly. And sad. Definitely sad. But what were you expecting? A boyfriend? A fucking wedding? Just from a one-night stand? Because that’s all it was. And you should really start coming to terms with that.

Three days after you and Simon had sex, he was gone. During those three days, you didn’t do anything else, didn’t touch or kiss the other. But it was still friendly between the two of you; you still enjoyed each other’s company. But when he’d healed fully from his injury he just… left. Without a trace. He didn’t say anything to you, and you haven’t heard anything since. Through the grapevine, you learned that 141 had gone out on a mission. No one knows where to or for how long, which was normal. Their whereabouts aren’t really anyone else’s business. But inside, you’d hoped that he would have at least told you he was leaving. But maybe that night didn’t mean as much as you thought it did.

Feeling a bit foolish, you decide it’s best to just push it aside. You have better things to do, like your job. And with the boys gone, work was easy. Mainly, you filed paperwork, restocked supplies, and cleaned, making sure you were ready for their return. They didn’t always come back with injuries, but it wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, either. So, it was best to just be ready. Especially if you were needed for a rescue mission. Those were extremely rare. The only recovery assignment you’d ever been on was to recover, well… Simon.

“Bones?”

Lifting your head, you see one of your coworkers standing in the doorway.

“What’s up?” You’re still filing paperwork, but you’re finishing up.

“Are you coming tonight? We’re all headed out for a drink.”

“Wait,” Swiveling around, you glance at your clock. “It’s already five?”

“Yep,” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he says, “We all really want you to come.” But then, he takes it a step further. “I want you to come.”

Turning around, you grin. “I know you do.” It’s not a secret that he’s had quite the little crush on you. Maybe with Ghost gone, you could entertain it. But it feels so… fresh, whatever happened between the two of you. So, you decide you better not.

“I appreciate the invite. Maybe some other time.”

“Are you sure?” He prods, taking a step in. “I could pay for your drinks.”

“Really,” Laughing, you nod. “I’m okay. Thanks.” And then you turn away, satisfied when he retreats.

And as soon as he leaves, you feel that familiar sting rushing to your eyes. Why do your emotions have such a tight hold in you right now? Why can’t you just push this shit out of your head? He left, he’s gone. And he chose to not tell you. You got your answer; he doesn’t want to see you.

Before you can think any further on the topic, you hear your coworker come back. His steps are firmer this time, causing you to assume he’s returned with more gumption than before.

“Look, I said I don’t want to go tonight, alright?” But he doesn’t say anything. Fuck, can’t I have some privacy?! Quickly, you stand, spinning on your heels to face him. “Why do you -”

But it’s not your coworker. It’s him - Ghost.

“Oh.” Is how you end your sentence, your tone dropping off.

He’s standing in your doorway, taking up damn near the entirety of it. His arms are at his sides, and he’s still dressed in full gear. His tactical tools still hang on him, his belt looped around the expanse of his midsection. He’s armed, too, guns and knives in their holsters. And it must have been cold where they went, because he’s wearing a light gray quarter zip and gloves, too.

“Um, can I… can I help? With anything?” You ask hesitantly, trying to remain professional. “Do you have another injury?” You’re closing up shop soon, but you’d still help him if he needed it. Of course you would. It’s why you live on base; you’re here day and night for whatever medical help the task force needs.

Yeah, I figured you’d react this way.

All he does is shake his head, taking a couple steps toward you. And the closer he gets, the more your head tilts, looking up, up, until he’s right in front of you. Pressing your lips together in a nervous line, you look at him, unable to see his eyes. He’s wearing his mask of course, but with sunglasses this time, too.

After a long moment, you see his chest rise and fall, taking in a deep breath. And then he lifts his dominant hand, incredibly hesitantly. You look to the side, watching him reach out to you. He lowers it briefly, but eventually decides to continue, stepping forward to slowly, tenderly, wrap his arms around you. Closing your eyes, a wave of emotion washes over you, your arms sliding up his body to wrap around his neck, pulling him further in. Now, he fully embraces you, squeezing you tightly while you do the same to him. You have to stand on your tip-toes to fully wrap your arms around his neck, and that makes him grin.

Simon breathes out a heavy sigh, bending down even further and securing his hold on you. His hands slide down to the backs of your legs, and when he brings himself up again, he’s lifting you with him. Naturally, your legs encircle his center, arms keeping their hold on his neck. And when you’re fully clinging to him, both of Simon’s arms wrap around your back again, hugging you tightly against his sturdy frame. Then, his masked face finds your shoulder, and you swear, you fucking swear, you can feel the small indent of his lips against your neck.

There’s a ton of tactical gear in the way, pressing uncomfortably into your body, but it’s worth it. This is so worth it. A tidal wave of relief washes over him, thrilled to feel you accept his embrace.

“Hey, Bones.” He says calmly, affectionately.

“Hey, Ghost.” You return, smiling giddily.

Just a few minutes ago, your emotions ran angry and blue. But now, you’re filled with nothing but joy. You want an explanation, that’s for damn sure, but right now, you’re letting experience this contentment. Because he really does make you happy.

“You’re not hurt?” Sucking in a breath, you release your anxieties with a deep exhale. Even if you were unsure of where you stood, you still thought about him and his recently healed wound while he was gone.

“No.” Comes that deep, rumbly voice, his head shaking gently. “I didn’t mean to leave.” He mumbles into your ear, his tone low and tender. And it makes you sigh, his words offering you solace. “I didn’t, I…” And now he releases a harsh breath, sounding frustrated. “I didn’t have time to find you.”

It feels so nice, hearing his voice again. He’s speaking so calmly to you, making the moment feel soft, special. And once he says this, you nod your head, still resting in the crook of his neck.

You don’t want to come off clingy, but after hearing him tell you this, you feel he’s allowed you to be open with him. “I missed you.”

Things like this aren’t easy for Simon. He doesn’t express emotion like this, at least not verbally. Saying things like ‘I miss you’, it’s not… him. But while he was gone, he thought of you, and he knows how he feels about you. And he wants to reassure you, so he comes up with a response he hopes you’ll like.

“I… thought about you.”

His words make you smile, giggling briefly. He sounds nervous, like he isn’t sure what to say. And honestly, you find that incredibly cute.

“Will you come back with me?” He then asks, satisfied with your reaction. Now that he’s returned, he wants to go back to how things were before he left. He wants to spend time with you.

Furrowing your brows, you question him. “What?”

One of Simon’s hands drops down to your thigh, his other staying looped around your back. Slowly, he bends down again, releasing you. And when your feet meet the floor, your arms release him, too.

“To the barracks.” Rising to his full height, he towers above you. It makes you release a small, shaky breath, staring up at this man.

“Really?” You then ask, “Am I… am I allowed to do that?”

He shrugs. “Probably not.”

“I don’t know; I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

He smirks at this. “Don’t worry about me, love.” That word sends a genuine tingle right through you. “The boys are out for a drink.” Simon explains, reaching out for your hand. Looking down, you accept his heartfelt advance.

“Or have you got work to do?” He then asks, knowing how important both of your jobs are. But all you do is shake your head, looking back up at him. You’re displaying that pretty, genuine smile that he’s so badly missed. You’re looking at him with so much kindness.

“Then come back with me.” Ghost says, fingers wrapping around your hand.

Nibbling on the corner of your lip, you do your best to hold back your growing grin. But then you nod, unable to deny your excitement. And under his mask, he’s smiling, too. He’s hoping you’ll stay the night; he knows he could get away with it if he tried. And the excitement stirring inside him from the possibility of sneaking you into his room is making him feel like a goddamn teenager. Truthfully though, he likes it.

Simon waited patiently while you closed up shop. It only took a few minutes, organizing a handful of papers and wiping off your desk. And when you were finally ready, he took you by the hand, leading you to the barracks. They’re on the other side of the complex, but Simon still held your hand. With the guys gone, and it being a Friday, he wasn’t worried about anyone seeing the two of you.

He’s the last door on the left side of this barren, dimly lit hallway. It’s getting dark outside, but it’s even darker in his room. And Simon realizes this, stepping forward to turn on his desk lamp once he shuts the door behind you. The small light illuminates the small space, offering a much more amiable atmosphere. You can see more of his room now, too.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re still surprised by the emptiness of his room. There’s a bed in the left corner, a trunk at the foot of it, and a desk with a chair off to the right. It’s a small space with no windows and only one overhead light.

“I’ve gotta shower. Bit grimey.” He tells you, walking over to the trunk. “Will you be alright here until I get back?”

He’s already undressing, taking off his belt and disarming himself. Kneeling before the wooden chest, he unlocks it, setting each of his weapons inside.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You reassure him, walking over to sit on his bed.

“Sorry to make you wait, love.” He grunts, bending over to untie his boots. “I came to the med. room as soon as we got here.”

Now that warms your goddamn heart. “Really?”

“‘Course I did.” Standing, he takes a step over to you, gently tapping your chin with the knuckle of his pointer finger. “Didn’t want you thinking I skipped out on you.” Humming at the pretty smile on your face, he then stands. “Be right back, sweets.”

While he’s gone, you take this opportunity to look around. Not going through his things, of course, but just glancing over his room. There are some files laid out on his desk; clearly nothing too important, or else they’d be locked away. There’s a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the desk too, not exactly a surprise to you. What does come as a surprise, though, is the way he walks through the door.

Jumping a little, you turn to face the entryway, your anxiety telling you it would be someone else coming in. But it’s just him, a slightly damp, still-masked, shirtless, Ghost. He’s wearing dark gray sweatpants with long socks tucked underneath, his body still glistening. His dog tags are visible too, something you’ve never seen. And Jesus Christ, is every muscle along his body on display. It’s like he’s even more defined than he was before. The scars you’ve seen time and time again litter his body, the most prominent mark being the one near his heart.

“Happy to see me?” He asks with a grin. And even though you can’t see it, you can tell he’s smiling.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “You’re so fucking cocky.” Just like that, the air between the two of you is light and familiar again. It’s like he never even left.

“Well,” He gives you a small shrug. “After getting that kinda treatment from you, how could I not be?”

He’s stalking towards you, quite liking the view of you seated atop his bed. And you watch as he walks, eventually coming right up in front of you. Leaning over the side of the bed, he presses his palms into the mattress. His presence urges you back, resting on your forearms before him. And just like that, he’s in your space again, those icy eyes staring into your own. Your heart rattles inside your chest from his closeness; he’s barely an inch away and you can fucking smell him. It’s fresh, his scent filling your nose with hints of spearmint and eucalyptus.

After a moment of gazing into those dreamy eyes, your own dip down, falling on his covered chin. It was so exhilarating to see him before. Maybe he’ll let you do it again.

“I am happy to see you.” But he doesn’t say anything, because you’re starting to lift his mask. “And I’m so happy you wanted to see me…”

Closing his eyes, he inhales a steadying breath, allowing you to lift his mask. Letting go of all his worries is a hard thing for him, but he does it in an attempt to trust you. You told him before that you’d never take it off all the way, that you respect his privacy. He’s waiting for you to prove that now. And the trust that’s currently wavering in the air is suddenly placed into your very hands when you lift it, revealing only his lips. Along with a small, growing grin. Immediately, you lean forward to kiss him, and he meets you with a bout of eagerness.

Simon’s mouth moves against your own, slowly, firmly. He’s enjoying you, his smooth lips a satisfying sensation now that they’ve returned. And when both of your hands find his face, he fully moans, releasing a heated sigh against you. He wants so badly to reach out and touch you, slide his hands over your body again. But his broad palms are still holding him up, preventing him from doing it. And that’s fucking killing him.

With slow and calculated movements, he drops to his knees. And you lower your head, moving with him, but you’re forced to stop when he pulls away. Shuffling forward a bit, he settles his midsection right between your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist. Pulling you in, he hugs you to his body, pressing his face to your chest. This makes your heart pound, now entirely full of emotion. You can’t believe he’s being so sweet.

“I thought about you, love.” He repeats his words from earlier with much more intention this time. One of his hands retracts, moving to your waist and squeezing you kindly.

“Really, baby?” Embracing him, your arms lift to slide around his neck. And when you do, he releases a contended breath, nuzzling further into you. He missed this, missed how you touched and cared for him. He needs that in his life; he needs you.

There it is again, that affectionate word. The sound of it makes his chest tighten with emotion, with a sense of utter elation. He thought things were ruined when he left. But they’re not, they’re just like before. Hell, it’s better than before.

“‘Course I did,” Comes that low tone, his accent thick and gruff. “I thought about your pretty face, the way you kissed me.”

You can’t believe that a man like him is saying these things. He’s being so loving with you, and in ways you never expected him to.

“You’ve got me to fancy you.” He murmurs against your chest, his eyes closed as he relaxes. His words make your face heat up, absolutely overjoyed to hear his admission. And ever so slightly, he rubs his face into you, right in between your breasts.

“Yeah?” Fingers running over the back of his head, you discover soft bumps beneath his mask. They’re no doubt from his hair, and you find yourself wondering what color it is.

“Yeah,” He nods. “You’re pretty, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” You sigh out, replying cockily with, “I always knew you loved me.”

Chuckling deeply, he lifts his head, looking up at you from between your breasts. Tilting your head down, you meet his gaze, grinning.

“Pretty fucking annoying.” He finishes in a cheeky whisper, feeling your thumbs swipe over his covered face.

Looking down at him, you can see so much of his body, the muscles in his shoulders and biceps more than prominent even in the dim light of his room. Some of his back muscles flex, showing themselves off, too. And the sight alone makes you drop any and all attitude.

“Baby, you look so good.” Eyes leaving his own, they roam his figure, making him laugh.

“Okay,” He declares, dominant hand reaching up to grab your chin. “I’ll say it.” Yanking you down with a gentle sense of dominance, he meets your eyes with a passionate gaze.“I fucking missed you.”

That’s all it takes for you to kiss him again, hands holding his head while he leans into them. He’s so much taller than you know though, that even on his knees, he doesn’t really need to reach up to meet you. The hand he’d had on your chin holds your cheek, his other wrapping around your lower back and pressing you to him.

“You know what else I thought about?” He asks between heated breaths. But you’re still kissing him, feeling him smile against your lips.

“What, baby?” He’s happy you asked.

Hand sliding around to the back of your neck, he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I thought about your pretty pussy.”

That sends a shiver right through your very being. Closing your eyes, a harsh breath is forced out through your nose, trying to control the arousal that is suddenly building. And while your lids remain closed, Simon’s mouth eagerly returns, tongue sliding over your bottom lip. Easily, you open for him, feeling the wet muscle glide over your own.

You can’t seem to get a grip on reality; it’s like you’re drunk on him. “How do you know it’s pretty?” He pulls back, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’ve never even seen me.”

“What do you think I’m asking for?” He returns immediately, now moving.

Simon’s arms hook beneath your legs, bending forward and urging you back in the process. You fall onto your forearms with a small, surprised breath. His hands come to rest on the tops of your thighs, bulky biceps now beneath them. It’s at this moment that his fingers find the hemline of your pants, tugging gently while kissing the inside of your covered thigh.

“Can I see you, darling?” Simon asks, lips running over your thigh. And you nod, already breathless from him.

Lifting your hips, you allow him to slide your clothes down your legs, leaving your bottom half bare before him. Easily, he drops your garments to the floor, eyes trained on your now naked skin. It takes the breath from his lungs, the sight of you, of your pink and sensitive lips, the delicate space of your sex. And then he moves in, lifting your legs to rest them over his shoulders, holding your thighs again.

“Perfect little thing.” He mumbles, groaning quietly. “Felt so good wrapped around me…”

“I want that again.” You admit to him, earning his immediate response of, “You’ll get it again.”

Broad shoulders spread you wider than before, a feeling of exposure creeping across your skin. Already, your heartbeat is pounding in your ears, washing waves through your sex. You’re nervous, full of anticipation, but you’re also unsure. Has he done this before? What if he doesn’t like it? And suddenly, you’re more worried than you are excited.

“Don’t go rigid on me.” He can immediately sense your anxiety, his fingers wrapping under and then caressing your thighs. It makes you breathe a sigh of relief, settling into his hold. “That’s it,” Simon praises happily, exhaling over your very center. “That’s good, love. I like that, much better.”

“Simon…” Hearing his praise makes your eyes roll back before closing entirely, fingers reaching for him. They find his hands, and then his forearms, wrapping around the muscles there. And he hums happily when you do this. He loves the feeling he gets when you hold onto him.

Leaning in, he gives your very center a kiss. It’s heated and firm and you can already hear him moaning. He likes your smell, inhaling it deeply. The subtle action makes your back arch, his arms fully wrapping around your thighs when he sticks his tongue out to give you his first real lick. It’s tender, running up your seam and just barely nudging your clit. And then he grins. You’re already shaking for him.

“Relax for me.” He coos sweetly to you, dominant hand rising and sliding beneath your shirt. It rests over your stomach, fingers stroking you lightly. “Let me taste it.”

Your thighs tense around his head when he licks you again, and the hand not on your tummy squeezes your leg, his mouth humming against you. The hot muscle of his tongue moves languidly over your sex, that deliciously wet noise already growing in the room. It’s only now that he gets a true taste of you, his tongue slipping between your sensitive lips. He licks into you with deep and heated strokes, his hurried breaths repeatedly forced out of his nose.

“Simon,” Involuntarily, your hips buck up against him, body shivering when his tongue dives inside again.

“Missed the way that sounds,” He mumbles, turning his head and kissing the inner skin of your thigh. “My name comin’ outta your mouth.”

“I missed the way you touch me.” You breathe out in response, a high gasp then leaving your throat when he lays that wet muscle over your clit.

Simon flicks the tip of his tongue over it, feeling you jerk in his hold. His head rocks rhythmically as he begins to truly mouth at you, lips and tongue now focusing on your delicate pleasure center. When he wraps his lips around it, he leans in even further, rubbing his face against you. He wants to be as close as he possibly can to you.

Every swipe of his tongue feels electric, his moans sending wave after wave of arousal through your hips. And by now, he’s practically drinking from you, lapping at your cunt’s dripping entrance with a sense of voracity you’ve never before seen. But in the same sense, he’s slow with it, taking his time in showing his passion.

“Oh my god…”

“Sh…” He then hums, slowing down to talk to you. His breaths are heavy, and when you look down, you can see his eyes. From between your legs, they’re staring right back at you. “Don’t know when they’ll be back, love.”

“I can’t help it.” You reply in a slight whine, and he can’t fight the groan he releases when you look at him with those pretty eyes.

“Well, you’re gonna have to.” And then, while keeping your gaze, his tongue lays out, running a firm swipe over you. With a dramatic moan, your head returns to the bed, hands still holding onto him. Your hips buck up against his face, eyes drifting shut as you enjoy this.

“Fuckin’ love your pink little pussy.” He grunts out, stopping the movements of his mouth entirely. Listening closely, you hear him suck a finger between his lips, the thick digit now prodding at your entrance.

“Ohhh my god,” It enters you slowly, the small stretch making you moan until it’s in entirely.

He keeps his finger still until his tongue returns, small kitten licks stimulating your nerves. And when he begins these motions, he moves his finger, too, pulsing the tip of it up inside you. It forces your hips to move, rolling pleasurably as you experience him. You never would have expected him to be so good at this.

“B-Baby,” You try to whisper, telling him, “You’re gonna make me cum.”

Simon doesn’t respond, he’s too focused. His eyes are closed, his breaths even quicker than before. That finger glides seamlessly into you, curling every time it’s fully inside. And his tongue doesn’t let up, either, now completely suctioning his mouth to you. He intends to keep this pace, but then you moan his name. It’s so sweet-sounding, so light and airy. Simon, please. And now, he’s ripping his finger from you, both palms finding a place beneath your thighs and shoving your legs up. Knees pressing into your chest, you gasp, having not expected him to do this. And with this new position, Simon dives in. The sounds he’s making are loud, fucking lewd, his tongue incessant and moving much quicker against you.

Your face burns from the brazenness of it all, of being so exposed and experiencing this new side of him. Tongue running over your clit once more, it sinks into your entrance, curling slightly and gathering your slick. He then drags it back up to your tingling bud, circling it.

“Simon, f-fuck.” With your fingernails digging into his forearms, he grins, purring pleasurably against you. He’s still holding onto your thighs, enjoying the reactions you have in response to him.

“Tell me what you want.” His voice is gruff and rumbles over you, your hips rolling up to chase his face. Immediately, he complies, returning his mouth to your center. But when you don’t answer, he taps your thigh, reminding you.

“I want to cum, baby.” It comes out as a whisper, your back arching. “I want you to make me cum.”

The hand that tapped your thigh now squeezes it, a pleased moan vibrating from between your legs. With practiced motions, he sucks on you, mouth working hard to overstimulate you. And you’d count his actions successful, because within seconds, you’re crying out for him. He’d tell you to be quiet if he didn’t overtly adore every single sound that’s coming from you. Hell, who cares if the boys hear? As long as it’s not Price, he’s in the clear.

“Fuck, Simon!”

His entire body weight is pressing into you, pinning you down. Your hips rut over his face, feeling his head move with every motion. The incredible sensation of your high rolls through you, the muscles in your body tensing before they inevitably unwind. The sparks flying through your system make you gasp, make you fucking sing, hands now reaching out for his head. You hold him against you, and he lets you, moaning from your taste. It washes over his tongue, a sensation he happily accepts. And when you finally release him of your intense hold, and he pulls away, he smacks his lips.

You don’t even have to see it to know what he just did, the noise more than noticeable. Smiling breathlessly in the near-darkness, you shake your head. “Cocky.”

“Sassy.” Comes his instant return.

And then he’s crawling up between your legs, his body hovering over you. His covered nose runs along the curve of your jaw, wet lips kissing your skin. With your body still feeling limp, you rest beneath him, smiling from his affectionate kisses.

“You ever tasted yourself?” He wonders aloud, turning his head and breathing against you.

“Mm-mm,” Shaking your head, you turn and lock eyes with him.

Immediately, he leans in, dominant hand taking hold of your chin. His open mouth meets your own, his tongue sliding in. And now that he’s close again, you reach up to hold him.

Simon drags his tongue over yours, the roughness of his taste buds clashing with your own. And his tongue and spit are laced with you, the tanginess of your arousal coating his entire mouth and his chin, too.

“You like it?” He asks huskily, pulling away.

“Yes.” Nodding eagerly, your hands bring him in again. “More, please.”

He chuckles, his lips already returning to you. For someone that wears his mask like it’s his second skin, how is he so damn good at kissing? How is he so good at everything?

“Lay down for me, gorgeous.” Already moving you is the strength of his broad hands, sliding you further up on his mattress.

“Dang, this is your pillow?” You tease, wincing dramatically. “You need something softer than this to sleep on, shit.”

“Well,” He says, cocking his head. Moving his legs to the inside of yours, he spreads you with his knees, resting his pelvis over your own. Those wonderful hands slide up your form again, this time paying special attention to your midsection. “You’ve got some pretty nice pillows there for me.”

Furrowing your brow, you’re confused for only half a second. He smiles when he witnesses it, your realization, his palms now on your covered chest.

“Maybe I’ll get to sleep on those tonight.” He continues on, mumbling. “Lean up for me.”

You do as he says, but not without your mind wandering. Did he… did he mean what he just said? Does he really want me to sleep here with him? But then you’re plopping back down, thoughts bouncing right out of your head when you hit the mattress again.

“Look at that…” Now that you’re entirely naked for him, he can’t tear his eyes away from you. His calloused hands smooth themselves over your breasts, cupping them while he inhales deeply above you.

When you look up at him, you feel like you can’t catch your breath. When standing in front of him, it was obvious how much bigger he was than you. But right now? Right fucking now? He’s dwarfing you.

“Simon…” Reaching up, your hands slide along his abdomen, feeling his muscular skin.

He’s towering over your smaller form, eyes full of passion and intense focus as they rake over you. His dog tags are hanging forward, just barely off of his chest as he leans over. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his tattooed forearm, the muscles bulging as he fondles you.

“Fuck,” Hissing out the curse, he squeezes you briefly before sliding down. Now, his firm, naked chest is pressing into the softness of you, holding himself up on that tatted forearm. Impatiently, he mouths at you, hand sliding around to hold the back of your head.

“You want me again, yeah?”

“Yes.” Your feet slide up on his bed, soles planting firmly on the mattress. It encases him between your thighs, feeling his hips sway against yours in response.

Before Ghost can say anything else, the two of you begin to hear noise. Specifically voices, many of them, four of them.

“Ghost!”

The booming voice and pounding knock on his door make your body jump beneath the weight of his. Usually, he’d be annoyed, but your reaction distracts him. He finds it cute, chuckling above you.

“C’mere,” He then says, climbing off of you and standing. “I’ll take care of this.”

There’s nowhere for you to hide in his room, and the knowledge of that makes you nervous beyond belief. Where are you going to go? Where is he going to hide you?

When you look up, he’s reaching his hand out to you, and you take it. With one gentle yet firm tug, he hauls you up, leading you over to the door. Holy fuck, is he going to let them see me?! But then he proves your anxious thoughts wrong. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he maneuvers your body into the corner beside the door, leaning in right beside your ear and whispering, “Stay here.”

While reaching for the knob, he keeps one hand on you, an affectionate gesture. His palm is on your face, thumb stroking your cheek. And when he opens the door, his teammates can barely even tell that his left arm is stretched out to his side. Before opening the door, though, he remembers to pull his mask down, not wanting to draw any suspicion.

“Yeah?” Simon answers questioningly.

“Where’ve you been?!” Soap asks loudly, clearly drunk. “We missed you!” Staggering in, Ghost’s broad palm in the center of his chest stops him.

“You just now comin’ home, Johnny?”

“Nah, we’re coming back to get you!” Suddenly, Gaz pops on the scene, right next to him.

“Fuckin’ pulled my muscle, you did!” Soap jolts to the left and away from Gaz’s arm, the one he’d just swung around his shoulders.

“Alright, boys.” Ghost intervenes. “Better get some sleep.”

“You reckon that lass is still around?” Johnny asks, ignoring his friend. And at this, your eyes widen. Is he talking about me?

“Lass?” Ghost repeats, raising a brow.

“Oh, Bones!” Soap finally remembers. “Heard she’s called Bones.”

“Yeah, our medic.” He almost sounds offended. They should all know your name by now.

“She’s a cute one, isn’t she?” Turning to the side, he offers Gaz a wide grin.

“Stop thinking you have a chance, pendejo.” Finally, Vargas chimes in. (Dummy)

“She lets me in on those ice baths,” Johnny continues, looking at Ghost with a wink. “Think she’d give me a sponge bath, too?”

When he says this, the hand on your jaw tightens, almost protectively. And immediately, you lift your hands, holding onto his forearm and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“You might wanna keep your comments to yourself, Johnny.”

Furrowing his brow and frowning childishly, he asks, “Why?”

Simon wants nothing more than to haul you away from that corner and show each and every one of them that you’re by his side. You’re such a pretty thing and right now, you’re entirely bare for him. Wouldn’t that be a sight for them? But he won’t do it, he won’t ruin his reputation or more importantly, yours. Honestly, he hasn’t had a woman in years, hasn’t really cared to. But you? He’s not letting you go.

Clenching his jaw and releasing an aggravated huff, he decides on responding with, “Don’t get your hopes up on that sponge bath.”

“What? You don’t think she finds me sexy?” He asks, moving back to flex. But then the idiot winces, feeling the pulled muscle in his shoulder.

“It’s time for bed!” Price snaps loudly from further down the hall.

“Yes dad!” They all four shout back, and you almost release a chuckle when you hear that.

“Come out with us next time, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ghost nods, thumb brushing over your cheek. Maybe he’ll bring you.

Johnny reaches forward then, giving him a pat on the shoulder before turning in. Vargas and Gaz wish him a good night, Ghost just nodding in response. He waits until they’re all out of sight, making sure none of them have plans to return. And he counts himself lucky that he didn’t hear from Price.

When he shuts the door, he doesn’t let go of your face, using his free hand to lift his mask as he instantly returns to you. In a flash he’s on you, mouth covering yours and hands now sliding down your naked waist. Closing your eyes, you sigh against him, palms gliding up his chest and onto his broad shoulders. Passionately, he paws at your lower curves, his tongue diving into your mouth to tangle with your own.

“Sorry about that, love.” And then he’s picking you up again, wrapping your legs around his waist and pushing your back up against the wall.

“Simon,” You breathe out, stopping for just a moment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m more than okay.”

While he mouths at your neck, you slink your arms around him, smiling. “Did you not like what Soap said about me?”

“Johnny can have his fun,” Ghost mumbles over your skin. “He’s all talk.” And then he looks up at you. “I’m the one gettin’ lucky with you.”

Rolling your eyes, you can’t help but grin. Falling for his cheesy words, you bring him back to you for another kiss, his covered hips grinding into your pelvis.

“I want you, sweetheart.” He tells you, knocking your head to the side with his covered nose. Harshly, he bites into your neck, sucking on you. “Been waitin’ a fuckin’ week for ya.”

“Baby, you’re gonna leave a mark.” You’re trying to stay quiet, but the way he’s biting you is making you squeal. Your hands find either side of his head, lightly pulling him back, but he shakes his head loose of your grasp. “You think I fucking care about that?” It comes out as a growl, his mouth returning to your bruising throat.

“They’re gonna see.”

“Fuckin’ let them see.” He grunts out in response. “You know I want them to.”

This makes you perk up, shaking you out of your lusty haze. “You do?”

“Yeah. I do.” Leaning in, he brushes his lips over your cheek. “Want them all to know you’re with me.”

“I… am?” You ask in return, heart pounding in your chest.

Lifting his head again, he looks into your eyes. You’ll never get tired of that frosty gaze. “Do you wanna be?”

After a moment, you breathe out your anxiety. “I do.”

And then he smirks, briefly chuckling. “It’s not a marriage yet, sweetheart.” And this makes you smile, eyes darting to the side. “But for now,” He continues, that gravely voice absolutely mesmerizing. “You have me.”

Adjusting his hold on you, he breathes out a rough sigh. “Now,” He says, briefly grunting. “Think you can be quiet for me?”

“I’ll try.”

But he shakes his head. “That’s not good enough.” He’s met with another whine, a small and frustrated one. “Sergeant's right down the hall, sweets.”

“Okay, I promise. I promise I’ll be quiet, I’ll be good.” That last part comes out as a slip.

“You’ll be good, eh?” He teases, the arousal in his body heightening upon hearing your small admission.

“Simon,” You groan out, a bit louder this time. “Please.”

You don’t care that he’s teasing you, not anymore. All you know is that right now, in this moment, you want him inside you. For days after your first time together, you felt a delicious burn between your legs. He filled you so completely, especially since you had been sitting on him. But his cock wasn’t the only thing that felt good, it was his entire body. His smooth skin, his firm and flexing limbs, his strong hands and talented lips.

“Shit,” He hisses, taking you off the wall and fully into his arms again.

In two strides he’s at his bed, leaning down to set you on the mattress. What he really wants to do is just throw you down on the sheets, toss you around like the little rag doll that you are to him. But he’ll save that for another night, for a time when you won’t have to worry about making too much noise.

“Fuck me.” His eyes are glued to your soft breasts, gaze unwavering as he undoes the ties on his sweats. Sliding his pants and boxers down, he discards them, taking off his longer socks, too.

“Baby…” You’re leaning up and reaching out, the hand not holding you up touching his abdomen. And slowly, your hand slides down, fingertips brushing the side of him.

Simon’s palm falls over your hand, urging you to wrap your fingers around him. “You like that, love?”

“I fucking love it.” You wholeheartedly admit, no longer concerned with holding yourself back. “I love it…”

Slowly, he guides you to pump him, and you’re nearly drooling from it. You didn’t get a great look at him before, but now, you can see the entire length of him. How he felt accurately represents how thick he is, the veins running up the underside of his shaft making you nibble on your lip. His tip is dripping slightly, and his hips jerk when you run the pad of your thumb over his slit.

“Alright,” He then tells you, breaths picking up again. “You can gawk at me later, sweetheart.” Grunting, he takes your hand away so he can crawl over you on the bed. While positioning himself between your legs, he says, “And don’t you dare roll your eyes at me.” Looking up, he makes locks in your gaze. “I know you want this.”

While holding his stare, you smirk, rolling your eyes anyway. And then he reaches up, grabbing your chin. “You can be so goddamn cheeky.”

“Yeah, but you love it.”

Your sarcastic comment and the smug look on your face make him groan, ducking his head down. He really does love it.

Resting his head in the crook of your neck, he maneuvers his forearm to rest beside your head. His other hand then drops, wrapping around his erection and holding himself at the base. Lifting your legs, you encase him, feeling him settle even further against your pelvis. Gently, he taps his tip against your sex, about a handful of times. And the last time he does it, it hits your clit.

Sucking in a loud gasp, your hands instantly wrap around his neck. “Sh…” He coos to you, turning his head. “Sh…”

Closing your eyes, you quiet yourself, taking a breath to calm down. And that’s when he starts to slide in, head notching at your entrance and throbbing upon feeling the familiar warmth of you.

“You’re still so wet.” He comments, humid breaths washing over your neck.

“Fuck,” Comes your quiet gasp, arms tightening around him.

Halfway in, he pauses, inhaling to steady his own breaths. All too easily, he knows he could get carried away. After feeling your beautiful body and then being gone for a week, you’re all he’s been craving. And now that he has you, he feels like his mind is fucking reeling.

“Keep going,” Lifting your hips, you pulse around him. “Please, baby.”

Forcing a deep sigh through his nose, he does, shifting forward even more as he continues sliding into your heat. “Love when you call me that.” He admits to you, pectorals flexing to keep himself quiet once he’s fully sheathed inside.

“Mm,” Pressing your lips together, you muffle your whine, feeling the slow but firm grind of his hips directly into your pelvis. The feeling of fullness you get from him is like no other. “You like when I call you baby?”

“Yeah,” He nods, already panting beside you. “Nobody ever calls me that.”

And inside, you’re thinking, well who the hell would? The main people in his life are his team. But you know from the way he says it that he’s confessing something heartfelt to you, something you don’t want to make fun of or tease.

“I’ll call you baby,” Cooing sweetly to him, you run your hands over the back of his head, sliding down his mask. “For as long as you’ll let me.”

“Jesus,” He mutters, rotating his hips before pulling out slightly. Gracefully, he dives back in, huffing out over your skin. “How do you have such a hold on me?”

And then he moves his head, dropping it to your chest. Emotionally, he feels something snap, mouth opening to lay his tongue over your soft curves, flicking the tip of it over both of your pebbled peaks. And as soon as he starts doing this, his hips pick up their pace.

“Simon,”

“Quiet,” He pants, “Quiet, love.” Wrapping his lips around your nipple, he sucks it inside, now swirling his tongue around it.

“Jesus Christ,” You’re lifting your hips with his thrusts as they continue growing in pace and strength, feeling the heavy drag of him against your delicate walls. And he’s stretching you again, just barely feeling that little burn. The way he’s thrusting into you makes you feel every inch of him, his erection long enough to reach the deepest parts of you.

“That’s it, love.” Simon praises, smiling from the movement of your hips. “That’s it.”

But just as he truly begins enjoying your combined rhythm, the bed starts creaking, and rather loudly. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, hips slowing until they’re completely stagnant.

“Bloody fucking bed.” He mutters harshly, lifting himself from you.

It surprises you how quickly he slides out of your insides, stepping away and leaving you by yourself on the bed. But he doesn’t go far, dropping to his knees and leaning over to grab your sides. He pulls you off the mattress and onto his lap, his free hand yanking the blankets onto the floor.

“Get on your hands and knees.” He orders, placing a hand on your back to guide you down quickly.

He’d put the blankets down for your comfort, watching you get into position for him. It’s shameless, it’s brazen, not even questioning it as you bend over for him. Instantly, his hands find your ass, smoothing his palms over your curvaceous cheeks.

“This good for you?” He asks quietly, fingers pressing into your plump flesh.

“Yeah, baby.” His heart throbs when he hears that word. Both from affection and excitement. “Yes.”

You’re leaning down on your forearms, shifting your hips even higher into the air for him. And he seems to enjoy this, because he grips you harshly in his hand. You’d bet anything that if you didn’t have to be quiet, he would’ve smacked it.

Easily, he enters you again, feeling even bigger this time as he slides in from behind. Muffling your cries is the scratchy blanket beneath your face, your body experiencing his now returning pace. It’s even quicker than last time, the strength of his hands holding your hips as he fucks into you without an ounce of regret. He’s fully giving into himself, shoving himself into you as hard as he’s always wanted to. It rocks your body on the ground, his impressive physique towering above your submissive form. From this angle he can see some of the marks he’s left on you, one on your shoulder and neck.

“G-Ghost,” It’s getting hard to hold back your shrill gasps and small squeaks, and you can tell he’s struggling, too. The noises he’s making are no better when considering their volume, his grunts and groans echoing in the room.

“Uh-uh,” He puffs out, shaking his head. “That’s not my name.”

“Oh my god,” He’s ramming himself into you from behind, and by now, the sound has got to be too loud.

Huffing out a brief laugh, he says, “That’s not my name either, love.”

“Simon,” You groan, blood draining from your knuckles as you grip his bedsheets.

“There you go, sweetheart.” Leaning down, he kisses the center of your back, right on your spine. The action makes you shiver, rolling your hips back against him. “Atta girl.”

“Fuck me.”

“Almost there, princess.” He promises, “Almost fuckin’ there.”

Unfortunately, he knows he won’t make you cum with his dick, not this time around. He’s gonna blow too fast to let you do that.

“Where do you want it, sweetheart? Tell me.” His voice is rumbling behind you, hips unrelenting in their brutal pace against you. “Right now.”

“Fuck, b-baby, you know I like it inside.” You’re stuttering, your voice high and damn near delirious at this point.

“Yeah? That wasn’t just a one time thing?” Simon inquires, truly curious.

“Mm-mm,” You whine, shaking your head against his sheets. “I want you inside me.”

“You safe, sweetheart?” He then follows-up, knowing this will now be a regular thing.

“Yes, I promise.” You’re panting beneath him, feeling the full brunt of his body’s weight repeatedly rut against you. “Please, just cum inside me.”

Doing as he told, he allows himself to let go, jaw dropping as he feels the euphoria of his high shoot through his insides. He’s staring down at you, gawking at the way your ass jiggles every time it’s shoved back against him. And the way he tries to hold his breath makes him feel like he’s about to pull a muscle in his chest. Abs and arms flexing, he holds you against him, keeping you flush against his pelvis. Instead of thrusting into you, he keeps you close, grinding himself in as deep as he can get.

Allowing him to rock you gently along the sheets, your fingers loosen the grasp they once had. Breathing through your ecstasy, you wiggle yourself back against him ever so slightly. And when you do, his hands grab onto your hips, holding you steady.

“Easy, sweets.” Comes that ragged voice, clearly catching his breath. And then he smoothes a hand down your back, sighing. “Such a beauty.”

“You care if I smoke?”

Glancing up at him, you display your graceful grin. Calmly, you shake your head. “You know I don’t.” You respond quietly, having been around him far too often to care about that.

He doesn’t want to leave you, but does so briefly to grab the lighter and pack of cigarettes. Slumping back into his bed, you lift yourself, allowing his arm to slide beneath your head. Slouching, he allows you to cuddle into him, placing your hand on his chest. It’s similar to how the two of you slept. He’d held you through the night while sleeping on his back, his gentle snores lulling you to sleep. Last night, your fingers felt his muscles. Right now, they’re tracing his scars. It makes him smile, your tender touches, those icy eyes lowering to watch you. Once the cig is lit, he inhales a breath, exhaling the smoke upward toward the vent in the ceiling.

“You sure you don’t have to go soon?” It was already past his normal wakeup call, and you were starting to worry for him.

“Nah,” He takes those worries and brushes them right off. “It’s my day off, sweetheart.”

When that door closed behind you last night, it’s like an entirely new man was revealed. He’s starting to let his guard down, and only around you. He let his emotions feel free, allowing himself to be soft with you. And you feel lucky to have seen him this way. You doubt even his teammates have. In a way, he’s given his faith to you, placing it in your hands and is now trusting you to handle it carefully. It may take some time, but you’ll show him that you’re worth having. You won’t ever be a weakness for him, you’ll only be an addition to that lengthy list of strengths.

#Ghost #Simon Ghost Riley #Ghost cod #Simon Riley #Simon Riley x you #Simon Riley x reader #Simon Riley x female reader #Simon Riley smut #Simon Riley cod #Simon Ghost Riley cod #Cod fanfiction

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why-animals-do-the-thing · 1 year ago

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You mentioned that sometimes zoos don’t get the funding they need? Is there anything that we, as visitors, can do to help with that? Donations, contacting representatives, things like that? What can we do to help zoos, zookeepers, and the animals they love and care for?

What a nice question!

So on a “we need funding for this new habitat or major renovation” level, the cost is pretty astronomical compared to what the average person can contribute. For example, the Oregon Zoo’s brand new Polar Passage habitat (started 2016, finished 2021) cost $19 million. The Brookfield Zoo is planning to add on a new indoor/outdoor ape habitat to their Tropics Building and that’s estimated at $9 million. Unless you happen to know folk with very deep pockets, personal donations aren’t going to have an impact on that scale - although that doesn’t mean they don’t help the zoo in other ways!

Contacting your representatives and expressing your support for your local facilities is absolutely something you can do that helps. Especially so if the facility is funded by the city or the county, but even if they’re not, it’s really good for reps to know that their constituents value the facility and want to see it supported. You can always write them whenever, but it’s most useful if there’s stuff happening that’s directly related (funding allocation, new rules being proposed, etc).

I’m going to take this opportunity to plug another way you can help zoos, though, that’s a bit different. Your question is really timely because there’s actually an ongoing need for support at the moment (date stamp: 6/11/23). There’s an organization I volunteer with, called Zoological Disaster Response, Rescue, and Recovery (ZDR3) and they do, well, what it says on the tin. When zoological facilities, sanctuaries, and other facilities with exotic animals experience disasters - think getting flattened by a hurricane - ZDR3 coordinates a network of 130+ facilities who can show up and help. This is everything from sending food and needed supplies that are limited because of supply lines, deploying staff to physically assist an impacted facility with recovery, and even helping evacuate animals and house them until it’s safe for them to return. And it’s really important that it’s other zoos doing this work: if you’ve got to go chainsaw fallen trees out of an alligator habitat, you need people who know how to work safely around alligators! It’s a type of response work that other major disaster organizations don’t really do, because they don’t have the expertise with the animals or the needs of the industry.

ZDR3 can always use support, but, right now, they’re in the middle of a response in Guam where financial support is more necessary than normal. Guam got hit by the Super Typhoon Mawar on May 25th, and it absolutely ravaged the zoo there. It’s a small facility, with mostly geriatric, disabled, and unreleasable animals living there. A USDA representative asked ZDR3 if they’d be able to assist. The director flew out to assess the site and help as much as she could, but the thing is, because Guam is an island, they can’t ask teams from other facilities to deploy there the way the can with facilities in the continental United States. Instead the zoo is having to purchase all the supplies they need for recovery - and could really use assistance. There’s an Amazon wishlist set up with the tools and supplies they need, as well as a DonorBox link for direct donations (which go directly to the zoo, not ZDR3). If you want a tangible way to contribute to the immediate welfare of zoo animals and function of a facility, this a fantastic way to do it.

#zoo animal welfare #donations request #support request #zdr3 #disaster response #zoos #one of the things I really like about ZDR3 is that they don’t play politics #it doesn’t matter who you are or if you’re accredited they’ll help you out all the same

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fluorescentbalaclava · 8 months ago

Text

training season's over

chapter 1: Ground Zero

Summary:

After 5 years of service in KorTac, they consider you capable enough to hold yourself in solo missions. Money and freedom, what else could you ask for? But what feels like a good start, progressively starts to backfire.

TF141/female reader, Konig/female reader

spy reader, forced bonding, slow burn, slow build, militar inaccuracies, suggestive language, language, canon typical violence

This is an introductory chapter. Mandatory mention that English isn't my first language so apologies in advance. Hope you enjoy!

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Movies were absolutely right in one thing, one of the big parts in the life of a spy consisted in being shoved into small spaces for a bit too much time, mostly air vents. A little fact they forgot to add, is how fucking boring it could be while you waited for the for the moment to act.

They are late. You thought as you rested your head against the wall of the same air vent you’ve been in for the last forty-six minutes.

1900 – You were dropped in a nearby building by a car without a number plate, property of KorTac.

1920 - You’ve managed to catch a maintenance man smoking a cigarette on his break, successfully making him nap with an always handy syringe of tranquilizer, stealing his card, as well as his overall and cap, using it to sneak inside the building. Once you got inside, you saw the maintenance cart, and you used it to hide your tool bag. The way up wasn’t too complicated, as everyone seemed to respect the uniform, probably assuming something just needed to be fixed, and since you had the maintenance key card, you didn’t have to ask for permission to get through doors.

1945 – You were already on the roof, after what felt like a life climbing stairs to avoid most of the cameras, you discarded the uniform, and got everything needed from your bag before letting it hang from your back. You walked to the edge of the roof, big fall but not a big gap between buildings, you knew you could make the jump, but before that, you pressed the comm.

“Sage to Control, how copy?” You said quietly, while taking a moment while you wait to admire the view of the city. Perfect October day, the night already fell, the cold breeze hit your face, making you lift your face mask, only leaving your eyes uncovered. The streets beneath were full of traffic, full of lights, full of life.

“Control to Sage, send traffic.” Your station chief said through the comm, reminding you that you were here for work, not to admire the view.

“I’m in my first position, everything peachy so far. Remind me to check on the tied-up janitor in the alleyway on my way back”.

“For now, just try to get in there without a fuss. Remember---”

“I know, no execution authority, don’t get caught, recovery mission only. Get the intel without the 141 noticing, got it. I’m not a rookie anymore, remember? Playing on the big leagues now” You said with a hint of amusement, and the man behind the comm could hear the smile on your voice, which made him sigh.

“Listen, Sage, I know the first solo mission sounds exciting, but König was right to be worried when we left. The 141 is a dangerous unit, you must avoid contact by any means necessary…I don’t even know why they’re sending you alone in this, I think it’s a bit irrespon---”

“---sible to send a rookie? Don’t worry, I am not planning on getting caught. And for your information, I am being sent because all the other spies from the force are already in other missions, and I’m the only one left that fits into an air vent…but honestly, it’ll be fine, and if not, please bury me with my Sylvanian Families collection.” You said as you were eyeing the jumping distance, letting out a grunt as you throw your tool bag, which landed in the roof of the other building. “141 is supposed to be here at 2030 according to the intel, right? I should get going to get in position. I will listen but I will have to cut contact from my end, update me on the status”.

“You have a Sylvanian Families collection?” The voice now sounded confused on the other side of the frequency.

“Unimportant now. Update me on the status of the guests every 15 minutes. Over” You said before cutting communication on your side.

You took a few steps back, before running to the edge and jumping, landing on your feet in the next roof, which made you feel a small sense of pride, and it was a shame no one was there to witness your dexterity skills

The briefing for this mission made it very clear that this was a very important one, hour after hour spent studying the blueprint of the building, the map of the air system, and going through multiple contingency plans for every scenario that could happen. Alone, back in your bunk bed, you felt that the blueprint was already burned into your eyelids. Not only that, but four manila folders were often read back-to-back by you, and four names were constantly in your head.

Price.

Ghost.

Soap.

Gaz.

The folders contained multiple transcriptions of some of their communications, information of previous deployments, and some of their personal data. You also got some files on your work laptop containing security videos obtained of them. They were not only clearly bigger than you, but their form didn’t stop them from being able to be sneaky and fast. If they found you around, for sure you were dead.

From the roof, you went down an air vent with the help of a rope, until you reached a horizontal vent, which allowed you to start crawling. It was easy from here, forward, then left, then right, and straight until you reached the vent over two hallways in the shape of a T, and in the hall at the side there was a large window with view to the city, where the 141 was supposed to arrive any minute now. The hall was empty, as the armed guards were outside, protecting the three doors that connected the main building to the halls, and there it was, a heavy metal door that led to the office when the needed intel was. Some files about imports and exports, you weren’t really given much information about them, only their label to be able to identify them and the order to burn the rest of the papers.

Going down the air vent to the office wasn’t an option, as it would trigger the security system, the only way was to get in from the front with the keycard but get it from the guards directly would get the attention of the rest of them, going against the orders of being subtle. You had to wait for the 141, and use them as a distraction, knock the guard, steal the keycard, create further distractions, steal the files and leave a charge of explosives in the office. Easy-peasy.

“Control to Sage. They were dropped by a helo on the top of the building. Get ready to act. Over” The words snapped you out of your boredom, and you already felt your body pumping adrenaline to get you ready to move.

Soon enough, a loud crash of glass broke the silence, followed by three loud stomps on the floor, making the shattered glass on the floor crack underneath their boots. They seemed even bigger in person but given their entrance they were stealthier in the recorded footage.

“Bravo 0-7 to Watcher-1. We are in position, waiting for contact” A husky voice said, and you recognized the man as Ghost, which wasn’t hard considering he was wearing the same skull mask as in the files. The three men had their arms ready, and you heard the sound of the keycard granting access, soon followed by gunshots. The first ones to go down were the guards of the hall that was beneath you, the two dead bodies falling into the ground. But the group didn’t have a rest as guards started shooting from the other doors, and from the fallen guards corpses you could hear how they others were calling for back ups through the comms.

Shit. Be fast.

You opened the vent grid, the sound of shooting covering the sounds of metal, and taking advantage of the situation, you threw a smoke grenade at their feet.

“Fuck!” Another voice said as smoke starting to cloud the vision of a part of the hall. You quickly dropped from the air vent, your feet barely making any sound against the ground, and you crouched, stealing the key card from the dead guard, and quickly making your way to the office, not before throwing another smoke grenade at them to keep them busy.

The key card granted you access, deactivating the security system, and you quickly entered the empty office, hearing some coughing from the outside, and more shooting and screaming that got muffled as soon as you closed the door. You quickly put a chair on the door, in case they would try to get in, it would grant you some more minutes.

You searched through the office, not bothering to be tidy, just dropping the papers on the floor…and then you found the file, a twinkle of excitement appeared in your eyes as you put the folder in your mouth, stepping over the desk and taking from your bag a little box of tools. You took out a screwdriver, and tried to rapidly, but calmly, unscrew the grid of the air vent. Your eyes widened when you heard a loud “Clear!” from down the hallway, followed by heavy footsteps. You managed to make the grid fell, and you swiftly climbed into it. Once up there, you threw the explosives down the office with a detonator, which grant you three minutes to crawl your way out of the air vent. As you passed by, you could see the task force going through the corpses to find a keycard.

“Found one, LT” You heard underneath you, as one of them stood up, holding a key card. Mohawk = Soap, you thought to yourself.

“Wait, you hear that?” Another one says. Pretty boy = Gaz.

You stopped on your tracks, not even breathing. Before you heard a gasp for air coming from a guard, followed by a shot.

“Found it” Ghost answered.

You felt relief flooding your body, but you couldn’t enjoy your small victory properly as the sound of the explosion left your ears ringing. A heavy warmth flooded the air vent, and under you, the sound of glass, grunts and three heavy bodies falling onto the ground. Your ears were still ringing, the heat was slowly becoming unbearable, and the smell of smoke flooded the narrow space as you tried to crawl faster through it.

As you reached the vertical vent, you used your ascender and quickly got to the top. You gasped for air as you felt the cold autumn breeze on your face. As your eyes adjusted to the night, you saw the ropes and some other equipment the 141 left behind them. It wasn’t time to rest yet, as you took the file out of your mouth, saving it to your bag, before throwing it across the gap and into the roof you came from. Soon enough, you followed after, jumping across the gap between both buildings.

Your fall wasn’t as graceful as the first, accidentally missing a step and landing on your knees with a grunt. But you let yourself fall on your back against the concrete. Your face felt like it was burning, the breeze was pleasant against your flushed skin, your clothes and hair reeking of smoke, but once again oxygen was filling your lungs. As you catch your breath, you pressed your comm.

“Sage to Control. How copy?” You asked in a low voice, panting.

“Control to Sage. Are you okay?” The voice quickly answered.

“Yeah, yeah, got the intel. I’m in one piece. Ready for extraction, a shower, and a nap”

“Copy, Sage. Picking you up on the alley, remember to untie the handy man”.

Back in the base the mission was considered so successful that for the next few months your rank went from sergeant to "Task Force 141 shadow" as the first mission and your survival rate apparently meant that you were the first choice for any mission that involved them. They considered the indirect approach worked better than directly engaging in combat against them, which left casualties between the KorTac ranks in the past.

Every mission for intel they had, you were behind them, lurking in the shadows, waiting for them to just start shooting to use the confrontation as a distraction to get to the target first. It was funny to hear them frustrated and annoyed over the comms when they realized that once more, they lost the intel. And then it's fate was obvious once KorTac put it on the market, selling it to the best bidder, or sometimes even using it to complete their own missions.

"You have to be careful, maus. I know you think it's fun, but they're dangerous, like us" You found cute when König used pet names. It was truly amazing how such a unit of a man was capable of being soft at the same time, ever since you started working there under his command until now.

But lately you didn't feel like a mouse, you felt like a hyena or a vulture, just scavenging while the bigger predators weren't looking.

"It's alright, don't worry, bud. I promise you I'm being as careful as I've always been" You said in a reassuring tone, a soft smile on your lips, and you squeezed his arm as he was sitting across you on the common room, a hot tea brewing in front of you.

"That's why I'm worried" König had an unsure look, under his sniper hood, his eyes fixated on your mug, rather than you. And you could tell he was anxious by the way he was shaking his leg. "Just don't leave any tracks, ja?"

What you weren't going to admit to him, is that you were growing slightly fond of the task force you so dutifully followed around. During these months you learned plenty of things about them, just by staying hidden and listening, like Ghost's dad jokes, Gaz unluckiness with helicopters, Soap's preference to play as a goalkeeper while playing football.

You blamed the growing one-sided familiarity by the fact that your new assignments made you spend lots of hours alone, lurking, stalking, in position ready to strike the moment things unfold. Back in base, and since you started to work alone, it was only in rare occasions you were at the same time as your old unit, the opportunities to catch up with them and being social becoming scarce.

And they seemed to be so close, so used to each other, so comfortable to even use their names sometimes. You had to admit you weren't used to that. You didn't even know König actual name let alone his face, and even if other members were more open about their names, their backgrounds were still vague. Not that you were an open book, as you only went by your callsign, your real name a secret between your contractors and you. But back in KorTac the less you knew, the better. It's probably for the best, anyway. Another very possible reason for your newfound fondness was the fact that after every successful mission came a very generous check. In fact, so generous that it was enough, plus your savings, to purchase a flat. Not too fancy, but cozy and big enough for you and your things, and something to call your own as well.

Moving in was tedious, lots of boxes and newspapers wrapped around the fragile stuff, and you were too tired from work to really unpack everything, leaving only the necessary items out. You definitely needed to have dinner and have a nocturnal nap before you keep on unpacking stuff, and the other things weren't as urgent. Besides, it would be a few weeks before your next mission, so you had plenty of time to enjoy settling down in your new home and looking around the neighbourhood. For now, you could really use some food, and at this hour you certainly weren't going to cook. You grabbed your jacket and went down the street.

Thankfully, there was a Chinese place in a five-minute walk. There were lots of people around, going to pubs, as it was a bit of a commercial area. It was nice, some fairy lights, some decorations, people sharing drinks, laughing, you could get used to walking around here. You ordered a serve of chow mein and three spring rolls, got it in a bag and made your way back to your flat.

The building you lived in now was a bit old, so you had a fob for the main entrance and a key for your flat. The door creaked a bit when you opened it, and you closed it behind you, but as you turned around you bumped into something that felt almost like colliding against a brick wall, you turned around and you saw some hands inside a mailbox.

"So sorry, si---" You said looking up and as soon as your eyes focused on the figure you felt how your face went pale, and how all the blood of your body went to your legs, your mind screaming you to flee.

Black eyes stared back at you, and that was the only part you could see, as the rest of the face was covered by a balaclava with a skull print on it. Fuck...

"Staring is rude" That husky voice you were so used to hearing through a comm sounded so clear, and the grip on the takeaway bag tightened.

The fuck is Ghost doing here.

"I-I..." You had to clear your throat, to manage any words out. "Sorry, I'm usually more polite, you just...caught me off guard."

"Haven't seen you here before" He lives here?! No way. This is a trap.

"Moved in this morning" You answered as flatly as you could.

"Ah" He said in an uninterested tone, as he went back to check the mail.

You couldn't help but stare up at him, completely dumbfounded. He was wearing a hoodie covering his head, blank pants, and heavy boots. Why isn't he attacking me? Does he know who I am? What the fuck is this? Jesus, I could throw up.

"Can I help you with something?" He answered in the same tone, not bothering to look back at you a second time.

"You live here?"

"Third floor" He answered plainly.

"Ah" Does he genuinely just lives here? No way, they're setting me up. "Why check the mail at night?"

"Just arrived" He answered as he broke one of the envelopes and checked it's contents. Light bill, and you heard him cursing under his breath.

He is so much taller up close.

"Right…alright, see you around…" You said before quickly going up the stairs, so taken aback that you completely forgot about the elevator.

You arrived to your flat, a bit agitated, and closed the door with the lock behind you. And added a chair under the doorknob, for good measure.

You left the food on the table, and quickly went to grab one of your guns. A SIG Sauer P320, and you checked every room, not that there were many rooms to check. The bedroom, the living-dining room, and the bathroom. Both for people and for cameras or mics, but everything looked normal, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing out of place. Lock the windows just in case.

After your thorough search, you sat at your dinner table, left the gun next to you, before beginning to unpack your food. You ate as your eyes were fixated on the door, waiting for someone to come in shooting, for a team, for a raid, anything.

0000 – No contact.

0100 – No contact.

0200 – Still no contact.

0300 – Fuck, I’m tired.

Not today, it seems...fuck, this isn't a coincidence, out of all the buildings in this fucking island he lives here? No bloody way. They know.

next: chapter two "charlie foxtrot"

if you like it leave me some kudos or suggestions on ao3! <3

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stargirlygirl · 5 days ago

Text

Upgrade epilogue

Pro Hero Midoriya Izuku x fem!reader

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Epilogue

Summary: Izuku proposes to you after everything you two have been through this year.

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: I hope you don't mind the ring I picked *wink*

------------₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊------------

You and Izuku were sitting on the couch in your cosy apartment. It’s been almost nine months since the quirk breeding rescue incident, and Izuku’s recovery has been swift. He’s taking time off from being a pro hero whilst adjusting to his cybernetic arm. That was part of it. Another part was that he wanted to spend some time training One For All. And the final part was that he wanted to spend some quality time with you. Which was hard because you were still working full-time as a biomed engineer.

His cybernetic arm was currently resting on your lap. The compartment beneath his inner wrist was popped open, and you were adjusting the screws with a screw driver, magnifying goggles on giving you big, adorable [e/c] eyes. He could feel his heart racing from how cute and talented his girlfriend was. He watched quietly, other hand resting on your knees that were curled up beneath you. He caressed the soft flesh with the rough pad of his thumb.

You hummed the beat of that song that had been stuck in your head for days as you worked away. Bobbing your head unconsciously and sucking in your cheeks (making ozempy face) when the screw wouldn’t screw or nut refused to nut (you are most welcome for that btw). You were so focused that you didn’t notice Izuku beginning to blush.

The truth is, he’s been waiting for this moment for months. Not this specific moment. I mean, you’ve done maintenance checks on his arm many times since it was attached. No. The moment I’m talking about is the moment he intended to propose you. Which was this moment, right now.

He just couldn’t wait any longer. Man had to wife you up this instant.

He took his right hand off of your knee, rubbing the back of his neck with it as he sighed quietly. You were furrowing your brows, completely oblivious, at a particularly difficult screw to unscrew. Izuku was tempted to smooth the lines with his thumb, but stopped short, hand ghosting your brows. What was he doing? Overthinking every little thing?

He cleared his throat reflexively. The silence draws on. Comfortable for one person and rather tense for the other. Once you’re finished screwing the compartment back, his cybernetic arm roaring and ready to go, you sit back and sigh happily. You use one hand to drag the heavy goggles off of your face, which unfortunately (and expectantly) leaves your [h/c] locks sticking up in a few places. Izuku laughs nervously, running his fingers through your hair much to your delight. You smile up at him lazily. Once he stops, you get up off of the sofa, grabbing your tools from the cushions and low coffee table.

His eyes dip to your cleavage mindlessly as you lean over to grab one of the smaller screw drivers that’s gotten squished into the cushion creases next to his thigh. He looks up and away, blushing, once realising what he’s done (which you have absolutely no idea of or problem with). He clears his throat again, hand scratching an existent-non-existent itch on his cybernetic arm.

Once you leave the lounge room to put your tools away in your bag, Izuku lets out a frustrated sigh he’s been holding in. He stands up, shaking his hands nervously and watching your figure with anxiety as you re-enter the room. You’re still oblivious to his nerves, too caught up in thinking about what you were going to make for dinner that night. You two had ran out of white radish, a staple in your household, so you were thinking of what other veg you were going to have. Probably steamed broccoli or—

“Honey.” You look at Izuku, like, really look at him, and notice how on edge he seems. Shifting from one foot to the other, left hand on the back of his neck, looking at you then away from you and then back at you.

You step towards him, taking his right hand in yours, interlacing your hands so your palms press together. “What’s up? You seem tense.” Your soft lips stretch into an even softer smile as you try to ease his nerves. He just shakes his head, looking down momentarily before meeting your gaze once more.

What he does next leaves your eyes popping out of your skull and mouth half open in shock. He gets down on one knee and cups both of your hands with his much larger ones. You just stare at him, blinking slowly, trying to process what’s going on — if this is going on — when he starts, “Honey, I love you. I love you more than you’ll ever know. You’ve been there for me during the hardest times. You’ve supported me and given me hope even when I felt hopeless.”

He takes a deep breath in, resolve clear in his eyes. He takes out a navy velvet ring box from the pocket of his sweatpants. You watch intently as he opens it, placing the box in your hand. Oh my gosh, is he about to-to…?

“[Y/n]-chan, I love you and I want to be your husband. Will you…” He licks his lips, feeling their sudden dryness. Your eyes follow the movement. He lets out another breath, “Will you marry me?”

You don’t say anything for a few seconds as you try to process if this is actually real and not a dream. “M-marry you?” You stutter. You see his resolve shatter a little as he nods, biting his lip. You breathe out, a smile forming on your face. “Of course, I’ll marry you Izu-chan!”

Grinning wide like you are, he pulls the engagement ring from the box and slips it onto your ring finger. It fits perfectly. You admire the ring. It’s stunning! Dainty silver band with a shining rectangle cut emerald. You’re actually obsessed with his choice as it really suits you and you love how the emerald is green like his features.

He wraps your smaller frame in a tight embrace. You start crying from the sheer joy of this moment. You’re so happy right now. Nothing can describe how good this feels. He rubs your back in circles, gently soothing you.

You two stay like that, whispering “I love you’s” to each other as you both process this emotional high. After a few minutes, you start giggling and pull back, cupping his cheeks with your hands. You take the side of your lower lip in-between your teeth, still grinning. It releases, the flesh bouncing back perfectly supple. “I love you so much, Izu-chan.” You pull his face closer to yours, bringing your forehead to his. He hums, “I love you, honey. Forever.”

You don’t think you can handle anymore of the teeth-rotting sweet things he’ll say to you for the rest of the night, so you press your lips to his. He eagerly responds, head angling with yours and hands moving so his right grips your upper back and left your waist. You smile into this kiss, unable to stop, knowing that you’ll be Mrs Midoriya soon. And that your pookie bear will be your pookie and only your pookie for as long as possible.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #established relationship #bnha midoriya #fem!reader #izuku midoriya #x female reader #izuku proposes #izuku x y/n #izuku x reader #izuku fluff

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greenhappyseed · 6 months ago

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did... shiggy just died i-. idk what to feel. So he is not coming bach huh..... :(. OFA is gone too....

I don’t know what to feel either, anon. We really have to wait and see what comes next. But I do think Horikoshi is trying to say something about rebirth, so the rest of this post is going to be something like an elegy for the Tomura Shigaraki we knew (and what that can mean for Izuku): Why rebirth? Why is Tomura doomed? Tomura’s entire existence was tainted by AFO. Tomura can change his name, change his hair color, kill the AFO vestige, etc., but it’s impossible for him to escape AFO. How society would view him or his “redemption” is irrelevant; it’s that HE now knows his entire life, from conception onwards, was never his own. For Tomura, a happy ending is being completely free from AFO, deciding things fully for himself, and knowing his decisions are his own. It’s not a happy ending to remove Tenko from Tomura’s origin trauma only to plunge him into Twice’s “am I really me” trauma.

What AFO’s final, awful reveal showed is that even if Tomura Shigaraki became Tenko Shimura again, it’s not a rebirth. The very first cells of “Tenko Shimura’s” being were stained by AFO since AFO manipulated Kotaro into conceiving Tenko. Tenko’s parents and childhood friends were totally under AFO’s thumb. “Tenko” has no path to freedom; he has to be rebuilt from ash, one way or another.

For my own aesthetic tastes, I would very much prefer for Tenko to have agency over this. If he was going to disintegrate, I’d prefer it to be a clear choice — like Katsuki and Toshinori choosing moves that brought them to the brink of death. I don’t like the idea that Tenko had no choice in life or death, and that disintegrating is just another indignity that AFO manipulated him into. But maybe his story was always destined to be a tragedy, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

Of course, there are ways that the spirit/consciousness of Tenko Shimura could return in a new body, and many of them do have Tenko participating actively in the process:

Phoenix quirk — Tomura disintegrates to ash so Tenko can choose to be reborn free of AFO’s distortions. (Maybe fandom was right about this theory but wrong that the phoenix was Dabi!)

Overhaul or quirk awakening - It’s possible for Overhaul (who is very much still alive and in possession of his quirk factor) to reverse the disintegration. It’s also possible that Tenko can do it himself (or that Tenko gave Izuku a quirk to do it) since Decay is half of Overhaul. Personally I don’t believe this is likely because I think Decay disappeared when AFO took control of Tomura this final time? Unclear, the end got really rushed and messy on these details for me, but if Decay is gone then it’s hard for it to “awaken.”

Rewind - The MHA standby ever since Eri’s introduction. She doesn’t have her horn anymore, so it seems unlikely, but she still has her quirk factor. The thing here is Tenko’s agency and if he would want to be rewound back to the body that AFO built for him.

All For One - Yes, Tomura could have given Izuku a quirk when they touched. What if it’s actually…All For One? Yoichi said the AFO quirk could have been the kindest in the world…and Izuku did promise to “bring it all back”… so if Tomura’s parting gift was to give the raw All For One power to Izuku, then Izuku could Overhaul and Rewind his way into healing everyone. He could borrow any quirk needed (Recovery Girl? Erasure?) use it as a tool, and then give it back because of course Izuku wouldn’t keep a stockpile for himself (absent being told he could keep a quirk). FWIW, I’d be HIGHLY amused if this happens, because it sounds straight out of a DFO fic. :)

Aura Might/OFA shenanigans - The “heroic fire” of OFA has seemingly gone out before, only to re-emerge both in the same person and in other people. I could see Tenko emerging from this fire.

Wishing energy that twists fate - Izuku and All Might both lived when they were “supposed” to die, so it could happen for Tenko too.

However, Tenko returning in a physical, corporeal form is not the only kind of rebirth that can complete his arc. It pains me SO MUCH to say this, but there’s a real chance his body doesn’t come back. Tomura fought for someone to see what was swept under the rug and understand that hero society isn’t perfect. He wanted a hero who would save him and imperfect humans like him, and he got that someone in Izuku. (He actually got it in Nana too, because of Izuku.)

Izuku Midoriya taking Tenko’s message deep into his heart and influencing all the people watching him to care more about the misfits and “villains” that pro heroes can’t help is a form of giving Tenko a new life. In the same way that the vestiges extended their power decades beyond physical death, and the same way that Shirakumo’s heroic heart survived his death and Nomu-fication, Izuku can keep Tenko’s spirit alive long after his body died. Maybe Tenko’s spirit is a new type of “heroic fire,” and it’s up to Izuku to keep those embers burning. It’s all in Izuku’s rewound, notably non-decayed hands.

Looking at it with this framing, you can also say Izuku gets his win AND save. Because even if Izuku couldn’t save Tenko’s physical body — and how could he if Tenko was doomed before either of them were born? — choosing to carry on Tenko’s legacy IS saving everything he could of that crying boy. It’s also far more immediate and tangible for Izuku to take on Tenko’s legacy rather than being unwittingly thrown into the 200 year old OFA-AFO fight. There’s something so poignant and human about an ending with quirkless Izuku humbly fighting for what Tenko believed in compared to celebrity #1 Billboard ranked hero Izuku with OFA. After all, Tenko and Izuku are 2 sides of a coin. Tenko could have had Izuku’s role in another life if OFA kept passing in the Shimura family.

Even the fact that Izuku never told anyone outside of Ochako, Katsuki, and All Might that he wanted to save Tenko works in Izuku’s favor. Izuku can help the whole world become the people Tenko challenged them to be and they’ll never know they’re actually fulfilling the dreams of a villain. (‘Cuz they’d be too biased to do it otherwise.) Finally, you know all the complaints that Izuku’s character has been stagnant in MHA’s third act? That he hasn’t really been challenged in his ideals? Maybe that hasn’t happened yet because it’s just starting NOW.

After all, Toshinori modeled “All Might” after Nana’s ideals, and she wasn’t known to the population at large. Izuku could follow their footsteps by modeling his hero career after Tenko’s ideals. We’d have multiple generations of Shimuras posthumously changing society for the bettter.

Look, I understand how emotions are running high. I’ve loved this series for years and I cried reading this chapter. I personally don’t love it if Tenko is gone, even though I can make narrative sense of it. It’s a tragic and bitter-barely-sweet ending for poor Tenko, whose very dreams of being a hero were engineered to sow division in his family and break his psyche instead of lift him up.

But none of us will know what it all means for a few more chapters. We could still have several more chapters before we get Tenko’s real finale. It’s nearing the end, but it’s not THE end yet. In the meantime, take care of yourselves and as always, curate your fandom spaces lovingly.

#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha 423 #mha 423 #tomura shigaraki #Tenko shimura #Elegy for Tomura Shigaraki #mha meta #bnha meta #Izuku midoriya #Deku #Phoenix quirk #AFO #all for one

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fountainpenguin · 4 months ago

Text

☁️ Cloudlands AU ☁️

Fairly OddParents

A serious deep-dive into FOP's worldbuilding, with a focus on sewing seemingly conflicting canon together to create consistent lore. Heavy emphasis on non-human biology and complex magical cultures.

#ridwork guides

What Is Cloudlands AU?

An FOP series ft. detailed lore and character relationships. The goal is fanfics that expand on the show's canon without conflicting it if at all possible, even if that means wild explanations.

Why does Crocker's portal to Fairy World have a completely new design every time it appears? Who's that anti-fairy kid Jorgen claims H.P. and Anti-Cosmo raised together? What's up with the Sacred Silver Pencil Sharpener of Canada? And are you telling me Cosmo and Wanda were assigned as godparents to Erg 40,000 years before they were married, presumably while Wanda and Juandissimo were dating? What was that like? We talk about it all!

A carefully considered magic system does a lot of heavy lifting. ❤️

AO3 Series: 130 Station, Rainbow Train, and Other Arcs

FOP blog tag - #FAIRIES!

Tone

Mostly drama with fluff and angst mixed in.

Characters

Mainly Pixies (H.P. & Sanderson), Anti-Fairies (Anti-Cosmo, Anti-Wanda, Foop), & the late modern kids (Poof, Goldie, Goldie's counterpart Anti-Marigold).

Cosmo, Wanda, Timmy, Chloe, and other humans (such as Denzel Crocker, Kevin Crocker, Gary, Betty, and Ed Leadly) also have arcs and messy backstories.

Ships

Canon-compliant, but expanded on. Ex:

- Anti-Cosmo married his childhood betrothed while Anti-Wanda was dating Anti-Juandissimo.

- H.P. and several OCs across his long life. Those romances go... great!

- Shout-out to Mark/Vicky, Poof/Goldie, Foop/Anti-Marigold, Foop/Anti-Coriander, Timmy/Molly & Chloe/Kevin (My beloveds...)

- Also worth mentioning that I treat Wanda/Juandissimo as a sincere and pleasant part of their backstories. They went their separate ways, but had a non-abusive dating life. They were friends :)

- Sanderson has a ton of will o' the wisp dating life issues, but we don't have time to unpack that right now.

Setting

Most works take place in the cloudlands, which include Fairy World, Anti-Fairy World, and Pixie World. Some works takes place in Dimmsdale. Rarely works take place elsewhere, such as alien planets or Unwish Island.

Is It For Me?

This AU is highly detailed. It clings to canon to the point of being ridiculous. It can be tough to get into due to long works and a heavy focus on less popular characters (such as Pixies), but there's a lot to read.

This AU focuses more on magical beings in the supporting cast than it does the main cast, but there are still notable pieces about the mains.

For a breakdown of detailed lore, see the Orange Train post

Major Themes

Growing up, making mistakes, pushing through hard times, recovery, revenge, forgiveness, growth, change, and letting go.

Plot Highlights

- Origin of the Pixies - A young H.P. contracts the real-world bacteria Wolbachia pipientis, which causes wasps to reproduce asexually. Now he's caring for an exponentially increasing amount of pixies he never wanted in the first place, on top of drama like his wife accusing him of cheating and him being kidnapped by Cupid's family because he's the holotype of a brand new species.

- Frayed Knots - Anti-Cosmo, raised in the anti-fairy baby ban era, experiments with Anti-Fairy biology in the hopes he'll discover a loophole to achieve his dream of being a father. In doing so, he finds a breakthrough that could possibly flip biology around so Anti-Fairies are the hosts and Fairies are their reflective counterparts bound to their whims... and he becomes obsessed with fathering a generation whose biology is exactly that.

- 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash - Happy Peppy Gary and Betty were raised as Pixie tools since they were 10. At age 18, Betty opts to wipe her magical memories, cut ties with Gary, and move to Brightburg. Gary, blindsided and desperate, throws himself down a trainwreck of bad decisions in an attempt to retrieve her memories from Fairy World. Everybody clap for him. (And other stories.)

- Come What May - Kevin Crocker spends the spring with an uncle and grandmother he's never met. Ghosts, the popular kids, an anti-fairy, and his uncle's talking cat make it their personal mission to bother him. It's a good thing he's dead inside.

Ongoing?

This long-term passion project began in March 2016. It is ongoing with intent to wrap up the existing projects in the next several years. Updates tend to come in bursts with breaks in between.

- Want AO3 emails? Subscribing to both the Rainbow Train & 130 Station series will cover everything in Cloudlands AU.

- Or, subscribe to specific plot arcs. Find the list HERE.

Warnings, notes, and explanations below so readers can learn more about this AU. Proceed with caution. Don't like? Don't read.

- There are abused children, neglectful adults, and non-human characters in fanfics for the show about abused children, neglectful adults, and non-human characters?? Scandalous. (Seriously though, this one's a doozy)

👀 Take a Peek

New here? You might like to start with these:

- "Mama's Boy" (G - 3000 words) - A back-and-forth comparison of Cosmo's upbringing against Anti-Cosmo's. Quick and easy read, and definitely a fan-favorite.

- "Make You Proud" (G - 4700 words) - Anti-Wanda is excited that she won a gold medal at the Fairy World Games. She tries to get Anti-Cosmo's attention while he's distracted with the event. Fluffy, silly character study.

- "Step Back" (G - 5600 words) - Foop gets overwhelmed at a party with his extended family. A brief glimpse into Anti-Fairy World and who Foop is shaping up to be as a person. Foop is my favorite to write character studies for and this is an oldie, but a goodie.

- "Solo" (T - 6000 words) - A young pixie answers phones as part of his coming of age trial. Things go awry when Gary and Betty call for help from Florida and the inexperienced pixie is at a loss about how to get them back to California. Takes place during the S4 episode "Baby Face." Huge personal favorite of mine; this is where plot really kicks off. Good introduction to the drama you can expect in a lot of my work.

- "Sentry" (G - 6000 words) - The start of a 3-part arc about Poof, Foop, and their pixie classmate (Finley) at boarding school before transitioning to spring break. The arc starts with Poof getting in trouble for fighting, then moves to Poof reflecting while on the bus, then moves to the three kids spending time with their grandparents.

- Very soft drama with some fluff; a good taste without getting overwhelmed. Also, this arc is more recent than the pieces above, which were posted in 2016. - Takes place at the end of 130 Prompts Arc 2, so it does contain very minor plot spoilers.

Start Reading

Recommended ways to get into the full AU

🌄 First Written - Baby, You're a Rich Man

H.P. and Sanderson got their hands on a baby clown. Now they just have to get him safely back to Pixie World when they've been deprived of magic and damaged their truck.

- Based on the Season 4 episode "School's Out! The Musical" - An introduction to magic basics, biology, and world lore through Sanderson's eyes. - Throws readers directly into the thick of things with Sanderson's meandering thoughts and extremely unhealthy fixation on H.P. and/or taking over as Head Pixie someday

🗑️ 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash

The 130 Prompts project is a series of one-shots that explores my FOP character ideas and worldbuilding.

- "Excitement" (G - 7500 words) - The first piece written for my series 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash. It's about the Pixies traumatizing 10-year-old Gary and Betty at an amusement park so they'll cling to safety in the future. From here, you can read the 130 Prompts series in recommended order if you like.

If you're new to my worldbuilding, I recommend reading the prompts in the suggested order instead of chronological order. This way, you'll be given worldbuilding info in order instead of jumping to a piece where that info is assumed.

📅 Chronological Start - "First Things First"

A 10k-word piece (G-rated) about nature spirit OCs, featuring cameos of canon characters like Mother Nature, Father Time, and the Grim Reaper. This piece sets up lore for the Fairy zodiac, which plays a role in Frayed Knots especially.

- Each piece in the 130 Prompts series has Previous and Next links so you can either read in recommended order or you can follow the chronology from start to end. - Reading chronologically is not recommended unless you're already familiar with the worldbuilding - Full timeline chronology (Entire Cloudlands AU)

🗺️ Worldbuilding - So, You're Studying the Cloudlands...

A collection of worldbuilding and meta essays covering subjects like biology, culture, history, holidays, magic, maps, and a handbook on new godkid assignments.

You may also like my @riddledeep blog, where I first posted this meta. I'm currently moving things to the guide linked above. This way, the content is backed up and accessible to those who don't use Tumblr. Posts will remain on the blog.

📋 AU Notes & Warnings

Author writes villain encounters & villain backstories about complex non-human societies and does not inherently condone any viewpoints presented by characters or the societies they live in.

- This series focuses heavily on Pixies, Anti-Fairies, and cloudland or Fae culture. There is less focus on human godchildren or the main characters in the show (like Timmy, Cosmo and Wanda).

- This series is built so that many intricate storylines and worldbuilding elements weave together. There's no shame in skipping pieces you don't want to read, but you may miss plot or worldbuilding details important to the larger story. It can be intimidating to get into such a big project.

- This series does have fluff, but relies on drama. Content may be upsetting, and the order you read things may limit the chance for mental breaks.

- Lots of drama and complicated things going on. I recently changed the rating of my longfics to Not Rated & Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings due to the sheer variety of things, such as:

- Fantastic racism (Fairies, Anti-Fairies, Pixies, genies, and others disliking each other)

-> Show canon heavily implies these races have conflict. Jorgen faced no pushback for calling Norm a "filthy genie" on international TV. Jorgen and others refer to Pixies with rude terms such as "cone-headed freaks", etc.

- Social ladder/caste system (Cupid's ancestors organized fae in a list many generations ago to help Fairies find species with heat cycles that overlapped theirs, but the system has been corrupted into legal discrimination)

- Biologically assigned status (Male Fairies who eat a lot of jelly at a young age will develop into gynes: big, tough, freckled Fairies who fight with each other to defend their turf and drone companions. Think how H.P. and Big Daddy have unique body shapes compared to the other Fairies. They're gynes!)

- Some young bees are fed royal jelly so they develop into queens. The name for these "princesses" is gynes, so I yoinked that

- Most of the pixies are drones, apart from a few gynes. Vice President Longwood is due to succeed H.P. as Head Pixie someday, which Sanderson (a drone) absolutely despises.

- Fairies lick each other in greeting to spread pheromones, mirroring a hive of eusocial bees that gather near the queen to lick her

It's basically a non-sexual A/B/O dynamic, which was completely unintentional and I got a good laugh out of it when I realized what A/B/O was years ago. Convergent evolution...

- Mpreg - It's canon in the show that male Fairies give birth. I don't have anything to say about it; just that it's canon in my work too and treated with the same sincerity as everything else.

- Injury - Includes long-term injury, temporary injuries, and self-harm (Ex: Cutting your palm to stop using magic so you won't age). I don't consider this series bloody or gory. Fairies do have rainbow blood that's mentioned occasionally, but they're very elastic and heal quickly. The humans don't really have bloody moments.

- Character death - Most common when gynes fight to the death, but I've written other deaths as well, such as one where the Pixies caused a car crash on purpose because it benefited them.

-> Fairies are very resilient. Anti-Fairies regenerate if they're killed, as they can't die if their host counterpart (the Fairy) still lives. Death isn't overly common in my 'fics, but I'd feel weird warning for other things and not mentioning this one.

- Sexism (Anti-Fairy World tends to look down on women; Anti-Cosmo in particular tends to parrot the sexist beliefs he grew up with and gets annoyed at pushback)

-> Male bats often mate with many females (up to 30 sometimes). I built Anti-Fairy society around the idea that females outnumber males, but males see it as a sign that many women should be subservient to them because "it's nature." Anti-Cosmo is a product of his culture. Diversity loss! The villain has harmful views!

-> Anti-Fairies tend to be less racist and more sexist than Fairies while Fairies tend to be less sexist and more racist.

- Honey-lock - Anti-Fairies get flooded with hormones and magic 3 months after their counterparts mated. The pair are driven to locate each other, mate, and produce children in reflection of their counterparts.

-> what do you mean that's traumatizing? Dang, you guys live like this?

-> Anti-Cosmo's underlying goal in Frayed Knots is to beat the system so the next generation of Anti-Fairies will be born without the honey-lock's effects.

- Sociosexual Anti-Fairy culture - Anti-Fairies have a touch-based society themed around bonobos because I thought it would be interesting, particularly in a society where pregnancy is out of your control anyway (i.e. you can't accidentally get pregnant- It's in your counterparts' hands).

-> I do think "It feels good and we have few consequences, so why not?" is a reasonable direction for their culture

-> I'm not sure I would make that same choice years later, as it can be quite off-putting, but I'm glad I got to worldbuild with such unique building blocks. I enjoy it, but it's not for everyone.

- Infidelity (Anti-Cosmo cheats on his wife before Anti-Wanda and is implied to sometimes cheat on Anti-Wanda)

-> You're telling me the sexist sociosexual culture has infidelity and the evil villain fell into it? Bummer...

- Iris Virus - Having colored eyes in Anti-Fairy culture is played as an STD that's ceremonially passed to new individuals (because... sociosexual culture).

-> Also, what was I supposed to do with almost every Anti-Fairy having red eyes but Anti-Cosmo, Anti-Wanda, Foop, and the occasional background Anti-Fairy have other colors? Genetics? No way! 😃👍

-> RIP Anti-Cosmo. I'm sorry I find it hilarious that you cheat on all your partners and then sob like your trust's been shattered when your wife chooses to pass the virus on to secure allegiance with a valuable ally. Her body, her choice, dude.

- Child, physical, emotional, and sexual abuse (Frayed Knots in particular is not a hunky-dory story; Anti-Cosmo was often hit as a child. Some characters are cruel to Anti-Cosmo and he is cruel to others as well.

-> There are abuse themes in the Fairly OddParents 'fics?? The TV show about abused kids? what won't they think up next.

-> Cosmo's mother is doting in canon, so I portray Anti-Cosmo's mom as abusive to him.

-> Living in a sexist sociosexual culture sometimes leads to sexual abuse?? Also, belonging to a species that is magically forced to reproduce when your counterparts do even if you didn't consent is probably also sexual abuse? wild.

-> In Origin of the Pixies, H.P. was kidnapped by a will o' the wisp in his younger years and pressured into sex while she was producing milk for newborn Sanderson.

-> H.P. is emotionally distant and not the best at coping with what happened to him. He doesn't necessarily pursue help or get the best closure to this story. Don't hold the villains up as role models.

-> Foop has an alternate personality. This is canon; here's a compilation video I made of his appearances in the series (Note, this compilation includes Foop's Terrific Twos and some scenes where his alter is implied with eye highlights and a high voice to be there, but not confirmed). It's heavily implied he gained this personality due to being isolated in Abracatraz since the day he was born.

-> Cupid's family kills any children that aren't born triplets due to a sacred oath his ancestors took to uphold love all hours of the day. Tradition requires three children to split the magic by way of Morning, Afternoon, and Evening.

-> I would say it's also child abuse that Jorgen was raised with all the pressures of being Keeper of the Rules from the moment he was born, including being pressured to cut off his own wings in line with the tradition of "noble self-sacrifice."

- Young characters & implied offscreen sex - Are you seriously telling me the popular teens might've had sex when they were something like 150,000 years old and they'd been together since childhood? What on earth.

-> In Anti-Fairy society, you're recognized as a full adult at age 150,000.

-> In Fairy World, you're recognized as an adult when you moult your juvenile wings and grow your adult wings. This is generally between ages 140,000 and 180,000.

-> In Pixie World, you're recognized as a full adult at age 250,000. H.P. keeps age of majority high to encourage his pixies to establish themselves in Pixie World instead of leaving. These are non-human cultures that each have their own views.

-> Poof and Goldie have an arc about Goldie having Harm OCD over the fear that she'll fall into her will o' the wisp species stereotype and take advantage of Poof. Meanwhile, Poof has panic attacks because he's pretty sure she did, but blames himself for not being more self-aware. 😬

-> Foop gave his lover Anti-Marigold the iris virus when they were considered young adults in Anti-Fairy society (but still in school) to see if his dad would notice. Years later, he has a breakdown over the fact Anti-Cosmo never did, nor does he seem to care if his son is being reckless.

-> The sexual part of the Celebrity Kids arc is kept off-screen throughout the 130 Prompts. This arc is about the stress of being high schoolers treated like celebrities, ambassadors, royalty, and sports stars.

- Implied incest in H.P.'s family line before he was born (In the old days, it was common to marry cousins to preserve money. This custom has ended in modern times, but comes up on rare occasion)

-> It's implied this family history led to the genetic mutation that gave him wasp biology; that mutation plays a big role in his story.

-> H.P. talks about how he admires his counterpart, whom he considers a cousin. Sometimes other characters mock his admiration because of his infamous family history. It's not even important in his present-day life; it's just that my 'fics are full of jerks.

Some topics may make you uncomfortable. You don't have to read them, but that's part of fleshing out these very detailed, long-lived cultures and their messy underbellies. They're Fae. Were you expecting giddy fluff?

- Summaries for my multi-chapter FOP 'fics

- Summaries for 130 Prompts (with emoji guide)

- Want more info? Send an Ask!

You can create works based on this AU. Please cite me and/or the AU as appropriate (i.e. for things very specific to this AU). You are free to expand on ideas you've thought of thanks to my AU as a jumping off point. I'd love to reblog or link things to my AO3 works if I see them!

I write drama content with morally gray characters. Please don't portray my story events or worldbuilding out of context with intentional malice. In other words, I request you do not post things created for the specific intention of mocking me or the AU. It's not to everyone's tastes, but it's built with sincerity and it is loved <3

#ridwork guides #ridwriting #FAIRIES!#Origin of the Pixies #Frayed Knots #130 Prompts #Come What May #apparently art #Long post #We're Pixies!#Bat cube and associates #Dragonfly parents #Cloudlands AU

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arealphrooblem · 1 year ago

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A Lost Cause Part 2

Synopsis: The trusted keeper of all the Heroes' secrets, Civilian's existence is kept a tightly guarded secret itself. So how did the villain find her? And how will she withstand the attempts of his scientist to break her open and discover those secrets himself?

CW: nonconsensual drugging, medical whump, medical experimentation, needles/IV insertion, mentions wounds from torture, torture recovery, captivity

The anticipation of what might happen each time he walked into the room was almost worse than actual torture. His words ran on a loop in her head as she dozed in and out of deep sleep.

I am dying to create the tools that will break you open.

But each time he visited, he did nothing but check vitals, change bandages, survey her progress, feed her. Slowly she worked her way up from broth to solid food, from sleeping most of the day to sleeping at night, from needing a catheter to walking to the bathroom herself once the bottoms of her feet were healed (and that was not a fun day, no sir).

The scientist refused to answer her questions outright unless she offered up answers of her own. Each day they ended in a stalemate, which he seemed to find amusing.

He refused even his name. Eventually she just started calling him the doctor, because he treated her like one. Despite her captivity, despite the ominous warning Vanderbilt gave her in the interrogation room, despite her overwhelming vulnerability, he treated her with polite and patient professionalism.

She tried to give him the same courtesy. Whatever his future plans were, he had given her the space and time to heal back to full strength. She would make sure he regretted that. But first she had to look cooperative and weak.

A few days after shedding both the catheter and the bandages on her feet and thighs, the doctor strolled in not with his usual stethoscope, but with a clipboard and a pen.

Her gut did not like that.

“Your recovery is chugging along quite spectacularly,” he said, clicking the pen. “Which means we are almost ready to start the clinical trials. Of course, before I give you anything, I will need you to answer a few questions about your medical and family history.”

“Clinical trials for what?” she asked, feeling like she swallowed a stone.

“For my experiments, of course,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Why did you think I’ve been helping you recover? Pity? The goodness of my heart?”

“What experiments?” she demanded.

“Oh I have several in mind for you. But first, a few questions.”

“Sure, of course,” she said, deeply scathing. “Let’s make it easier for you to torture me. I’ll jump right on that.”

“You should, if you want greater chances of survival. I need to know your allergies, cancer risks, medications you’ve been on, previous surgeries, or else I could accidentally kill you. You’re a very special experiment. I’d rather not lose you so soon to such a preventable cause.”

It made her blood run cold, the casual way he voiced her probable death, as if he equated it with the disappointment of prematurely expired raspberries. An inconvenience, but there’s always more.

The worst part was that he had a point. What would be the purpose of her team rescuing her in a blaze of glory if she had died of anaphylactic shock?

So through gritted teeth, she answered all of his medically relevant questions. He wrote each down dutifully on his clipboard.

“And your name?” he asked finally.

She pursed her lips into a thin line and glared at him. He nodded.

“Not today, then. No worries. That will be the first thing you give me with the success of my first experiment.”

A knot formed in her stomach. “What’s the first experiment?” she couldn’t help but ask.

He smiled enigmatically. “You’ll find out when the time comes.”

She waited a few minutes after the door shut before she tip-toed to the window. The only thing she could see outside was a sheer cliff and water for miles. Probably the ocean, but she couldn’t open the window to tell. It was nailed shut.

Wherever she was, it looked far from civilization. Maybe that was why, after what had to be at least a month if not more, that her team hadn’t found her yet. They were city people. Superheros rarely had to venture into the rural countryside, let alone a place this remote.

Such reassurances did not cure the unease in the back of her mind that something didn’t add up.

Now that she had recovered, fatigue did not weigh her down so much and boredom began to creep in it’s place. The doctor offered her a handful of novels, mostly pulp scifi and dystopian literature. She read them and re-read them so often she could quote passages from each one. When the doctor finally appeared in her room with a small, rolling table of syringes and an IV needle, the jolt of adrenaline was almost euphoric in the face of the mind numbing monotony of her days.

“You seem eager for our first experiment,” the doctor said with a bemused quirk of his lips.

“Ecstatic,” she deadpanned, ignoring the jolt in her heart. “I can’t wait for you to kill me with whatever ungodly chemical is in that.”

He chuckled, pushing the cart next to her bed. “You’re right in that God has nothing to do with what I create. But it is not my goal to kill you — the opposite in fact. I try to limit risks as much as possible. There is only one you, after all.”

“Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

“Is it not?” It was almost comical how he blinked at her in innocent confusion.

She just glared at him in return, which he cheerfully ignored as he slipped the latex gloves on with a snap. He even hummed a little as he pulled open the packaging for the IV needle and the alcohol wipe.

Meanwhile her gut churned and frothed in horrible anticipation. She had gone through literal torture but this scared her more. When knives or brands or electric cattle prods came out, at least she knew what they did. No one knew what would happen as a result of this experiment, not even him. At least the goal of torture was to keep you alive as long as possible. These experiments could kill her. These could be her last living moments.

Fear tainted her every breath but just as she did in the face of her torturers, she refused to let it show on her face. Instead she stared resolutely out the window, at the glint of the water in the sunlight.

“Deep breath,” he murmured just before she felt the sharp pain of the IV needle.

Her gaze darted to him, drawn like a magnet to the sight of him tapping the air bubbles from the syringe. Nausea roiled inside her. She fought hard against the urge to rip the IV out before he could inject the serum. Instead, she could only watch in horrified resignation as it flowed through the IV drip.

“And now we wait,” he said, flashing her that polite smile, as if they were sitting in a doctor’s office.

He removed his dark tinted glasses and sat down at the love seat.

“We wait?” she cried. “Wait for what?”

The anticipation of the IV alone nearly drove her mad and now this?

He shrugged. “Ideally your mind should relax into an altered state where you forget you’re not supposed to keep your secrets and you tell me whatever information I desire. However, that didn’t work well back with Vanderbilt and I’m not expecting much success this time. I just want to see how you react to these sorts of chemicals.”

“So you’re just fucking around with my brain?”

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose.” He crossed his legs and tapped his thumbs on his knees, the picture of nonchalance. She never wanted to hit him so much.

“What if it does nothing? What if you failed?”

“Failure is just important data I didn’t have before. I’m not afraid of failure.”

You should be she thought bitterly.

But of course it wasn’t his life on the line.

When the effects hit her, it wasn’t nothing. All the muscles in her body locked up and spasmed. She could do nothing but writhe in the bed and scream. It felt worse than all her other torture combined.

By the time she finally blacked out, she couldn’t scream anymore.

#hero x villain #villain x civilian #whump #whump writing #medical whump #my writing #a lost cause #this is pretty dark for me

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my-head-is-an-animal · 2 months ago

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The Climb

Summary: You're a scientist, an engineer to be exact. Called to a meeting you had no real right to be at, Optimus Prime takes an exclusive interest in you, but you can't help but ask yourself at every turn, Why?

Rating: 18+ 🌹🩸🍆

Story Masterlist

Chapter 17

Optimus felt silly, he didn’t know what he was supposed to say to Jane. The whole point of sharing his Spark, the initial idea anyway, was so that she would know him and the need for words would be non-existent. It occurred to him when Lennox was speaking with the Autobots, there was still so little he knew about humans, about their customs. If he wanted to be with Jane, he needed to learn, fast.

She had been transferred to another room, mostly because Smith had been pestering the doctors and generally making a nuisance of himself, disturbing other patients. It was in the best interest of everyone.

Optimus was able to talk to her better on a higher floor, the windows open and a gentle breeze circling her body. He’d heard she had been struggling with a fever recently, but they were unsure why or how to deal with it properly. Optimus wondered if the Spark had something to do with it.

‘Jane.’ He whispered, close to her. ‘I am here.’

The rest of the base was leaving for the night and the Autobots were heading back to the hanger. It was as private as could be, but Optimus wished he could have sat on the hillside with Jane again. He wanted to speak to his wife in the place that now meant so much to them both.

‘Captain Lennox believes that speaking to you is a wise choice.’ He really didn’t know what else to say. ‘But I am unsure why. I believe it is a human concept, one I need you to explain to me in more detail… please wake up.’ The slightly quake in his voice was undeniable. Optimus figured if this was one of the only chances he got to speak to her, he may as well have made use of it. ‘I am uncertain of what will happen if you do not awaken soon.’

Optimus looked around him, a part of him was very frustrated that she couldn’t talk back, this all felt silly and unnecessary to him. What was it really achieving?

‘Oh sorry.’ A voice came from the door of Janes room. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you, I was just checking her vitals.’

‘Of course.’ Optimus would rather know with numbers if Jane was okay.

He watched the doctor who was looking after her, the way she was so gentle, never disturbing Jane’s body too much and… talking.

‘Alright Jane, things are looking good,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Looks like your hydration levels are back to normal, your muscular injuries are on the mend as well… and it looks like you’re on a good road to recovery. Keep up the good work.’ She smiled and made some quick notes before moving to leave the room.

‘Doctor.’ Optimus stopped her, she seemed nice and cheerful, but he’d heard from Lennox that she was also fierce enough to protect Jane from the likes of Smith. ‘May I ask, why do you talk to her?’

The doctor smiled and approached him.

‘I’m glad you’re here Optimus,’ she said. ‘Talking to patients is something I’ve always done, it’s something I encourage all the friends and families to do.’

‘But she cannot respond. I do not understand the purpose.’ Optimus tried not to let his frustration seep in too much.

‘Well, it’s not for you.’ The doctor explained. ‘Our unconscious bodies are still aware of the things happening around us, noises and smells are powerful tools that can be used to help a patient find their way back to us. You’re not talking to her for you, you’re doing it for her, so that she knows you’re out here somewhere waiting for her to come back. And when she’s able to, she’ll wake up.’

Optimus thought about it, there was still a lot he didn’t understand about humans, he hoped that Jane could be the one to explain things, but the doctor’s explanation made sense to him, enough that he didn’t feel as silly anymore.

‘Thank you.’ Optimus bowed his head slightly to show his gratitude.

‘Of course, let me know if you need anything. I won’t be far.’ The doctor smiled again and left Optimus with Jane once again.

He took a moment and thought about what to say.

‘Jane,’ he started. ‘There are things we need to talk about, things I cannot hope to face without you. Your bravery is being questioned by those in command, I will defend you until my dying breath, but you must wake to fight with me.’ Optimus closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I miss you. I would like nothing more than to find you through my Spark, but please understand, we do not know what will happen if I disturb you for any reason. I am sorry if I have caused you such pain that you are unable to withstand our union, but I believed it was the right course of action. I would have given myself to no other. I love you.’

Optimus had never said it before, it was a human way of expressing the depth of feeling for another, but again, words fell so far short or what he felt.

Optimus remained almost the entire night and there was no clear change in her condition. He hated to see her this way, so helpless and unable to revive herself.

He returned every night for a week to talk to her, hoping there would be some indication of change in her condition, but there was nothing. The fever was still present and the doctor couldn’t figure out why. Optimus worried that his Spark had set in motion events in Jane’s body that couldn’t be fixed.

Captain Lennox was starting to get irritable, as was Jane’s friend Theo. Both believed that Optimus should have tried to make contact if he could. Theo, in particular, was insistent on it.

‘I don’t care that she married you and never told me!’ He yelled in the empty Autobot hanger, tears streaming down his face. ‘I just care that she survives! I need my friend back and you can help!’

Optimus looked down at the young human, sighing and getting onto one knee, showing Theo the respect he deserved.

‘I am sorry that you feel this way,’ Optimus began. ‘And I am sorry that she never told you of us, but Jane’s responsibilities lay with something much bigger than you or I. Her focus needed to remain on climbing the ship, everything else was sacrificed.’

‘Except you.’ Theo whispered, his whole body shaking with grief and anger. ‘I’ve known her all my life, you knew her all of a few days and you think that gives you the right to care more than me!’

It was clear to Optimus that no matter how angry Theo’s words made him, he needed to allow him to vent at the one person who he could blame for everything.

‘They say you talk to her every night, but what could you possibly have to say?’ Theo was touching sensitive nerves now. ‘You don’t know her.’

Theo had seemingly run out of words. He wiped his eyes roughly with his arm and stormed out of the hanger, leaving Optimus with more doubts than he’d ever had.

He returned to Jane’s bedside that night and told her all about Theo’s words and how awful he felt that he’d caused such pain. There was a vague hope that if Optimus spoke about the people she loved, she might have found it easier to wake up and come back to him.

I couldn’t see anything, the wind blew so violently that it forced my eyes to squint, occasionally I would see some kind of device, or sheet of metal fly passed, barely missing me. I knew I could hear screaming, but I couldn’t tell what direction it was coming from. I needed to find shelter.

My body was heavy, I couldn’t feel an injury, but my leg felt like part of it was missing, when I looked down it seemed fine, there was no blood or even pain, but the second I tried to use it, I would fall and end up crawling.

I was sure every time I blinked, I could see space, like my vision was caught between this strange, raging, metal storm and the cold, silence of space.

I couldn’t tell what was real.

Surely none of it was, but then why did I feel the shards of glass and metal scratching my skin and my organs freezing when I closed my eyes?

I limped in no particular direction, sometimes crawling if I couldn’t get up, trying to find somewhere to rest. I was so tired and weak.

Suddenly a loud crack sounded from somewhere behind me. I turned, but saw nothing. Another crack from an entirely different direction. Was I in the middle of a lightning cloud?

I turned in time to duck out of the way of a large sword hurtling towards me. It lodged itself in the ground not far from where I was, but soon began sinking. Something told me, I needed that sword. I launched my body towards it and grasped the handle.

‘OPTIMUS!’ It wasn’t just someone shouting for Optimus to save them, it was a war cry.

The ground began to shake. Something was coming for me. More than something, probably a thousand somethings that I couldn’t do anything about.

Without warning, I felt my body charge of its own accord, lifting me up to fight.

I was suddenly holding a shield to go with my sword and found myself sprinting toward the sound of the war cry, yelling one of my own.

It was Megatron.

He cackled as I came running towards him, swinging his own sword down onto me. I lifted my shield and held my ground, trying to find an opening to strike back. Megatron’s swings came down harder and harder, I was weakening again, until finally, my shield was cracked, my sword destroyed and failure filled my heart.

Wait, my heart. I didn’t have a heart. Why didn’t I have a heart? Where did it go? What was there now? Why would I assume something else was there? Why was I fighting Megatron? Where was Optimus?

Wait.

I lifted my hand to hover over where in my heart should have been, there was no pulse, nothing to say I was alive anymore.

Another crack.

Something had happened. Something important I needed to remember.

Another crack.

How was I supposed to live without a heart? Was I already dead? The wind. It was a metal storm because that was the last thing I remembered. The climb.

I climbed thirty thousand feet to save the world. No wonder I couldn’t stand properly.

Another crack.

What was that?

Another crack, but this time, I saw it. A streak of blue light whipping around me as if it were the thing that was containing the storm and me.

‘Why are you doing this?’ I shouted. Why was I shouting? Was it alive? Was it watching me?

Suddenly the storm stopped. Everything froze. I could see it. I was surrounded by electric blue light. Housed by it. Caged.

There was something memorable about it, something I’d once known.

‘Optimus?’ I frowned. ‘Where are you?’

The storm began to clear, but the blue light expanded, like it was showing me more of what was inside.

I thought initially it was some kind of breakers yard, but now it was more obviously images frozen in time. Battles. Each one contained someone I knew, Optimus. Each one also contained enemies I knew and some I didn’t.

What was this place?

‘Nightmares.’ I whispered. ‘His nightmares?’

I began walking through the only path I could see. A winding metal platform that showed me each battle Optimus had ever fought in and all the ways he was scared he’d lose.

Eventually I was able to recognise each in his memories, but there were gaps, things were missing. Memories.

‘Where are the rest?’ I found myself asking.

‘What do you need?’

I spun around to see Optimus Prime himself, standing tall and strong.

‘Optimus.’ I breathed, relief. ‘Where are we? What is this place?’

‘What do you need?’ He repeated.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘How do I help you?’ He stepped towards me and for a split second everything was clear.

‘His Spark.’ I breathed again. ‘You’re his Spark.’

‘I am your Spark, Jane Harding.’ He said, as if it were obvious. ‘But I don’t know what you need.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘You are dying. And I cannot stop it.’ He kneeled, his kindness and desperation clear for anyone to see. ‘What do you need?’

I felt something heavy sit in my chest, I placed my hand over it once again. ‘My heart is gone.’ I whispered. ‘I need it to live.’

‘I can be your heart.’ Optimus said, immediately. ‘But what does a heart do?’

I could hear the slight panic in his voice, maybe the situation was more dire than I realised.

‘It… it pumps blood around the body.’ I said, suddenly finding it very difficult to know anything about the human heart. ‘It does it at a rate the body requires. More exertion means more blood needs to be pumped, it does this via an electrical charge, not a big one, I don’t think. Actually, I have no idea of the right measurements.’

‘I can find out.’ Optimus nodded. ‘I don’t understand this body, Jane. I do not understand how it works. Everything I have tried, has failed.’

I thought for a moment. ‘Can you wake me up? I can find out the information, I can help you stop me from dying.’

‘I’m afraid you are too weak to wake now.’ Optimus shook his head. ‘But I can send a message to Optimus. He can help us.’

‘How?’

‘In time, I can teach you, but for now, I must save you.’ Optimus lifted his hand and gently traced the tip of his finger around my face. ‘Sleep deeply, I will wake you when I am finished repairing your body.’

Everything went black.

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#optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #transformers #optimus x reader #transformers optimus #optimus prime fanfic

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trans-axolotl · 2 years ago

Note

does anti psych include medications? like if I’m looking to start mental health medications should I be wary of some or is it just about psych wards

Hi anon!

When I talk about antipsychiatry, I am usually critiquing the whole system, from outpatient, inpatient, meds, therapy--every part of it. I believe in psych abolition, which to me means that I think we need to transform our understanding of madness/mental illness/neurodivergence and create new methods of support and care within our communities. This does not mean that I think every single aspect of the current mental health system is always bad or harmful for individual people, but rather just that I'm interested in moving beyond our current fucked up system and the ways that it enables a so much harm.

When it comes to meds, I think about meds in a little bit of a different way than traditional psychiatry. Meds are a tool that some people find helpful, and that others find harmful. Like any other drug, psych meds come with a whole bunch of mental and physical effects, some of which will be desired, some of which will be less desired. Some people try out meds and find a med that has effects they really desire, and they are willing to tolerate the other effects of the med, even if they don't love it. Some people might try out meds and not want any of the mental, emotional, or physical effects that they experience on that med, but are open to other meds. Some people might never want to try meds and refuse all meds. Some people might want to be on meds at certain points of their lives, but not others. Some people might want to use a psych med off label, or in a different way than is prescribed. All of these relationships with medication are real ways that our community is going to engage with meds, and one isn't more valid than any other.

In general, what makes me wary of the way psychiatry engages with medication is that I don't think that most mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people are given the information we need to make an actually informed and free choice. So many of us are put on meds without our consent, whether that's through involuntary hospitalization or other methods of coercion. A lot of other people take meds voluntarily, but are not given all the information about the long-term effects of their medication, or are given false promises that make them think the medication has scientific evidence that shows it's more effective than it actually is. For a lot of people, if they were given accurate information, had more knowledge about FDA regulations for psych meds, or if they knew why chemical imbalance theories have been disproved, they might make different decisions about their medication use. I want mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people to be able to access meds on demand if that's what they want, be given all the information so that we can make the right choices for us, and be respected when we don't want to take medication.

I also am very angry about the way psychiatrists treat unmedicated mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people as a threat. Part of the reason I'm so antipsychiatry is because most psychiatrists seem to operate from a framework where there is no room for us as mad people to exist with our own understandings of our madness. There is so much coercion in the psychiatric system, and our mental health system focuses a lot on concepts of compliance, linear recovery, and being a "good, obedient patient." I think those values are incredibly fucked up, and it's so important to me that mad people are allowed to exist in the many complex ways we exist, without being labeled as a danger just because we aren't interested in medication. Medication is one tool, not a weapon, and I'm tired of psychiatrists weaponizing medication to force and control mad/mentally ill/neurodivergent people because they're more interested in making us conform rather than adapting to our individual needs and experiences.

So long story short, medication is a option that everyone will have different experiences with, and it is not inherently bad! I'm just mad at the way psychiatry doesn't give us all the information we need to make decisions, coerces us into making the medication decisions they want, and contributes to stigma against madness that prioritizes "normalcy" over actual support. If you have any questions about specific medications feel free to send another ask and I can link you some resources to learn about the effects and science of that med!

#antipsych #antipsychiatry #mad studies #personal #mad pride #other antipsych/mad lib followers feel free to add on with ur own perspectives on medication #as always i am just one person and my perspective is just mine!#i don't take meds and have had very bad experiences with meds. i will not take them again for many years #and at the same time i have friends who absoluteuly fucking love their ADHD meds and that's been positive for them

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magicisrealandsoismyally · 2 months ago

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Been seeing a lot of this going around so I just figured I'd write about it. You do realize that people having their full bodily autonomy to make choices for themselves means they're going to make choices you don't like right?

People will do things that hurt themselves and that will never be a reason to take away their right to bodily autonomy.

People have the right to get piercings, to get tattoos, to get a nose job, to get a face lift, to get top/bottom surgery.

People are going to drink energy drinks, to drink coffee, to smoke weed and cigarettes, to vape, to do hallucinogenics, to take opioids.

People are going to hurt themselves. You cannot stop that by taking away their right to have the tools to do it. Because they'll just find it some place worse. When I was young, I went onto transphobic forums and sites because I hated myself and decided I should feel emotional pain. I also took way too long way too hot showers. My parents took away both. So I started getting far too close to fire for my own good.

The only solution is to give them both the tools to do it and the tools to stop. The Swiss and the French figured it out with opioid addiction recovery and it worked. It's called the Safe Supply movement. It works.

You don't get to decide what's okay for people to do with their freedom if it doesn't harm others. All you can do is guide them towards better choices, which is proven more effective anyways.

And if you still want to punish people for drugs, sh, and bdsm, then the only thing I have left to say to you is this:

It's not fine for 2 consenting adults to hurt each other in an agreed upon fashion, but it's fine for you to hurt people cause you don't like their choices? Don't kid yourself. The real predator is you. At least we consent to power dynamics.

#magic talks #tw sh related #tw sh destructive behaviour #tw self destruction #fuck terfs #trans rights #transgender #trans surgery #top surgery #bottom surgery #bodily autonomy #anti facist #fuck facists

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fandomfluffandfuck · 1 year ago

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As a smut writer with a vagina, I always struggle a bit to explore the sensations that penis-havers experience during arousal. I know what’s getting hard looks like, but not what it feels like internally.

Combining my research and, echem, other needs, a writing prompt: Steve explaining to a formerly chemically castrated recovering Bucky what getting hard feels like, and how to recognize arousal. What it feels like when he wants him. Reminding Bucky of those feelings and talking him into his first erection in 70 years.

Ah jeeze, I sent that writing request for Steve explaining to Bucky what it feels like to get hard and I just realized how completely invasive and assuming some of that ask was. I really apologize.

You're okay! That's a fair question/request, and this is the place to come with it, lol.

First, though, I do have to say that, coming from my personal experience, the way smut writers without dicks (as far as I'm aware, lol) describe dicks and erections is usually pretty on the money. It's hot [temperature wise]. It's throbbing. It's tight and, well, hard. It's also often annoying when an erection just... happens. Because it happens randomly, too. It's not just a teenage thing, unfortunately, lol. (I mean, it's (usually) not a full erection like it can be in teendom, but it's still a thing as you get older.)

Second, I could've sworn I read a fic where Bucky was castrated surgerically and was struggling with arousal/erections but I can't find it again :/

Okay, onto this prompt:

*trigger warning for off screen, insinuated HYDRA Trash Party/HYDRA typical violence

This would be a fucking challenge for them. Not only because recovery is tough--recovery from anything--but especially recovery from 70 fucking years of brainwashing and torture.

Also, this is challenging because Steve very much is also deprogramming from his own trauma as well as struggling with his Catholic upbringing. That shame runs deep. Steve is very, very good at feeling shame and guilt.

When Bucky presents him with the question of, "what is it like?" As they're discussing the reversal effects, returning libidos, and coming off of the chemical castration drugs, pamphlets spread out messily over the kitchen island counter, Steve is absolutely tongue-tied. He stammers and blushes and squirms in his kitchen bar stool.

Bucky, in contrast, is sitting still. His voice is even. Fine. "Getting an erection," he clarifies without issue, "what does it feel like?" There's a crease between his dark eyebrows. It's the look he gets when he's thinking, specifically, when he's trying to remember something that's fuzzy--just out of reach and slipping from between his fingers more and more by the second.

Steve isn't sure if that tone of voice and the neutrality is Bucky being Bucky--he never had much shame before. Before... all of this. He always was a flirt, a charmer. As soon as he had an experience, when they were old enough, he told Steve things about girls that Steve felt like would cause God to open hell directly underneath them. Earth gaping. Swallowing them whole. He couldn't ever explain why he stuttered out the words to ask again and again and again, though. He knew he didn't care about the gals. He didn't... he doesn't like women that way.

It was about Bucky.

It's always been about Bucky.

Or... if it's maybe something that was burned out of Bucky by them? HYDRA. Steve desperately hopes it's not that. He wants the fact that he's fine discussing such private matters because he's always been that way (maybe with a tiny mix of being too old and seasoned to give a shit).

Right now, Bucky and him are perfect opposites.

Bucky is easily getting the words out, asking for some from Steve in exchange. Meanwhile, Steve can't get say a word, no matter how loud and clear Bucky is.

It's not that Steve doesn't want to have this conversation with Bucky. He wants to give Bucky every tool he needs to help aid him in recovery; he wants to be honest with him; he wants to open himself to Bucky like a book so he can read and glean what he needs from him. It's so fucking difficult, though.

Bucky's doctors warn Steve and Bucky both what coming off of the drugs causing his chemical castration will mean. A surge in sex hormones as his body resumes doing what it should, resulting in a, hopeful, return of his libido and physical sexual functioning along with possible hot flashes, racing heart, and a handful of other assorted side effects. A roll of the dice. They won't totally know until they get there.

Chemical castration isn't permanent, usually. But, usually, people aren't chemically castrated for 70 fucking years. Also, usually, the people in question aren't super soldiers. So, there's things working against Bucky and with him.

Bucky's body should bounce back.

Steve closes his eyes for too long to just be a blink, picturing the scars around Bucky's shoulder. Flesh seared to metal. No choice but to adapt.

Bucky's body should bounce back.

"Good as new," one of the medical students working in tandem with the team of doctors had said. Steve thinks that student could use more bedside manner training.

"Steve?"

"Uh--" Steve clears his throat, "yeah. It's..."

"You don't have to."

Steve nods tightly, "I want to. I just." He swallows noisily, he figures he'll just be as honest as he can, "I don't know how to say it," he runs his fingers through his hair, musing it.

Bucky nods back. After a moment he volunteers, "I remember getting them, I just..."

"You just?" Steve prompts, leaning forward to grab his hand and squeeze.

"I don't remember anything else. I got them. Didn't I?" Bucky looks at his wearily.

"You definitely did," Steve's voice is huskier than he intends. He can't help it. A full-body shiver takes over his muscles. He remembers Bucky's erections almost as much as he remembers his own.

Sharing the same tiny, ratty-sheet-covered bed. Bucky pressed up against his back, his breath hot and humid on his neck, an arm thrown around his waist, with his dick regularly hardening in his sleep and pressing even more insistently against his boney ass.

Wrestling on their shitty, creaking wooden floor. Bucky on top of him, laughing brilliantly. Dark hair falling from its careful, swept-up style. Leaning up to kiss him to distract him, the only way he could win. Kissing and kissing until Bucky would melt, groaning, falling onto him, chest to chest, their erections sliding together. Hard. Hot.

Listening to Bucky stumble in drunk and smiling to himself, stifling the expression in the flat pillow under his head, pretending to sleep until Bucky stumbles into their bed. Then, pretending to wake up slowly and prettily as Bucky pawed at him. Sometimes, Bucky'd be hard already. Sometimes, he would get hard deliciously slowly, the alcohol affecting him, making it a challenge. And sometimes he wouldn't get hard if he had too much.

(Steve secretly loved it when he didn't get hard. Soft and vulnerable and perfect for worshipping. Steve would fall to his knees and rub his face against his soft cock and suck and suck until Bucky came without getting hard at all. It still felt good. Steve should know. It's not like his Johnson worked all the time back then, anyway.)

Steve jostles himself from the memories, trying, only half-successfully, to not feel guilty over the fact that he can remember all that with perfect eidetic detail while Bucky can't.

He re-crosses his legs in the other direction.

"Okay," Steve tries to push his energy from memories to words, "okay. It's, like, it... it almost feels like." God, why does he suck so much at this? "Like, it-it's blood rushing into your dick, right?"

Bucky has the gall to roll his eyes.

Steve wants to call him an asshole. And he would if he weren't too busy untangling his words, trying to spit them out no matter how much shame tugs at him. "So it's swollen. It gets hot, too, because, well, your, your blood is hot. Body temperature. Y'know. Whatever. It's... just... swollen and hot and, uh, stiff?"

"It is a stiffy," Bucky says dryly.

Steve dryly laughs, "jerk," he bites his lower lip, clearly that's not enough to satisfy Bucky's curiosity, "you know, so, okay, you know when you finish in the gym and your muscles are just beginning to get sore? Like. It doesn't hurt. But your muscles are tight and pumped and hard because you just used them?"

"I'm familiar." Steve's pretty sure Bucky's being an asshole on purpose now. Just to give him something else to think about. Fucker.

"It's like that," he finishes the thought, "but. It's your dick, not your usual muscles."

"So... does it get sore? Like your muscles?"

"No." Steve answers automatically, then, "it, uh, throbs. Pulses, kinda. I mean, it, it can hurt. If you have it for a long time."

"Right," there's a minute pause. Steve knows without asking that they're both picturing all the goofy pharma ads that're on TV nowadays. Contact your doctor if you have an erection lasting more than 4 hours... "You said it's tight?"

"Yeah. Tight and heavy, too. 'Cause, because it fills with blood. It gets engorged. Swollen."

Bucky nods, but it's clear he wants more.

"Yeah," Steve struggles, his face burning. "Kinda, kinda, like..." he pulls a face just thinking about the way he's about to describe an erection. It's visceral. It makes him want to squirm a little bit. But, it's the only thing he can think of. "If you stuck a balloon under your skin and started to inflate it. It gets tight and hot and stiff as it stretches. And the more the, the, uh, balloon inflates, the more sensitive it gets--"

Bucky makes a considering noise.

"--But then. Then, once you've started, it's hard to stop. It gets fuller, stiffer, and more sensitive. When you touch it, because it's sensitive and tight and you need to do something about it, it gets stiffer and then more sensitive because it's stiffer. So you touch more. Until. Yeah. It's, uh, it's a positive feedback loop."

"Oh."

Suddenly, as happens sometimes, Steve's mouth runs away from him. He's embarrassed, and his brain decides that the only way to fix it is to get all the embarrassing words out. "It throbs. Like. With your pulse. If you get. If you get hard enough, it th-throbs with your pulse. And it feels like it comes from your, like, core. Like. Not just your balls. Inside you."

"Hm?" Bucky interjects, eyebrows drawing together.

"Like, when you get, ah, a-aroused. It comes from your stomach almost. And it goes up your back and down your balls, too. It's, it's not tingling but, more, more like when you really have to pee and you can't help but shiver. A much hot, hotter version of that."

"You-" Bucky's eyebrows come together. "You can't pee when you're erect, right?"

"No, no. It--that does hurt. It kinda burns? If you try to pee with a hard, hard--if you try to pee with an erection. It doesn't work like that."

"No," Bucky agrees softly.

"But it doesn't burn otherwise. It, it when you're really hard, feels like, like you might explode. It gets so tight and, I'm trying to think of anything but hard, but it really just feels hard."

Bucky snorts.

Steve's big mouth keeps motoring, of course, "oh, and, uh, it gets wet." Steve is going to explode, not in the fun my-dick-is-hard way, in the vibrating-with-embarrassment way. Oof.

Bucky just looks intrigued. Not embarrassed.

Dammnit.

"I, I, I don't mean," Steve lowers his voice, "cum."

Bucky laughs at his expense.

"I mean... when you're erect. It can leak. It's just pre-cum. It's not. It's nothing to be worried about. Just so you don't--" he bites the inside of his cheek, "I don't want you to worry."

Bucky tips his head from side to side, considering. "What if I--"

"What if you?"

"What if I let you know when it happens? So you know I'm not worried."

Steve flushes the hottest he has yet. He coughs. "Y-yeah, that'd be, that'd be... good."

I hope that's satisfactory for what you had in mind! I didn't really know how to tackle this prompt, lol.

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #htp #hydra trash party #it's off screen but i figured it be good to include that tag anyway #for the people filtering it

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