#I think it is sort of a self defense of the ego

[sleepyiampleaseletmein]

it is fine and good to be dramatic Sometimes be edgy be cringe pee pee poo poo

[snekdood]

ppl are so scared of their inner animal side and its just so sad to me.

[astrobydalia]

🪻Lavender Observations🪸

it's pisces season my dudes so here's my fave pisces aesthetic... this music video really spoke to my pisces moon soul so I wanted to pay homage to it. As always enjoy the observations!

work by astrobydalia

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

🪻✨Capricorn risings are very full of themselves to be honest. They have an overall pleasant reputation and are loved (Libra 10th+Cancer 7th) but for some reason they're actually very individualistic and conceited deep down, like they think of themselves as being 'on other level' than others. I think this is because their shadow revolves around their ego (Leo 8th house) and we all know they love status but unfortunately fame and popularity tends to change them and/or take out their toxic traits (Scorpio 11th house). Basically they’re the type to become extremely entitled individuals just because they’re successful

🪸✨The virgo placement urge to have a harmeless and innocent personality/reputation while also engaging in the most unholy, taboo and sometimes immoral activities behind the scenes............ iykyk

🪻✨I’ve noticed Geminis are what people think Aquarians are??? Idk Aquarius placements are the most chill and unproblematic people I know and typically don’t make any fuss out of their “quirks” or opinions, they’re just living and vibing them on their own. Geminis on the other hand are the chaotic manic pixie girls/boys or the mad scientists with the most random and out of pocket interests and ideas. They always be leaving me like ‘wtf are you talking about?🤨’ They’re also opinionated af and will jump into controversy pretty easily.

🪸✨Oh! And Geminis are WAAAAAAAAYYY more detached than aquarius dude. Geminis are air AND mutable, for them it is extremely easy to move on and detach from things

🪻✨All the people I've met who's had cosmetic procedures done (botox, plastic surgery, fillers, etc) always had libra placements and/or Neptune aspecting the ASC. Overall Venus and Neptune influence is big in people who wanna look like a glossy instagram filter

🪸✨Chiron in the 6th house are HUGE control freaks due to feeling like reality overwhelms them too much, they feel like their life is never sorted out. They are also the type to overwork themselves with pointless things or hyper fixate on short-term goals cause it gives them a sense of control

🪻✨Capricorn placements are attracted to ambition and independence. It is not so much about age difference that they look for, but rather they like it when someone has their own things going on for themselves and has solid life values that they stick to. Capricorn's love language is supporting your ambitions and you doing the same for them so.... they need to see potential in you and with you

🪸✨Libra+Scorpio placements are VERY envious people and tbh I've seen this in everyone who has this mix regardless of how developed they were.... The type to befriend/get close to people they're secretly jealous of to either ruin them or get a taste of what they have. Seriously these natives are never happy with just themselves they're always focusing on how good others' things are

🪻✨People with fire in their big 3 HATE it and get defensive when other people make unsolicited assumptions about who they are or when people assume they can know the native better than the native knows themselves. It’s hard for them to brush that kind of thing off, they don’t like to feel like people are ‘appropriating’ their identity. The type to be like “you don’t know me or my story so stfu”.

🪸✨All of the Scorpio moons I've met had at least a phase in their life where they had a very unhealthy relationship (scorpio) with food (moon)..... They always seem to turn to food when going through a hard time but in a very self-destructive way

🪻✨Sagittarius is as much of an escapist as pisces. They both crave for things to be good, positive and unserious (Jupiter)

🪸✨I’ve noticed women with personal planets in Aquarius usually have very thin and sparse eyebrows and usually enhance them with makeup

🪻✨Natives with Mars in Capricorn are SUPER hairy. A very thick and stunning head of hair and/or noticeable and abundant body/facial hair. Their hair is usually deep and dark as well

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

🪸✨Scorpio Moon men I’ve noticed are attracted to a woman who is a bit cold, mean or is not easy to get to her because it makes him feel like she can handle him and his intensity. They’ll likely commit to a woman that captures his heart in such a way that he knows she can potentially hurt him more than he can hurt her. Deep down they wanna be the softer one in the relationship cause they’re a water moon after all

🪻✨I personally never had any 2nd house synastry relationship that actually involved money (except for business relationships ofc). Instead people who had planets falling in my 2nd house always make me feel like a million bucks frfr 🥺 They made it clear that they valued my opinion, my talents, qualities etc (essentially they valued all I had to offer which is 2nd house themes) and also made me feel like they favored me in many ways, like I'm a part of their top priorities, one of their 'faves' and wouldn't let me go easily. I have to say this turned pretty superficial in some cases on both sides, with 2nd house synastry there's a tendency to think of the person in terms of what they can offer be that money, time, services, advice, skills....

🪸✨That been said, you're more likely to be hired or promoted by people who have their planets in your 2nd house because they value your talent and skills. The best feedbacks I've gotten were mostly from clients who had their planets in my 2nd house

🪻✨Cancer Jupiter gives a very loving and caring husband that will totally adore you and provide for you both emotionally and financially. Husband is bound to be highly emotional and sentimental as well, the type to make it obvious to the world that he is truly in love with you. This is Jupiter's exaltation so this placement really gives Disney's Prince Charming vibes fr

🪸✨I've also noticed Scorpio Jupiter gives a similar kind of husband^ but less Prince Charming and a more 'dark fantasy novel'. This placement is giving Edward Cullen’s “your scent is like a drug to me” vibes when it comes to your husband

🪻✨With debilitated Jupiter (Virgo, Gemini, Capricorn) you might get a husband that is kinda detached and could even be distant or indifferent depending on other aspects or positions. Best case scenario is they love and support you but they are just not good at showing affection for some reason and might provide in more practical/straight forward and less sentimental ways. Again, house position,aspects,degrees, etc will give nuance

🪸✨I find Virgo and Aquarius are so similar in that they’re kinda judgmental of people and also tend to be very detached and analytical

🪻✨A crazy amount of athletes and fitness people have debilitated Mars

🪸✨I've also seen a lot of YouTubers, podcast hosts, etc have Sun-Mercury conjunction which makes a lot of sense lol

🪻✨Moon/Venus in Scorpio/8th house natives have a 'I hate everyone but you' kind of love. They really do have a level of misanthropy in their personality but it's low-key amusing

🪸✨Couples that have this best friends and partners in crime dynamics always have 3rd house synastry, I haven’t really seen 11th house as much… The 3rd house creates a fraternal understanding in a couple, two keen minds thinking alike (Gemini, twins, etc)

🪻✨I’ve actually observed 11th house synastry is pretty messy??? It creates connections (any kind) that are a bit all over the place tbh. You really don’t know if you’re gonna be together forever or fall apart tomorrow. You haven’t talked to each in years now one of you is reaching out like nothing happened and both people are keeping it chill the whole time specially the planet person. I guess this dynamic is okay between friends, colleagues or acquaintances (which is what this house rules) but when it’s a romantic or more intimate relationship…. Like I said it’s just messy, not necessarily bad, it be can refreshing and exciting but it has to be your cup of tea (I assume Air venus/mars people will dig it). You’re always wondering what’s next with this person, it feels like the sky’s the limit. I’ve seen this synastry a lot in couples who make odd decisions in the relationship that make people often question if the couple is actually serious about each other like that or not like being engaged for too long, etc

🪸✨Capricorn moons are extroverted or at least they easily pass as extroverts in social situations. They really stand out to me for having a very defined public persona that they’re mostly known for but they’re not really like that in private at all, you’d be surprised for better or for worse lmao

🪻✨"My love language is all of them" = Leo Venus

🪸✨Virgo placements are just as talkative as Gemini placements, they ramble just as much (Mercury). The difference is Virgo’s speeches are usually more thoughtout and eloquent like a presentation they’ve practiced a hundred times, in fact they tend to talk about the same stuff and repeat the same jokes, themes and rambles in most conversations because they like to stick to what they know (earth). They’re 100% the type to give you an unsolicited lecture on whatever it is they’re interested in. Gemini’s speech on the other hand is usually more spontaneous, random and chaotic, they tend to brainstorm out loud and enjoy finding new ideas in conversations (air). They’re more likely to wonder, play with ideas and ask ‘what if’ questions cause they like to explore the possible connections of different things

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

🪻✨Pluto-asc aspects/Pluto in the 1st house/Scorpio rising come across as the cool girl/boy. They always have some unattainable energy to them that people secretly look up to and this admiration often translates into jealousy

🪸✨Aries in the big 3 always have something with their forehead. Either they have a big forehead or they have a sacar there etc

🪻✨Capricorn placements work hard and party HARDER. This results in them having a rather fast-paced life style honestly

🪸✨Istg Virgo Moons got a stick up their ass. In their minds they are judge, jury and executioner and never give people grace or just the benefit of the doubt. I don't doubt they're soft deep down but damn they can be very very stubborn and they can get mean easily.

🪻✨Best Virgo placement imo is Virgo mars, I’ve noticed they tend to channel the best traits of virgo (constructive criticism, self-accountability, collaborative, understanding but know what they don’t tolerate)

🪸✨When I first joined Tumblr I read an observation that said Aphrodite (1388) conjunct Mars creates injuries or scars from beauty products and that is SO true! I have this and I've burnt myself several times with curling irons and laser hair removal gadgets

🪻✨All the people I’ve met who loved country music, country life style and that sort of cowboy aesthetic mostly had Sagittarius placements 🤠🐎 (myself included lmao)

🪸✨People with Virgo+Scorpio placements are the most intimidating people I've ever met. Imagine the nitpickyness of Virgo mixed with the intensity of Scorpio.... yeah... not the best at going easy on others or letting people in. Don't test them, they have a “get away from me you fucking scumbag” energy whenever they’re upset or simply dislike something and are the hardest to please. They are very sensitive deep down tho, very sweet and selfless if they genuinely like you.

🪻✨Sagittarius is the master, teacher, guru and guide so it makes a lot of sense for the Sagittarius Pluto generation to be hung up and obsessed (pluto) with influencers, life coaches, etc (sag)

🪸✨Moon in the 3rd house natives tend to make vey quirky movements and gestures with their mouth/jaw when they speak or they're very expressive with their mouth like they may grimace or pout a lot

🪻✨Cancer Mars men are huge mamas boyzzzz!! The type to be completely dependent on their moms/wives to even fry an egg and provide overall home security. They will marry a dominant woman who is fully or mostly in charge of the house and family stuff

🪸✨Speaking of, men with domicile or exalted mars (Aries, Scorpio, Capricorn Mars) can be huge assholes if underdeveloped. If immature they can channel toxic masculinity since mars feels very comfortable here it could go a bit overboard and give fuckboy vibes. The type to be very controlling, inconsiderate and always feel entitled to sex

🪻✨On the opposite end, men with debilitated mars (Libra, Taurus, Cancer Mars) are super chivalrous and often present themselves as very polite, thoughtful and modest. Very popular among women for sure. They can be players and have huge ego too if not mature but even then their energy is very inviting

🪸✨Fire moons process their feelings by letting things out in the moment as they come either through anger, humor or simply speaking their mind. They can often appear rude when expressing something that they feel very strongly about but they'll always value authenticity above anything else

🪻✨Earth moons process their feelings by creating a course of action. Like they internally make a plan for things they will do in oder to make themselves feel better, fix their issue or fulfill their needs on a long-term/permanent basis. They could develop a whole personal system or life style that caters to their emotional needs

🪸✨As we all know Air Moons process their feelings by rationalizing their emotions. Ironically, this can make them lack some emotional intelligence because they put so much focus on their feelings making sense that they don't allow themselves to feel their feelings and figure out what genuinely feels right for them

🪻✨Water moons process their feelings by fully owning their emotions. They find comfort in the mere validity of their own feelings which is why they often have this tendency to victimize themselves, blame others for their issues and constantly look for sympathy

🪸✨I’ve very very very often seen Sagittarius/Jupiter in 7th house, Sagittarius Groom/Juno/Briede creates age gap with spouse!!! As mentioned, Sagittarius is the master and guide of the zodiac so with the influence of this sign in your marriage you are bound to have a teacher-student dynamic where either one of you has much more life experience specially in relationships

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

work by astrobydalia

[shy-writer-999]

Embarrassing Confessions: Zoro is a virgin and he's insecure (Part 1)

Warnings: MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS DNI. THIS IS NSFW CONTENT.

Author’s note: Part One is tame angst and pure plot (no smut), ~5,400 words. Part Two will have all the smut, so stick around for that. I have a fascination with the idea of Zoro pining over you in secret and getting flustered and embarrassed about it. In this fic, Zoro’s ego gets bruised and you comfort him. You both get drunk and Zoro runs his mouth too much. It’s a slow burn like my last fic and will also end with smut (◡‿◡✿) Plz note that the reader is sort of giving OC, she (you) gives a brief description of ‘losing’ her virginity to some guy from ‘back home’.

TW: Alcohol abuse – Zoro blacks out; also if you have emetophobia maybe skip this one? There's a brief nod to the usual hangover symptoms.

Embarrassing Confessions: Zoro is a virgin and he's insecure (Part 1)

Word on the ship was that Zoro was still a virgin. It had slipped out somehow, maybe in a game of spin the bottle or never-have-I-ever. But you learned about it secondhand when Sanji made fun of him for it, right in Zoro's face. Sanji said something crude, along the lines of "Zoro's just mad because his virgin ass has never gotten his dick wet."

Zoro was immediately livid. His face turned red and he snapped back with "Shut up Sanji, you don't even know what the fuck you're talking about. Fuck you." Genuinely upset, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. When Sanji and Zoro bickered it usually had an element of playfulness, casualness, genuine annoyance, yes, but... you weren't sure that Sanji had said anything this cruel and embarrassing before, outing something that Zoro was, obviously, uncomfortable with and most likely embarrassed by.

You were surprised, both by Zoro’s reaction and the simple fact itself. You had always assumed that Zoro got action wherever he went, I mean, look at him. To think that he had never felt the touch of a woman… you honestly couldn’t wrap your head around it. And you felt like a creep because you were intrigued by it. Truthfully, your intrigue was not arousal but rather an earnest desire to learn more about this man who you had been developing feelings for, for months.

The only person who knew about your feelings was Nami. As soon as Sanji made the remark and Zoro stormed out, you immediately looked at Nami, and she glanced at you at the same time. It was like you exchanged a thought or read each other’s minds, one of those unspoken moments with your best friend across the room. It was a “what the fuck?” moment, a split second, but you knew that Nami would want you to go after Zoro and try to comfort him somehow.

You loved Sanji like a brother, but sometimes he could be a real asshole. “Nice one, Sanji,” you said sardonically, dead-pan and annoyed. “I think that was over the line this time.” You stared him down coldly. He immediately jumped to self-defense, but you waved your hand and told him to “can it,” as you exited onto the deck to see if Zoro was doing okay. You had no idea what you would say to him to make him feel better and you were sure that anything you said would come off as corny and patronizing, but you were damned well going to try. After all, it seemed like no one on the ship could talk about these things with Zoro except for you. There was something about you that made him open up, show a softer side, share things that he would otherwise have kept to himself.

Zoro was nowhere to be seen on deck, so that left only one option. You climbed up to the crow’s nest where he was sitting, scowling, and looking out over the open ocean. He was clearly mulling over Sanji’s comment in his head, turning it over and examining it from different angles, sitting in the embarrassment and trying to figure out why he felt so much shame. He never had put much energy into women, had no urge to ‘lose’ his virginity, as if that was an actual object that one could lose (he scoffed at the thought).

For a long time, Zoro felt like he wasn’t missing out on anything—as far as women were concerned, he couldn’t be asked. But in the past few months he had been feeling differently, no thanks to you. That’s why when he saw you climb into the crow’s nest after suffering that embarrassment from Sanji, he muttered fuck to himself and scowled even harder.

“Spare me the embarrassment,” he grumbled, turning his face away from you. He was starting to blush, but you didn’t notice it.

“That got you pretty worked up, huh?” You sat down on the floor near to him, cocking your head so you could peer more into his face, inspecting his impression, which he obviously did not feel like sharing.

Your observation was met with a terse silence.

“Hey, Zoro?” You said softly. He turned to meet your eyes as your tone shifted and you were caught off guard by how vulnerable and tortured his expression was. “It’s not a big deal. No one on the crew cares or thinks any less of you. Sanji was just trying to get under your skin, he didn’t mean to be cruel or malicious. You know he loves you like a brother.”

Zoro sighed and rested his head in his hands. “I know. I don’t know why I let that jackass piss me off so much… I guess he struck a nerve. I- I’ve been feeling… I don’t fucking know. I guess I’ve been feeling kind of... self-conscious about it, recently…” He trailed off. You were shocked by his candor. You were used to him being honest and more vulnerable with you, but this was more than you had been expecting. He was truly opening up to you. You had never seen him show an ounce of self-doubt or insecurity before.

“Yeah?” You prompted, feeling like he had more that he wanted to say. He turned to you again.

“I never really gave a shit about this kind of stuff before, y’know? I’ve got other stuff to keep me busy. But… recently… I don’t know.” He sighed.

You nodded in response. Zoro was a man of few words when it came to emotional vulnerability, and you could tell that the conversation was coming to a close.

“Well, Zoro, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. I was kind of a late bloomer so… I get it.” You looked at him carefully. “Let’s grab a drink later, ‘kay?” He nodded, and that was it.

You didn’t know that you were the main reason Zoro had been reflecting on being a ‘virgin’ (he hated that word). Talking to you about it made him feel some sort of way that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something inside of him twisted a little bit when you had looked into his eyes so seriously and with so much care. He tried to shrug it off and went back to cursing Sanji in his head, avoiding the actual dilemma he was facing, choosing escapism and mentally berating Sanji instead.

---

That night, you and Zoro cracked open a few bottles of sake, as promised. You had done this countless times in the past and nothing weird or unexpected happened except a few lingering glances that you both played off. But tonight it seemed like Zoro was drinking more than usual. You got the impression that he was drinking away his sorrows or drinking to forget about how genuinely upset he had been earlier in the day.

You were matching his drinks, as you sometimes did, just for fun. It felt like a kind of silly competition between you two sometimes. But keeping up tonight was hard, you were already getting a stomachache and could feel the dehydration creeping in… you knew the hangover was going to be a monster.

When he got drunk drunk, Zoro could become callous, rude, sarcastic, kind of an ass. He never really sent that in your direction, it was frequently towards Sanji, sometimes Usopp, Luffy, even Nami, if he really was going crazy. It was your least favorite characteristic about him; it was concerning, and it was a huge turn-off. But usually it wasn’t too bad, only mildly annoying. At worst, it gave you a sort of mini-ick.

Tonight was shaping up to be one of those nights, had it not taken an unexpected left turn. You and Zoro were the only crew members drinking, and everyone else was doing their own thing. It was dusk, warm outside, and the stars overhead were already breathtaking. You found yourselves back in the crow’s nest. This was honestly Zoro’s safe space—the isolation gave him peace of mind.

Zoro was laying on his side, with his head propped up on one arm, leisurely facing you. You had been bickering and talking over silly things for a couple hours at this point, like tidbits of sword-making history, or how much meat you’ve seen Luffy eat at once. After a lull in conversation, Zoro finally broached what had been on his mind all day, a nagging thought at the back of his head that he knew that he shouldn’t ask, but he grew bolder as he got drunker. And he was getting drunker.

“Hey, Y/N,” he began. “When did you lose your virginity?”

That was really out of the blue. You were shocked by the question, not expecting it at all. You two had never talked about anything like this. Oftentimes it was Sanji crossing the line and you telling him to fuck off. But for Zoro to go there…? Weird. He was presumably just wondering about it since you said you were a late bloomer too, and you guessed he must be seeking validation. After all, he was obviously embarrassed about the whole thing. A little reassurance and sincerity couldn’t hurt.

“Well, uh…” You hesitated. “I actually had sex for the first time a couple years ago.” That was enough of an answer, right? No point in oversharing.

“What was that like?” He got bolder, locking eyes with you. He was certainly drunk, and you were too. But beyond that, you felt the vibe shift and his eyes seemed more intense. Your voice got caught in your throat for a second. He probably was just seeking some reassurance, right? Everyone always talked about how they had a horrible first time, I’m sure he’s looking for more confirmation or something like that because he’s insecure… you said to yourself.

“Oh, uh… It wasn’t the best first time but also not the worst. It wasn’t as bad as everyone kind of makes their first time seem, if you know what I mean? It was with some guy from my hometown, we grew up together. Kind of like a childhood crush, boy-next-door type of vibe.”

Zoro felt a pang of jealousy. The alcohol pushed him deeper into a grave of embarrassment, rash behavior, and unspoken boundary breaking that he was about to start digging.

“Lucky guy.” He murmured, barely audible, as he shifted onto his back with his hands behind his head, staring up at the sky. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, now staring straight up. You could see him exhale, jaw clenching.

Wait, what did he just say? ‘Lucky guy’?

You had no idea how to respond to that. He seemed to be implying that the man you slept with was lucky. And why would that be?

An unsure “What?” escaped your lips. It was purely a reflex, you weren’t expecting a real answer, you figured he was going to laugh it off, you heard him wrong, something like that. This was like really out of character for him, at least in your experience. You had honestly wondered if he was asexual sometimes because he just never said stuff like this and had never talked about it to anyone on crew. To hear him ask about this sort of thing after all this time was surprising. Maybe there was a side to him that you never knew.

Without hesitation, Zoro responded immediately, doubling down. “I said, lucky guy.” He turned and looked at you and blush quickly flooded your face. He wasn’t smiling, and his gaze was bold and almost piercing, so… it wasn’t a joke. Unless it was? If he was fucking with you then that would be weird as hell.

“Oh, uh… I guess he was lucky! Hahaha…” You tried to play it off with an awkward smile and half-hearted chuckle, hoping he didn’t notice that your face was bright red.

But Zoro kept going. “Were you surprised that I’m still a virgin?” You now realized he was faintly slurring his words. “I’m just curious.”

What was up with all these questions? You sighed. Well, whatever he wants to find out I guess he’ll find out. Looks like we’re playing 20 questions.

“Yeah, Zoro,” you responded. “To be honest, I was surprised.”

“Why?”  He asked forcefully, but this time he sat up from where he was laying and pulled himself a couple of feet in your direction. This would make him maybe a foot away from you, looking at you straight on. Your heart beat quickened.

Ok now this is getting weird. What is his angle? He must be feeling bad about the whole thing and now he’s fishing for compliments. With this conclusion, you rolled your eyes at him and exhaled. You could be playful with him now that you realized he just had a bruised ego, it wasn’t more serious than that. He was being a little pathetic, but that was all.

“Zoro, I’m surprised because you’re manly, strong, and attractive. Is that what you wanted to hear?” You kind of laughed.

And while you thought Zoro was fishing for compliments, you were wrong. He was finally asking you questions that had been burning in his mind for days. He sincerely wanted to know what you really thought of him, simple as that. And he was curious about your sexual life. He certainly was very drunk but even so, he still cringed as he asked each question. But fuck, he just had to know. He wanted to know so bad that he felt like he was suffocating. He had to have answers, but he was getting dizzy, his body felt heavy, all he knew was that he wanted to be closer to you.

He scooted closer again, so that your knees were touching. At this point your heart was beating out of your chest. His face was less than a foot away from yours. He may not have known, but you did have a painfully intense crush on him, and his closeness was having quite the effect on you. It was the same for him, too.

“Do you really mean that, or are you just saying it?” He slurred out again, stronger this time, leaning even closer. Your faces were maybe six inches away now. You were likewise feeling intoxicated, and it made time feel like it was slowing down, slogging along. Your intoxication was making you not only extremely thirsty (in both ways) but it was making you hyper aware and locked in to the blisteringly intense eye contact Zoro was holding with you, almost not blinking.

“I-I really mean it.” You squeaked out, almost as a whisper. Holy fuck, was he about to kiss you?

“Good.” He mumbled, and then he placed one of his huge hands on the cusp of your knee and thigh. He squeezed. You inhaled sharply. His eyes were still glued to yours. There’s no way he didn’t see your blush, it was vivid. He started to lean in, maybe for a kiss, perhaps he was advancing with no goal other than to be closer to you.

Right when you felt like you were about to explode from the blood rushing to your face and your heart beating out of your chest, Zoro’s eyes closed and he abruptly collapsed forward into your lap, letting out what sounded like a groan and then… was that…. Snoring? It looked like the alcohol suddenly hit him like a truck all at once.

Sure enough, you leaned over him and saw that he was passed out on your lap, mossy hair ruffled, and his mouth open ever so slightly. He is prone to sleeping randomly, you shrugged, and God, he looks so good. He even smelled good.

You sat there until you calmed yourself down, feeling his heavy weight in your lap, the warmth of his skin pressing onto yours. He hadn’t let go of your thigh yet. You shook his shoulder lightly. It was time for the night to be over—he needed to get off you so that you could get him water, a pillow, and a blanket. He’d have to fall asleep up in the crow’s nest because there was no way you could pick him up or drag him downstairs.

“Hey, Zoro?” You said softly. “Zoro, you need to wake up a bit. You need to move so I can get you a pillow and blanket. It’s bedtime. Hey.” You shook him again and couldn’t help but notice the hard ripples of his muscles under his shirt. You paused for a moment and patted his head. “Zoro. Wake up.”

“Wha-what?” He groaned, raising his head ever so slightly.

“Zoro, I need to get up really quick. Lay down on your side for me, ok?

He groaned again, making your heart skip a beat. Fuck, that noise was hot. Sheesh.

Evidently a colossal effort, Zoro squeezed your thigh tightly one last time then raised himself just barely enough to collapse onto his side on the floor next to you. You peered at him for a second, thinking he was passed out again, making sure he was ok. As you rose to your feet and started to climb downstairs, he stirred.

“Baaaby,” he grunted out needily. “Are you coming back, baabbbyy? Don’t just leave me up here, Y/N.” You froze and looked at him. He was in the same position, with his eyes closed, breathing heavily. And yes, you had heard him right. Because he had said it damn loud. Holy shit, that made you feel some sort of way. But Zoro was so drunk at this point there’s no way he could have any control over his words. The lights were on but no one was home. He mumbled your name one more time.

“Zoro, I’ll be right back, I’m grabbing you a blanket and a pillow,” you quipped back, and he murmured something nonsensical while you started the quick descent to the deck.

It took you less than a minute to get him a blanket, a pillow, a glass of water, and a bucket, in case he threw up. You grabbed yourself a pillow and blanket, too. You couldn’t conscience letting him sleep up there by himself when he was so drunk. It took you a couple trips, but you managed to bring everything up to the crow’s nest. Zoro looked like he was proper passed out, so you spread the blanket over him and knelt by his head. Again, you shook his shoulder softly. “Zoro, lift your head up. I brought you a pillow.” He complied. He looked so sweet and soft. You wished you could kiss his cheeks a hundred times and run your fingers through his hair so badly.

You dragged your own blanket and pillow to the other side of the nook, giving him as much space as you could. Moments after you curled up and shut your eyes, Zoro stirred again, letting off another string of vaguely suggestive entreaties. “Y/N,” he murmured, “why’re you… all the way over there… you don’t wanna… w-wwanna sleep with me???”

This poor dude isn’t going to remember a thing tomorrow, you thought. In this moment you pitied him. You were sure he just wanted you to come cuddle with him, which was really sweet and all, but he was way too drunk right now to be touched with a ten-foot pole. And you already knew that if he remembered any of this tomorrow, he’d be too embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“Zoro, go to bed, sweetie, it’s getting late.” He did some more grumbling and nonsensical whining in response but soon he was out like a light, and you followed suit quickly.

---

Sure enough, Zoro woke up at sunrise feeling like absolute shit. He was hungover. Monstrously hungover. He couldn’t remember most of the tail end of last night and that made him uneasy, embarrassed at the thought that he could have said something out of pocket to you. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility of drunkenly confessing his feelings. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and tried to work the stiffness out of his neck, he realized that you were sleeping peacefully across from him. You must have brought out the pillows and blankets, the bucket and glass of water (which he promptly chugged). His heart twisted a bit when he realized how thoughtful and caring you had been towards him. Fuck.

You were breathing quietly, sleeping on your side facing him. Your hair was messed up, all flopped to one side, your face was soft and sweet. He just watched you sleep for a few minutes, realizing that he was being creepy as fuck but thinking he would not have the opportunity to sit and stare at you like this for a long time. He was taken with you. Anything that you felt even remotely insecure about, Zoro loved about you. On top of that, he thought you were ethereally beautiful; he would muse over how soft your skin must be, how good your hair must smell, how he hoped he’d be able to see the color of your eyes closer, how beautifully your lips turned up into a smile whenever you would see him. He wasn’t merely infatuated with your beauty—it was more than that. He admired you as a person, he thought you were brilliant, smart, and kind.

Fuck. He berated himself. You fucking idiot, what did you say to her?

He remembered asking you when you lost your virginity—or, er… did he ask you how you lost it? It was hazy. He certainly remembered throwing back the glasses of sake like they were water.

He blushed crimson immediately upon remembering that he made some comment like “lucky guy” or “lucky dude” while referring to the first man you had sex with. Fuck, that was embarrassing. And he had a feeling that he took it one step further than that, maybe he said or did something else… he wasn’t sure at that point. He hoped he hadn’t done anything that made you feel uncomfortable or unsafe.

Zoro rarely ever drank this much—he must have been feeling extra bothered and upset by Sanji’s comment about his virginity. Zoro knew that drinking was a horrible, horrible way of coping with his feelings. But sometimes he felt like he just wanted to self-sabotage or self-indulge in feeling like shit. And alcohol certainly made him feel like shit. But he had never drank this much when you were around.

Zoro wasn’t so sure how Drunk Zoro would handle your presence. He had a sinking feeling that he probably made himself look like an ass. Maybe he got way too loud, maybe he overstepped with his questions, maybe he came off as some huge, perverted creep trying to get a better picture about what it would be like to fuck you. He felt many, many pangs of regret and repulsion at himself. He was being hard on himself.

And while it definitely would have embarrassed him, and he would have felt more ashamed than he already did by knowing everything he said, he would have been surprised to know that the version of Drunk Zoro with only you around wanted nothing more than to be close with you—evidenced by the scooting closer, touching your thigh, staring deeply into your eyes, entreaties to sleep with (or was that by?) him. But he had no way of knowing what he did yet, because you were asleep, and he was prideful.

All this angsty reflection and regret was quickly interrupted by the hangover. He needed to do something about that. It was becoming a problem fast. He refused to make any sort of use out of that bucket while you were around. So, he swiped up the bucket, his empty glass, his pillow and blanket, and shuffled down the ladder steps.

---

When he was feeling less disgusting and had chugged a few more glasses of water, Zoro wondered what to do with himself. He would normally be up in the crow’s nest around this time of morning. And it didn’t escape him that you were going to be extremely hungover as well, especially because you had been matching his drinks for the most part (he could remember that) and you had way less of a tolerance than him.

He decided that he ought to bring up some water to you and hang out up there until you woke up. Maybe he’d be able to gauge how massively he fucked up by your expression or demeanor. Only one way to find out. Also, he’d take any opportunity and use any excuse to spend some peace and quiet with you. It was a treat that he rarely got.

He filled a big glass of water for you, and something struck him—what if he brought you up some fruit for breakfast? Would that be weird? He knew that you usually had fruit for breakfast, so… why not? He couldn’t think about it too much or else he’d clam up and get too shy. Fuck it, he told himself. Fruit it is. What’s an added benefit was that no one else was awake to tease him about bringing you breakfast or spending the night with you. So he took a couple of extra minutes to wash up and chop some fruit for you. He plated it as neatly as he could and grabbed a napkin as well. It was a simple but wholesome, caring gesture.

By the time Zoro was making his way back up to the crow’s nest, you had been awake for a minute or two. You were stretching as he climbed into the nook and your eyes met his with a sweet smile. “Good morning,” you chirped, feeling like shit from the hangover, but also tickled that you got to spend just a little bit more time with Zoro. You thought there was absolutely no way he remembered any of the advances or suggestive remarks from last night, and you wouldn’t hold any of it against him or treat him any differently for it. You were just happy to be hanging out with him, and the morning was beautiful. You felt no pressure or even desire to let him know everything that he said last night in the pits of drunken belligerence, and you didn’t plan on sharing unless he prompted.

“Hey,” he greeted you and placed the plate of fruit and glass of water next to you. “Here’s some breakfast. Figured it may get me even with you, since you took care of me last night. Sorry if I was an ass.”

Zoro was doing something as sweet as bringing you breakfast? You knew he had it in him. You always thought that there was some softness and sweetness to him, under those tough layers. Gosh, this was really nice of him.

“Thanks for bringing me fruit!” You responded. “You didn’t make an ass out of yourself, you were actually being really sweet,” you smiled again, and his heart skipped a beat. It felt like it twisted a little bit. Fuck, he had such a crush on you. He felt cringey and awkward when you were around sometimes, hyperaware of his every move, wondering how you felt about him. It was so easy for him to blush when you were around, too. He hoped every time that you couldn’t see it. He knew now that he must have been turning various shades of pink and red because he felt the hot blood rise to his face… and this time you did notice. His cheeks took on a pinkish flush, a shade that fitted him so well. God, he’s so cute, you thought to yourself. He was blushing so hard because you called him sweet.

“Oh, uh.. Sweet? What do you mean?” He acknowledged what you said out loud, putting out a sort of rhetorical question. How had he been sweet? Were you referring to the intrusive questions about your virginity, or did he do something else? What on earth could that mean?

You felt like teasing him a little bit with your answer—nothing too serious, since he seemed a little worried about it. “Yeah, you were sweet… you did call me baby a couple of times. It wasn’t too bad.”

Zoro turned crimson. He started to stutter out an apology— “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I-”

“Zoro,” you cut him off. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. You were super drunk.” He attempted to stutter out another apology and you waved your hand. “Don’t worry, seriously, it wasn’t creepy or anything, it was cute.”

Neither of you thought Zoro could blush any harder, but he did. Cute? He was getting so flustered. He took a beat before hoarsely choking out a response. He expected that he had been a bit weird but… calling you baby? Get a grip, man! He scolded himself. But if that was all… it could have been a lot worse.

“Aghhh… Did I do anything else humiliating?” He asked, shaking his head and covering his eyes with his hand, visibly cringing. He didn’t even think to ask what context he called you baby in. It didn’t matter. He had called you baby, and that was that.

“I wouldn’t say it was humiliating but when you were falling asleep you kind of like… asked me to get in bed with you? It wasn’t creepy though, I think you were chilly.”

Zoro’s jaw dropped. Oh my fucking god. Get in bed with her?! What the fuck? He reprimanded himself internally. This was so much worse than he could have imagined. “Look, I’m so, so sorry I… I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry, I-”

“Zoro, don’t worry about it, seriously. It was endearing and I didn’t take it any sort of negative way.” You took note of how absolutely vivid red his cheeks were. His fists were clenched. Poor guy was obviously going through it.

Zoro was turning the words over in his mind again and again—sweet, cute, endearing. He had never received any of this sort of praise from you before and it made his stomach flip.

Suddenly a shrill voice cut through the air. “Y/N, MY DEAREST SWEET~~ WOULD YOU LIKE SOME COFFEE MY DARLING?” Sanji shouted up to you in the crow’s nest.

You smiled and rolled your eyes at Zoro, sort of mocking Sanji. “Let’s do this again soon, Zoro… silliness aside… I had a really nice time. You really were being sweet so don’t worry about it. I’m going to get some coffee and take a shower. Thanks for the fruit!” You gathered your fruit and glass and shouted back down at Sanji. “Coming!” You did one last pretty smile and wave and then descended below.

Zoro was still reeling from the revelations of his drunken antics. He could have jumped overboard right about now, had it not been for your repeated description of him as “sweet” and “cute.” Your words rang in his ears—“Let’s do this again soon, Zoro.”

So he had called you baby and tried to get you to sleep with him, but it had been sweet and cute? It didn’t really make sense to Zoro but something inside of him fluttered a little bit. You weren’t totally averse and disgusted towards him after last night, so… that was good, right?

Zoro was absolutely mind-fucked at the whole interaction. He was kicking himself in embarrassment, flustered, bright red, his heart was beating out of his chest, but he was also ecstatic because you said you wanted to spend more time with him again. He was completely ashamed but buzzing at the same time. He hadn’t felt like this in years and years, in fact, he wasn’t sure if he had ever been this worked up about a crush before.

Upon second thought, he realized that he did have a shadow of a memory of him calling you baby, along with a suggestion in his mind of the moment when he groaned your name and begged you to come to bed with him. He had wanted you to curl up next to him and sleep there, to be close with him, to feel your warmth, your skin, your heartbeat. He couldn’t believe that all of this started because Sanji’s asshole remark yesterday about his virginity. And there was that virginity and you, two things that were currently posing a problem for him. He could only let himself fantasize slightly about fucking you, but… he didn’t let himself get too carried away (yet).

Stay tuned for part two: Zoro is yet again sexually frustrated, and you decide to help him solve his problem (smut, smut, smut)!

Update: Here's part two!

And here's my masterlist...

♡＾▽＾♡ (◕ㅅ◕✿) ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! - Z

[tmmyhug]

i know its 2 am and no i havent seen dreams recent video but i wanted to talk a little about this screenshot and how telling it is, bc its been on my mind all day

note that i have not seen the stream this was from but i think this on its own tells enough of a story. dream showed this as part of his stream defending himself and airing out how he thinks tommy has wronged him (among other things).

I do think 16yos and 21yos can have positive and healthy friendships. but this is blatantly.. not that. this is not a healthy way for an adult to be speaking to a teenager. even if the adult is hurt by something the teenager did. heck, this is barely a healthy way for two people of the same age to speak to each other. this is guilt tripping, passive aggression, self victimization, just generally self centered and manipulative language.

and the fact that dream thinks showing this is in is favor is extremely telling! because he doesn't realize what this is. dream thinks this is a positive example of him being open about his feelings with tommy.

dream showing this means he has no concept of the dynamics at play here. he was a massive content creator with a following 10x the size of tommys. (idk when exactly this was but tommy hit 1 mil in sept 2020, when dream had 10 mil). he was a grown adult and tommy was a teenager. more than that, tommy adored him and looked up to him almost to a hero-worship level. any sort of friendship that grows in a dynamic like that must be predicated on the adult being aware of the power imbalance and self-conscious and mature enough to not take advantage of it. dream failed miserably at all of that.

toxic people don't usually realize they're toxic. dream showing this screenshot shows either that a) he thinks his own audience are dumb enough to see this as a point in his defense (which, well-) or b) he is so monumentally moronic to still have no inkling of how much power he held/holds in a social dynamic, esp over someone like tommy at that time. he thinks treating tommy as an emotional peer, someone he can dump his feelings on, someone he depends on for self worth and validation, is a good thing, when actually they're all massive red flags.

that's why he thinks this is a screenshot in his favor. that's why he thinks he's in the right and tommy has stabbed him in the back. dream is viewing this entire situation through a lens so incompatible with what actually happened that it's impossible for him to understand why people are mad at him. maybe he has some idea that he behaved badly, but he is so mired in his own inflated ego, denial, and manipulation that he will never ever come to terms with it.

at least, that's what he pretends.

[mistressmxggot]

Chapter 4- ✰ Funds Bigger Than Her Ego ✰

"𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲...𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗵. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻𝗲𝗱. 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂. 𝗢𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗯𝗮𝗱. 𝗦𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗼𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱."

Tags: Brothels, coercion, manipulation

~Your body buzzed violently. Angry bees seemed to shake under your skin, in your head. Blinking hurt. What had happened last night? Panic fell heavy into your chest. You were laying in the biggest bed you had ever seen, covered in warm, red sheets. This place was obviously not your bedroom.

Ambessa.

Oh god she had you in Piltover. She just took you?! You had to find a way back to the undercity. Was escaping her even possible? If you could make a plan, you could get out. Stumbling out the bed, you threw the curtains open. It didn't register at first. How do I get back to the Undercity? Then it hit you.

Oh my gosh. Oh no.

A horrific realization that felt bitter on your tongue came to you. You weren't in Piltover. The grey, industrial buildings that surrounded you spiked your anxiety. You examined the walls of the room, the floor, the decor.

You were in Noxus. Her home.

How?! How did she get you here that fast? It winded you to think how long you may have been passed out for. Correction, drugged and knocked unconscious by a seven foot, perverted psycho.

"Miss."

You whipped around in horror. Shrieking, you stumbled backwards and grabbed a lamp from the nightstand. The man stood unmoving, eyes closely watching your antics. His eyebrows raised as you lifted the lamp in some sort of pathetic self defense. Fear was stricken all over your face. You examined the man. He was just as intimidating as everything else in this place. He was surprisingly much taller than Ambessa. Nothing seemed to be bigger than Ambessa. His broad body covered in armor. His large, brown beard and mustache hiding his face. He held a large, menacing sword that only added to your fear. Your throat held a lump in it.

"Food is ready for you. Follow me."

Your stomach growled in response, but you weren't sure. He could leading you to a gruesome, slow death. Maybe you were the food. Maybe Ambessa would chop you up and serve you to all her rich friends and acquaintances. Rictus looked at your terrified face, slightly amused. You finally got the courage to speak.

"Where is Ambessa?"

Rictus cleared his throat. "Ms Medarda is currently away. She will return tonight."

You glared at him. "So she kidnapped me and now she doesn't even have decency to speak to me?" You were furious. How dare she?

Rictus' eyes stayed on you. He swallowed. "Ms Medarda has buisness to attend to. You will have enough time to speak to her."

You snarled. "I don't want yo talk to her, I want to kill her!" You whipped around, holding your head in your hands. This was the worst. It couldn't get any worse than this. Your head shot up in horror as you turned back towards Rictus. "Don't tell her I said that."

Rictus gave you a stale nod. "You have permission to visit the dining area. Please come."

He still stood there, unmoving. Even he seemed over this bullshit. At least she wasn't here, so you could eat somewhat in peace. Your body was still very much on edge. Ambessa wasn't the type of person for your to let your guard down around, even if she wasn't present.

"Alright." You looked up at him, eyes worried.

He nodded, heading towards the door. You meakly followed behind him. This place was severely massive. You had never seen anything like it. Even Piltover didn't seem this grand. Noxus made topside look like the Undercity. The ceilings seemed to go for miles. Red flags hung on different walls.

This place seemed to have everything. Giant, golden chandeliers, grand staircases at every turn, double doors leading into more giant rooms. Candles and lamps lighting up different corners of the room, a large animal print rug, and heavy furniture. There were many statues watching over the place. Gold and red scattered across palace, reflecting the royalty of the Medardas. The place felt warm at least. Still, It was large and bold, reflecting Ambessa and her personality. Everything around screamed royalty. You couldn't even imagine this place in your dreams. She was like...rich rich.

You frowned. This is what being a selfish warlord got you. Oh you hated her so bad. She embodied everything you despised. You sighed, angry and defeated. The two of you entered the dining room, which was of course like the rest of her house. A giant table spread through a large portion of the room, chairs surrounding it.

Rictus lead you to a spot, some sort of salad waiting for you. Your eyes twinkled at the sight. All it was was a simple salad, yet it's the best you've seen a meal look. It came with a side of chicken and a piece of bread. You quickly sat down, turning back to Rictus. "Thank you. Who should I thank for this meal?"

He looked at you. "You can thank Ms Medarda."

Your smile dropped. What a joke. You rolled your eyes. "No I mean like who made this, not who used their tons upon tons of money to pay someone else to make it."

Rictus stayed silent.

"Ugh fine. Tell her servants or her cooks or her personal chefs, thank you."

Rictus turned around, leaving you alone in the dining room. You scoffed. Thank her for what? She didn't do shit around this place. Some servant probably wiped her ass for her. Picking up your fork, you decided on taking what she gave you.

God, how did the lettuce even taste better? The bowl infront of you was empty before you could even think about what was happening. Nothing had fulfilled you like that. The chicken and bread satisfied just as well as the salad. Another luxury that added to the wound. Topside life really was that good. You couldn't say that you were angry at Ambessa for giving you this. That would be a lie. You had expected to be thrown into a dingy cell with barely any water. Instead, you had access to all of her luxuries. Well, almost all of her luxuries. You were kidnapped for God's sake. Getting too comfortable would be a big mistake. You figured you could leave after eating, as no one was really there to watch or guide you. You couldn't locate anywhere to put your dishes. It felt wrong to just leave your mess there, but she did have hundreds of servants. You figured someone would have to deal with it. It still felt incredibly wrong. Gosh you had no clue of the ways of the wealthy. With one last worried look at your dishes, you wandered out of the dining room.

You flinched as your eyes came in contact with Rictus. You two just looked at eachother.

He soon lead you back to your chambers without a word exchanged. Slumping in the bed seemed like the only option. Every drawer and closet had already been examined.

Worry weighed heavy on you. Every question possible seemed to pass through your mind. Ambessa was such an enigma. No decision of hers seemed to make sense. What was all of this for? You were a stripper and from the undercity. Everything seemed so wrong. Your worried thoughts dissapeared as you fell into slumber.

Soft knocks awoke you. "Come in." You shot up from the bed, completely forgetting your situation. The sight of Rictus eased your anxiety.

"Food is ready miss. Follow me."

Having dinner here sounded amazing. The softness of the blankets left your body as you headed towards him. Walking down the hall once more, you entered the dining room. Your eyes widened in horror. There was Ambessa, seated at the head of the table. Coincidentally, your plate was now moved two seats away from her. You couldn't move. Your captor sat, calm as could be, eating in your prison. Rictus' absence went unnoticed. Your body stayed in place, eyes focusing on her. A groan followed the sound of her fork hitting the plate.

"Are you going to sit? Or are you going to just watch me?"

You slowly approached your seat, her following eyes making you increasingly more uneasy. She went back to her plate after a long staring contest. You could only stare awkwardly at your plate. Hunger had since left you. Your mind wandered, soon to be snapped back to the sound of her footsteps coming to you. You panted, feeling her from behind.

"You haven't eaten a thing little lamb."

"Why am I here?"

"We'll talk once you finish your supper."

You felt like a child being reprimanded. A scowl crossed your face. You could hear a chuckle, her footsteps moving out of the dining room. Everything always felt so on edge. You didn't want to eat, you wanted to go home. Still you gave in.

You found her in her bedroom, resting on her bed. The air in the room was sucked up once you realized what she was wearing. An extremely, like very, see-through nightgown. Everything was on display to you. You tried your best to keep your eyes off breasts or her curls between her legs on display to the world.

"So you've met Rictus. Oh and you wanted to speak?"

She was ridiculous. It's like asking why you were kidnapped was an odd and annoying question.

"Why am I here?"

Ambessa's head tilted down, her eyes staying on yours. You couldnt stay focused on her, the anxiety of her almost nakedness still there. You should look in her eyes, show some sort of dominance. You just couldn't. She never seemed to get nervous or anxious and that annoyed you. Her body layed easily, legs resting apart. Her thick thighs, her muscular biceps, her heavy breasts, her chocolate skin, her strong hands-

"I payed for my time with you." Amusement crossed her face as anger crossed yours.

"This is ridiculous. I want to go home." Her huffed out laugh only angered you more.

"Go on home. Find your way back to the brothel and Malik. Im sure he'll be pleased to see you, knowing you left with me."

Malik. Would he know you were kidnapped? He would have to know, right? She had spoken to him. That was the only way she could have known his name. God only knows what she told him, what deal they made. Defeat weighed heavy on you. Staying here seemed to be the only option as of right now. You had to find out information, information on what she wanted, why she was doing this. You weren't sure if you wanted to know.

Down the hall, away from her, worry and sadness overcame you. The blankets hid your body, head buried beneath them. You could feel your throat tighten, and you were crying. Why was she doing this? You didn't want to know how far this would go, how far she would go. Your sobs turned into sniffes, then silence as you fell into slumber.

Whistling and halfway skipping, Malik drifted down the brothel hallway.

"Babette!"

Babette glanced at Malik in the doorway. She tried her best to keep a neutral face.

"They done yet?"

"Yeah they left a while ago. Um like Ambessa left first then she went home I think. They didn't leave together."

Malik grunted. "What's gotten up your ass?" He studied her face. Something was off. She was lying. "You sure she went home?"

Babette swallowed, keeping her gaze averted.

"Alright what's up?" Babette didn't respond, the ruffle of her papers filling the silence. "Where is she? What happened to them?"

"Malik I- I really can't say." Maliks head shook with frustration.

"Babette. Spit it out!" His hands came slamming down onto her desk, papers flying into every direction. She had to tell him. Malik wasn't the type to just let it go. He would want to know where his favorite went. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Ms Medarda...took her."

"The hell do you mean took her? Like they just left together?"

Babette didn't want to tell him more. She felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. Owning this brothel would actually be the death of her.

"She took her. She went into the room... awake and she didn't come out that way."

Babette waited on Malik's explosion, but it never came. "I'm gonna call Cain."

"What are you going to do?"

Worry clawed at Babette. "We're taking a trip to topside. This bitch crossed the wrong man."

She quietly drifted towards you, watching your sleeping body. Snuggled in the thick blanket, your tear streaked face pulled at her heart. She brushed your hair out of your face, drifting her knuckles down your cheeks. You were so beautiful. Soon. Soon you would be content. Soon you would be greedy for her warmth and attention. Soon you would be begging her to touch you, to taste you, to fuck you. A kiss planted softly on your temple.

"Soon little lamb."~

You. Always. Masterlist

Chapter 5 is when it turns up yall. We're getting to the goods soon.

Taglist: @maaaaaaaaaaari , @ivorydevil , @trizxyp

Lmk to be added.

[sharp-silver4795]

“Rules” of the Mansion

Be warned: this is a long one. Idk if you would call this over thinking the reality of this stuff, but I guess I like to see this as more of a reality. Unless i get some asks, this is probably gonna be the majority of the stuff I post.

There are 3 sets of rules and 2 restrictions:

The Pieces, The Will, Freedoms, The Contract of Death, and The Safety Clauses

The Pieces

The Pieces are for the proxies. Failure to comply with any of them results in death.

Rules for proxies since each is a piece of yourself that you give up to the operator.

Piece of Identity

No Names, No Faces, No Games

A proxy’s identity is supposed to remain confidential at all times.

If someone finds out a proxy’s name they are to be killed immediately

If someone sees a proxy’s face, one of them is dying and it doesn’t matter if it’s the proxy or the witness.

“Bargaining” or “bets” aren’t allowed whatsoever and lead to the immediate death (decapitation) of the proxy

Piece of Automomy

When they proxies “agreed” most of them were forced to agree to being a proxy, they no longer have complete say in what happens with their bodies.

Sex, (new) tattoos/piercings, changes in the body that are not necessary/nonessential (vasectomies, plastic surgery, etc) are all not allowed under any circumstance.

Piece of Alignment

They have a hierarchy that they need to adhere to.

High Proxy > Median Proxy > Others

Piece of Authority

If they don’t assert they’re authority over non-proxies, they can get in trouble and most likely adjusted

Piece of Submission

If a proxy is “misbehaving” (remembering their past, having sympathy/empathy, feeling attraction to anyone, etc) then they may be “adjusted”

This is basically when a proxy is put into a room with nothing but a speaker that repeats the same thing over and over again.

Sometimes there’s a TV, sometimes they’re being tortured as well, it all depends on why they’re getting adjusted.

Piece of Truth and Lies

If you lie to the operator, you get injected with Ne/Spk-0063 aka Cx-0432 which makes you feel like your body is burning from the inside out until you croak

The Will

Set for the non-proxies since they are not directly a part of the mansion, they still have to do the will of Slenderman. There really isn’t a punishment.

To Follow

The proxies are in charge

To Struggle

They will always be put through more than the proxies

To Conquer

There is no surrender for them. If they get caught in a tight spot- too bad.

To Die

When push comes to shove, non-proxies die first

Freedoms

Kind of like “passes” in the other rules that are very strict.

Freedom of Necessity

After EJ joined the mansion, he got pissed about some of the restrictions because it was making him starve himself. He also noticed proxies ended up in the infirmary far more often with non-proxies despite them being more protected. After a bit of analysis, he started to argue that life comes first. If proxies or non proxies die for no reason, The Operator has no real strength. That hit Slenderman’s ego hard.

The Freedom of Necessity was added with 3 parts:

It allows EJ to eat as needed and it not contribute to the capital maximum

The Proxies can take off the lower portions of their masks to breathe

Self defense doesn’t count toward the capital maximum. -> this portion will eventually turn into one of the safety clauses.

Freedom to Appeal

When Jane joined the Mansion, proxies always pushed her around despite her advising against things that would easily get them killed. This did eventually end in the death of a proxy (will not be named). So, Jane stopped obeying the proxies. She basically say that, if they want to die they can but she wont participate.

Slenderman ended up giving The Freedom to Appeal with 2 parts:

If a non-proxy knows more about a specific situation they can speak out and refuse to obey them. They can advise the proxy on what to do and a sort of plan.

However, the proxy doesn’t have to listen to them. If the proxy ignores them, they can’t go off to do their own thing, but they don’t have to help.

Safety Clauses

After EJ’s argument about life, Ann made a comment on how unpredictable both Proxies and Non-Proxies are. After some thought, The Operator decided that there were no safety regulations and that would be an issue.

So, we have the Safety Clauses- often referred to as “The Calls.” There are 9 of them!! These all apply to both proxies and non proxies.

Against friendly fire: Basically says that if anyone hurts another member of the mansion, they are going to face equal or worse punishment to what they gave.

Against abuse of power by proxies: the non proxies can call them out on taking advantage of their “Proxy Privileges.”

Against interference: if there is an interpersonal dispute, no one can get in the middle of it to cause more trouble or chaos between the two.

Against allowing death: Jane is almost guilty of this. Once Jeff got near-fatally injured, she left him there on purpose. That’s basically what this is prohibiting.

Against Vulgarity: basically doesn’t allow for hate speech. Slurs, homophobia, racism, transphobia, etc. This is punishable by death.

Against Encouraging Harm: basically saying to not promote self harm or the harm of others in the mansion. This is punishable by adjustment (yes, even for non proxies)

Against Incriminatination: prohibits selling out other members of the mansion.

Against Invasion of Privacy: Proxies used to be allowed to do whatever whenever. Even looking into other people’s stuff. So, non proxies felt they could do it too. It led to a lot of conflict and scarred memories. So, now, no one is allowed to. This includes asking invasive questions about anything then other person considers “too far.”

Against Destruction: prohibition of destroying other people’s stuff.

The Contract of Death

Despite being such a death-filled place, there is a maximum amount of damage they can do. Each Area of the Mansion has a “Capital Maximum” of how many people they can kill every month.

Inner Mansion: 7/month

Mid-Mansion: 30/month (this includes ALL parts of the mid mansion)

Outer Mansion: 40/month

The numbers I just gave are the worst case scenario. In reality the entire mansion isn’t supposed to take out more than 15 people every month.

To anyone who made it this far, thank you SO so much!!

Life has been a real pain in the ass, and I’ve been kinda slow.

Divider Creds: Sister Lucifer

Header Creds: MEEE!!

[heavens-secret]

🌹 IN DEFENSE OF TAI: A NOVEL🍷

So listen I get it, there’s the writing style to consider and the repetition of the detached, seemingly lifeless man in power being recycled that isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. I fully understand the people saying they want more passion from him, and I hope to see it fully awakened as we go further along. He’s seemingly got the same stoic facecard no matter what context, which can get frustrating because we want a certain degree of vulnerability from our LIs.

But to play devil’s advocate on the subject that is Tai, let me paint this portrait of how I hope to see his character being developed. Because I can’t help but think about the glimpse into that psychotic family we’ve been given in Episode 9 & feel that up to this point, Tai’s mannerisms and general demeanor actually make so much fucking sense.

Like Tiss, he’s essentially been primed for war from an early age. He was primed to rule, to make difficult decisions, to represent his house with pride, and to never show weakness. And yes, he’s undoubtedly enjoyed a certain degree of privilege due to his status. But while his sisters get to explore their interests and amuse themselves in court playing with people like their puppets, he’s tasked with the ultimate responsibility of a society’s future as the family heir. A task I don’t think he takes lightly, given how well read he is and how involved he is in political affairs. And unless there’s some mentor we haven’t learned about yet, Foelh seems to have been his only role model to imitate when it comes to being a man and being a leader. Imagine having that dude as a father figure. Whatever we’ve seen of Foelh so far, I assure you he’s a thousandfold worse. It sort of reminds me of learning about Lucifer’s background & how Satan raised him. There are more parallels to him and Satan than you’d originally think. Both are self-serving, sadistic narcissists with little empathy for others’ suffering. They make decisions not based on what’s best for the people or what is just, but based on what strengthens their authority or feeds their ego. Not to mention both would be willing give up their only son to a win a political chess match if it came down to it. When Tai was briefing him on the murder of the princess and told him he was prioritizing minimizing bloodshed over interrogating everyone, Foelh literally said that he would have executed him were it not for the fact that he was his only son. With a parental figure like that, it often feels like you’re walking on eggshells & consistently made to feel like you’re never good enough. It doesn’t necessarily justify the problematic aspects of their personality down the line, but it humanizes them and puts a lot of their actions in context. It’s also fertile ground for solid character development. Because imagine the sort of coping mechanisms you’d have to adapt to be molded by a sadist while enduring life-lasting fractures to your body and/or soul. Repression would be chief among them. And then imagine meeting someone who challenges everything you’ve ever known and done, who forces you to start feeling again.

It’s honestly nothing short of a miracle that compared to Foelh, Tai has been nothing but respectful towards Tiss up to this point. He doesn’t have an interest in blind subservience or abusing his power for an ego trip like his father does. His calm and reserved nature makes him a lot more open minded & reasonable. On the Falcon path, he likes her challenging him on matters others wouldn’t speak up about & even respects her more for it. These are all qualities that will help him create impactful change when the time comes for him to reign. It feels like she’s awakening sides to him that have long remained dormant, like she’s a literal breath of fresh air after he’s gotten so used to holding his breath entirely. At the same time, however, he knows how dangerous a personality like that is and worries for her. She was always under threat of death but I think he feels guilt and anger at himself that he’s put her in actual tangible danger, like he slipped up somewhere leading to Foelh using her as a manipulation tactic. Maybe he is remaining reserved because that is the best way to keep her safe, because showing passion will only prove that she is a point of vulnerability for Tai. And the more their feelings grow, the truer that becomes. And that will certainly lead to her death, unless Foelh is killed first. Tiss is feeling like a pawn right now, but I’m telling ya’ll she’s gonna checkmate the King.

[alltheirdamn]

Chapter 1: Opening Day

Series summary: You've seen it all as the team's lead photographer. You're in the tunnel before the games, on the sidelines for each inning, and always around the players. When Frankie Morales is called up for the new season, you find yourself drawn to him in ways you can't quite explain. Chapter summary: It's opening day at Petco Park, and you finally meet the team's new star catcher. Rating: 18+ (Eventual smut) Word Count: 5k Tags: Triple Frontier AU, OFC! character described as having red hair and freckles, meet-cute, two big dummies bound to catch feelings, mutual pining, slow burn, future smut, duel pov, baseball terminology, etc. A/N: Hi!!! Well, welcome to the series! I'm really excited to share this lil story with you all. I've never really written an OC! before, so hopefully I don't totally butcher it. Anyway, I'm a bit nervous but please enjoy!

Masterlist | Baseball 101

Point. Click. 

Point. Click. 

The camera shutter echoes through the stadium tunnel as you settle into your usual game-day routine. It’s your third year on the media team for the Padres, and you’re beyond eager for the new season to begin. Nothing beats the thrill of baseball season, and it definitely doesn’t suck when an endless array of beautiful men in tight polyester uniforms surrounds you.

Perched on the ground, you angle your camera down the tunnel to capture the boys as they arrive. Benny Miller, the team’s starting shortstop, waltzes through the hall after a few managers get their head start. He’s got on his usual athleisure wear, a workout bag slung over his back, and his blonde hair tousled in a way that’s both messy and intentional.

Point. Click. 

“Welcome back, Benny,” you say, your camera angled a bit higher to adjust to his height.

“Hey to you too, Red,” he grins. 

America’s heartthrob, you think.

Not far behind him is his brother, Will—or Ironhead, as they all call him. He’s been a vet on the team for nearly five years and is one of the top left-handed pitchers in the league. No doubt, with last season's standings, he’ll take them far this year. He’s got the best ERA out of any team in the National League, and his brotherly dynamic with Benny is unmatched. The only difference between Will and Benny, though, is their personalities. Where Benny is outgoing—and a bit flirtatious—Will is reserved and collected. He’s the voice of reason and the glue that holds the entire time together. 

“Hey, Will!” 

You snap a quick photo, all too aware of how much he hates the attention. He gives you a subtle nod and continues down the tunnel behind Benny. 

Santiago Garcia is the next to make his entrance, his infectious smile perfect for a candid moment. Santi was the rookie outfielder last year, securing himself a spot in the All-Star Game with his defensive playing in center field against the stronger teams. You’ve never seen such an arm on someone, and the way he commands the field is wildly impressive. His gigantic ego and self-assurance are also quite impressive and sometimes a bit aggravating. But, you let it slide. He’s a sweet man through and through and has, thankfully, never hit on you. 

Unlike the majority of the sports world. 

Especially when it comes to women working in the media industry. 

You’re convinced Santi has some sort of sixth sense for the camera because the moment you line up for the shot, he’s already sporting a wide grin directed straight at you. 

“Hola, Red,” he says, waving in your direction.

“You know I have a real name, right?” You toss back.

“Whatever you say, Red.”

You roll your eyes as he walks past you, chuckling to yourself as you scroll through the photos logged into your camera. Making a mental note of which to select for the social media posts, you realign the camera back to eye level and squint through the lens. 

The team's newest addition walks straight down the tunnel, with his head low and eyes covered by the visor of his ballcap. Francisco Morales had been called up from triple just a week before opening day. You hadn’t read up much on him or his stats, but you know he’s done quite the work as the catcher for the El Paso Chihuahuas. There had been talks of who they’d have replacing Tom Davis after his season-ending injury last year, and Francisco was their best prospect. 

“Welcome to the team, Francisco!” You holler before snapping a photo.

He barely glances up, but you catch a rosy tint coloring the tanned skin of his face and a slight twitch in the corner of his lips. He’s dressed far differently than the other boys: loose khaki pants, a basic cotton shirt, and a suede bomber jacket. He doesn’t even carry a bag with him, just a plastic bottle of water gripped tightly in one very large hand. 

You’ve been with the team long enough to know his personality is far more reserved than the rest, a bit sheepish and uncomfortable, even. Maybe that’s just the game-day jitters getting to him. 

“Can I get one of you looking at the camera?” You ask before adding a polite please at the end.

He hesitates but ultimately obliges. Through the camera lens, you meet his eyes—the soft, warm brown of his irises boring into you so intensely it causes you to falter over the shutter button. Like any baseball player, he’s got that signature scruffy face, with a distinct mustache over his plush lips and a patchy beard covering his jaw. Despite his introverted demeanor, Francisco steals the air from your lungs just from a simple glance. It’s as if he’s giving you this one moment to capture who he is, and you take it without hesitation.

Point. Click.

“Thank you, Francisco. Good luck today!”

You’re acutely aware of how shaky your voice is, which is unusual given that he hasn’t even spoken to you. 

“Frankie,” he offers as he walks past.

The raspy low pitch of his voice reverbs inside your head, and you only manage to nod in agreement to his wishes. 

Frankie. You can do that. 

**

“So, what are your predictions for game one?” Ryan asks, nudging you slightly.

You’re both crouched behind home plate shooting pre-game warmup photos, the volume in the stadium growing as more fans trickle in. You switch out your sim card and set up your camera for action shots, too focused on getting the right angle of the outfielders to respond. 

Ryan has been your partner in crime on the media team since the start, and both of you got hired right out of college. While you focus more on the game-day action, Ryan usually tends to the off-day social media posts and team engagement with fans. It’s a fair trade-off, plus you’re far more invested in the sport than Ryan is ever willing to admit.

“Hellllooo?” He waves a hand in front of your camera lens.

“I don’t like giving predictions, Ryan. You know that,” you grumble.

“You and your weird superstitions, Red.”

“It’s not weird,” you counter. “Don’t you ever pay attention to the broadcasting curse? If I say something aloud, it’s bound to go the other way, and my hopes will be crushed.”

Ryan adjusts the focus on his lens, shrugging absently at your argument. 

“It’s the first game. Even if they lose today, there’s still six months left in the season.”

“No one wants to lose their first game.”

“You care too much,” he says, but there’s a lightness in his tone.

He knows you care more than you let on. Baseball has been something ingrained in you since you were just a kid. Your dad spent the greater half of his life as the pitching coach for UCLA, dragging you to nearly every game of the season since before you could even walk. You were raised sitting in the dugout with a handful of sunflower seeds in your hand and a baseball cap covering your red hair. Being a part of a baseball team in some capacity had always been in your future, but after your dad passed away when you were just starting college, you centered your entire life around it. You threw yourself into photography, taking every chance at capturing moments that could give you just a second of nostalgia. The photos weren’t just for school, a baseball team, or a social media page… they were for you. It was your way of coping. The longer you could stay on the field, the longer you could live in that bubble of the past. 

Your dad was gone, but you still had baseball. And you’d never give it up. 

“Think Morales is gonna make his mark on the team?” Ryan asks, steering the subject in a different direction.

You tense up, locked on the memory of Frankie’s big brown eyes. There’s something about him that skyrockets your heart rate, and you aren’t sure if it’s in a good way. You search the field for those dark curls, looking at everybody on the field,  trying to spot him during the warmup. Crestfallen, you give up your search and resume snapping photos.

“I think he’ll do just fine,” you say dismissively.

“His batting average in the minors was insane,” Ryan rambles. “Just hopes it sticks here in the big leagues. You know how it is sometimes.”

You did know. Too often, have you seen star minor league players appear on the big stage and choke. Something about Frankie Morales makes you believe he won’t end up like that. There was something in his eyes that told you otherwise, a seriousness that showed this game meant something to him. 

You liked that. 

“Where’s your station for the game?” Ryan asks.

“First base. I might have to step into the bullpen for some shots if they let me.”

“I’m sure the boys will love that,” he teases.

“Oh, fuck off. They’re harmless.”

“I don’t know, Red. I see the way they look at you.”

You deadpan, giving him an icy stare. None of the boys thought of you that way, and you didn’t think of them differently. This was a job. They played the game; you took the photos. 

That was the end of it. 

“I think you’re seeing things,” you argue.

“I mean, Benny is giving you fuck me eyes from across the field right now,” Ryan shrugs.

You steal a glance out to the in-field to find Ryan is, in fact, correct. With his free hand, Benny tosses you a flirtatious wave before throwing the ball back to Santi across the field. 

“He flirts with everyone,” you say pointedly. “Did you see how many girls he brought back to his hotel rooms last season?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind adding one more.”

You punch Ryan in the arm, clearly annoyed with his pushy behavior toward the subject. Grabbing your equipment bag from the ground, you toss him a quick finger and haul your stuff down to the media room under the stadium. 

**

Frankie isn’t in the right mindset when the National Anthem concludes before the game. He’s not one to get nervous before playing, but something about seeing Petco Park sold out for opening day has him fidgeting. The only saving grace is having Santi playing alongside him. 

He and Santi met back in college, playing together from Sophomore year until Senior year when they got drafted to different teams. Santi was selected in the third round by the Houston Astros and was traded a year later to the Padres. Frankie got drafted by the Padres right away in the fifth round. He spent the last four years in the minors, just waiting to get called up.

Now, the moment is here, and he’s terrified.

Frankie doesn’t like to admit it often, but he holds himself to a higher standard. He’s fucked up in life a few times, and it’s cost him his happiness. He doesn’t want to fuck up now. Not when the entire world is watching. 

“Estás bien?” Santi asks Frankie as they head into the dugout. 

“I’m fine,” Frankie says, but his tone says otherwise. 

There’s a haze over his mind, a fog he can’t shake. Santi claps him on the back, giving him a comforting smile.

“It’s just first-game nerves, Catfish. It’ll pass after the first at-bat.”

Frankie doesn’t respond. He’s got a lump in his throat, and he can’t quite swallow it. The last thing he wants to do is disappoint his closest friend—or the team. He can’t be a disappointment. He has to be good. He has to be the best. 

He has to prove himself.

Frankie runs out onto the field, securing his catcher's mask over his face. The weight of his gear feels like a comforting anchor, leveraging him to keep his mind focused. There’s a roar from the crowd as he takes his place behind home base, and the applause and cheers only make things worse. He’s under the lights, he’s got thousands watching, and this is his one shot. 

The first pitch comes fast, a sinker that falls perfectly into his glove. Strike one. Will is on the mound, his face stoic and focused on the batter standing to the right of Frankie. There’s still some trust to gain between them both, and Frankie hopes he proves himself today. Will throws a slider next, down low and right past the bat. 

Strike two. 

Like a well-rehearsed dance, Frankie and Will waltz between batters. An easy one, two, three, and they’re out of the top of the first. Frankie runs alongside Will as they head toward the dugout, the tension in his shoulders relaxing.

“Great job out there, Morales,” Will says. “Welcome to the show.”

“Thanks, Miller. You’re solid on the mound. Those sliders are insane,” Frankie commends. 

“Gotta keep them on their toes. Now, get ready for the bottom of the inning. Show them what you can do out there.”

As Frankie steps into the dugout, he nearly collides with a body nestled into the corner of the steps. Her red hair is tousled into a ponytail, the bill of her Padres ball cap shielding her eyes from the setting sun.

“Shit, sorry,” she mumbles, stepping out of the way.

He recognizes her from earlier, the media girl in the tunnel. Frankie was so wrapped up in his thoughts earlier he hadn’t noticed how beautiful she was: bright eyes, a gentle smile, and a face covered in freckles. 

“All good,” he huffs, too flustered to choke out any more words.

“You look good out there,” she smiles. 

Frankie runs a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, no doubt looking a mess. He needs to focus—needs to move—but he can’t seem to make his way past her. 

“Be careful with Akin’s pitches,” she adds. “He tends to throw his fastballs up in the corner of the zone.”

“Thanks,” Frankie nods. He’s surprised at how much she pays attention.

“Yo! Catfish!” Santi calls from down in the dugout. “Get your ass over here now.”

“I’m assuming you’re Catfish?” She asks.

“Unfortunately,” Frankie grumbles. “Sorry, I’m just gonna go see what he wants.”

“It’s all good. I’m moving down to first base, so I’ll be out of the way.” 

She rises to her feet and gives Frankie one final smile before stepping onto the dirt. Frankie watches as she walks away, her ponytail swinging behind her with every step. 

Focus. 

**

Halfway through the batting order, you’re already onto your next sim card. You usually space out the amount of footage you take, but the game is electric. The Padres are up three to zero, thanks to a home run from Benny—obviously—and a few quick plays made by Santi and Chris Holmes. 

With two outs in the sixth, Frankie is up to bat. His first plate appearance was abysmal, with a groundout to third base. You saw his shoulders slumped as he walked off the field; he didn’t take it lightly. It’s just the first game, you tell yourself. He’ll do just fine. 

Akin throws the first pitch, a fastball, just as you expect. Frankie takes the strike and readjusts himself for the next pitch. It’s outside the zone, and he tracks it carefully. You hold your breath as he hits a full count, three balls, two strikes… and wait. Akin places a screwball down low, but Frankie manages to get a piece of it and sends it sailing into center field for a double. You startle yourself with how loud you cheer, watching his muscled body run past first and onto second base. You’re so caught up in watching him you forget to snap a photo.  

You scold yourself for missing the opportunity to capture his first hit for the team. Why are you so fixated on him? None of the other guys have ever caused you to miss a shot; no one has ever tripped you up this badly. But Frankie… there’s just something about him. He’s not self-assured like the rest. He’s not cocky in the slightest. Honestly, he looked terrified when you ran into him after the top of the first inning. Before your mind starts wandering off, you check the settings on your camera and return to shooting footage. 

The team wins five to zero. Fireworks sparkle through the night sky as the stadium begins to clear out, and you start to return to the dugout. Benny and Will are in a tight embrace as you step under the awning, your camera gear slung over your back. 

“Great win, boys,” you say, giving them each a high five. 

“Did you ever doubt us?” Benny teases, giving you a smug grin. 

“Not for a minute.”

The Miller brothers make their way down into the clubhouse, leaving you standing alone in the dugout. You peel off your ballcap and remove your ponytail, letting your hair fall down your shoulders. 

“Thanks for the advice on Akin.”

The voice startles you, and you search through the shadows to find Frankie sitting alone at the end of the bench. He’s got his glove resting beside him and his bat propped between his feet. He should be celebrating with the team down in the clubhouse, yet he’s here by himself under the stadium lights and swirling shadows. 

“I’ve got plenty more if you ever need it,” you tell him. 

Frankie doesn’t respond, but his eyes stay locked on yours. The stadium lights illuminate the rich chocolate inside his irises, making it nearly impossible to look anywhere else. 

“Shouldn’t you be with the team?” You wonder. “I’m sure they’re all celebrating the first win of the season.”

“Just wanted some time alone, I guess. Soak it all in, you know?”

You walk toward him, cautious on whether or not to get any closer. You aren’t sure if he even wants company, but you can’t seem to steer yourself away. 

“Was it everything you hoped for?” You ask. 

“It could’ve been better.”

Frankie moves his glove into his lap, offering you a space beside him on the bench. Though you feel reluctant, something inside you forces your legs to move. You want to be nearer to him, to get close enough to see past this wall he’s built up. You’re used to some players being quiet and shy, like Will. At least with Will, though, he’s fun when there’s no stress on his shoulders. He relaxes a bit from time to time and lets his guard down. Something you’ve yet to see with Frankie. 

Sliding onto the bench beside him, you adjust your camera into your lap and lay your ballcap over your knee. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Frankie’s head tilt slightly, his eyes trained on your legs. There’s still a healthy gap between you both, yet the warmth of his body swarms around you. 

“Are you with the team full-time?” He asks. 

You glance at him, studying the way his hair curls around his ears and at the base of his neck. There’s a tension in his jaw that flexes under his beard, a simple twitch that happens after every time he speaks. Despite the timid exterior, you can’t help but to notice the softness in his eyes when he looks at you. 

“Mostly just for home games,” you explain. “I only really travel with the team if they invite me on the road. They like having extra media presence for the bigger series, and whatnot. If I could be at every game, I absolutely would. Sitting on the sidelines beats having to watch it on the TV or listening to the radio.”

Frankie nods along as you talk, his lips pursed as if he’s thinking of what to say. Avoiding any more awkward silence, you flick on your camera and scroll through the photos, presenting him with a few you’d taken during his first appearance at the plate. His arm brushes yours slightly as he leans in closer, staring at the photo far longer than you expect. 

“I kind of fucked up and forgot to take a photo of you after that double in sixth,” you admit. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he shakes his head. “I like this one.”

It’s a photo of him swinging at a curveball, his bat posed perfectly in the center of the box, and his muscular thighs flexed under his pinstripe uniform. You have to admit, it is a good shot—and he looks amazing mid-swing. Your eyes flick up to his, realizing he’s already looking at you. Thank God for the shadows inside the dugout, or else Frankie would see the way your face warms at his words. You don’t ever share your footage with the guys until it’s posted on the social media pages, but it feels different with Frankie. It strangely feels nice. 

“I feel like an asshole, I don’t think I’ve even asked for your name,” he says. 

“The guy’s normally just call me Red,” you shrug. 

“But that’s not your name.”

You tell him your name, and listen to his gentle voice echo it back. It’s rare you hear your name nowadays. Everyone just refers to you as ‘Red’, like it’s who you are. It doesn’t bother you, necessarily, but finally hearing someone acknowledge you makes your stomach flip. Frankie’s eyes never leave yours, and you realize how close you both have gotten. His leg is pressed against yours, and you can still faintly smell the turf on his uniform. He must notice it, too, because he clears his throat and shifts his legs inward. Shutting your camera off, you let it rest in your lap between your hands. There’s a quiet buzz between your bodies, a comfortable cocoon of shared silence that seems to swell with each passing second. 

“I, um, I should probably head down there with the guys,” Frankie says after a while. 

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry if I kept you too long.”

Frankie rises from the bench, his thick fingers wrapping around the neck of his bat. He offers you a hand, and you shrink under his height as you move to stand. 

“I didn’t mind the company.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face, just an easy curve of his lips as he stares at you a moment longer. You should move. You should definitely move. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Frankie,” you say. “Great job out there tonight.”

“Thank you.” He says your name, again, emphasizing it as if to prove a point. A gentle reminder that you’re more than just a nickname. 

**

“What took you so long, Catfish?” Santi yells from across the clubhouse. 

He’s already showered and got on his casual clothes for the drive home, something Frankie should have been doing. Instead, he had been helplessly wasting time sitting next to the photographer he had seen around all day. 

Frankie tears his baseball cap off his head, tossing it into his locker as he unbuttons his uniform. He’s still mentally picking apart the day—what he did wrong, what he could improve on—but in each thought, her shiny red hair and doe eyes make a reappearance. Shaking his head, he strips off his undershirt and searches through his stall for a fresh one. 

“Got to chatting with the team photographer,” he says, shrugging the shirt over his chest.

Santi leans against the locker stall, his mouth quirked up in a teasing grin. Frankie already knows what he’s going to say, and he regrets ever mentioning it. 

“Distracted by Red, huh?” Santi teases. “She’s got that affect.”

“She’s not distracting,” Frankie defends. “She just came down to show me some of the pictures she took, and we talked a bit. That’s all.” 

He hopes his clipped words are enough to steer Santi away from the conversation, but Santi can see right through him. 

“Red never shows anyone her photos. None of us ever see what she’s got on that camera until they’re online.”

For some reason, Frankie loves knowing he’s the exception. He saw the way she lit up as she scrolled through the footage, clearly proud of her work. Hell, he doesn’t even care she missed his big play. She spent that time in the dugout with him while his mind was a mess, and gave him a reprieve from the clouded thoughts that the game left him with. Was it awful that he was only looking forward to tomorrow’s game so he could see her again? 

“Maybe she feels bad for me, I don’t know,” Frankie huffs.

He slips on his jacket and runs a hand through his hair before putting on his hat. Santi watches him suspiciously, tracking the tense movements Frankie makes as he gathers his stuff to leave. 

“She’s a nice girl, you know, and she knows her shit, too. Hell, half the guys have tried to grab her attention the last few years, and she’s never been interested.”

“What makes you think she’s interested in me?” 

“I don’t know,” Santi drawls out the words. “Guess we’ll just have to see what she posts tonight.”

Frankie rolls his eyes, shoving past Santi and out of the clubhouse. He steers clear of the other guys as they walk together out to their cars. No one has said much to him yet, and he’s okay with it. Frankie knows he’s the new guy and it’ll take some time for everyone to warm up to him. The only person that seems to be welcoming so far, was Red. Maybe that’s just who she was, but Frankie found himself working Santi’s words over and over inside his head. Red never shows anyone her photos. What made Frankie so special, then? Was he right to think she felt bad for him? If she hadn’t been interested in anyone else, then why did she spend that time with him? 

The apartment is pitch black when Frankie opens the door. Flicking on the lights, he takes in the empty space. Moving boxes scatter the hallway, leading into the renovated kitchen. Frankie barely got the keys to his new place in San Diego two days ago, leaving him little time to settle in before opening day. After this series he’ll be on the road for a week, without any time to get acclimated. Traveling never bothered him, but he wished he could just stop and breathe for one minute. You wanted this, he reminds himself. He’s worked too hard the last several years to let this opportunity pass. The boxes can wait, at least for now.

Tossing his jacket onto the back of the sofa, Frankie slumps against the cushions, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’s been itching to look at his phone since he left the stadium, but he held off. Guess we’ll just have to see what she posts tonight. Digging out his phone from his pocket, Frankie opens Instagram and refreshes the page. Sure enough, the media team already made a post-game slideshow…with Frankie’s at-bat being the first photo. 

The same one he told her he liked the most. 

His thumb hovers over the post as he debates whether or not to look at the rest. He’s already got his one photo, there wouldn’t be any need to give fans more. Yet, as he slides his thumb left over the screen, there’s another photo of himself—from the pre-game walk through the tunnel. Even though his eyes are staring directly into the camera, he knows that wasn’t what he was looking at. His entire focus had been on the girl behind the camera. 

Frankie opens the team’s Instagram page and scrolls through the ‘following’ tab, searching for her name. It’s just innocent curiosity, that’s all it is, but as he finds her name down the list, he’s tempted to press the button. The blue Follow button taunts him, begging him to make the move. Her profile picture is a simple mirror shot, half her face covered by her camera. He wants to see more, like this odd desperation to know her past the lens she hides behind. Before he talks his way out of it, Frankie taps Follow, and sends his phone sailing across the room. It hits the carpet with a soft thud, and sits there silent on the ground. He tips his head back against the couch, pitching the bridge of his nose. God, he feels stupid. 

A soft buzz resounds through the room. Frankie slides his eyes toward his phone, seeing the carpet illuminated by the screen. Just a coincidence, he thinks. Despite the denial he spews inside his mind, he moves from the couch to retrieve his phone. 

Red has accepted your follow request. 

Red started following you. 

Frankie stares at the screen with a stupid grin on his face. He scrolls through her page, finding a surplus of photographs of the stadium, the beach, and a few cityscape shots from various cities. There isn’t a single photo of her, though. He studies each photo, wondering what she saw through the lens of the camera, wishing he could see just one of her face. As he makes his way down her page, a message notification pops onto the screen. 

Red: I hope it’s okay I posted that photo of you. 

Frankie: Absolutely. 

Red: Ok, good. I liked it, too. 

Frankie: Santi told me you don’t show anyone your photos. 

Red: Of course he did. LOL. I’m just protective over my work. I like to keep things private.

Frankie: Why’d you show them to me? 

Frankie watches as text bubbles appear and disappear over and over for at least a minute. He half considers turning his phone off for the night to avoid her response. He shouldn’t care why she showed him, but the thought of it would keep him up all night, wondering why he was deserving of it and not anyone else. His phone buzzes in his hands, and Frankie quickly opens the message. 

Red: I don’t know. You’re the only person I really felt like sharing it with. 

Frankie: I feel honored. Any time you want to share them, I’m always around. 

Red: I’m holding you to that. 

Frankie thinks of a million things to reply with, but his fingers don’t move; all he can think about is seeing her again tomorrow.

[l-in-the-light]

Does Law consider himself as sexy?👀 How does he react to being complimented or so having a crush on him? Embarrassed, afraid or maybe proud? 🤔

How would he react when someone calls him sexy or says he's handsome? His first reaction would be probably this: disbelief. Next step would be: ignoring. Then, if that person still persists, Law would observe and if he thinks the other person is actually truly smitten with him, he would probably start to show off a bit, because why wouldn't he? Whenever his crew swoons all over him he does the same after all. Which is why I believe he actually would want to be pampered with attention and adoration, just not to the point that it would overwhelm him. Unlucky for him, that's exactly what seems to happen most of the time: when people fall for him, they create a fanclub dedicated to him and worship him. Would he be proud though? I don't think that's the right word here... more like amused and a tiny bit attention-starving.

Would it make him embarrassed? Yes, if that person is very dramatic about their crush and declares love to him at every possible occassion. He might start to avoid them and he would cringe and flinch a lot. He doesn't like huge displays of emotions and feelings, after all. Same with flirting, he just wouldn't even know how to respond to that. But if it would happen often he would try to find answers that could be interpreted in multiple ways and leave the person guessing, because he can be an asshole like that. It's an added bonus that it also acts like a defense wall as well.

After the first enjoyment and novelty of it passes, Law would then try to take a step back. Because he would start to feel afraid, maybe because he doesn't actually return the feelings (and he is considerate!), or maybe he doesn't want that person to know him better (he has bad experience with people knowing about his past, especially about the disease, and then rejecting him, after all).

Now, does he think of himself as sexy? I guess he would think he doesn't look half bad, objectively, but I think it would be more about himself enjoying his own manly look, than trying to swoon anyone. Like: yeah, he's a guy, he has a six pack, he might as well show it so other guys don't see him as a weakling and instead accept him as one of the tough guys. That kinda thing. Personally, I call it male ego/herd fever.

Admittedly, if it happens often enough, he might actually start to believe that either he's kinda sexy or the whole world went suddenly bonkers, or both. If it's the first option, I can imagine him being absolutely insufferable about it, but not in a narcisstic way: smirking knowingly and acting more confident about himself and maybe even showing off more than usual, just for the fun of it.

It would definitely help his poor self-esteem significantly, but at the end of the day it probably wouldn't matter that much. After all Trafalgar Law is a thinker, an overthinker even. He would quickly figure out that being seen as "sexy" doesn't mean much and sometimes isn't even that far away from being objectified as some sort of sexual fantasy, and it's not really about people liking him for who he actually is. That's why he would quickly stop paying it much attention and wouldn't let it get to his head. But he would definitely notice the interest people show him and store it somewhere in the back of his mind as potentially useful information. For what though? No one knows, because it's not like Trafalgar Law would act on it in any way, heh.

He might act differently though if it's someone he likes (and trusts already) that swoons over him, as long as it's not done in overly dramatic fashion, with huge displays of emotions. I think he would actually truly appreciate and enjoy it. Maybe one day, when they're alone and he feels slightly out of his mind, he would dare to ask the question: Why? Why is his significant other so swooned by someone like him? And he would listen and remember every single word he hears as the answer and keep it safely tucked in his heart from now on, even if he would find it difficult to believe in the answer.

And if it's Luffy and Luffy just answers something stupid and random, like "You're so cool, like a hercules beetle!", Law would be sour about it. But later he would realize that whatever bullshit Luffy said was actually honest and precious, once he finally understands the context of it (in this example: he would understand that hercules beetle is the coolest creature to ever exist in the world and it's Luffy's biggest trophy, treasure and pride). Law's world would never be the same anymore after that.

...I feel like I again wrote a meta fanfic, haha. Hope you had fun reading your answer <3

[chamerionwrites]

I do actually have a lot of sympathy for people who get up in arms about kink, in the sense that defenses of it are sometimes phrased as none of your business, everything is fine all the time, do whatever you want forever and that’s…pretty obviously an oversimplification at best. Which I don’t blame anybody for pushing back on and/or feeling upset about.

The thing is that so often the pushback comes in the form of trying to sort stuff into clear-cut Good and Bad boxes. And imo that’s also an oversimplification, in ways that are maybe slightly less obvious but just as dangerous. And I get why saying “actually it’s complicated and contextual” makes people feel threatened, and I get that feeling threatened makes it hard for people to listen, but I think it’s important to grasp that actually nothing is okay all the time.

What I mean by that is…people can be and frequently are abused and assaulted without any physical violence whatsoever. A tender kiss on the forehead can be violating, in the right context. Because the violence isn’t in the act - it’s in the context.

What I mean by that is - most people would agree that it’s good to get off on pleasing your partner, and that there’s nothing inherently wrong with getting a nice ego boost in the bargain. But I think a lot of people could also testify that it’s entirely possible for someone to do nominally “generous,” “considerate” sex acts in deeply self-centered and objectifying ways. If someone is pushing you into something just because you’re “supposed” to like it, or getting huffy and resentful because what does it for you isn’t the same as what did it for their previous partner(s) - that isn’t generous or considerate! Because the selfishness/selflessness isn’t in the act, it’s in the context.

I guarantee you there are plenty of conservative christians who think that having anything but god-honoring gender-affirming vanilla man-on-top cishet missionary sex is perverse…and the misogyny and/or homophobia isn’t in the act, it’s in the context.

And yeah, some people get off on cruelty/control/etc for all the wrong reasons and imo you’d be hopelessly naive not to acknowledge that. But also, human libido often operates very much in a realm of symbol and metaphor, and a fair number of people have the sex version of whatever sensation-seeking thing makes the brain go brrrrrr about triple extra hot salsa/horror movies/roller coasters/tragedies that make them cry/other painful or scary or intense sensations experienced in controlled ways. And the violence or lack thereof isn’t in the act, it’s in the context.

[schizowitchic]

Hey, could you explain the whole NPD devaluing to me? What causes it and what does it look like? (What thoughts do you have etc.)

I’m trying to figure out if that’s what’s going on with me.

finally answering this!! putting it under the cut because it got kind of long

(sidenote before we begin - I don't know if devaluing is the most commonly used term for this experience in the npd community, i know there have been some debates over which terms to use as some originated with people who believe in narc abuse, and I don't know if devaluing is one of them, I know discarding has been renamed but unsure if devaluing also has) (Other sidenote - when I say "you" in this post I mean it in the general sense)

So as I understand it, devaluing in NPD is similar to the concept of splitting in BPD. It comes from that sort of black-and-white thinking common in Cluster B personality disorders, and since a lot of NPD symptoms are based around "worth", such as self-worth, quite a common example of black-and-white thinking towards people in NPD could be something like:

"You are worth everything to me" vs. "You are worth nothing to me",

"You are above me" vs. "You are equal to me" vs. "You are beneath me".

Then the process of devaluing would be something like having Person Y be a close friend, valuing Person Y pretty highly in your eyes - and then Person Y does something you don't like (Most likely something that damages the ego in some way - as NPD is an ego-related disorder) and suddenly Person Y is not equal to you, why would you ever like Person Y, Person Y is worth nothing, etc. etc.

Many things could cause a person to become devalued, it really depends on the presentation of NPD/the relationship itself - for me I often find expressing an opinion I really don't agree with, doing something that affects me negatively, or annoying me often in general will probably trigger thoughts associated with devaluing.

I wouldn't say that devaluing is necessarily permanent - people can go up and down in the sort of hierarchy that I have of them, which would obviously be dependent on what they have done/why I started to devalue them.

Devaluing is sort of a defense mechanism - if someone has been devalued then their opinion is less likely to matter to you (Thoughts such as "why would I care about the opinion of a person so obviously beneath me") and then your ego can't get hurt by that person.

What devaluing looks like would probably be highly dependent on the specific presentation of NPD - whether the thoughts stay internalised, or become externalised through self-destructive behaviour, or are externalised through hostility towards whoever is being devalued.

Devaluing can also lead to what is called "discarding" or "Relationship burn-out", where perhaps the thoughts surrounding a person primarily become negative/you no longer see the person as worth your time/you find you aren't getting enough supply from a person, and you let the relationship go or distance yourself.

To finish up, I would say that obviously, viewing people in a hierarchy based on their worth, and having black-and-white thinking surrounding relationships with people is clearly not healthy, but I tend to focus more on controlling my reaction to those thoughts rather than controlling the thoughts themselves. (e.g. instead of straight away dropping contact with the person, taking some time to reflect on what happened - why did I devalue them, is it salvageable, am I overreacting etc.)

Anyway, I hope this helps you anon, and if anyone has anything else to say please do!! I am not an expert and any input/clarifications are welcome in replies or reblogs!!

[bbluesrreality]

I’ve posted a really hot clip of me jerking strap to twitter that I can’t stop watching over and over again and thinking about hypno and editing and my creation process and dance and the person in the mirror and self worship and rumination and how to be a better person. I spend a lot of time staring at my own face and body and perhaps it’s a defense mechanism to eroticize myself to myself, or maybe my ability to do so is why I decided to do what I do, but watching my own body orgasm over and over again on Premiere to monitor sound levels and color grade and make sure the pacing is good and crop to what I want to audience to focus on or change angle at the right time to maintain visual variety, makes me wet in my seat.

Being able to pay my bills with ass money has done a lot of my self esteem, genuinely, but it kind of makes me fear the day something goes wrong. Something changes about me that I didn’t know what was made me desirable enough to be paid in the public’s eyes… the day I share too human an experience, or become disabled in a way that effects my ability to work. (more than my moderate depression and anxiety and adhd effect it already) will be a very difficult one on my ego. I will continue to cultivate other skills and I feel lucky to feel like I have other options in life if I decide this is no longer fulfilling me at some point. I feel like I will add on other jobs or skills to what I’m doing now, most likely, rather than change up completely, but that could become a lot very quickly and I don’t want to spread myself too thin, and I’m not meeting my personal goals for media production in general at the moment, so I’m going to continue to focused on getting organized and regular with my life and establishing internal routine that feels healthy and natural, outside of the rule of the academic calendar. I’m feeling really unstructured in general.

New tangent: I’m excited to explore using lifestyle BDSM with my partner to help me fulfill my own goals. He’s got a pretty self-controlled mindset with his own goals but he… he has a soft spot for me and it makes it hard for him to be strict. I’m a little bit of a brat and am less on top of my own self control with work than I want to be, but the moments he’s tried a sternness with me, especially with me putting off streaming, it’s made me want to do it less. I usually enjoy streaming, but the worry of how it will feel IF it ends up being a bad night, and how long the setup takes me in my bedroom-as-studio-and-camroom organization, keeps me from starting enthusiastically pretty frequently. Aside from that there’s a sitcom-like cast of family and loved ones in my life and I have various, sometimes unpredictably time intensive responsibilities to them that can drain me before I’m able to do the actively money-making part of my job, streaming or filming.

I keep rearranging my room to try to minimize the amount or room I have to clean to stream, that would be a big help, but I hate the idea of putting the desk in the middle of the room kinda and chopping it up. I need space to dance close up, and far away, and sit on the big leather office chair, or sit in the big plush loveseat, or sit myself on the ground and stretch all sexy and stuff.

He’s really my biggest fan. He got me a lovense mini fucking machine to help motivate me and also bring in that BANK and I’m so pumped to unveil it on stream. We do monthly check ins and I think this next one, we’re going to sort of reflect on and rewire our whole system- look at what was working, what was not, adjust and set new goals, and I want to learn more about how lifestyle stuff could help transfer his ability to abide by a more rigid structure to me through sexual rewards and motivation. I mean my job makes me horny anyway, we did a week where he hid my vibrator until I posted on Reddit each day and it worked, but he’s not around to do that all the time. Ohhh maybe a lockbox…

It can work. I know it can work. This year I intend to revolutionize the way I use BDSM as self-help and focus in on what I want from it. It’s really good for conditioning new desired behaviors, it seems like, and I want to be upswing these tools more frequently and with more intention. And to learn to articulate and share those methods with others. Kink is a powerful tool that is stigmatized in part by its ability to enact a great amount of harm, but, kinks is fun and beautiful and cathartic and has huge capacity to be constructive for the lives of a huge number of people. I feel so profoundly thankful that I get to be a person who is afforded the time to think about sex and psych and sociology so much. Adults allowing themselves to play, questioning deeply what it is they want in life and what experiences they derive pleasure from, and forming intricate, intimate social bonds, is an opportunity we all should be afforded and I am happy to be a hot person encouraging more people to be hot and chill and comfortable with their desires and seek satisfaction and connection that makes us all better, more empathetic, more productive, whatever, together.

Happy 2025!

[prosocialbehavior]

UNIT, self-preservation, and the Doctor

so UNIT is sus, right, we know this, they're getting too powerful for their own good and I feel like everyone is expecting them to get infiltrated or corrupted or something for a season finale plot twist in the near future. but lately I've been thinking about the weird and impossible position they're in.

so! you're in charge of the planet's main (only? idk what torchwood is up to these days) line of defense against alien attack, and your species has been adopted by a sort of alien trickster god.

this eccentric, erratic alien with apparently godlike power has decided to attach themself to you. The Doctor is benevolent and willing to sacrifice almost anything up to and including their own life for the good of the human race, but they're also unpredictable, unreliable, egotistical. you know what happened the last time a human authority crossed a moral line they decided was unforgivable:

so your organization is technically independent, but there are certain decisions you can't make, otherwise the Doctor might decide the weeds need trimming. you're in theory the highest military authority when it comes to alien conflicts, but if you decide to shoot those guys attacking you with your giant ray gun, there's every chance this guy could crawl out of the woodwork to burn your house down. you can't take any action without also taking the Doctor into consideration.

so what do you do?

maybe when they show up, you take them under your power. they're humanity's strongest asset and you need to make sure you have at least some measure of control over their actions.

but now that you've got them, how do you keep them from wandering off on a whim? how do you keep them inclined to work with you?

you formally grant them the power that is de facto already theirs. you rely on them, blatantly and obviously, making it clear that you need their help and their presence to have any hope of survival. you flatter their ego and encourage their attachment to you.

but in the end, it's been proven that nothing will keep the Doctor anywhere they don't want to be, and nothing will stay their hand when they've decided something needs to be destroyed for the greater good. so how do you make sure your organization stays on the safe side of that line? how do you sway the Doctor's judgment?

you employ their weak spot.

the people the your alien protector trusts, loves, has chosen, you bring them into the fold, and so you bring yourself into their fold. the Doctor can't attack you without attacking them, and their trust will rub off on you and your organization. you find what they value most in the world and keep it close.

so you end up with this defense organization which is semi-independent, but also built up totally around this one individual.

the Doctor is the most passionate defender you could hope for, but they also cut off your own ability to defend yourself. a good amount of your defense protocols center around hoping this guy happens to turn up. you HAVE to rely on their support, and you also have to fawn, flatter, and appease them if you want your organization to go on existing. if you want to get away with anything they might seriously disapprove of, your only option is to dazzle and flatter them, collect their friends, and hope they won't look close enough to find your secrets.

I'm not saying Kate Lethbridge-Stewart is some kind of Machiavelli spending all her time finding ways to manipulate the Doctor. but I am saying that UNIT probably has a protocol somewhere saying that in times of absolute crisis, if the Doctor shows up, the first thing you should do is dangle candy in front of their face by means of having someone they like give them a great big hug.

[femmefatalevibe]

how do i deal with an overcompetitive best friend? Shes usually the top student of our class btw. She looks to see where i've reached in my studies by looking at my books while studying, she tries to fact-check some of the stuff i say and talks loudly abt the mistakes i made in my wording of my sentences. She also gets visibly upset and quiet when i get stuff right or start studying in class. Do you think she's aware if her actions + any tips?

Most people's bad behavior is a reflection of their inner turmoil, not an accurate reflection of your behavior/actions/qualities – unless there's some sort of direct action(s)/comment(s) you made that could be their rationale for their attitude toward you.

There's a good chance she prioritizes her status as an academic achiever and her success in this area blinds her to any sense of social graces/empathy towards others in this area of her life. This could mean she bases her identity primarily on her intellect/being the highest achiever vs. interpersonal relationships/image (not a good thing per se, but a possibility to consider).

To determine whether this rude behavior is in any way personal (she does it only to you or to anyone who displays academic prowess/success), you will need to speak to her. Explain to her that it makes you upset when she does "XYZ" behaviors (like loudly announcing your mistakes), and ask her why she feels the need to do this?

If she gets defensive when you say that you enjoy learning and understanding the material too and, as a friend, you should be hyping each other up, distance yourself from her. It is not personal, but you can't tell someone to prioritize their relationships over their ego – they need to make that decision for themself. If she gets embarrassed/apologetic, congrats on building a stronger friendship and helping others gain higher levels of self-awareness.

Hope this helps xx

[alephskoteinos]

I noticed something very interesting in Pan's Daughter: The Magical World of Rosaleen Norton last night, taken from her notes.

Since I had read about Anti-Cosmic Satanism fairly recently, feels like they and Norton almost approach an idea about the opposition of Self to ego in different ways. Both Norton and the Anti-Cosmic Satanists seem to pose a Self as something opposed to "the ego" ("minor" or "false self" identified with ordinary social consciousness), and both identify "the Self" with the unconscious. The difference between them is obviously the cosmos. Norton is not anti-cosmic. Her paganism is centered around a creative cosmos and "the Self" is linked to that. Anti-Cosmic Satanists, by contrast, reject the cosmos, and treat "the Self" as something like an essence, or "divine spark" situated outside the cosmos completely. Either way it seems like there's also different ways of treating a throughline familiar to Hindu metaphysics, which also forms a distinction between "the Self" and "the ego", though I doubt most schools of Hinduism regarded "the Self" as a wild or dark unconscious.

That Norton identifies the goat as a symbol of creative energy also brings us back to Crowley's representation of The Devil and the goat, as representing a wild, "blind", "unscrupulous" creativity, the kind of creative chaos of the sun and Yaldabaoth.

You can see me discuss that idea in more depth here:

No surprise that Norton was prepared to embrace a sort of quasi-Satanic stance in defense of her pagan worship of Pan. In her words:

If Pan is the Devil, then I am indeed a Devil worshipper.

Her religious worldview, with its pantheism at least, is definitely not the stuff of how most people interpret the Left Hand Path, whose modern definition seems to be dominated by the premises of Setian philosophy, but it also hints at a very different way to interpret it. Actually, given her emphasis on making the soul a part of the macrocosmic and unconscious creativity of nature, you might argue there is much about Georges Bataille's philosophy that is radically simplified in her worldview, and that makes things interesting.

Also the fact that both Norton and Ben Kadosh embrace Pan as their god of the ultimate reality of nature, and arguably accept a linkage between Pan and the Devil, might bring her witchcraft in proximity with some forms of Satanism.