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nanabansama · 6 months ago

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Tsukasa Is Tsukasa

Recently I discovered a poll asking if people thought the Supernatural Tsukasa and the Red House Tsukasa were different, and the results surprised me! A majority of voters thought they were not the same. Not only that, but I've seen many people in the fandom start believing they are separate people, if they hadn't already believed it before.

I think this stance can very easily be explained by the scene in Chapter 111 where Amane comes to the conclusion that the Tsukasa who went missing isn't the same as the one who came back:

While people might be divided on the details, the conclusion is basically the same: whatever that is inside of him, it's not Amane's brother.

And I can see why they think this! In fact, it used to be a popular theory back during the release of chapters 78-82 when we didn't know the specifics of what happened. Heck, we still don't know many of the specifics...and many people continued believing the Tsukasas were different anyway!

There's decent evidence to support this, too. When Tsukasa returned, he had sharp teeth and supernatural powers. He knew that Kunishige's wish was that the head priest would die. He's demonstrably different from the innocent little Tsukasa that sacrificed his life for Amane.

If that wasn't enough, even his own mom came to the conclusion that Tsukasa wasn't her son! This is basically the same conclusion Amane comes to in Chapter 111. That's 2/3 of Tsukasa's family members thinking some evil entity is larping around in his skin--not a good look!

In any case, while I could try and convince you guys there are two Tsukasas and the Tsukasas are different, that's not what I'm here to do. If you read my blog you already know I'm 100% on the side that Tsukasa is Tsukasa and always has been, and nothing AidaIro has shown me so far has been convincing enough to change my mind. In this post, I am here to argue that the Red House Tsukasa is the same as the Supernatural Tsukasa and that he merely works in tandem with the ancient god living inside him.

1. Chapter 82

This is the chapter when a lot of people dropped the theory that there are two Tsukasas, including me. (Yes, I used to believe there were two Tsukasas--people change!)

Kou and Nene had determined that the Red House Tsukasa was the real Tsukasa and that the one Amane killed was a fake. They come to this conclusion because this Tsukasa was trapped in the Red House for 50 years and acts a lot nicer and sweeter than the one we know.

The issue is, Kou tells this Tsukasa that Amane is going to kill Tsukasa and die at the age of 13...and unbeknownst to Kou, the seemingly innocent little Red House Tsukasa is EXCITED at the idea! Tsukasa, thankful to Kou and Nene, helps them escape the house but stays behind. This scene is when a lot of cool stuff happens.

First, we learn that Tsukasa wasn't actually trapped in the Red House and he always knew how to get back home, but that he never left because he was worried about what would happen to Amane. However, once Kou told him that Amane wasn't happy after Tsukasa left and that Amane kills not just Tsukasa but also himself, Tsukasa realizes he doesn't know that much about Amane and wants to learn more. The most shocking part of this scene to me was that Tsukasa's excitement at dying was very similar to the lighthearted way the Supernatural Tsukasa brings up his death with Amane.

Second, we see Tsukasa not only has the entity he sacrificed himself to to save Amane stored in his chest, but that he holds a conversation with it.

The entity being shown in his chest is actually a popular argument for the "Tsukasa isn't Tsukasa" theory, but I feel this scene proves otherwise. Tsukasa is not the unwilling host of this entity, as one might expect, but instead almost treats it as a friend. They have a sort of symbiotic relationship going on, and Tsukasa makes the decision to go back wholly of his own, despite them both knowing how to get back the entire time. He even says "let's go back TOGETHER," which supports the idea that they work together and that it isn't simply piloting a Tsukasa meat puppet.

We can argue Tsukasa is the victim to the entity's machinations, that the entity needed Tsukasa to do it willingly or that the entity took full control of Tsukasa after he succumbed to the flames or what not and tricked him, but so far AidaIro has only shown cooperation between these two characters. It's not unreasonable to suggest that Tsukasa gaining supernatural powers after he comes back isn't a sign that he's a different being entirely but that he's just working with one.

2. Mother Doesn't Always Know Best

This one will be a quick section, but considering Mother Yugi is basically the origin of "Tsukasa isn't Tsukasa" I wanted to cover why I think she's wrong.

In Chapter 79 Kunishige recounts how Mother Yugi took Tsukasa to their shrine because she thought her son was possessed by a demon after being spirited away. Kunishige thinks she's crazy at first, and so do the priests, who find nothing wrong with Tsukasa. Put a pin in that btw.

However, Kunishige later learns she was onto something because Tsukasa is not only an incredibly unsettling child but he correctly predicts the death of the head priest of the shrine and tells Kunishige his wish, for the head priest to disappear, would be granted tomorrow. This proves Tsukasa has otherworldly power, since he knows Kunishige's wish without Kunishige telling him, and also might have the ability to grant wishes, something the entity in his chest is shown to be capable of.

Now, I personally think the fact that the priests found nothing wrong with Tsukasa is HUGELY in favor of my theory. I understand how you can argue that the entity somehow avoided detection because it's powerful, or because there was nothing left of the original Tsukasa or something, but I still think the fact the priests detected nothing wrong is extremely weird. What if that's because Tsukasa is still in control?

I think the fact Mother Yugi was convinced Tsukasa isn't her son and wasn't persuaded otherwise is important, too. In fact, I think it might directly correlate with the conclusion Amane makes in Chapter 111. I think Amane is more or less coming to the same conclusion his mother made, something he hadn't wanted to believe at first but eventually, finally, succumbed to. I have to imagine his mother's insistence that Tsukasa wasn't Tsukasa left a big impression on Amane, and it's something that's bothered him for years.

I can't exactly blame them both, either. By the time Tsukasa came back, he'd lost a lot of his innocence. Keep in mind that they think Tsukasa was gone for six months. Any normal 4-year-old kid might have been traumatized by leaving his family for six months, but Tsukasa just acts creepy and possessed. And despite him meeting Nene and Kou 50 years in the future, it's possible it really was only six months for Tsukasa! Time worked differently there. Still, it's not hard to see how the extreme circumstances he was in might have changed him. Not only was he stuck in a haunted death house, he later learns the wish he granted for Amane wasn't Amane's true wish and that Amane kills Tsukasa. This is all pretty life-changing information, and when you tack on the fact that he's buddy-buddy with an ancient man-eating god, it's really not that surprising Tsukasa has changed so dramatically, especially when he's still at the tender age of 4.

3. Behavior

For something that's supposedly replaced Tsukasa entirely, it certainly gets very personal with Amane, doesn't it?

I said before that Red House Tsukasa in Chapter 82 acts similar to Supernatural Tsukasa. How they find delight in death. But I don't think this is the only point of similarity between them, either. In Chapter 81, Red House Tsukasa is under the impression that Amane hates him.

In Chapter 111, after Amane tells Tsukasa he hates him, Tsukasa tells him he already knew that.

Mind you, this line comes seconds before Amane comes to the conclusion that Tsukasa isn't Tsukasa.

Think about it. Tsukasa tells Amane that he knows Amane hates him, echoing a sentiment that the Red House Tsukasa shares. And Amane, after hearing this, comes to the conclusion that this Tsukasa is an impostor.

Isn't that... really sad?! I mean, I'm not going to say that Amane's whole reasoning for Tsukasa being a fake is that he thinks Amane hates him, but...before this scene, Amane was saying he couldn't destroy his yorishiro because he cared about Tsukasa too much. And for Tsukasa to say something he's thought ever since Amane pushed him as a little kid, and for THAT to make Amane say he thinks Tsukasa is fake... it really shows they've never understood each other at all.

Tsukasa's never been shown to get extremely upset about being hated by Amane, either, so you can't say Amane is right just because Tsukasa is laughing in Chapter 111. Tsukasa initially seems shocked when he was pushed, and overall seems a little sad about it in Chapter 81, but he still remarks that Amane hates him with a smile. He's selfless about it. And later, when he learns Amane kills him, this feeling gets more complex. Despite Kou's attempts to convince him otherwise, I think Kou's reveal only made Tsukasa more convinced that Amane hates him, and this is shown in Chapter 111 when he laughs about it. It's just a funny joke to him at this point.

I...genuinely cannot reconcile this behavior with Tsukasa being a fake. I just can't! Why would the entity be this personal with Amane? Why would it share opinions that the supposedly "real" Tsukasa had? If AidaIro really is trying to write a story about a little boy being replaced by a supernatural entity, then they could at least do a better job of making them act different. TBHK makes it clear that supernaturals can experience human emotions just as strongly as actual humans, so it wouldn't surprise me if the god has its own personality and feelings, but for them to just...be the exact same as the human it replaced? I'm not buying it.

There is no difference between the Red House Tsukasa and the Supernatural Tsukasa that can't be explained away by the fact that people change as they grow older. Everything about Tsukasa's character arc as I've presented it is completely logical.

Conclusion

With so little info on the ancient man-eating god, it's kind of impossible to reach a proper conclusion at this point. All we really know about its personality is that it hungers for flesh and will grant any wish in exchange for it. With this in mind, it's incredibly easy to see why people think the god and Supernatural Tsukasa are one and the same, especially when the cast tends to treat them as such. I could just as easily write a post in favor of them being different as I could of them being the same.

And I think this is what AidaIro ultimately wants! I think AidaIro wants us to second guess ourselves. If I know anything about Aidairo, it's that they like to keep up on our toes and shock us with surprising twists. Who really knows what they have hiding up their sleeves?

Still, I feel the theory that the god replaced Tsukasa raises more questions than answers, and I hope I managed to explain my side of things.

#jshk #tbhk #tsukasa yugi #pit god #yugi twins #my theories

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alicelufenia · 2 months ago

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A Guide To Keeping Wyll And Karlach After Siding With Minthara In Act 1

Or as I like to call it, how to permanently recruit Karlach and Wyll (because I have yet to complete a full playthrough with both of them)

Ever since Larian added a way to legitimately recruit Minthara by knocking her out, I've wanted to help the community be more successful in their efforts to give my favorite drow yet another concussion. Because like all things related to Minthara, the KO method was buggy as hell, non-intuitive, and metagamey as fuck. I wrote multiple guides on it, to the point where I made the master post my pinned for a while. You may have seen it at some point, but here it is again for reference [x]

As happy as I am with the success of those posts, it's time I revealed my true alignment. I'm actually one of those scary Minthara stans who has killed the grove more times than siding with the tieflings. I know, you'd never guess by looking at my blog (don't look at my blog) I did it my first playthrough and it's only gotten easier since. And while I stand by it as the single best way to experience Minthara's character and story arc, I'm not so cold-hearted as to deny that it's a shame we miss out on Wyll and Karlach in the process.

So rather than play the villain, what say we have them stick around by taking on the REAL villains of Act 1:

The Druids

To start off, you'll want both Wyll and Karlach in your party, and Withers in camp. I've had him show up upon crossing one of the bridges in Act 1, either to the blighted village or the goblin camp, I forget which, or you can bust him out of his Dank™ crypt. Proceed through Act 1 as normal. To be safe I got as much approval from them as I could in early game, but that may not be necessary. Offer to kill Kagha for Zevlor.

Now, both of them need to die, and preferably not by the hand of your party members. I had them suicide charge the gnolls and get wrecked, as on Tactician mode they'll attack downed party members until they're dead. I don't know if having them jump off a cliff works, but it might. We need to entrust them to Withers by asking him to look after their bodies instead of reviving them. Their bodies will then appear in camp by their tents.

Now go kill Kagha without revealing the shadow druid conspiracy. This should trigger the Druids to start fighting the Tieflings, which will happen off screen as you deal with Kagha and the few druids inside with her (killing Nettie earlier might make this easier in case she joins in. She tried to poison you, so serves her right.)

Steal that idol! I'm not 100% sure this is required, but it takes no effort at this point and you need to sit tight for a minute, so might as well.

Also if you thought you could return the idol to Mol, no luck, she won't accept it until the fighting ends. Unfortunately all the tieflings need to die for this to work, so rip Ring of Protection. But not exactly rip the tiefling kids, more on that in a minute.

OOF, rip Dammon (and most of Karlach's questline. Don't look at me like that, it's Larian's fault for tying her entire story onto one npc and giving nothing as an alternative)

I'll give the tieflings credit, they did not go down without one hells of a fight. This bear was found burnt to death, probably due to Zevlor.

Damn, they really killed all of them. I wanna point out this can happen even on a good playthrough with the best of intentions.

In the end, only four(!) druids survived. I don't know how they'd fare with Kagha fighting too, but overall I'd say the druids talk big for doing this badly against a bunch of unarmed civilians. We kill the last four of them, then get ready to move on.

With trepidation, I go to check on the kids. Not recommended if you raid the grove for real, but here:

It's just... empty. No bodies, no npcs hanging around, they completely cleared out.

I like to headcanon that Mol followed through on protecting her kids, and they escaped down this hole. I'm still very early in this run used for testing, so I have legit no idea if they show up later. But this is good enough for me to include them all in my fanfiction so :D Congrats, the only tieflings with rights (sorry Karlach!) are gonna be alright (because if we don't see a body it doesn't count)

Next step is to just... keep going. Sazza can get you into the goblin camp no problem, and if you play a Drow or have Shadowheart use disguise self, you can gain entry without any checks or dialogue. My half elf needed to talk her way in (or just use AUTHORITY)

best goblin btw

MOMMY

Lookit how happy she is after Sazza has brought her the grove's location! A lead on the weapon AND another True Soul AND she's concussion-free? Everything's coming up Minthy!

It's at this point things get a little weird (I did warn ya), as the game now has flagged the grove as "raided" even though we haven't done an actual grove battle, which is a different thing (as I'll demonstrate later), so Shadowheart has her "post-raid" dialogue when we wake up on the next long rest. The Raid The Grove quest is also marked as Completed, but still has a marker on the map. Have patience, return to the grove and walk through the (destroyed) gate, and suddenly:

The quest will update, and direct you to speak with Minthara in the secluded chamber where she normally is at when the raid is finished. There's also goblins milling about the grove now, same as the post-raid grove.

Get someone who looks at you the way Minthara looks at a cave full of dead druids and tieflings.

"No Minthara, I never meant for any of this to happen. This was all my fault, I shouldn't have gotten involved, they're all dead because of me-"

"Nevermind I am no longer morally conflicted about all this."

To the goblin party!

LIES. He never mentions it again lmao. C'mon patch 7 fix this! (you won't)

Why we're all really here 🥰

The next morning, speak to Withers and ask to collect your dead party members. He will have you confirm payment for their resurrection.

And it works! Karlach and Wyll are back, they can rejoin the party, and their approval is Unchanged!

Since I was on a roll, I went ahead and checked a few other scenarios: what happens if we don't start a fight with the druids and just raid the grove directly, with Karlach and Wyll dead? Well you can revive them afterwards, but...

Dang, Wyll still leaves (he's still so nice about it though! Even wishes you well!)

Meanwhile Karlach: Feck off, cunt.

Well, she's not leaving, but she's never been this blunt or cold towards me before. I wonder how much-

Damn, -49?! That's literally one away from leaving permanently! She started at 50, which means Karlach looses 100 approval from raiding the grove, and being dead doesn't change that. I think the only reason she's at -49 instead of -50 is due to that +1 from reviving a party member. So, she's grateful for being brought back to life, but not happy about anything else. You know what, that's fair.

One last thing I tested (and no pics for it cause this post has reached its limit! But those extra pics of Sharp-Eye Sluck are important, so I'll just write this next part out) I wanted to see if it was even necessary to finish off the remaining druids after they killed all the tieflings. So I left the grove (manually, you have to journey quite a distance before it lets you fast travel, almost all the way to the first bridge) and headed to the goblin camp to start the raid as normal.

Like our first time, we arrive at an empty grove. Even the druids we left behind are gone, meaning you can safely headcanon this method as joining up with the goblins and Minthara to take revenge on the druids. The game still acts like you killed the tieflings though, down to Gale's threatening to leave.

But Karlach and Wyll still get brought back without a problem! You can even revive them DURING the goblin party and they'll act like nothing's happened!

Wyll And Karlach Recruited Alongside Raiding With Minthara: Success!

So Baldur's Gate 3 community! I now implore you to put down your Pommel Strikes, switch off that Non-Lethal toggle, and stop giving poor Minthara even more brain damage than the tadpole and the Absolute already gave her!

And when you reach Moonrise Towers to rescue her, for the love of Selûne, when the guards are torturing her in the prison, don't just swing on them. Agree to enter her mind first. You'll have a dicey roll to deal with, but trust me, it's SUPER worth it!

As for the whole process, well. Despite the clunky way quests update after you start the grove civil war, the resulting lack of direction and narrative inconsistencies in the dialogue post-goblin party, this still feels like a more immersive way to recruit Minthara on a run with both Karlach and Wyll still present, than the KO method, in my not-so-humble opinion.

Consider this: You've got a major twist in the Act 1 plot now, with the Druids turning on you and killing the tieflings you were trying to help, leaving your party dispirited and lacking direction, other than to continue their search for a cure, which leads them to meet the Absolutists, the goblins, and the drow commander leading them and looking for the druids' sanctuary. And in the midst of your grief and anger, you side with her, both to get close to the source of the infections (as the Dream Visitor suggests) but also to take your revenge out on the druids.

You can feel conflicted, regretful even, but the context has changed enough that I think even a good-aligned Tav with no qualms about methods can live with this result. It just takes a bit of filling in the gaps (do you simply point the goblin army at the druids and look away, or lead them yourself by Minthara's side? Either way works for the results)

The only real downside is, again, Karlach's story just sorta ends here, until the confrontation with Gortash. I personally think this is a problem with Larian's writing for her, and at this point fanfiction is about the only solution in sight. But if you don't mind her not getting the chance to touch others again, you really have nothing to lose here

Besides, were you really going to pay Dammon for that act 3 armor? Of course not, you steal it every run and don't pretend otherwise, "hero."

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fangirlfrom-hell · 1 year ago

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"My daddy has to fight some bad guys". || Jay Halstead x reader and daughter

*re-posting this because I'm stupid and accidentaly delated my blog 🫠

You woke up earlier than everybody in your house to get everything ready for everyone. Jay would usually follow you a few minutes later and you two would make breakfast and get your daughter ready for school together, along with other morning stuff. This wasn't the day, your husband had fallen asleep and you were doing everything by yourself, trying not to make a lot of noise. You knew he was working a tough case and had come back quite late from work the night before, so you didn't want to wake him up. Even when he didn't want to admit it, he was tired as hell and needed to rest.

You were in the kitchen starting to cook breakfast when you felt his arms hugging you from the back.

-"Did I wake you up?" You asked. -"I was trying not to".

-"I didn't feel you by my side and I couldn't fall asleep again". He answered into your ear and then kissed your neck as he continued talking. -"I'm sorry I haven't been around. We closed this case last night, what's left is a bunch of paperwork. My hope is to be back home early tonight and...". You turned around to hug him back and interrupted him with a short kiss. He rushed to finish his sentence with a heavy breathing : "...I can make it up for you", then proceeded to tenderly kiss your lips as he held you as tight as he could with one of his arms, while fervently holding your head with his other hand, finger all tangled in your hair, pulling it a bit.

Due to the case Jay was working on, you two had barely seen each other during the last week and a half, so things were heating up fast. Suddenly, for both of your displeasure, an alarm interrupted the moment.

-"Time to wake her up". You said having trouble separating from him.

-"I'll go". Jay took your phone to turn off the alarm. -"I'm driving her to school too".

-"Hey, Jay!" You took his hand before letting him leave the room. -"You do remember her Father's Day Festival, right?".

-"Next friday, 10:30, sure".

-"I was thinking...maybe you should talk to her and explain that...of course you will be there, but if you are not able to make it is due to your work".

-"But I will be there".

-"I know, I know, it's just...we never know when a case might pop up. Remember the Spring Festival?".

-"Oh. The bank robbery right before it...".

-"Yes, that's what I mean. That time was easy because I was there, but this time I won't...".

-"I will talk to her". He said after a few seconds of silence. -"But I'll be there, no matter what".

That day, Tessa and her class made a craft for their fathers. All the little kids were drawing in a small paper square that would become a keychain for Father's Day. Some of them were drawing hearts, others were doing stick figures. Tessa drew her dad carrying her over his shoulders and a bunch of hearts around. Her artwork was a little abstract, but understandable for a 5 year old.

-"All right". Ms. Luna said in a sweet voice. Tessa really loved her teacher. -"I am going to take your drawings and we will give them back to our dads as a key chain during the festival!".

-"My daddy said he will come, but he's working and if he doesn't show up it is because he has to fight some bad guys. Bad guys don't respect days or time". Tessa rushed to repeat what Jay tried to explain to her earlier in the morning when he was taking her to school.

-"It's ok". Her teacher laughed a bit. -"Sometimes parents can't make it and it's ok. That doesn't mean they don't want to or that they don't love us".

The class rehearsed the song they would sing at intervals throughout the rest of the day. Tessa never missed the opportunity to repeat the information going around her head: "My dad said he's coming, but if he's not here it means he's working" or "My daddy is fighting the bad guys and bad guys they don't respect days or time" or "He will be here, but if he's not here, that means he's on the streets. He makes Chicago safe". Her friends were amazed whenever she repeated those statements. She did understand what her father told her, but she didn't really comprehend.

The day was here. You dropped Tessa at school, she was all excited. Before she entered the building you reminded her: "If it happens that daddy is not here or he's late, remember he's fighting the bad guys".

Jay was already in the bullpen, everything was strangely calmed. He had talked with Voight about going out to Tessa's school and he gladly agreed.

-"Today is the day isn't it?" Hailey asked Jay as she entered the coffee room.

-"Yeah". He smirked. -"If nothing else intervenes".

-"Let's stay positive". She said remembering what had happened last Spring Festival.

It was 8:30, the day had just started when Trudy came upstairs with an urgent case.

-"That's just my luck". Jay said, rushing downstairs with his partner.

-"Let's try to make it quick". Hailey answered by putting on her coat.

At school, the kids were getting ready to go outside to start the festival. Parents were gathering outside of the building, waiting to get inside.

Students from all schools were lining up around the court. Their parents were supposed to meet them and be in front of their kid's group to hear them sing.

-"Is your dad here?" One of Tessa's friends asked.

-"I can't see him". She answered standing on tiptoe. -"But it's ok, it's because he had to fight the bad guys".

All the kids waved their fathers with excitement, some of them ran to hug them before starting the show. Jay didn't make it, but Tessa wasn't feeling bad about it...yet.

When the song finished, all the kids jumped into their fathers arms and gave them the craft they made in class as a gift for them. Tessa stood in her place, not being able to hold her tears. She was crying in silence, so between the noise and excitement around the little girl, nobody noticed her until a few minutes later. As soon as her teacher saw her, she ran towards her and hugged her tight.

-"It's ok, honey. It's ok. Your dad wanted to be here with you". She said in a very sweet and calmed voice. -"Remember he is fighting the bad guys, you said that before ''.

Some parents were moved watching the scene, but there was nothing they could do. Ms. Johnson, the school's principal, noticed the situation from afar and she joined as soon as she could. By only moving her lips, trying not to be heard, she asked Tessa's teacher if the little girl's father wasn't there. She shaked her head in disapproval when the teacher answered with a sorry face.

-"We can call your dad, Tess. That way you can hear his voice".

-"But, Ms. Johnson, he's fighting the bad guys". Ms. Luna intervened.

-"Oh!" She understood. -"Ok, but we can call him later, we'll tell him to come so you can give him your present. Would you like that?".

The little girl was an emotional mess, but agreed with her head, even though she wasn't really listening to what the adults were saying.

The emergency call for the intelligence team ended up in a shooting and that delayed detective Halstead. As soon as he finished with interviews and all the bureaucracy after this kind of situation, he ran off.

-"Go, go, go". Hailey rushed. -"I cover you".

Jay drove his truck as fast as he could, siren on. It wasn't a police emergency, but it was an emergency after all, he could deal with the consequences later. He parked in the first spot he found, even if it wasn't merely in front of the school and ran as fast as he could in a police mode to get to his baby girl. It was until he entered the building that he noticed he was still wearing the vest, gun and badge on his hip, but didn't care.

-"There he is!" Ms. Johnson pointed to Tessa's father.

-"Come on! Come on!" Ms. Luna took the little girl's hand and started running towards her dad.

-"I'm so sorry". Jay took Tessa in his arms and carried her holding her as tight as he could. She was too emotionally drained to react.

Kids around were already saying goodbye to their parents, going back to their classrooms.

-"We'll give you some time alone". Ms. Johnson informed Jay and he muttered a "thank you".

-"You can go back to the classroom when you feel ready". Ms. Luna told her student.

-"I hate the bad guys". Tessa managed to say when they were finally alone.

-"Me too". Her father said. -"I'm really, really sorry I didn't hear you sing, but I'm here right now". He wiped the tears from her cheeks.

-"I did it real good, you missed it". She said playing with the key chain in her hands.

-"I bet you did". Jay chuckled. -"What do you have there?".

-"It's a present for you. I made it for you". She extended her short arm to give it to her dad.

-"For me? Is it for my keys? I love it!"

-"It's you and me and lots of hearts. I drew it myself".

-"I can see that. It's beautiful. Thank you, sweetie". Jay's phone started ringing and he sighed when he read the text messages.

-"I have to go back to work".

-"But I don't want you to go". She started crying again.

Ms. Johnson came into the scene to help Tessa go back to her class" -"Daddy has to go back to work, sweetie. Ms. Luna and your friends are waiting for you, let's go". And she took her tenderly in her arms as her crying grew louder.

-"It's all right". Jay reassured her with a kiss. -"I love you. I'll see you at home, ok?". And she disappeared through the door.

He peeked through the classroom window to check on her before departing. He witnessed how Ms. Luna was successfully calming her down and felt a little bit more relaxed to go.

-"Thank you for coming". Ms. Johnson told him with a smile. -"For real".

With a heavy heart, he got into his truck and before turning it on, he hung the keychain in his keys. He inspected the tiny drawing and smiled before going back to the bullpen.

Thanks for reading. If you liked it, it would help my soul if you give it a ♡, comment or share. 😌♡

#chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #Jay Halstead #Jay Halstead x reader #Jay halstead x Y/N #Jay Halstead imagine #Jay Halstead one shot #Jay Halstead x you #kevin atwater #One chicago #One chicago one shot #Jay Halstead x daughter

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flightlessangelwings · 10 months ago

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Late Nights

Neighbor!Steven Grant x gn!reader

Word count- 1.8k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), accidental voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, praise, feelings, protective!Steven,fluff, no use of y/n

Notes- This check two things: part of my neighbor Steven Grant series and a box (praise kink) for @moonknight-events Bingo. And tho it's part of a series, I wrote all the parts so that they can stand on their own. This as been in my wips for so long and I'm so happy to finally have written it!! I've missed our dear Steven too! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on new fics!

It was late, and Steven should have fallen asleep hours ago. Yet, he laid wide awake, his mind racing as he fiddled with his rubik's cube. Steven just couldn’t seem to get you out of his mind. He thought about you all day long- while he was at work, he wondered if you would like the exhibits he worked around. On the days he was lucky to pass you in the hallway on his way to his door, the image of your bright smile stayed with him well into the night. Even when he was in bed, Steven couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have you there with him, nuzzled in his arms.

He felt too nervous to make the first move, though.

But, a sound from the other side of the wall made Steven gasp- it was you. He heard you whimper and he immediately shot upright as his mind raced. Should he go over to you? Were you just having a nightmare? Or did something happen and you needed him?

As Steven pondered the options, he heard you cry out again, louder this time. His breath caught in his throat as you whined again, but this time it was different. Steven was sure he heard his name.

“I’m coming, love,” he whispered to himself as he jumped out of bed and grabbed the spare key you gave him in case of emergencies.

Steven scrambled to his door and his hands trembled as he opened it. Bolting the short distance to your door, he gritted his teeth as he unlocked your door and burst inside in a rush. Shutting the door behind him, Steven ran across the space to your bed, scared that he would find you hurt or in trouble.

But, what he found instead froze him in his tracks.

You were sprawled out on your bed, one hand cupping your chest, pinching your own nipple and the other between your legs. Your eyes were shut as your hand worked to pleasure yourself and you were lost in bliss until the sound of your name in Steven’s voice made your eyes snap open.

“Steven…” you gasped as you locked eyes with him.

The world felt like it was on fire, and as much as Steven knew he should leave, having caught you in a private and intimate moment, he couldn’t make himself move. It was as if you enthralled him, freezing him to the spot where he stood.

And you were flustered, covering yourself with the sheet as you realized you were so loud that you caught Steven’s attention. But, the way he looked at you made your heart pound. More than being embarrassed that he caught you pleasuring yourself, you felt your skin burn at the thought that he heard you cry out his name while he did so.

It felt like an eternity where neither of you moved, both too unsure of what to do or say to ease the tension in the room. It was Steven who finally moved first, though.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he stuttered as he covered his eyes and turned away, “I should go.”

“Wait,” you replied out of reflex.

Steven turned back to face you, his jaw tight and his eyes burning into your figure on the bed.

“Stay,” you whispered in a soft tone as you sat up and dropped the sheet, “Please stay,” your voice shook as your nerves overtook you, but you figured it was now or never.

He swallowed hard as his hands trembled, “Are- are you sure?” He sounded just as nervous.

“I’m sure,” you replied in a hushed tone as you kicked the sheet away, exposing yourself completely to him.

Steven felt his skin warm as he suddenly felt overdressed. He felt like he was in a dream, but if he was, he didn’t want to wake up. Moving before he realized it, he crossed the rest of the space and leaned forward, placing his hands on the foot of your bed. “Are you sure about this, love?” he asked again in a low tone as his eyes drank you in.

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

Both of you were nervous, it was a bold move and uncharted territory for each of you. But, the need overtook the nerves. Slowly, Steven reached out for you, cupping your face tenderly in his hand. You let out the breath you held as you leaned into his touch. As his thumb brushed across your cheek, Steven also exhaled, “You’re so lovely.”

Your mouth parted as you gasped softly. Mirroring his action, you reached for him, grabbing his shirt and yanking him closer until your lips crashed together. Muffled groans echoed between you as you instantly deepened the kiss, and Steven’s hands roamed all over your bare figure. As you kissed him deeply, you tugged at his shirt, motioning for him to take it off.

“Let me see you too, Steven,” you whispered.

Steven let out a short laugh before he broke away to do as you asked. This time, it was your turn to gawk as your eyes roamed across his chest. You had always found him attractive from the moment you first met, but to see him shirtless before you made your heart flip in your chest.

“Wow…” you breathed.

He giggled nervously, “Wow to you too, darling,” he quipped.

That made you laugh as you pulled him close again, “Touch me, Steven,” you murmured as you guided him to crawl onto the bed so that he hovered over you.

Resting on your back, you looked up at Steven as his arms framed your face. The two of you froze again as you locked eyes, but this time it didn’t last. Steven was the first to move as he leaned forward and kissed you, taking the lead this time. His kiss was slow and soft, but you moaned into him as you felt his emotions in the kiss.

His hands roamed all over your body, running up and down your sides before cupping your chest. You broke the kiss to let out a louder moan as his hands ran across your nipples while he kneaded your chest.

“Steven…” you whimpered as you arched your back.

Encouraged by your moans, Steven’s hand ran down your body until one dipped between your legs. You gasped when you felt a finger at your entrance, making him pause.

“Keep going… please…” you begged.

“Can’t say no to you, love,” Steven smirked before he slowly pushed a finger into you and started to gently thrust in and out.

Your mouth dropped open as you cried out, “Steven… Feels so good…”

His eyes darkened at your words, and he couldn’t help but pick up his pace before he added a second finger, “You’re exquisite, darling.”

All you could do was moan as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, coating them in your slickness as he did so. His fingers filled you more than your own could, yet you still craved more. “Steven…” you pleaded, “Please… Need you…” you choked on your words, flustered at just how desperate you were.

“Shit love,” he breathed, astonished that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

Carefully, Steven pulled his fingers out of you before he pushed his pants down to free his cock. His heart fluttered in his chest as your hungry eyes landed on his hardened length. Slowly, you peeled your eyes away and up his body, soaking in every inch of his skin before you met his gaze. Heat rose in the room as the two of you locked eyes, and the unspoken question lingered in the air.

Swallowing hard, you nodded, answering without the words needed.

Steven whispered your name as he positioned himself at your entrance, crawling over you as the tip pushed in. Both of you gasped as he started to fill you, and you both clung to the other as your heat engulfed him inch by inch until he was completely sheathed inside you.

“Fuck, Steven,” you murmured, “You feel so good,” you couldn’t help but moan as you wrapped your arms around him, “Fuck me… Please…”

He breathed a soft, “Fuck,” in your ear as his hips moved on their own.

Moans and groans filled the room as Steven’s hips rocked against yours. What started as clumsy and unsure quickly morphed into hot and desperate as Steven thrust his hips faster.

“Yes… Steven… So good… Feels so good,” you babbled in his ear as you dug your nails into the skin of his back, desperate to feel him as close as possible.

His eyes rolled back into his head as he felt his climax already start to build. Between how good you felt and the babbling praise that flowed from your lips, he knew he wasn’t going to last. “Fuck… Darling…”

You let out a loud gasp as he thrust as deep as he could into you, hitting that sweet spot with precision, “Fuck!” you screamed, “Right there!” you opened your eyes as he paused in that moment, “You’re beautiful, Steven,” you whispered.

“Not as beautiful as you, love,” he smirked back before his hips took over again, thrusting into you with abandon.

The cries you let out echoed in the room, and both of you were sure the other neighbors could hear you but neither of you cared. All that mattered to each of you was the other, and the climaxes you both desperately chased. Incoherent babbling dripped from your lips in between your moans until you screamed even louder as your peak hit.

“That’s it, love,” Steven wasn’t sure where that came from, but as he talked you through your climax, he found it turned him on even more, “Lovely,” he preened as he felt you clench around him as you came hard, “Fuck…” he stuttered as his own orgasm hit right after yours. Steven groaned your name as he spilled himself inside of you, and he clung to you just as much as you did to him as he rode out both your climaxes together.

Completely spent and out of breath, Steven collapsed down on top of you, clumsily pulling out of you as he did so. He only relaxed for a moment, though; after hearing you gasp, he shot right back up onto his elbows to check on you, “Are you alright, love?” he asked with worry as he cradled your face.

Keeping your eyes closed, you smiled and leaned into his touch, “Never better,” you replied in a hushed tone before you kissed his palm, “That was better than how my night started,” you added with a chuckle.

Steven’s face lit up as he leaned forward and gently kissed your forehead, “I agree,” he whispered with a laugh of his own.

“Stay with me, tonight?” you asked in a meek tone.

“Anything for you, love,” Steven replied as he made himself comfortable and the two of you tangled your limbs in each other, curled up and safe in the other’s arms.

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foldingfittedsheets · 4 months ago

Note

I have never had a post-coital headache, but I saw the ask and it made me think...

Orgasming using a vibe hurts my clitoris. It doesn't even touch my clit because it uses airwaves or something to vibrate the air around the clit, not sure. And I don't enjoy vibrators that touch the clit because it just doesn't feel like anything pleasurable? I can't explain it but it doesn't feel good or bad just kinda numbs me.

I'll be getting bottom surgery to nullify my crotch someday, so I guess it doesn't matter much, since I can limp along till then. I'll be tucking the clitoris and the nerve bundle under some skin and tissue and hopefully the padding will help offset the pain (and I could finally use those cute giant wand vibrators with the big buzzy ball), but I'm just asking in case you have ever heard of this and are willing to respond on your blog.

For the record, I don't enjoy using my hands on my clit, doesn't feel good and dysphoric and bothers my asexuality (I don't like touching genitals at all and the wetness feels icky). I grew up using the pressure and squeeze method. Basically ball up a blanket, press it to my pubis, and then do a very prolonged, overpowered kegel and there you go (kinda tiring tho). I didn't even know I had a clit growing up, always assumed it was the urethra because it hurt to touch (turns out it's supposed to be wet, thanks homeschooling for the lack of sex ed).

So I use the vibrator but I hate the vibrator. The moments before the orgasm is just so painful. And I have to immediately turn it off because the continued vibration causes even more pain and makes my muscles clench up in response which makes it very difficult to pull the toy away from my body. When using it with my partner I have to "tap out" and she'll pull it away for me.

I low-key believe the multiple orgasms for clit+pussy based anatomy is a myth because how could it possibly feel good to touch there once the orgasm has happened? Sometimes I can't close my legs completely for minutes. That shit is so sensitive and like swollen? Throbbing? Why?!?

I theoretically like orgasms. I like the quiet feeling after them. But getting there sucks, masturbating is unpleasant (apparently normal people enjoy the whole process, I'm just there for the afterglow), esp when it's a maintenance orgasm and I'm not horny or physically aroused (sometimes I just think that I need to orgasm without really wanting to if that makes sense, weird ace shit).

This ask is longer than I hoped it would be, but there's lots of important context and I honestly don't know why my body is like this, Google is useless (esp nowadays).

Okay there’s a ton to touch on here, but first: vibes are not one size fits all. Everyone’s body’s are different and motors come in different powers and pulses. The “cute” massage wand types are actually some of my least favorite because they just go cataclysmic in power which is way too much for 90% of clits. They just have good marketing.

If possible, you can look for a gentler vibe. Jimmy Jane Form 2 has a pulse setting that’s reallyyyyy light, and puts vibrations on either side of the clit instead of directly on it. But there’s a lot of shapes and sizes that could be gentler than what you’re using now.

If you’re unsure check out a store and try the vibe on the tip of your nose. This is pretty close to how sensitive your clit is and can give you a frame of reference for how much power you actually want. Generally lower rumbles are more expensive but also more pleasant so that’s a cost/benefit you can run.

The other aspect of this is that clitoral tissue is actually massive. There’s a lot of stuff going on under the hood, so to speak.

Clitoral nerves get everywhere! That’s the whole thing with G-spots- you’re still hypothetically applying pressure to nerve endings associated with the clit. I’ve heard anecdotally that they can end up in the anus too but I couldn’t find a source to verify that.

The takeaway from how sprawling all those nerves are is that there’s probably places you might like sensation better that directly on the clit. Most clit havers in my experience found that pretty overwhelming, myself included.

If your main business with your junk has been businesslike and unpleasant to touch it makes sense not messing with it much. If your partner is a person you trust to explore with you can just have them feel around and caress and see if other areas feel stimulating without being as overwhelming.

As for getting so throbby and uncomfortable afterward, and multiple orgasms: In my experience and anecdotally this depends how you get there. When you come fast and hard your body reacts differently than when you edge into an orgasm. You can try changing up your routine to see if this makes a difference for you.

Some people can never do multiple orgasms, it’s rare for me but does happen on occasion, so it’s worth noting that smut has a lot to answer for in terms of how normal they make that. If you can’t get off more than once it is what it is. It’s not a myth but it’s not everyone’s reality.

I hope this was helpful, good luck and as you say, eventually after surgery this will get easier for you!

#ask ffs #sex talk #I could’ve sworn I posted this yesterday my bad

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buckys-little-belle · 11 months ago

Text

Chapter Two - Backpack, Backpack

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

Warnings - Mentions of Bucky’s ‘Old Life’, talks about slight “Violence” (Bucky’s past), talks of a first aid kit, feeling “scared” about being a little, fluff! Obviously!

Word Count - 2164

Note - I've finished all of Bub and Buck's story now, and I have to say it's been crazy going back and blending chapters/blurbs together to create a more cohesive story. It's been fun, and crazy, and honestly I missed this little place that I loved so much. Cafe BigNSmall is the beginning of so much, not just this account. It was the first little writing thing I put out that really got traction and that led me to where I am now. Going to school in January for creative writing, beginning the process of writing my own book. This little fic that has brough comfort to so many, myself included, is so much bigger than just a fanfiction or just a writing process and I'm so thankful for everyone who has stuck by my side, who has liked, reblogged, and sent asks about it. I love every one of you, I love who you've helped me become, and I've loved every minute of re-writing this series and I hope you love re-reading, or even reading it for the first time. I just have so so so much love in my heart for this and for you <3

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Bucky sat at his same table for the umpteenth time, but this time he sat with a smile knowing someone was on their way to sit with him. For the first time in a while Bucky wasn’t sitting and watching everyone while feeling jealous, instead he watched as a Caregiver hugged their Little and felt hopeful that he might get to have that one day.

“MR!” Y/n yelled from the entrance like she couldn’t believe he was there, sitting at their table ready for whatever she wished to do. “Hi!” She smiled at him when she got to the table, her usual overalls and t-shirt combo covered by a heavy sweater. He was happy she had covered up more than yesterday, the sky grey instead of blue, and the colder.

“Hi.” He smiled back, Bucky was sure he looked goofy with how big his smile was but he didn’t care. “Chilly?” He asks as he watches them shiver slightly when the finally sit down.

“Yeah.” Y/n tilts her head to the side as she seems to contemplate something. “I think ‘m gonna get a hot chocolate.” She rummages around her bag before finding her wallet and pulling out a five dollar bill. Bucky was quicker though, already on his feet and in the line. “What are you gonna get?” Y/n asks as she joins him in the line.

“Well, I think I’m going to get a hot chocolate too.” He looks down at her, a silly grin on her face as she nods her head. “Their cake pops look good too.” Bucky points to the glass case full of baked goods and premade sandwiches.

“I know!” Y/n practically jumps. “I had one once.” They frown. “But I never have enough moneys for one, maybe next week I’ll get one.” They nod their head, agreeing with their idea.

Bucky already planned on buying Y/n a cake pop, but wanted to make sure she actually did like them. Finding out she’s only had one because she can’t afford them has him vowing to always buy her one whenever she’s here.

The money Bucky got from the government after his treatment went public often sits in his bank account unused, he has what he needs, and most of what he wants, and he hates spending the money on useless things. Yet as he watches Y/n’s eyes flicker to the case full of sweet treats with a frown on their face he’s happy to know he finally has something, someone worth spending money on.

“Hi, what can I get you today?” The barista smiles at Bucky, giving an extra sweet grin and a wave to Y/n.

“Can I get two medium hot chocolates, please?” Bucky places his hand on Y/n’s shoulder to get her attention before asking. “What kind of cake pop do you want Bub?”

“I can’t.” They shrug their shoulders, clearly not aware that Bucky’s already ordering for her.

“I’m buying you one. Which one do you want, Bub?” He adds some clarification, leaning down slightly to be at Y/n’s height, pointing to the cake pops in the case. “I love vanilla, I think I’ll get a vanilla one.” He says, hoping that him getting one will make Y/n feel less nervous.

She begins playing with her hands, twisting her fingers together, something Bucky’s noticed she does when anxious. “Um, I like chocolate.” She whispers, looking back at Bucky with weary eyes. “But I don’ wan’ you to buy it, I -” Bucky doesn’t let her finish her sentence, instead he stands and orders both cake pops before paying.

With both hands on Bub’s shoulders he moves them over to the wait station. “When you’re with me I’ll be the one buying things, okay?” His tone is sweet but also somehow firm, hoping his words make sense and are final, but also hoping he doesn’t seem too overbearing.

“Like a, like when.” Bub stumbled over her words before turning around to face Bucky, his hands dropping from her shoulders only for her to grab his left, glove covered, hand to fidget with it like she does hers. “Like a caregiver?” She asks, finally meeting Bucky’s glance.

“Exactly like that.” Bucky nods. “I’ll act like your caregiver when we’re together, okay?” He regrets using the word ‘act’ the moment he says it, Y/n somberly nodding at his words. He wants to be her caregiver all the time, he doesn’t want to just act as one while around her, but he met her yesterday. Neither of them know each other well enough for that kind of trust, yet Bucky seems to feel like they both are on the same wavelength. Like they’ve waited long enough for someone to be their other, why wait a little longer.

“I’d like tha’.” Y/n nods, turning back around in Bucky’s arms to wait for their cake pop and hot chocolate.

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For a whole week Bucky and Bub met up everyday, getting hot chocolate and cake pops. Y/n kept giving Bucky colouring pages to take home with her signature at the bottom, his fridge now covered in them after a frantic late night trip to buy magnets. Walking into his house and seeing the fridge coloured in pictures made him love the fact that he bought a huge fridge able to store at least another week's worth of pictures without having to remove anymore of the ones he’s already been given.

“Hi, Mr!” Y/n smiled as she sat down on her booth seat, her backpack placed on the table as she got comfortable. “I made you something.”

“You did?” Bucky unpackaged her cake pop and placed it on a napkin, sliding it over to her along with her hot chocolate. “Careful it’s hot.” Bucky warned as Bub went straight for her drink the moment it was in her line of sight.

“Otay.” She blew a breath onto the cup, though Bucky wasn’t sure how helpful her hot puff of air would be in cooling it down, instead pulling it back to himself and blowing cold air on it for her. “Here.” She placed a piece of paper onto the table.

This picture wasn’t one from a colouring book, but one on regular plain paper, drawn by Y/n and coloured by her to. Two figures stood hand in hand with a box of crayons in the middle. One person was obviously Bucky, the other Y/n. Even if he couldn’t tell Bub had written their names “Mr” and “Bub” below each of their persons. “I love it.” Bucky smiled, sliding the, now less hot, hot chocolate back to Y/n, her taking a sip immediately and humming in content. “I’ll have to put in on my fridge.” He said aloud, though he meant to keep the words to himself, not sure if it was wrong to admit he had grown attached to Y/n enough to want her pictures on his fridge.

“Really?” Her usually playful voice grew serious, her eyes filled with tears. “My drawing?”

“Yeah, Bub.” He smiled, glad she seemed happy over the idea. “I have a few of your drawings on my fridge already.” He admitted. Before he could place it in his bag Y/n was up and out of her seat sliding into Bucky’s booth before wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “Oh.” Bucky lets out a surprised sigh.

“I like you, you nice.” Y/n said as she pulled away, though didn’t leave the booth.

“You’re nice too, Bub.” Bucky said in disbelief. He knew the two of them were making good steps towards fully being comfortable around one another, Y/n seemed to slip further and further into regression, showing she felt safe around Bucky, and she had even asked him if he was the Winter Soldier and hadn't run when he said yes. But he hadn’t expected her to feel comfortable enough to hug him, yet he wasn’t going to argue or complain.

Y/n eyed his bag for a minute or so before asking a question. “Wha’s in your bag?” She asked, this being the first time she had truly seen it.

“I’ll show you what’s in my bag, if you show me what’s in yours?” He offered, having been wondering what she brought with her to the cafe everyday. “Deal?” He asked, and she perked up, agreeing before sliding out and back onto her seat, something Bucky frowned at.

“Otay!” Bub squealed, opening her green backpack before digging around a little bit. The first thing she pulled out was a small zipper pouch, the fabric printed with frogs and plants. “This has m’ keys, an’ my phone.” She pulled both out, her phone being secured in a bag inside her bag making sense as to why it took her so long to find it when her alarm went off. “An’ it has my tic tacs in it! D’ you wan’ one?” She asked with a smile, holding out tropical tic tacs to Bucky.

“I’m okay, but thank you Bub.” He smiled, proud of her manners and willingness to share her things. He knew he couldn't take credit for her good behaviour, or her manners. She was a sweet girl even if he didn’t remind her here and there of her manners, yet he was still extremely proud of her.

“M’kay.” Bub nodded her head, popping a few tic tacs in her mouth before moving on. “Dis, um, dis is my frog.” Bub’s once very confident attitude dulled slightly as she brought the frog stuffie out, like she was waiting for someone to say something rude.

“He’s very cute.” Bucky reassured her, his hand brushing against the stuffed animal's foot, his fur in perfect condition. “What’s his name?”

Y/n still seemed on alert, but opened up a little more. “I call him Green Bean.” She pats his head.

“That’s a perfect name.” Bucky chuckles, loving how creative his Bub is. “Where did you get his outfit?” He asks, referring to the knitted overalls and t-shirt, identical to Y/n’s everyday outfit.

“I made dem!” Bucky was happy to see her peppy spark come back as she spoke about her stuffy. Giving him the rundown on how she made them, and made clothing for all her other stuffies at home. Then she gave him the rundown on a bunny stuffie she really wanted that was identical to the one she has at home. Though “He’s no’ the same Mr! He’s a different colour!” something Bucky quickly made a mental note of.

Bub only had her wallet and a sweater stuffed at the bottom of her bag, and a small bag of long forgotten goldfish that Bucky immediately threw out left to show. “Your turn.” Y/n reminded Bucky, gesturing to his backpack.

“Well.” He started, opening his bag, pulling out his wallet, keys and phone. “These are the things I have on me at all times.” He said, watching Y/n pick up his keys and fiddle with them, clearly loving his accumulated keychain and key combo from the last 100 years. “Then I have a First Aid Kit.” He pulls out a bulky box, a few things banging around inside.

“In case someone ge’s hurt?” Y/n asks, concern dripping from her expressions.

“Exactly.” Bucky answers, though he doesn’t admit that he mainly carries it out of fear that he’ll hurt someone and need to patch them up, but he hopes that Y/n’s just thinking about scrapes and small cuts and not the carnage he’s left behind.

“Do you have princess bandaids?” She asks with all seriousness.

“I have princess ones, paw patrol, and starwars.” He playful one ups her, the two of them laughing before he continues. “Then I have extra crayons, colouring pages, and a couple water bottles.” He pulls out the extra things, Y/n’s hands immediately going to the colouring pages.

“Can I do this one, please?” She asks, bouncing in her seat, her frog underneath her arm.

“Of course, Bub.” He smiles, the frog page she chose the one he printed off last night in the hopes to give it to her.

After the small show and tell the two of them sat together eating their cake pops and drinking their hot chocolate. Everytime he looked up Bucky realised just how lucky he was, to have found a Little who was as chill as Bub was, and as sweet as she was too. He realised that while he wished he could have met her sooner, he was happy he waited.

“Why don’t we go to the park tomorrow?” He asked, thinking it could be good for them to get out somewhere other than just the cafe.

“Yes!” Y/n practically jumped out of her seat at the idea, the two of them chatting about how excited they were for their adventure tomorrow.

#buckys little belle #age regression fic #age regression #little!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x little!reader #bucky barnes x little!reader #bucky #cafe bignsmall #bignsmall #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes age regression #little fic

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c-u-c-koo-4-40k · 6 months ago

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Not story more ramble but I will still tag.

@egrets-not-regrets @bleedingichorhearts @kit-williams @sleepyfan-blog @barn-anon

Spoilers for Warhammer Fulgrim Lore.

I think the husbandry fandom has missed a profound opportunity for some juicy conflict!

So we have some general agreed upon notions for how certain legions react to Husbandry Terra. Now obviously not all of a single space marine type behave the same way but there be trends.

Salamanders, Ultramarines, Blood Angels, Thousand Sons, Space Wolves, Imperial Fists: these groups generally accept bonds and human companionship as they had decent human contact in their original timeline.

Then you've got the grumps who love the attention but getting them to admit it is like Pulling Teeth: Night Lords, Iron Hands and Iron Warriors.

But we have been missing out! On a delightfully painful side of our favorite premadonnas. The Emperor's Children.

Now they and their sire Fulgrim are often stereotyped as such. Elegant, pompous, snooty and post heresy they go completely mask off a drive full into unbound freak territory.

But their story is much more tragic than a spoiled brat leading other spoiled brats into serving the God of overdoing things.

Fulgrim isn't spoken of as much in terms of being screwed over, but looking closer he really was.

Shot to an awful industrial planet where he watched his adopted family struggle to feed him let alone themselves. It would give anybody a complex.

Needing to be useful, needing to contribute, needing to not be a burden.

And once the The Big E showed up it didn't get much better.

His sons? Suffer a geneflaw that gives them astarte cancer. He not only loses many of them, but has to make due with what he has left. Meaning no matter how well trained, he just can't conquer planets at the rate dear old dad wants him to.

His brothers? Got there own issues and probably don't take Fulgrim's struggles seriously. He's just at that spot of "Wow that sucks," and "But the others have it worse.' He probably doesn't feel like he can talk deeply to anyone.

So Fulgrim does what many unloved children do, in fact he does the same thing as Perturabo, Pushes Himself to The Breaking Point.

In Fulgrim's case, any failures he blames completely on himself. Where Perty lashes out, Fulgrim turns inward.

Until he just can't take it anymore. He decides he's going to finally be selfish. Commit fully to the pleasures and pain so he never has to remember the agony he feels, that he will Never, be good enough

Heck killing Ferrus probably cemented that feeling in him. I'm not worth anything, so why bother trying to be good. Why not just be the absolute Worst.

Heavy stuff. But this leads me to my main musing.

In 40k the sins of the father very much affect the sons.

So my proposition is...you think other space marines are clingy? They hold not a Candle to an Emperor's Child. Especially one post heresy.

If you show an EC that they can be open, vulnerable, Imperfect, around you, and you don't immediately turn tail and run from the baggage, You Will Never Escape.

They don't just crave intimacy, they crave stability, affection, LOVE.

And if you give them any indication you'll supply it, they will Never let themselves be cut off.

#primarch #fulgrim #space marine husbandry #space marine husbandry sentience #emperors children #C-U-C-Koo ramblings

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matryosika · 2 years ago

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Intimacy with Hyunjin

Wordcount — 3,400 words.

Genre — Smut and fluff. Smut warnings under the cut.

Includes — Fem!Reader. Since this was a commission, there are brief physical description of reader's character (Light-skinned with dark, curly hair. This was also written with a thick, curvy female character in mind).

Author's Note — My first commission, ever. I'm deeply grateful with the person who requested this. I asked them if I could post the story on my blog, and they agreed. So here it is! I didn't change the physical descriptions, because I wanted to stay true to the original writing I made. I hope you enjoy this, just like I did writing it. Also, my commissions are still open, in case anyone is interested!

Smut Warnings — Consented recording of sexual activities, dirty talk, body worshipping, choking, spanking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex.

“What do you think?”

Hyunjin stares at you with wide, curious eyes. The palm of his hand is resting on the flesh of your thigh, and his lips have grown to be familiar with the proximity he is now currently at —you can feel his breath tingling on your chin and even hear his heart beating.

But it wasn't always like this. Hyunjin wasn't always this close to you. Hell, he dreamed of it constantly, every single second of his days. He craved you, desired you, and loved you long before you knew. Long before he even realized his true feelings towards you.

He tried to fool himself on several occasions, convincing himself that the adoration he had towards you was nothing more than one of a best friend. He tried to act like it was normal to have your name and face tattooed in his mind, all the time. He tried to negate it, not daring to wonder if you felt even the slightest attracted towards him too.

But really, Hyunjin was madly in love with you since the very first time you met.

He remembers every detail of that day —from the way your black curly hair became one with the spring breeze, to the first words you crossed with him. How can he ever forget such a moment, when his breath got caught up in his throat, and his heart started beating so fast and loud he could actually hear it once you started to approach him? No amount of effort and will could make him delete that from his memory, not even if he tried.

And you being fairly new to Korea was the perfect excuse Hyunjin could come up with in order to get close to you, his perfect, subconscious attempt to be around you, to make you a part of his life without him planning it —he introduced you to his friends, helped you out when you needed it and stuck by your side when you felt homesick. He never wanted to get anything out of it, he just enjoyed your company dearly.

Eventually, after a drunken night of silly confessions and other stories, he kissed you.

And he hasn’t stopped kissing you every day after that.

“So, baby?”

You're brought back to reality by the sound of his voice, and the smell of cherry from off his lips that are insisting to capture your attention.

“I just remembered the first time we met,” you confess, your fingertips caressing the soft skin of his left arm, “I never thought we would end up like this”.

“Together?”

“This in love,” you smile at him.

“You didn’t think so?” Hyunjin’s voice is deep, both soothing and arousing. The hand that was resting on your thigh it’s making its way to your face, cupping it while he stares right into you, “I knew I was attracted to you since the first time I saw you”.

“I was attracted to you too,” you tell him, slightly tilting your head while he brushes the tip of his nose against yours, “but I didn’t think you felt the same. I thought it was one sided”.

Hyunjin lets out a soft, quiet scoff. A genuine one, like you just told him a joke. Because really, he finds it hilarious —why on earth wouldn't he feel the same, when you’re the closest to heaven he has ever been?

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, caressing the sides of your cheek while staring deeply into your lips, “since I first saw you, the world around me disappeared and started spinning just around you”.

You place a quick, wet peck onto his lips, one he welcomes by licking them after you withdraw from him. God, he really can't go a day without tasting you.

“Let’s do it,” you quietly whisper, running your fingers through his long, dark brown hair that’s barely put together in a mid ponytail, “I want to”.

“Really?” he has to double check, just to make sure.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I want you to record it all”.

Hyunjin presented you with the idea just moments ago. He really didn't know how to bring the topic up, so he just went for it —after all, you're the person he trusts the most in this world. If there's someone he shouldn't feel embarrassed with it's you. So he told you all about this little fantasy of his, one in which he gets to fuck you in front of his camera, only for him and you to watch.

At first, you were hesitant. What if you got shy, all of the sudden? Hyunjin seemed pretty stoked with the idea, but you thought it could get somehow uncomfortable. Having sex is one thing, but doing it in front of a camera it's a whole other thing, one that made you feel nervous.

“We don’t have to do it,” Hyunjin told you, offering you a warm smile, “I would love to, but I understand it can be kind of awkward at first”.

You know he would never force you into doing things you're not comfortable with, but the idea was scratching your brain in a way. Being able to witness the sex from another angle and perspective seemed interesting, and you were too curious to let such an opportunity pass. Plus, it was something Hyunjin wanted, and you’re always more than happy to fulfill his fantasies.

What’s the worst thing that can happen, anyways? When you’re with him, nothing can go wrong. That’s how much you love each other.

“Are you really, really sure?” Hyunjin asks, again.

“Yes, Hyune,” you reassure him, “let’s do it”.

He licks his lips and smiles, showing a small dimple in his left cheek while his eyes turn into crescent moons. Hyunjin places another quick on your lips before the weight of the bed shifts yet again, losing the warmth of his body as soon as he walks away from you and towards his desk.

His hands look for the things he needs —his camera and tripod. You’re not quite sure where to start, or how to begin, but you might as well figure to follow his instructions, although he hasn’t given you any yet. So you patiently wait for him, sitting at the edge of your bed while staring at him. Hyunjin always looks good, but there’s something enticing about him being at his most comfortable.

He is just wearing his underwear and some gray sweatpants, but he looks awfully attractive. You take a moment to admire every inch of skin, every vein and freckle your eyes can possibly capture, craving to touch and kiss every place and corner of his body.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks when he turns his head just slightly to face you, finding you lost in your own trail of thoughts while you look at him.

“I'll enjoy myself a lot more when you get into bed with me,” you playfully tease him, following his actions with your gaze.

He places the tripod with the camera at a good angle, trying hard to capture the best image possible from you two.

You’re not recording this for anything specific, but for you two to go back to this tape and enjoy it when you feel like it. The video it’s just for you two, but he still wants to get the perfect view from your face and body.

“Don’t get shy,” he warns you when he notices you’re staring a bit too much at the camera, standing right next to your bed while he fixes the last details. “You’re just with me, alright?”

You nod, but are hesitant about being able to follow his orders verbatim. It’s hard not to get shy when the camera’s position it’s all over you.

“Can’t promise you anything,” you laugh, giving into his embrace once he pulls you by your waist towards him.

“Then I’ll make you forget it is even there,” his voice becomes hoarse and deep while he presses his body against yours, “just focus on me, think about me, about how good it feels to be with me”.

You nod softly again, and your lips meet together into another kiss. This time, it’s not just a peck but a proper kiss, one in which Hyunjin’s plump lips are brushing against yours so passionately and gently, sinking his teeth on your lower lip ever so slightly, eliciting a moan out of you that's not immersed in pain but pleasure.

He places his hand around your waist, and then he drags them down to your hips. Oh, how he loves every inch of your body, every curve and centimeter of your flesh. Hyunjin takes his time to touch you into the kiss, to trace your silhouette with his bare hands, to dig his fingertips into your skin while pressing you even more against the naked flesh of his chest and abdomen.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss to leave a kiss on your chin, “perfectly made for me”.

“You’re pretty too,” you tell him with a smile, cupping his face with both of your hands while he continues exploring your body, “so damn beautiful”.

Hyunjin smiles in return, and kisses you yet again. This time, the kiss feels needier and heated. It feels desperate, like he is impatient for more. He kisses you deeply, tongue grazing against yours.

“All mine?” Hyunjin asks, dragging his hands along the sides of your body.

“All yours”.

In between kisses, he guides you towards the bed. You might be so deep into him that you don't even notice until your arse meets the comfortable mattress, and his body hovers over yours forcing you to lay down flat on it.

“Let’s get rid of this, yeah?” His hands look for the hems of your shirt, and he helps you into taking it off. Your first instinct is to cover yourself up with your arms when remembering the camera, but his hands are quick to grab your wrists before you can even do so. “You’re just with me, remember?”

Immediately, you relax. You’re truly just with him, so what is there to hide?

Hyunjin leans on top of you and places a kiss on your forehead, and caresses your cheeks as he admires you. How can you be this beautiful? He is infatuated with you and every detail there is for him to worship —from your dark hair, to the beautiful color of your skin, Hyunjin thinks no way or form of art could ever capture the beauty and uniqueness of you. A painting would never do you justice, and a sculpture would never feel like you do.

“What?” you ask him with a smile, noticing how deep into his thoughts was.

“I love everything about you,” Hyunjin says, leaving a wet peck on your cheek, and then the edge of your jaw, “everything”.

He drags his lips from your jaw to your neck, and you latch your fingers against his long hair, pulling him closer to you if possible.

“I love you,” you whisper, letting soft gasps in between when you feel him nibbling at the sensitive flesh. “God, I love you so much”.

He smiles against your skin, but loses no time into exploring more of you. His lips soon perch on your chest, and move towards your breasts slowly.

“And I love you,” Hyunjin replies, burying his nose and lips into your flesh. “I fucking love your body so much”.

He swirls his tongue around one of your nipples and you arch your back against the mattress, gasping at the sudden but expected stimulation he is offering you.

“Right there, Hyujin,” you whimper.

He wants to keep on toying with you, to tease you and make you crave him. But his erection is demanding all of his attention, and he is desperate at this point to be buried inside you. You always arouse him this much, it's nothing really new. But it's, perhaps, the knowledge that you're being recorded what is really pushing him to the edge this time.

“Baby,” he coos with a hitched breath, “can I?”

His fingertips are lingering at the hems of your shorts and underwear, asking for your consent to take them off. You nod frantically in response and lift up your hips while he drags both pieces of clothing along your legs just to discard them somewhere in the room.

“Shit,” Hyunjin curses under his breath when you open your legs, noticing how ready you’re for him already.

You lose no time in removing his clothes too, and soon the positions are switched —now Hyunjin's laying on the bed while you strip him slowly, dragging his sweatpants and underwear with ease.

“God,” you whisper when your eyes meet his cock, already leaking with precum.

“I really can’t wait to be inside you,” he sighs, getting up and sitting right next to the spot in the mattress where you are kneeling.

“Then don’t,” you cup his face with your hands and leave another quick kiss on his lips.

It's like lighting a match on fire, how quickly it spreads once you let him know you're on the same page he is. When you tell him you want this just as much as he does, Hyunjin loses no time in giving it to you.

“Come here,” he motions for you to sit down on top of him, with your pussy against his lap, “let me show you how much I want you”.

With his help, you take the base of his cock and align the tip of it with your entrance. Slowly, you sink your hips against his and take him in fully.

“Fuck,” you cry, feeling the sudden stretch he’s providing you with. Even so, it feels pleasant. You can feel how hard he is for you, how his dick fits perfectly inside your pussy like it was made for it.

Hyunjin can feel it too, how tight and wet your walls are, and how deliciously you clench around him as he bottoms out.

It’s heavenly, for both of you.

“So- perfect,” he groans, digging his fingertips on the skin of your hips while you start moving on top of him. Slow and steady, just how he likes it, “your body, it’s just too fucking beautiful”.

Your boyfriend is a treasure full of compliments. Not a day goes by without him telling how pretty you are, or how lucky he feels to have you by his side. He is very vocal about what he feels or thinks, especially in bed.

You’re so weak for it.

“I want to- kiss you all over it,” the thought of feeling his tongue tracing over your skin makes you clench around his cock, and that earns you a quiet groan from him. “Want to spend- hours, just touching you”.

The steadiness of your movements is lost as soon as Hyunjin starts talking. His words mess with your head and make you turn into a wet mess for him, one that is unable to speak or think of anything that’s not him and his voice.

“Hyune,” you moan, feeling his hands grabbing your ass while you’re riding him. Your words are interrupted by a soft smack on one of your ass cheeks, and Hyunjin offers you a mischievous smile once he feels you clenching around him at the impact.

“Mhm?” he hums.

“Do it again,” you ask, somewhat embarrassed and turned on by the action.

He follows along, landing yet another sharp impact that makes you let out a soft cry. The more he spanks you, the more your hips pick up a faster pace, grinding against his cock in a desperate attempt to reach your high.

“Fuck, Hyunjin,” you moan, “I want-”.

“Not yet,” he tells you, tapping your hips motioning for you to slow down, “not like this”.

You look at him in confusion, but soon pick up his plan when he switches your positions: now, you’re laying on the mattress and he is on top of you, right between your open legs.

“I want to make you come,” Hyunjin sighs, leaning down for a kiss that he only interrupts when he feels like running out of breath. It lasts a couple of seconds, perhaps minutes —you really can’t tell anymore. “Open up your legs more for me, will you?”

When you do, he buries all of himself inside you yet again. This time, the stretch is not painful at all —you’re familiar with him now, so he bottoms out with ease.

“So fucking wet you are,” he moans through gritted teeth with his eyes attached to where your bodies meet.

He knows the camera will not be able to capture such a sight this well, that only the human eye can appreciate. But he at least wishes to record the pretty sounds that leave your mouth, and the way your body trembles whenever he makes you come.

“You’re so deep,” you whine, digging your fingernails in the flesh of his biceps. “I feel you- so deep inside me, Hyunjin”.

He feels himself twitching at your words, noticing they have more effect on him than he would ever want to admit.

“Yeah?” He switches his body weight support to just one of his forearms, while he extends the other looking for your hand. He finds it at the side of your body, gripping the bed sheets harshly. He then guides your hand to your lower tummy, pressing it further against your abdomen, “can you feel me right here?”

You moan at the action and his words, feeling his hand on top of yours while he presses your tummy.

“Fuck yes,” you cry.

Then, he guides your hand from your tummy to your core, right above where his cock is.

“I’m sure this will feel much better,” he says in between groans, signaling for you to rub your clit while he fucks you.

And oh, how right he is. Once your fingers start to acquire a pace of their own on your clit, Hyunjin’s hand abandons yours and he drags it up, stopping right at your neck. He wraps his hand around it, drowning a desperate moan out of you.

“Does it hurt?” he asks you, gently and cautiously.

“N-no,” you swallow thickly and he can feel it. Just as he can feel your pulse, accelerating by the minute, “harder”.

Hyunjin smiles.

“Do you want me to choke you harder? Or fuck you harder?”

“Both,” you gasp. “I’m so close”.

He knows. You’re getting even wetter than before, and that’s making it difficult for him not to come right then and there.

“I’m close too,” Hyunjin confesses, and keeps on fucking your pussy almost at the same pace you’re rubbing your clit. The harder you squeeze his cock with your cunt, the harder he squeezes your neck with his hand.

It’s a fair exchange.

“Don’t- don’t stop,” you breathe. Your words are barely audible, but he can pick on them well. “Don’t let go- keep on choking me”.

“I won’t,” he reassures you, holding your body right in place while he thrusts his cock inside you a couple of times, trying to bring you to your orgasm. “I’m going to make you come like this”.

As the man of his word he is, Hyunjin makes you come in no time. With particular sharp thrusts, and the grip on your neck, he has you trembling underneath him almost uncontrollably, your walls clenching and relaxing violently around his cock.

“Hyunjin,” you gasp, wrapping your legs around his hips in an attempt to bring him closer and deeper into you.

Your boyfriend groans, breathing heavily while chasing his high. There are several strands of his dark hair sticking to his cheeks and forehead with sweat, but he can’t begin to care. Or at least not when he is this close to come undone for you.

“Fuck,” he curses, and you soon have his body collapsing on top of yours while he comes. His hips tremble, and you can feel him twitching inside you. “Fuck, baby”.

You hug him tightly, still feeling the ravages of your own orgasm. You both lay down with each other until your breathing becomes estable, but neither of you dare to move away from each other.

You wish to stay like this forever.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin finally says, still with a hitched voice.

“For what?” you ask, amused.

“For letting me record us”.

You furrow your eyebrows and, in a matter of a second, remember about the camera that is still pointing at the both of you.

“What?” Hyunjin laughs. “You really forgot about the camera mid sex?”

“Mmm, maybe,” you confess.

“Well, that can only mean I fucked you good”.

And oh, how he just did.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #kpop smut #hyunjin smut

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curiositydooropened · 7 months ago

Text

Ranged • 01: Firetower

You and Steve have been sent on a missing person's case, a park ranger in the Cascades went missing from his post after reporting a large area of downed trees. Could be something up your alley.

Pairing: special agent!Steve Harrington x special agent!Reader

Wordcount: 5742

Warnings: very slowburn, this fic is episodic, coworkers to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore, weapons, fighting, murder, viruses, decay, monsters *This chapter contains mentions of animal harm, blood, vomit/nausea, potential character death, and whump/bad injuries - also hey, I'm not a doctor and this fic is free, so my inaccuracies might bug you. xo

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Fic Masterlist

---

Moodboard • 00: Prologue • 02: Home [Coming Soon]

Fire Lookout Tower 647 - Cascades

Fog blanketed the forest floor and just beyond, it coated the tops of trees, covering pine needles in vast, rolling smoke. Everything lacked saturation up here, everything but verdant moss and fern and branch, a sea of grey and green, damp and deep. The sunlight filtered in way far off, to the West, but everything out of its reach had begun to groan under the steady pelt of plummeting rain.

Rain pittered and pat against the tin roof and into the quickly filling bucket in the corner. Its splash zone had been haphazardly mopped with a shaggy old towel.

You watched the landscape shift beyond the clouds, wrapped in wool socks and a flannel blanket while your partner took his turn retrieving fire wood from its drying spot beneath the tower.

His presence was announced by the groaning of stairs and the creaking of a rusted spring on the door.

Steve had only smiled a handful of times since you met him, a painful stretch of soft features, the wrinkle never leaving his brow. To be fair, your job rarely warranted more than a polite grimace to townsfolk whose crops you’d left ablaze, whose family members you’d left on a slab.

Today was no different.

“This place is a shit hole,” he grumbled, rolling cut wood from his arms onto the ground in front of the stove.

You hummed, knowing better than to argue something so trivial before he had his dinner.

He hunched to stoke the fire, now mere ashes and embers that glowed red in the little iron stove. He was soaked to the bone, dark hair clinging to his forehead and around his ears. He’d have to cut it again before your next return to Base.

His hands were bright red, nipped cold and hard-worked, and you rolled your eyes at the pair of gloves he’d left on the rickety card table near the door.

“Fucking rain,” he muttered, shoving kindling in hopes for it to catch.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself upright and reached for your own rain slicker on its hook. A puddle had formed and seeped through the floorboards, creating a patch of darkened wood that ringed with all puddles that had come before. “I’m going to get water to boil.”

“Be careful.”

The spring creaked. Rain gushed from dips in the roof and splashed loudly against rocks on the hillside.

You glanced back at Steve. He was hunched in front of a started fire, worry etched between his brows.

He shrugged. “I slipped at the bottom of the stairs.” He gestured to the mud that streaked his left pant-leg. “Be careful.”

You nodded and stepped out into the deluge.

The window coverings provided a good roof for the porch, save a few leaks here and there, and you clung to the side of the building as your guard rail to round it. You’d put empty buckets on the south end. All five of them had all overflowed.

You picked the lightest one. You’d managed to haul it back across slippery planks, dozens of feet in the air, to the door before your right foot slipped out from under you. With a yelp, and the sting of bitter cold against your ass cheeks, you fell. The building teetered under your shifted weight, and you clung to the railing with pinched breath.

The spring creaked. Steve stood at the door with lumbered shoulders and that same frown, looking down a freckled nose at you. He picked up the bucket with one hand and held his other for you to take. “I said, ‘be careful’.”

While the water boiled and Steve grumbled about canned meatballs, you stripped out of wet jeans and remained in damp Long Johns, removing your socks and hat and gloves to hang near the fire.

The sun had already dipped far to the west, catching on split clouds in purples and oranges before it was swallowed up again by the grey.

“You get the radio working?” Steve sighed, adverse to the quiet.

You shook your head and stirred tomato paste around in the pot. After many meals with Steve, you were sure he grew up in the kind of household that only ate their meals on trays in front of the television. He could never really sit and appreciate the stillness. “Go ahead and tinker with it. Is there a game tonight?”

“There was,” he deployed a long antenna and fidgeted with a few dials. Static buzzed from the plastic between his hands. “Might be too late. What time zone are we in?”

“Pacific,” you explained. “Two hours behind.”

You felt lighter after food. Warmth settled over your chest and shoulders, and you huddled further into your blanket.

Steve’s hair dried a little, and you managed to coax him into taking one of your spare hats. The stitches stretched over the circumference. With a sigh, you slowly ripped out the project you’d been knitting and cast more stitches onto your needle.

The radio hadn’t worked, too far out of reach to hear the score, and it had been discarded. Instead, Steve hummed, and the fire crackled, and your needles clacked against one another. The rain had died down, too.

“Think we’ll find him?” He asked, picking at the frayed stitching on the baseball he’d been tossing around.

Your target was the missing tower keeper, a man named Les Joplin who hadn’t reported in a few days after he’d gone in search of what he had described to dispatch as a rotten cropping of trees in the east acreage.

You glanced back up at Steve, never knowing if he wanted you to answer honestly or not. Your fingers kept pace. Knit, purl, knit, purl. “Hope so.”

“My grandmother used to knit.” He nodded to the project slowly making way in your hands.

You hummed. You’d heard this story before. A few months back, you began to notice a pattern to the information Steve had given you about his former life, only snapshots, hand-picked. You wondered if he had been trained this way, or if he still didn’t trust you.

The repeated stories didn’t stop you from prying for more.

“What’d you call you grandmother?” You asked.

“What do you mean?” He frowned back at you.

“You know, ‘grandma’, ‘granny’, ‘nana’?”

He snorted, rolled his eyes, tossed the ball a few times. “Grandmother.”

You cocked a brow. “Grandmother? What, like the Queen?”

There it was, the softest uptick of the corner of his lips, a flash of amusement in his eyes as he rolled them. “Exactly like the Queen. I was lucky if I got to address her as anything other than ‘ma’am’.”

Another peak behind the curtain. You snickered and pressed on. “Mom or Dad’s mom?”

“Uh…” He frowned again, mulling something over. “Mom’s. My dad’s parents were old as shit, died before I was born.” Another insight.

“How’d they meet, your parents?”

“Huh?” He blinked back at you, brow in a proper frown now. “I don’t know.”

You’d lost him. You’d pressed too hard. With a sigh, you turned back to your knitting. Knit, purl. Knit, purl.

He shook his head, and his sleeping bag shuffled as he stood and stretched. He set the baseball back on the little table, and it rolled until it met the pot of leftover spaghetti sauce. “Listen, I’m gonna take a leak, and we should probably think about getting some sleep. Early morning tomorrow.”

You nodded, tucked your knitting back into your bag. “I’ll wash the dishes.”

“Thank you.” He said, and he exited the little hut. The stairs creaked his whole way down.

“Robin? No. No, Robin, no.”

You awoke to Steve’s muffled cries. His sleeping bag shifted around a twitching body.

This wasn’t the first nightmare, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. You didn’t know who Robin was, and the fear in his voice dimmed your hope that she’d lived.

You swallowed to clear the sleep from your vocal cords before speaking his name into the darkness. It took several tries, a full shout, to snap him out of whatever version of Hell his subconscious had pulled him in, and when he did rouse, it was with force.

He shot from his pillow, gripping the hilt of a knife stashed under it, and glanced around the room. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You sighed, tucked your face into your pillow, and murmured. “I’m cold.”

“What?” He peered at you.

It wasn’t a lie. The fire had gone out, and your toes had numbed slightly, and you’d argued with him when he agreed to the floor, so you were sure he was cold too. Maybe that had caused the nightmare. “I’m cold. Will you just get over here, please?”

You heard his groan, and a shuffle of sleeping bag as he pulled himself upright. His back and shoulders were silhouetted, broad and hunched. He wound his sleeping bag up between his fists, joints cracking as he made his way over to your cot.

“Is there room?”

You shifted impossibly closer to the wall and hugged your sleeping bag to you to expose just how much room was left on the little cot. Not much, if you were being honest, but you were cold, and you had hoped your presence beside him might calm the terrors that plagued him.

He spread his blanket out beside you before asking if you needed a sip of water.

You shook your head, but watched as he ambled across the room to the rickety card table for a swig from the canteen.

The rain had stopped, but fog blanketed the windows on all sides. The sloshing of the water in his bottle sent a shiver through you.

“Alright, I’m coming,” he grumbled, and returned to slide himself into bed beside you.

His arm came up first, once he’d settled, and you stiffened under his hold.

“What’re you doing?” You rubbed at tired eyes, trying to catch any glimpse of the curve of his nose.

“Warming you up, don’t make it weird.” He looped you in, scooping your sleeping bag up between the two of you. His other arm reached around your middle and pulled you close.

You weren’t surprised at his strength. He’d offered you a helping hand with more than one injury in the field. You’d seen him pull women and children from burning buildings. That one time he hauled a sheepdog from the river, both man and beast soaking wet and panting, dog tossed around his broad shoulders.

“Better?” His gruff voice fanned your forehead, deliciously warm.

You hummed, reaching aching cold hands out to warm against his chest.

He hissed under your touch and wrapped your fingers up in his own. “Didn’t I tell you to sleep next to the fire?” He scolded.

“No,” you hummed, letting your eyes grow heavy again. “You told me to take the cot.”

He grumbled something incoherent and adjusted on the tiny pad beside you. You knew he’d complain about a crick in his neck in the morning.

“Night, Steve,” you mumbled.

His nose tipped itself against your temple, and he sighed. “Get some sleep.”

He slept after that.

—

The rain made rivulets of mud and Earth. Where trails once climbed the mountainside, rocks and boulders now fell, surging into teeming river beds.

Your boots squelched beneath you, each step a slip away from disaster.

Steve stood a few yards ahead, more surefooted. He whipped at overgrowth with the business end of a machete. “Joplin!” He cried out, startling a few birds from their perches.

You glanced around, hand around the gun strapped to your thigh, just in case. If Joplin was eaten by a bear out here, or worse, you had to have confidence in protecting yourselves. “Les!”

Steve called your name. He stood with his machete extended, scrubbing at his tired eyes with the palm of his other hand.

Just beyond him, the forest had been blighted. Root to crown, these massive conifers were decimated. A widow maker forest, limbs fell at odd angles, having melted from the trunk. Green grass and fern and vine turned to black ash.

You cursed under your breath and took careful steps to meet your partner to ensure the ground didn’t swallow you whole. When you reached him, the rancid stench stung in your nostrils, watered your eyes. “Well, guess he wasn’t kidding.”

You glanced back up to the fire tower, now a mere speck on the horizon.

Steve’s jaw clenched. He nodded. “I’m gonna look for holes. Call it in, will you?”

With a sigh, you stripped the heavy pack from your back. Your shoulders ached in relief. “Be careful.” You warned, and watched as he took off at a slower pace into the patch of rot.

You kept an eye on him as you dialed, service spotty, but you were quickly patched through to dispatch. “Yeah, hi.” You offered up your badge number, called in reinforcements for a controlled burn.

“How big is the affected area?” The woman on the other lined cracked her gum between her molars.

You glanced around at the rot. This was small, relatively fresh. A chill rolled down your spine. You looked from Steve to the blanket of mist rolling downhill from the clouds. “About ten acres.”

“Alright, hon, we’ll get someone out there in the next day or so. Are you in need of emergency evac?”

“No, we’re good to hang out until the crew gets here. Thank you.” She hung up first, and you pushed the antenna back into the device. Before you could shove it back into your bag, however, you heard a cry, a moan, really, in the distance, carried on the wind, prickling the hairs at the base of your neck.

“Steve?” You called out, standing up straight to survey the area.

You heard it again, to your left.

You swung around. Steve was gone. You were alone.

You took off on a run to where you’d last seen him, careful not to trip over any loose roots, trying not to bump any more precariously hung branches from their roosts hundreds of feet in the air. You called for your partner, still clutching the piece at your side in one hand, the satellite phone in the other.

The noise was louder now, a grunt and a groan, two noises, two distinct voices.

You stopped, surveyed your surroundings, posted up on the good side of a half-rotted stump.

“Can you walk?” Steve’s voice hissed from nearby.

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. You swung around, gun out, pointed toward the sound.

“I broke it,” another voice, unfamiliar, croaked. They were beneath you.

Rounding the stump, you found a hollowed out bit of ground wherein your partner was hacking away at the vines curled around the leg of an emaciated older man. This man was coated in mud and slime, curled hair sticking to his head. You sighed in relief and holstered your weapon.

“Les Joplin?” You asked, taking a few steps to the edge of the hole.

Both men jumped. Steve frowned back up at you before hacking away at another root.

Les gulped, nodded. Shit, you’d left your pack at the edge of the rot.

“Think you can limp it back to more solid ground? I’m going to call for an airlift.” You uncurled your knuckles from around the phone to dispatch the antenna and dial the number again.

Les winced, teeth grit, sweat streaking the mud on his forehead.

You pulled your partner’s gaze. His jaw ticked. He pushed hair from his eyes with the back of his hand. He nodded, threw the man’s arm over broad shoulders. “Alright, count of three?”

—

The rain came back as the air lift set down. Propellers pummeled large drops at you, sideways rain that stuck your clothes to your skin and cut off your breath.

You squeezed Les’s wrist as they strapped him to the gurney. His teeth chattered, face gray beneath a shiny mylar blanket. The ventilator obscured everything but his eyes, tired, frantic.

Steve spoke to the team. He was shouting, but you couldn’t hear his voice over the wind and the slap of rain.

Your hair stuck to the corners of your mouth.

Steve backed up to your front, shielding you behind his slim frame. He lifted a hand to wave as the helicopter ascended, clouds bending and melting beneath it.

When it was a high enough altitude, Steve linked a large hand around your wrist and tugged you upwards, through wind-whipped grass and mud, toward the lonesome fire tower.

The stairs were just as slick as the grass, and Steve kept a firm grip at your waist. To hold you upright or himself, you weren’t sure, but you felt anchored nonetheless.

When you finally summited, the world around you coated in a thick, grey cloud, you began to strip the soaked clothes from your body. Steve began to lodge firewood from the corner of the room into the little stove.

“We have to go back out there,” he grunted, lighting a match to kindling before tossing it in.

You groaned, unsticking your long-sleeve shirt from your back to wheel it over your head. “After lunch.” You pled.

You tried to stand your ground and not cower as Steve’s gaze swept your frame. He licked at pink lips, hair stuck to his face, his own clothes three shades darker than they were when you’d left the tower that morning.

“After lunch.” He conceded, unbuttoning his shirt. You watched his back muscles shift beneath the outline of a white tank top, the moles placed hither and thither.

You slipped a dry t-shirt over your head and began boiling water in a pot.

Steve’s knees were pulled to his chest, toes wiggling in dry socks.

You finished first, famished from your earlier excursion, and continued your knitting. The rhythmic clack of needles a metronome to the rain against the tin roof and pouring from spouts, the crackle of the fire, the steady in-take-out-take of your breath.

Steve eyed you warily, cheeks puffed around a meatball. He chewed, swallowed, and gestured with a fork toward the project in your lap. “What’re you making?”

“A hat,” you pinched your smile.

He reached between you to wrap thick fingers around the ball of yarn like a baseball. He pressed the fiber for a moment before nodding, licking something from between his molars. “I really like that color.”

You agreed. The burgundy would bring out the warmth of his eyes, the flush of his cheeks when he bickered with you.

“It felt good right? Helping Joplin.”

His words startled you, stitch slipping off the needle before you could catch it.

You blinked back at him, watched the worry etched between his brows, wondered what he could possibly be thinking, and you forced a bright smile. “Yeah, Steve, it felt great. That’s what this is all about, right? Saving people.”

He nodded, shrugged, tongued at his molars.

You can’t save everyone.

You picked your stitch back up and carried on. A few phrases turned in your mind, questions you’d posed to yourself before you dared ask him. ‘Doesn’t every save feel good?’ ‘Do you think Les’s leg’ll be okay?’ ‘Who couldn’t you save?’

You glanced to the spot on the floor where he had been tossing and turning the night before. ‘Who’s Robin?’ You couldn’t. You knew he’d throw himself into one of those broody nightmares, and you had a job to do.

“So,” you bundled your knitting and stuffed it back into the bag you brought it in, “what’re we thinking? Demodog? Demogorgon? Grizzly?”

“Yeah, you wish it’s a Grizzly.” Steve snorted, making to wash the dishes.

You did wish it was a Grizzly. At least you could shoot a Grizzly, watch it fall with a groan and lie peaceful against hard ground. Demodogs meant tunnel dwellers, a pack. Demogorgon meant portals.

“Hey, before we head out there, can I ask you something?” He stood with his hands full of items to be washed, hair finally drying into wisps of curls near his ears.

“Shoot,” you pulled yourself to a stand, rolled your stiff shoulders, got a little closer to the stove to warm your hands.

“Do I talk in my sleep?”

You had half a second to make your decision, and “No” came out faster than that. You weren’t sure why you lied, maybe it was the same reason you hadn’t asked him about the name he’d been crying out for. You had a job to do, and you couldn’t afford a sulking partner ten steps ahead.

His scowl proved he was weighing you up, trying to call your bluff. Apparently he convinced, he shrugged, and said, “Oh, well, you do.” Then he opened the creaky door and let himself outside to do the washing up.

—

The rain continued as you hunted. You slipped twice, twisting an ankle on a bunch of rocks hidden behind tall grass, but you’d had worse, so you persisted until the internal ache wore off and the external ache from the cold had you gritting your teeth.

“I fucking hate this place.” Steve dropped another meatball into the grass beside you. “It reminds me of that…” He glanced around, in the air, searching for phantom airborne monsters.

You hadn’t gone into the other dimension, not for long enough to really get a feel for it, not like Steve. You knew it was cold and damp and miserable though, and these mountains were starting to feel just as desolate, just as grey.

You came to the rot again, stench heavier under the blanket of ozone.

Steve pressed his lips into a whistle, low and slow, coaxing whatever may be lurking.

Your finger found the trigger at your hip. Bullets didn’t kill an inter dimensional creature, but it’d sure as Hell slow it down.

Without a response to his call, you carried on, following him and his endless trail of meatballs past the stump in which you’d found Les Joplin. Steve poked his head inside, but vines had already begun to seam it up, devouring the flesh of the tree that rot there.

“Do you remember what direction he said he saw it?” You asked, back to Steve as you surveyed the area. It could be anywhere, whatever it is. It was probably watching you now, smelling you, sensing you.

“Let’s head East,” Steve signaled.

You doubled back and headed toward a particularly treacherous outcropping along the hillside. Boulders carved rivulets in the landscape, water gushing over rock and stone in glorious splendor.

Your big toes were beginning to ache from the cold, and the sound of rain and wind and now waterfalls was hurting your ears. With a huff, you seated yourself on a soaked rock and pulled your pack from your back to salvage a chocolate bar.

“What’re you doing?” Steve snapped. He’d already trudged a good distance from you, and must have stopped when he didn’t hear the patter of your feet behind him.

“Maybe it was a deer,” you offered, ripping back the mylar packaging and indulging in one semi-sweet bite. It didn’t melt instantly, your teeth and jaw too cold to warm it.

“It wasn’t a deer.” That permanent crease in Steve’s forehead stuck out under a curl of wet hair.

“Come have a bite.” Your teeth chattered, hand extended. The chocolate was instantly pelted with rain.

Steve sighed and took a step toward you, and then promptly disappeared.

—

The cavern was deep, about ten feet high and thirty feet wide, a whole expanse of the forest that had just sunk in on itself. It looked like the vines hadn’t quite worked their way here, but the blight and the rain had washed away bits of the mountainside. The outcropping fell into the land and Steve had fallen into the rocks.

“Don’t come any closer!” He shouted, teeth grit in pain. He adjusted his leg, and you saw the blood spill from his knee cap to discolor his pant legs.

“I’m going to radio for help. How bad is it? Do you need to tourniquet it?”

“No , it’s just a scrape.” He lied through his teeth. “I can’t see how far this goes, so go slow, and be careful.”

With a nod, you made for your pack, muttering under your breath about your bossy partner, always getting himself into trouble. Then the breath was swept out of you as you free-fell into the cavern, too.

Your ankles rolled, the one from earlier crying out from added injury, and you jaw slammed closed on a portion of your tongue when you hit the cavern floor. It was softer than you expected, wet mud and dirt breaking most of your fall.

Your name echoed with the pounding of your heart as you regulated and pull yourself to a stand, brushing mud from your hands to your thighs. Water rushed into the cavern from above. Not enough to cause concern, but you stared up at the hole in the sky with a grimace.

Steve called your name again, and you turned to face him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, eyes wide with worry.

You shrugged, nodded. “My ankle hurts.”

“Is it broken?”

You assessed the injury, tried to roll it back into place. A sharp, shooting pain spilled up your spinal column. You nodded. “Probably.”

“I told you to be careful.” Steve scoffed from his lean against the far wall. He’d made no effort to rescue you.

“Is your leg broken?” You mapped your way to him, a slow and steady course through rocky terrain. Each step limped, you gripped the roots tied into the walls beside you.

“No,” Steve shook his head. “Just a bad cut.” His large hand shook, pressed to a gash that was dying the rainwater red.

“Well,” you sighed, “if the meatballs weren’t good enough…”

“Shut up,” he shifted in place, hand outstretched to help you over the last huge boulder. “Careful, sharp bit there.” He nodded to a likely culprit, a jagged bit of rock that stuck up at an odd angle. An odd substance pooled near the bottom, and you tried not to wretch when you realized it was likely the fat from Steve’s thigh.

“We need to get you off your feet.” You instructed, carrying his weight to help him find a good bit of stone that was flat enough, but not too slippery for him to rest. It proved to be quite the undertaking.

“It stopped raining,” he mused when he’d settled, the two of you wedged into a pit of mud that looked out of the gaping mouth onto grey skies.

He was right. You hadn’t noticed it beneath the swell of water surging downhill, and the patter that continued on the other edge of the cave, but the rain had stopped, or at least slowed.

“Did you play baseball in high school?” You asked, picking through the rubble for a hefty enough sized rock.

“Why?” Steve asked, perturbed by your questioning, but you noticed, for once, he didn’t have the energy to argue.

You could imagine him playing baseball, chewing sunflower seeds in the dug out, hiking around the bases in those tight little white pants. You smiled and tossed him the rock.

He caught it one-handed, clearly annoyed you’d thrown it in the first place.

You pointed to the spot you fell. “Throw it really hard. My pack’s up there. Might knock it into the hole.”

“Your pack-!?” Steve closed his eyes, took a few calming breaths. Then he shot you a look before hocking the rock as far as he could throw. It was very impressive.

You both waited with bated breath, but the impact created no further damaged, and you slumped into one another, asses wet and legs throbbing. “I have my flare,” you explained, patting the inside pocket of your jacket. You always kept one, and a lighter, filled, just in case.

Steve sighed. “Me too.” He was just loopy enough to flash you a tired smile.

“Alright, big boy,” you shook at his bicep to keep him alert and shrugged out of your jacket to remove your sweater. The air was warmer down her, and damp. Your breath fogged. “You’re going to have to stay awake until morning. So it’s time to tell me a story.”

Steve winced with each adjustment as you wrapped your sweater around his leg to aid with pressure. His hands still trembled, flesh of his palms bloodied, and you elevated his leg a little higher, pushing him into the mud at his back.

“What kind of story?” He asked, teeth chattering.

You hunched beside him and took both of his bloody hands into your own. The whole place smelled of Earth and iron. “Tell me about Indiana.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Come on. What position were you on the baseball team?”

He grit his teeth and shook his head. “I didn’t play baseball. Track and field.”

You smiled and unzipped his coat to let yourself in, arms wrapped around his trembling frame. You pressed your face to his throat, nestled under the crook of his jaw where stubble had begun to poke and scratch. “Alright, tell me about that then. Did your high school sweetheart cheer you on from the stands? Steve, Steve, he’s our man, if he can’t do it, no one can!” You actually managed to rah a chuckle out of him.

He winced again, his chin bouncing into your head. “She wasn’t a cheerleader. She was on the school paper.”

You changed your tone, put on a Trans-Atlantic accent. “Aaaaand they’re off. Steve Harrington takes the lead. Have you ever seen anything quicker on its feet? A horse, maybe.”

He snorted, swung his arm around you. “Has anyone ever told you how obnoxious you are?”

“You have,” you nodded. “A number of times. Kind of rude, actually. I’m always saving your ass.”

He chuckled and mumbled an apology into your hair.

“What else can you tell me about Indiana?” Your own exhaustion had begun to creep around the corners of your mind, hearing the dull thud of Steve’s heartbeat match the ache in your ankle and shin and thigh.

When he didn’t respond, you prodded at his chest. “Steve.”

He shushed you, gripping your arm a little tighter.

You were suddenly very alert. You could hear birdsong just over the ripple and rush of water over the rocks. You heard it too, the distinct clicking growl of a flower-faced beast.

“Can you move?” Steve muttered into your hair, barely a whisper.

You nodded, swallowed, reached for the flare at your side.

“My knife,” he said. “Can you see it?” He nodded to where you’d found him.

You shifted in his arms, hoping the beast couldn’t hear the grunt he emitted between clenched molars. There, where rubble met a river of mud, you saw the glint of his knife.

With a deep breath and a strain of every muscle in your body, you hoisted yourself onto your good leg and began your precarious hobble to your weapon. The rocks twisted under your feet, and the pain churned your stomach.

“Easy,” Steve guided, his breath shallow. “You’ve got this.”

You managed to dip yourself low enough, balanced on one leg, to wrap your fingers around the hilt and lift it from the rubble. You caught yourself on the wall and released a breath you’d been holding.

The knife was a bit muddy, but mostly fine. It glinted in the diminishing sunlight, flashing the walls a pale pink red before your heard the call again. A rattled click preceded the visage that peered over the cavern mouth.

The dog’s face opened, all teeth and fleshy flower petals, and before Steve had a chance to instruct you, the thing was on you, and you were elbow-deep in Demodog. It’s teeth scraped and tore at the nylon of your parka and one final dying breath rattled from its small frame before it squelched off of your blade and to the ground.

“It’s not alone.” Steve warned from his spot on the floor.

You nodded, grit your teeth, and readied your stance for another.

—

Three demodogs died at your hands and burned. The acrid sting of burning flesh kept you awake, your body rejoicing at the warmth.

You managed to keep Steve awake, although his skin had paled and his eyelids drooped.

The smoke alerted the helicopter before your flare did.

Oxygen mask over your face, you linked your fingertips into Steve’s and offered him a smile. He was already asleep by the time you rose, higher and higher above cloud coverage and rain. You slipped up and away from the fire tower. Up and away from verdant hills and from rot and decay.

Steve’s grasp was loose in your hand, and you wondered what he dreamt about now. You hoped it was peaceful.

You finished his hat beside his hospital bed while you watched the latest game. Someone ran a home run. Steve cheered. You looped the last few stitches together and weaved in your ends.

“This is for you,” you tossed it onto his lap. The burgundy was stark against white sheets.

Steve frowned back at you, fingers toying with the fabric. “For me?”

You nodded. “You needed a wool hat. Just put it on and be grateful.”

He did as instructed, smile refusing to play on handsome features. He cocked an eyebrow to get your input. It was exactly as you’d hoped, a sweet contrast that a brought out the honeyed brown of his eyes, the flush of his cheeks.

You bit back a smile, rolled your eyes. “Maybe you’re right. Your ego doesn’t need this boost. Give it back.”

He smiled at that, a ruefully shy thing that had your heart pitter-pattering like rain on a tin roof. “No. It’s mine.”

“Steve,” you let your question linger on your tongue for a moment, wondering if you ought to ask it, if you ought to push.

He hummed, attention drawn back to the television.

You swallowed, let the question die. Maybe another day, you’d find out who Robin was, what happened to them.

“Yeah?” He glanced back at you, brown eyes wide with concern.

You smiled. “What did I say in my sleep?”

Once again, the corners of pink lips turned up, and he shook his head. “I’ll never tell.”

---

Moodboard • 00: Prologue • 02: Home [Coming Soon]

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington #ranged wip #ranged fic #steve harrington slowburn #steve harrington episodic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington whump #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington coworkers to lovers #stranger things #stranger things fic

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paris-geller-was-straightwashed · 1 year ago

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'that adhd feel of-' 'adhd is not being able to' 'adhd is when you forget-' you're describing executive dysfunction. that's...it's executive dysfunction. like I NEED you to understand this.

I don't think this is purposefully malicious but jesus fucking christ it's no wonder the ~neurodiverse~ community on here can feel super alienating. I'd fucking eat own shoe if any so-called 'neurospicy' (derogatory) blogs can name EVEN ONE other condition then either adhd or autism as part of neurodiversity. ppl think it starts and ends there - and what I find the most infuriating, is that one of the most common symptoms when it comes to diverse brains (aka executive dysfunction) is talked about like it's SOLELY for adhd.

look. I got dyspraxia and ocd - two things considered a part of the neurodiverse umbrella. I also have learning disabilities that have affected my whole school life, and memory issues that I've been explaining to people as to why I've already forgotten their name since I was a kid. YET, ocd is rarely talked about in neurodiverse circles or even considered, and I'll literally pay two bucks to anyone reading this who can tell me what dyspraxia is (who isn't a professional or someone who has it, and if you do have dyspraxia, then I am giving you a cookie and fist bump). yet often, when I see posts passed around talking about issues like poor motivation or time blindness or bad memory, I find a lot to relate to - bc executive dysfunction, in case anyone missed it, affects many, many conditions! you don't even have to be neurodiverse; it's known to affect those with anxiety and depression too! there's so much layover - yet, I will see, inevitably, the post attributed to adhd or possibly asd. frankly, it's both alienating to those with other neurodiverse conditions, and possibly misleading, even if unintentional, to say it's an 'adhd thing.' you guys run the market and it's over-saturated; I'm just asking for adhd/asd to share a piece of it's throne.

to be honest, as what's considered a 'neurodiverse person', I barely find any commonality within the community. yes, as mentioned above, I will relate to common shared symptoms like executive dysfunction, but it's a complete shut-out when we act like those symptoms are only attributed to one condition. frankly with my ocd, I find way more commonality in schizophrenia/paranoia/psychosis communities then in the ND one (I would never act or say I know what it's like to experience those conditions, but I can relate to the fear of some outside force telling you something horrible is going to/will happen), and with dyspraxia, even when we talk about it, it gets so little coverage and recognition it leaves the whole community a bit dry. if anyone gives a shit, then maybe shine the light on us and others kicked to the sides (ppl with learning disabilities, dysgraphia, language disorders, and those with schizophrenia/affective disorders like I mentioned earlier, who are so often vilified by ppl online and on this site). we all struggle with executive dysfunction and a million other layover symptoms, and the nerotypical world is just as hard for us to navigate even if no one is bothering to listen.

I'm rambling at this point. everyone just..do better and actually recognize the 'diversity' in 'neurodiverse.'

#neurodivergent #actually ocd #dyspraxia #actually neurodiverse #actually dyspraxic #actually ld #executive dysfunction

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cryptictongues · 1 year ago

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Dawns in Dalimil

pairing: Joshua Rosfield x Fem!Reader rating: Mature word count: 1.7k summary: You and Joshua have a sweet moment post-coitus.

warnings: Mentions of sex and the sweetest fluff EVER!!

Spoilers: There are a few mentions of things that if you aren't in a certain point in the game, you won't understand what I'm talking about. But just to clear things just in case, this takes place when Dalimil is first introduced.

Author's Notes: Just a heads up, please read my pinned post before following me! Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked as this blog's content is NSFW.

[AO3 link]

It’s late in Dalimil, so much so that the market outside the inn is dead silent and the ale house downstairs doesn’t have a whisper. The place is taking its rest, taking everyone with it before the dawn breaks… well except for the two of you.

With heavy breaths, heaving chests, and sweat shining on your bodies, you and Joshua lie in a small bed within a room from the Dalimil Inn recovering from the passionate love-making you both endured. Your trip to Dalimil was supposed to be short-lived as you both are trying to make it north to the Isles of Ark to meet with Prince Dion. However, the tension between the two of you had finally come to its breaking point and the most passionate, intimate sex you have ever had began and lasted until the dead of night.

The bed creaks as Joshua moves to his side and you feel him get close to you, a hand placing itself under your left breast and lips making homage against your neck. He massages the subtle skin as he gives feather light kisses, causing you to giggle as a shiver runs down your spine. He bites down gently on the skin below your ear, causing a small yelp to leave your lips. “You are insatiable, you know that?” You breathe out, and he lets out a low chuckle into your ear. “You do this to me.” He bites down a little harder this time around, sucking and licking the spot to get another sweet sound out of you. You push him away slightly, laughing as he tries to keep his head in between your neck. “I need a break, Joshua. We’ve been at it nonstop for hours.”

He grabs the hand pushing against his chest, smirking at your struggle to get it out of his grasp. “You didn’t give me a break when I oh so kindly asked for one.” He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing your fingertips as he gauges your reaction. You scoff and sit up slightly. “Hey I gave you a cool down, and besides I did all the work that time. Give me some credit.”

Joshua shakes his head in amusement, propping himself up so his head was in his hand as his hand keeps hold of yours. “I hope you did enjoy yourself. I surely did.”

You grin, amused at his current demeanor. “Oh I most certainly did. To be honest, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

He grins as well, mischief appearing. “Didn’t have it in me to do what? To make you say my name like a prayer?” You smack his arm, a small oof leaving his lips. “You know what I mean.” You look down to his chest, focusing on the purple glow coming from it. “... but that too I suppose.”

“If it’s any consolation, I was very nervous.” You cast your eyes back at him, shock strung on your face. His eyes focus on you, the softness of his gaze making your heartbeat just a tad faster. “All I want is to love you properly, and it is my duty to ensure that you receive that love in full. If I couldn’t love you in moments of intimacy, I think I’d go mad.”

His nervous admission was precious, and it made you happy. Joshua and you have been close for so long, and to know he had felt just as nervous soothes you. You bring your hands to his forehead, brushing the strands of sweaty hair away. You then cup his cheeks and bring his head down for a gentle kiss. Leaning your head against his forehead, you let your hands travel to the beautiful hair at the nape of his neck. “I promise you I have never felt so loved in my life.” You place another kiss on his lips. “Only you can love me in the way that I need.” You kiss the apples of his cheeks. “You could never disappoint me, especially when the love I receive comes from you.” You then kiss right under his ear lobe and speak in a whisper. “And if it's any consolation, I didn’t sense your nervousness. You exude confidence.” You snicker a little bit, causing Joshua to pull away to look at you. “Especially since you tried to basically fold me in half.”

Joshua groans, and throws half his body on you, head hiding into your neck and an arm around your torso. You throw your head back into the pillow, laughing fully with your chest. Joshua lightly smacks your backside, more as a signal to quiet down as to not wake anyone rather than in embarrassment. You start wheezing as you try to calm down, the memory of Joshua trying to push your legs back against your body making it hard to. It had caused you to curse out, a muscle pulled in your thigh and him apologizing profusely as he massaged it back to good health. Looking back, you know it would be a silly memory you both could laugh at.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to.” Joshua says, his voice muffled as he buries his face deeper. “I admit I got carried away.”

You chuckle. “I know I’m flexible, just not THAT flexible.”

You feel him vibrate as his muffled laugh travels before he sits back up into his last position, only letting his hand go to the marks he had left on your neck and chest. He traces them, circling his fingertip on each hickey he had brought to light. “Maybe I really did get carried away…” You can barely hear him, his voice almost nonexistent as he mutters. “Do they hurt?”

You are taken aback, a little surprised he would even ask that given that he had a few hickeys on his neck as well and scratch marks that run along his back. Your silence convinces him and he places his hand over the mark above your collarbone, an orange glow lighting around his hand. It takes you a minute before you smack his hand away, shaking your head vigorously. “Don’t you dare try and remove the marks you blessed me with. Do you not like seeing them?”

“No, of course not.” Joshua says quickly, hand still in the air after you’d smacked it away. “I apologize for my hastiness.”

You take his hand, kissing the back of it before putting his palm against your face. “I’m in no pain, I can assure you.” Your other hand goes to trace the purplish pink blemishes on his neck, copying his earlier movements. “Would you want to get rid of yours?”

“Absolutely not.” He speaks immediately, a shiver running down his spine as you push on one of his hickeys, the ache feeling more like bliss. You hum, engaging in his reaction. You love how sensitive he is; every touch and stroke upon his body makes him squirm in your hold. It is endearing, as well as mesmerizing.

“If you keep touching me like that, you won’t be getting that break.” Joshua breathes out, both enjoying your touches and cursing you for the hold you have on him; his will being shaped by your gestures.

You feign innocence, acting like what he said didn’t have an effect on you. You continue touching his chest as the hand still holding onto his lets go to grip on his waist, squeezing his skin causing him to jolt with a gasp. “Hey!”

You laugh and continue to do it, making him laugh hysterically as you tickle him. He tries grabbing for your hand, but your previously occupied hand on his chest grabs his hands, holding onto both of them as you continue your attack. He releases grunts and is moving his body frantically to try and get away. Next thing you both know, he is on the floor.

“Oh Founder! Are you okay?” You panic, climbing off the bed to see the damage you caused.

With a sigh, Joshua smiles. “I’m alive, even after your attempt to murder me.”

“I would do no such thing!” You huff before pulling him up. You both are, once again, laying back down on the bed flat on your backs. The sleepiness is starting to set in and you can feel your eyes start to shut, when all of a sudden you feel hot air hitting your ear. You turn your head, eyes fully shut. “What?”

“Lie closer to me.”

“Our shoulders are literally touching.” You say, sleep seeping into your words.

Joshua groans. “You know what I mean. Let me hold you.”

Without a peep from you, Joshua rolls you to your side so you face him and brings you into his arms. He squeezes you to him, cradling your head in one arm and the other pushing your body into his. You groan, the heat from his body heating yours to almost unbearable lengths. “You’re too hot.”

He chuckles. “I don’t care. You are going to let me embrace you after the number you did on me.”

“I didn’t mean to push you off the bed.” You whine, kicking your feet against his legs to get back at him for his attitude.

He chuckles and reaches down to your butt, giving it a light squeeze.“I was talking about our love making but that’s a good excuse too.”

“Can I adjust at least?” You ask, already starting to shift. Joshua hums and lays on his back, letting you scoot into side. Arm around his torso and the other held close to your chest, you lay your head down against his chest. His heartbeat is steady; a calming rhythm that’s lulling you to sleep.

Joshua watches as you slip away, sweet hums vibrating from your chest as you sleep. All he can think is how pretty you look in your sleep, especially with your messy post-sex hair and slightly swollen lips. He could watch you sleep forever, but sleep was starting to take hold of him as well. He kisses your forehead, whispering a goodnight before he enters dreamland.

And you both sleep soundly as signs of life start to pick up outside; with shops getting ready for the day and the hustle and bustle of people taking the streets of Dalimil.

#joshua rosfield x reader #joshua rosfield fluff #ffxvi x reader #joshua x reader #joshua rosfield #ffxvi #my fics #final fantasy xvi #fluff

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liquidorcard · 1 month ago

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Hey fam we're gunna inact in some sinful behavior again and get real for a sec here on the shitposting blog so TW: Discussion of substance abuse, mental health issues, SA, etc.

You may have noticed I took a bit of a break from posting for a bit. It wasn't entirely due to Lily's "junkie" rant here, but it was partially responsible.

A lot about Lily high key cheeses my biscuits, I've made that pretty clear. Lily and I have a . . . Strange amount in common in some regards. I'm a trans person myself, I come from a similar, shall we say, "dysfunctional home environment" Lily does. We're even both Canadian, close enough in age I grew up with a lot of the exact same regional-specific media she did. We've had some other life experiences in common.

With that said, Lily's almost like the evil funhouse mirror version of my life. I was sexually assaulted for the first time at basically the exact same age Courtney was. Lily reminds me very much of my first partner, who physically, emotionally and sexually abused me. Unlike Lily, I am from an actual multi-racial family and have had the somewhat unique experiences and gotten the somewhat unique perspective of being a white person partially influenced and organically adopted into more predominantly POC culture. I've had to come to terms with my own white privilege and the ways Western colonialism has influenced me on a level far more personal than it would be for someone from a more monoracial and monocultural family than mine. While also coming to terms with and accepting the ways my family has been judged and discriminated against for being so blended.

There's also just the fact that Lily seems to (I wonder if, on some level, intentionally) act like the alt-right caricature of a progressive leftist in the most performative way imaginable, while also clearly not actually being left-wing at all. My pet theory is that the only thing stopping Lily from going full Blaire White MAGA butt monkey is that her pride can't take it. Being treated like a useful idiot for the right to "prove" they're not bigots while treating her with open hostility in every other regard. So she's as "leftist" as she needs to be to get the 12 year olds she's trying to court on her side because they don't know any better. While being profoundly anti-labor, pro-capitalist. Even though the only reason why the alt-right hyper focus on identity politic bullshit like that is becayse it's a wedge issue that allows them to skirt around talking about actual policy.

There's also just the fact that someone can be so, confidently, shit-eating levels of wrong and stupid about the most asinine things. I actually work professionally in the fields Lily has decided her opinions are worth vomiting out into the ether. Fields people in general are way too comfortable speaking with authority on shit they know absolutely nothing about-- but Lily is for sure a special case.

Point is: I'm very used to Lily making me go into turbo big upsetti spaghetti mode. I've been aware of her for YEARS. I'm over it . . . Until I'm not.

I've alluded to it a few times already: I'm a recovered drug user, though I've struggled with general substance abuse and impulse control issues for longer. Particularly because of untreated mental health issues like C-PTSD, a dissociative disorder, gender dysphoria and ADHD. Particularly because of untreated physical health issues that just a few years ago almost killed me. Issues that caused me significant pain, mental distress, and slowly worsening disability since I was 11 years old. Went totally untreated until they came close to taking my life. It's no coincidence that I started stealing my parent's booze when I was around 12 or 13 years old.

The worst, ugliest, most humiliating aspects of yourself? Addiction will put them front and center. It will cause you to do things, act in ways, find out things about yourself you're never going to be able to unknow. You have to live with for the rest of your life.

You're aware of it-- the whole time. What a fucking creature you've become. How you are hurting the people closest to you. It's not fun. The whole time, you want to stop. But you can't. You don't know why you just can't control yourself, what you're supposed to do. You're afraid of asking for help out of fear of judgement or punishment. Drugs are mostly decriminalized in Canada and still, if someone just took access away from my poison of choice and sent me on my way with no further help--- I would have just walked into traffic.

The worst of my issues happened due to some absolutely insane levels of medical irresponsibility that I won't fully get into because they're too long to explain. But I will tell you that, already aware I had substance abuse issues, I *explicitly warned* the doctor who prescribed me the medication that I didn't feel I could be responsible to be put on anything addictive. She assured me it was not. Spoiler altert: it was addictive. A lot of addicts descent into rock bottom beginning with something they were prescribed.

Drug companies will put in these "anti-abuse" measures into otherwise addictive substances that it takes half a brain cell to circumvent. Just take my word for it.

I overdosed at least once, maybe twice on the drug I was originally prescribed. Alone. By some insane luck I survived both times without getting further medical treatment. But as I built up a tolerance what I was originally prescribed wasn't the *only thing* I ended up abusing in that period of my life. I was going to die if I didn't do something soon, and I knew it.

I was lucky. My sister drove two cities over after a night shift to my rescue and quite literally set me on the road to saving my life. My doctor was compassionate enough to allow me to get off of what I was originally addicted to at my own pace, and correctly identified I needed a medication overhaul to do so. My older brother made sure I wasn't dying of dehydration or starvation during my detox period and made sure to do the daily tasks I didn't have the mental capacity to do at that time aswell. Without them I wouldn't be here today.

NOT EVERY DRUG USER IS AS FORTUNATE AS ME, HOWEVER. And even then, recovery is not a straight line, or as simple as having certain substances kept away. It's a demon you'll be fighting the rest of your life, in many instances. Mine included. Part of getting off the harmful substances I was was getting a prescription to Adderall, as I was partially self-medicating for. Something my doctor still monitors me with to ensure I'm not falling back into bad habits with. Something Lily is CURRENTLY bitching about not being able to get a prescription for-- I wonder why, Lily.

I have now gone through THREE surgeries without painkillers. And in one particularly awful incident, was treated rather cruelly by the medical staff over refusing to take them. To quote, of all things, fucking Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo, "if you live with pain long enough, you learn to enjoy the taste." But nothing is like the nightmare of chemical dependence. Pain is immaterial to that kind of hell.

I know Lily is saying this bullshit just to vaguepost about Courtney, but I don't care. Fuck her. Fuck her for daring to judge me, and those like me. That she was that comfortable being this vile about the matter publically should give you a good indication as to how comfortable even other people are to talking down to addicts.

She wouldn't have survived the shit I went through. I dare her to try. She's way too much of a little piss baby to crawl her way out of that kind of suffering.

I know this is a meme page, but I refuse to be ashamed of talking about it. If anyone would like some more information about my experience or has questions as to why Lily's opinion on the matter is dogshit and vile, feel free to dm me or send me an ask. I'll make it clear why Lily is fucking scum for having the balls to say this publically. I'll make her regret it.

#lily orchard #lily orchard critical #anti lily orchard #lily peet #lorch posting #lily orchard stuff #youtube #liquid lily #lily orchard is a bad critic #lily orchard receipts #tw drugs #drugblr #drug abuse #tw alchohol mention #addiction #eldrich lily #liquid orcard

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