#I'm mentally preparing myself for losing her

[iesuroo]

Abby has lost weight super fast out of nowhere so we took her to the vet and learned she has kidney disease and there is nothing I can do about it. She's not eating much but I can get her to eat those liquid cat pouches. She still plays and purrs and cuddles so I'm just trying to make life as comfortable for her as possible. I got her a fancy cat tree like I always wanted to and got her a good bowl set for whisker fatigue to hopefully promote eating and drinking. It's super painful to be a new mom trying to navigate everything and also slowly lose my best friend

[so-many-ocs]

practical writing advice

part 2

avoid writing in bed if you can. writing in bed is the mind-killer. writing in bed is the little death that brings obliteration. you may think "but i can write AND be cozy" you will get sleepy so fast. 98% of the time when i try to get a nighttime writing session done in bed i go to sleep. maybe 70% of the time if it's an afternoon writing session. also it fucking kills your wrists.

STRETCH before writing. stretch as many parts of your body as possible ESPECIALLY YOUR WRISTS! i have chronic tendonitis in both of my arms from not doing this and it is manageable but it is Not Fun!

plug your phone in on the other side of the room. better yet, plug it in and leave it in another room. better yet, power it off and leave it in another room. "i'll just check one quick thing" do not underestimate the power of the doomscroll.

do a warmup. look up writing prompts (i like one-word prompts or prompts that focus on a general theme as it's easier to integrate into my writing style), set a timer for fifteen minutes, or ten, or five, and go ham. make it shitty or incomprehensible, as long as you make it. create a dump document for all your warmups. i currently have two novels in the works that started as one of these fifteen minute little warmups.

pick your background noise ahead of time if you use it, and look for something long. i listen to 3-hour-long silent hill ambient mixes on youtube dot com.

take breaks. around every 45 minutes, as i'm noticing myself begin to lose focus, i get up, grab a drink, get my blood flowing, and give myself some space to breathe.

sometimes i sit down to write and i think "every atom in my body is averse to doing this right now. i would rather dance barefoot on a bed of nails than open my laptop and start typing." and you know what i do? i go do something else instead. don't force it! it will become a chore.

that being said! write as often as possible. try to write every day. try to write at the same time. don't beat yourself up if you can’t, BUT the more often you write, the more often you'll want to write.

if you're stuck on a scene or a page or a chapter, go back to the last place where you felt like you knew what you were doing and start writing from there. keep a copy of your other writing in case you want to reuse it or refer back!

i don't know if this is something that will be helpful for other people but i start mentally preparing myself for my writing session a few hours ahead of time. i will say to myself, "today, at this time, i'm gonna sit down and write that scene where mina walks out on her book club, and it's going to be awesome and i'm looking forward to it." then, by the time i actually begin, i basically have the whole thing written out in my head and can just put it down to paper. it's a good way to at least kickstart the session !

ok thanks bye

[dyke-quixote]

Sancho has DID: the essay

So I'll start by saying I have DID like officially diagnosed for years so I'm very passionate about this. I also have diagnosed schizophrenia and this can be a doozy of a combo but it also appears to be exactly the fucked up combo Sancho has. Not to brag about how mentally unstable I am but I feel like I'm a bit of an expert here.

Jokes aside: while Sancho/Don Quixote shows obvious symptoms of DID and being a system, it should be noted that this is enhanced by fantasy aspects. She does have the trauma that would lead to development of a dissociative disorder but the method in which her alter “forms” could debatably be complete fantasy due to memory loss from drinking from the Lethe. But to me, fantasy enhanced or not, Don Quixote is still obviously a traumagenic system.

First: Don Quixote has two distinct personalities. Even before Canto 7 we see hints of this.

Her W Corp ID shows her starting out acting one way, and then ending another, even to the point of her voice and speaking style changing. Post Up-Tie, Don Quixote gains a new voice line where she completely drops her speaking quirk, talking more like we later see Sancho speaking.

“Did you know that human life is more resilient than it seems? One may still be breathing even after suffering profuse bleeding and breaking most of one's bones.”

In her Shi identity Up-Tie it calls explicit attention to the fact that her cheery personality is not how she always is. Although this can be taken as her “acting” it is still important to note.

“I doubt anyone knows what this child… is like when she's faking on jobs alone.”

In Canto 2, when dancing for the Mariachi men, Don Quixote’s movements are called “insincere”. Although she does not cease using her archaic language, her voice does notably change when she replies.

There are several other times throughout the game leading up to Canto 7 where you can see her seem to shift in personality but these are the most notable.

Of course Canto 7 is where most of the evidence lies.

Sancho has extreme memory loss as a result of drinking from the Lethe. She was driven to drink from it due to trauma but she was already showing signs of dissociating at this time.

The way she responds to Bari before she drinks is dismissive and depressed. Drinking from the Lethe is akin to a suicide attempt for Sancho.

Bari asks Sancho how she will live on (quoting both something First Kindred Quixote asked Sancho and something Sancho asked him) Sancho replies to Bari with: “I've lost everything. And now I prepare myself to lose even the remnants of what once was. Do you think that question means anything to me?”

Bari herself does not know what to say to this, showing that the way Sancho is acting is uncharacteristic.

Sancho may have also been prone to bouts of disassociation in general even before this point.

Dulcinea explicitly says Sancho acts like a “detached observer” and “as though you were not part of the world”. This is a pretty obvious way to describe disassociation.

Even Nicolina says she thought Sancho was condescending her, which Sancho denies. She did not even realize that she was acting in a way that may be interpreted as such. She simply acted uninterested, unable to express herself. This is common in other disorders, such as autism which Sancho also definitely has, but when paired with Dulcinea’s comments, it appears to be closer to disassociating.

Then there is the more obvious memory loss. Although it is caused by the Lethe, the way it is described is the same as dissociative amnesia is.

Xichun describes it as extremely disorienting. “Coming to terms with the realization that those hazy, nightmarish visions were in fact her own memories, that they weren't just dreams, has to be…”

Hong Lu finishes for her. “Yes. It will be sad. And complex.” He continues, speculating on which is the dreamer. “Is it myself as I had existed in that dream, or myself who has awakened from it?”

Traumatic memories being like blurry nightmares is not something specific to DID or other similar disorders, but it is very common among those who have DID.

Memories between alters are often hard to grasp, feeling like they happened to someone else or were a dream, just like Sancho. What happened to her when she was Don Quixote feels far away, and for Don Quixote, what happened to Sancho was simply nightmarish visions.

This is especially obvious when after killing Cassetti, Don Quixote is unable to remember the time Rocinante was not on her feet.

Specifically there is no reason for this except something related to trauma and DID. Rocinante itself does not suppress memories.

Then we have Don Quixote’s rendition of Pass On.

The song starts out with one singer and then turns into a duet with two distinct singers. This is obviously Sancho and Don Quixote.

There remains two voices singing even at the end, where they swap between singing lines and then sing together. I think this clearly shows there are still two personalities.

The final spoken line starts with Sancho’s voice and then changes to Don Quixote. I like to think this is a cute way to show a shift in who's fronting…

There are also Don Quixote’s announcer lines. In many lines you can hear Don Quixote switch to sounding and talking like Sancho, showing they both are still around. Italics are Sancho’s voice.

You insolent— Ahm! Their vile trickery is but a passing misery! In the end, we shall prevail and break their spears!

Thou mustn't fear having to take a knee from time to time! A bit of my slobber upon thy wound, and it shall be healed posthaste, forsooth! ... Um. Perhaps that was too much…

... I shall remember thee; as shall Manager Esquire. Thou hast fought valorously. I await thy return with anticipation.

What would you have done in such a situation, Father? ... Haha. I don't suppose he was ever in such a situation. Hark! 'Tis not the end, my compatriots!

Just like Dulcinea's elaborate preparations for her Parade's finale… But I already knew it was coming, so it didn't affect me much. ...Thus! We shan't be troubled by such craftiness! Prithee, prepare thyself accordingly!

Did they feed them blood packs or something...? N-no. Our foes stand over yonder, brimming with morale! Prithee, watch thyself!

'Tis clear that thy strike against them was much like splashing water against myself! Ugh... I threw up a little merely by mentioning it.

Ah, thou hast chipped off a part! This brings to mind an adventure of mine when— Mm.

F-fie… Agh... Father could have obliterated that fool in an instant...

I won't cover every part of the Canto but it is obvious Sancho has two separate personalities, the Bloodfiend Sancho and Don Quixote that developed in the Lighthouse after her memory loss.

Could Sancho then just be going back to play the role of the Don Quixote personality? Sure. But the point remains she has multiple personalities that formed from trauma (with the help of fantasy magic sure) who do not seem to share memories until the end of the Canto.

The writing seems to be trying to make it obvious when Sancho “shifts”, often using ellipses or her clearing her throat. I feel like from a writer's perspective, there is no point to this except to draw attention to it. Why make it so obvious if it is just Sancho playing a role? That is just me who has been writing plural characters for like 20 years.

If you discard the connections, Sancho still exhibits signs of many other disorders. Autism and schizophrenia most of all. She is delusional and traumatized. She disassociates and has two personalities.

There is room to argue she is now, as of the very end of the canto, one personality playing the other most of the time and sometimes that “mask” slips, but it doesn't change that, as a person with DID, I see myself in Sancho and I wouldn't mind if she became good representation for plural people and systems.

[adventuringblind]

A Little Lost

Liam Lawson x Reader x Oscar Piastri x Logan Sargeant

Genre: fluff and hurt/comfort

Summary: With her ADHD driving her mind into a whirlwind, she ends up slipping in public and unable to find the one person she needs. Luckily Oscar and Logan are there to help.

Warnings: non-sexual age play, agere/age-regression, panic attacks, implied trauma, non-sexual use of daddy

Notes: I needed this for myself, honestly!! I hope the requester finds comfort in it like I did!

Side note: age-regression is NOT a kink. If you're going to request it, please don't make it a smut request. It gives ya girl mixed signals. AGEPLAY is a kink and has dd/lg dynamics. Please remember this when requesting... I'm begging T_T

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Everything is overwhelming at the moment. He thoughts are running in a million different directions. The noise and bustle of the paddock is pulling Her every which way.

She needs Liam. Without a shadow of a doubt, she needs him right this second.

Her mental state is dancing between headspaces. Her little self is attempting to break free of the confines she's put the girl in. To young and to alone to be out in this environment.

The alphatauri garage feels so far away. It's an endless walk she's been attempting to make for what feels like hours now. Liam, she just needs to get to him.

Panic rises every time someone bumps into her. She squeaks out a sorry, only to be met with annoyed grunts. She needs her daddy to make it better. No - Liam - she needs Liam.

The catalyst is someone shoving her away and complaining that she should pay more attention. She is paying attention. Her brain just has thirty tabs open, three of them have commercials playing, another is driving her senses wild, and where the heck is her da- Liam?!

The shove sends her tumbling to the ground. Her elbow hits the hard ground on impact. It's bleeding, and she's officially offline.

Her little self takes over, tears welling in her eyes as she hides around the corner and tugs at her hair. A desperate attempt to settle the whirlwind of her thoughts.

She needs her daddy.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Logan and Oscar are animatedly chatting about the race as they walk through the dwindling crowd. Liam had texted about a longer debrief and had asked them to check up on his girlfriend since she wasn't answering her phone.

They'd been an item the last couple of years like Oscar and Logan have. It's an interesting and often tense dynamic. The four of them are all extremely close, but neither of the couples have openly talked about any kind of open relationship.

Oscar and Logan have. It's often a source of interesting fantasies and warm fuzzy feelings. They say nothing, though. Scared of losing their closest friends in the pursuit of something mildly taboo still.

Logan is lost in his thoughts when Oscar stops suddenly. He hushes him and listens intently. It's then that Logan catches the muffled sobs.

They take off in the direction of the crying. Neither of them are ones to let somebody suffer when they can help it.

They turn the corner, and there sits their original target. She curled up with hair in every direction, and her fingers rake through it in a violent manner.

Logan approaches her like she's a wounded animal. He's not at all hurt when she curls farther into her corner.

"Osc, we're gonna need to call Liam."

"Already on it!"

She perks up at hearing Liam's name. Eyes wide and teary, but at least she doesn't look scared of the Logan for the moment. "Daddy? Are callin' daddy?"

Oh. Oh.

She's - how did they put it? - regressed, in age. They talked about it in passing but never elaborated. Logan and Oscar had never bothered to look into it. They were protective over it and they wanted to respect that.

He's regretting that decision just a tad now. He might be more prepared on what to do if he'd bothered to figure out what it is that happens to her.

The obvious thing is that she's vulnerable and scared. "Yeah, we're calling him." He smiles warmly at her. "Can you tell me what happened? Why you're so sad?" He keeps his tone calm to hopefully ease her into a less anxious state.

She untucks herself and shows Logan her red and bleeding elbow. "Was pushed."

It's not a terrible scrape, not one to be worried about, but it is getting on all her clothes. He'll have to ask about the pushing later.

Oscar comes back and sighs in annoyance. "He said another thirty minutes at least of debrief. I feel bad for worrying him now."

Oscar sees where the two are crouched and throws Logan a confused look. "Is everything alright?"

"Well, I think someone needs a band-aid for her elbow and somewhere to wait for daddy." Logan tries to communicate that there is more going on here. Oscar looks between the two, and then his face lights up in some kind realization.

"Lando already left for the day, so my room should be safe. And I know he has crayon band-aids in his room."

She considers the idea. Carefully studying both of their faces for some hint of malicious intent. "Daddy said no strangers."

Logan exaggerates a pondering face. "Are me and Osc strangers? I thought we were best friends!"

She shakes her head yes and moves closer to the American. A reassurance that she does consider him a friend. "More then friend!" She leans up to Logan and motions to lend his ear so she can whisper into it. "Daddy says loves." She giggles, and Logan has to use all his strength not to look dumbfounded at the confession.

Oscar and Logan wrangle her the back way to the McLaren motor home. Their success in going mostly unnoticed has both males breathing in relief as they step into the saftey of Oscar's room.

The Aussie ducks out to grab the band-aid from his teammates' room, and Logan is left to sit with the girl currently looking confused and intrigued. She hesitantly grabs the stuffed koala sitting on the shelf. The one Logan had gotten for him as a joke before they started dating.

"Has name?" Her fingers stroke the soft fluff of the toy.

"I'm not sure. Should we ask Osc when he gets back?" She nods once, then comes and sits on the couch with him. The stuffed koala cradled in her arms like it's the most precious thing she's ever seen.

Logan is still trying to comprehend what she meant earlier. Is it just her small brain misinterpreting something Liam said? Or is this an honest confession that she doesn't currently understand the implications of? He doesn't want to get his hopes up and settles on the second option for now.

Oscar sneaks back in the door and starts unwrapping the bangade. It is, in fact, shaped like a red crayon. Her eyes light up even as he washes the cut and places the band-aid on it.

"There we go, all better now." Oscar smiles at her as she hugs his koala.

"Thank you."

She's completely entranced in the stuffed toy again. Logan taps her on the nose to get her attention. "Did you want to ask Osc your question?"

She makes an 'o' shape with her mouth. "Does koala have a name?" She looks up at him with expectant eyes.

Oscar considers. "Hmmm, I don't think he does. Would you like to give him one?"

She takes careful consideration, weighing all the possible options. "Koko."

"Love it."

"Very creative!"

Her expression changes into something sad. Her eyes once again glassy like before. "Will daddy like?" She curls up in Logans lap with the toy.

"Yeah, he'll love it. Certainly not as much as he loves you."

She hums and closes her eyes. It's adorable and peaceful. "Do you think Liam might let us do this with her again?"

"If he doesn't kill us first. Speaking of, I should let him know where we are."

♡♡♡♡♡

Liam likes to think he's relatively quick. He runs often enough and has good stamina.

This is the fastest he's ever moved in his entire life. He grabs all their stuff with a speed that shocks both Daniel and Yuki.

"What's got you in a hurry, mate?"

"Just eager to see my girl, is all."

Daniel shoots him a wink. "Have a good time!" Liam can only laugh nervously in response. It's certainly not the good time he's thinking of. No, he'd promised her a nice dinner tonight.

Now he's thinking he might have to shift plans. Which - he's not upset about. Liam loves when she's in headspace because it gives him an excuse to do things he wouldn't normally. As in, she's obsessed with cars, and he gets to spend time building the most intricate tracks with household items, blocks, and an ungodly amount of Legos that they have at home. She's always sad when they have to leave them for long periods of time, but he brings a portion with just in case.

He makes for the McLaren garage and is greeted by Oscar out front. It's odd, knowing that their secret is out and yet the Aussie is looking at him affectionately.

They make light conversation while they venture into the building. It feels normal still, nothing to awkward aside from the fact Liam goes on rabbit trails every ten seconds. It's the reason Oscar knows how to handle Lando and his chaotic communication tactics.

Liam mentally slaps himself. Now is not the time to be drooling over his friend's stability and emotional intelligence. He should really just confess. They'd talked about it, they both want it, but that could result in rejection.

Oscar opens the door and slips inside. Liam takes a second to observe the scene in front of him. His girl, happily laying her head in Logan's lap rambling about the koala in her hands.

"Look who I found!" Oscar gestures to Liam. Her head perks up and she scrambles off the couch, slipping to the floor before throwing herself at Liam.

"Hi, love bug." Liam attempts to get on the floor without falling as she clings to him. He fails miserably as the topple over. "Were you good for Oscar and Logan?" She hums something into his chest that he can't decipher.

"She was an angel, honestly." Logan leans forward on the couch. It looks like he's contemplating something, shooting stead looks at Oscar.

With effort, Liam finally gets them situated on the floor. "Do you know what might have triggered this?"

"She scraped her elbow, was that it maybe?"

Liam ponders the suggestion. His eyes find the crayon band-aid that wasn't there the last time he saw her. He sighs, hopefully she was just overwhelmed, and this wasn't an altercation of some kind. "She's struggled with - uh, being shoved around - I guess. You know, home life things."

"Maybe she was shoved and fell which caused the panic attack." Oscar eyes them sadly.

"Well, you two feel up to helping us get out of here?"

♡♡♡♡♡

Oscar doesn't understand how Liam makes this look normal. HAs this been going on under their noses this whole time? If only he could go back in time, rewind a bit and do some research. He and logan could help out if they wanted.

She was falling asleep in the car and still looks like she might clock out in the elevator. Still, Oscar can't help imagining the four of them together, like this.

Liam twirls her around as they walk until she almost falls over. She falls into him, laughing and smiling, the injury from earlier forgotten about.

Their space is comfortable and lived in. The two even slip into a routine, pulling out food for dinner. He whispers something to her, and she skitters off.

They pull chairs out from around the small table. Liam offers them water and something to eat. "So, about... this."

"Which this? The four of us or her specifically?" Logan raises an eyebrow.

"Both."

The girl returns and climbs into Liam's lap clutching a notebook. She flips open to a page and excitedly hands it to Liam to hand to the two across the table.

Oscar isn't sure whether to laugh or melt, so he mixes the two together. The pages are lined with drawings of the four of them. "She's quite the artist."

"You've no idea. Our fridge is covered in artwork." Liam chuckles a bit and wraps his arms around her.

"Told you! More than friends!"

"Do you know what that means, love bug?"

"Three people to cuddle!"

Oscar really does laugh this time. "Well, you're not wrong!" He shoot a look to Logan.

"Count us in." The American smile.

Liam sighs heavily in disappointment. It's a confusing reaction that Oscar wasn't expecting. "She's going to murder me later for not having this talk when she's big."

"Can't be mad if you make me dessert!" A devilish grin spreads across her cheeks.

"Only this once."

"You said that last time."

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Short Temper

Dark!Poe Dameron x Fem!pilotReader

Cw/triggers: Leia being such a sweetheart to reader, 18+!!, punishment, Poe being kind of possessive, p in v, blowjob, deep throating, overstimulation, dark Poe, Black Squadron members being silly lol.

Today was a rather stressful day at the Resistance, a pilot in Black Squadron was sick and you had to jump in and take his spot for a training simulation. But today, everyone knew Commander Poe Dameron had bad mood, he couldn't sleep the last night due to a Generator near his quarters kept beeping.

You just finished up preparing your X-Wing as General Leia Organa came up to you along with C-3PO by her side.

"Hey," she gave you a warm smile, "I saw how nervous you looked earlier when you had to jump in for today. Don't be, Black Squadron has the nicest pilots I've ever worked with." Leia placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

"I know. Well, except Poe today." you laughed making Leia chuckle

"Yeah, except him. But please keep an eye on him, I don't want the whole base being moodier than him."

"Where are you going?" you asked curiously.

"I and C-3PO are going to Coruscant for a meeting. And until then, Poe will be in command until I'm back."

"Alright. But please be back as soon as possible, we don't want Poe to lose his shit." you chuckled.

"I promise I will. Take care." she gave you a pat on the shoulder and another warm smile, turning around and leaving for her meeting.

-

Soon enough, all pilots of Black Squadron gathered at the hangar, they all welcomed you, immediately cracking jokes with you and sharing laughter.

After a while one member spoke up, "Well, here he comes, Commander bad mood himself."

You had to suppress a laughter and went to your X-Wing. Then Poe approached you,

"Hi there, jumper. Got everything prepared?"

"Yes, sir." you nodded.

"Good. All you have to do is to follow my lead and don't do anything stupid." with that Poe walked to his X-Wing and climbed in.

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

The training simulation went well for the most part, but at one point you pulled off a stunt inside a nearby asteroid field to destroy the target. You chased the target through the field, doing some really close manouvers but at the end you successfully destroyed the last target while Poe was barking at you over the comm to get back and not risk your life for a dummy target. But you got sick and cut off your comm.

Now Black Squadron was back at the hangar, you changed into your mechanic uniform to re-new some paint on your X-Wing. Soon everyone else got out of their X-Wings and up to you. You thought they all would scold you but instead they laughed,

"Damn, you pulled off quite the show! Ha!"

"I wish we could have seen Poe's face when you've made it out of there alive."

"Poe did not like that at all!"

"I bet if you pull off more stunts like that, you could be even better than Poe!" Another one laughed.

"Oh oh... Poe's coming." one pointed at the black X-Wing that has just entered the hangar and landed.

All the other members of Black Squadron quickly pissed off to avoid Poe's temper but you decided to stay to prevent further provocation.

Poe removed his helmet and climbed out of his cockpit, immediately walking towards you. As you saw him coming closer, you took a deep breath and prepared mentally for the scolding you're about to get.

"What the hell was that?!" Poe barked, his tone was authoritive and demanding answers.

"Poe- I'm sorry, I-" Poe cut you off,

"You risked your life for a fucking training target, pulling off dangerous stunts inside an asteroid field!" Poe left no room for arguments.

"I'm sorry! I won't do it again!" You pleaded but he sighed in annoyance and shook his head.

"Sorry won't cut it." he responded sternly.

"What do you mean, Dameron?"

"Oh, you'll see. Come with me."

You stood there confused and Poe raised an eyebrow, "Don't make me repeat myself. Come with me now." he ordered almost coldly.

You did as he asked and followed him. He lead you into an empty supply room with a table and some chairs inside. He turned on the lights and motioned for you to enter first. After stepping inside, Poe typed something on the console beside the door and it turned red, signalizing the door is locked.

"Uhm, Poe? What are you doing?" you asked slowly and carefully.

He turned around to face you, "I'm going to teach you a lesson. A lesson to never risk your life for some stupid stunts." he walked towards you and pulled out a chair from the table and sat down.

"Get on your knees." he ordered.

"On my knees?" you asked confused.

"Do it." he growled.

You hesistated but slowly getting down on your knees. You slowly realized how Poe wanted to punish you.

Poe slowly unzipped his orange flight suit, "You know, I had a really bad fucking night. And your disobedience was the last drop."

He reached inside and pulled out his already hard cock, giving it a few strokes.

"Suck it." He ordered, tilting his head to the side slightly as if daring you to disobey.

Slowly, you leaned in, his other hand coming up behind you and grabbed the back of your neck. His hand was hot against your cold skin, it almost made you afraid of Poe.

You gave his cockhead a few licks, looking up at him and saw the desire in his eyes. A desire to grab your head and fuck your throat so hard it will be sore the next day. But he wanted you to do everything.

"Go ahead." His hand on the back of your neck gave you a warning squeeze.

You leaned in and took his girth in your mouth as far as you could. He was so big you couldn't fit him all the way. Poe groaned deeply and you looked up to see his eyes fluttered close and his head thrown back.

"Fuck, keep going." he looked back down at you and licked his lips hungrily.

-

You kept sucking him, the only sounds filling the small room were the wet sounds and Poe's groaning.

"You're so good at this." He praised and moved his hand upwards to tangle into your hair.

-

"I'm gonna cum. You better swallow every drop or else you will suck my cock again and again until your stomach is full of my cum."

Poe warned as his breath got ragged and he suddenly plunged his cock all the way down your throat, making you gag as he came down your throat.

He released you and you got back up, turning around and ready to leave.

"Where do you think you're going? I didn't say we are finished here. I'm not done with you yet. Come back here."

Poe stood up and walked towards you.

"But you just came." you protested and he chuckled,

"And? Did I say you could leave? We're not finished. Not by a long shot, sweetheart."

Poe grabbed you and pushed you against the wall face first.

"This is a lesson in obedience after all." he leaned close and unfastened your uniform pants, pulling them down along with your panties.

"You know, maybe I will keep you in my squadron. See how you will be become my good little girl and follow your Commander's orders like you should."

he reached out and stroked your clit rythmically, the pace increasing stroke after stroke.

Your moans filled the room and Poe soon pushed two fingers inside you after you were dripping onto the ground beneath you.

-

"Yes, keep moaning, let the whole base hear how much of a good girl you are for me." He incouraged, your breath getting ragged as you felt your orgasm approach.

Poe felt your cunt clench around his fingers, but his pace only slowed down momentarilly as you came down from the orgasm.

He kept pumping his fingers in and out of you, slowly. Your poor pussy was overstimulated, you couldn't take anymore and Poe suddenly removed his fingers.

"Now I think you're wet enough."

Poe was already stroking his once again hard cock.

"What do you mea--" you got cut of by the sudden intrusion of his big cock into your overstimulated entrance.

Poe leaned in close, "Ohhhh, your pussy isn't going to be spared from my cock." he drawled out and leaned down towards your neck, kissing and sucking on the skin. Then he suddenly bit down.

You gasped, and squeezed him in response which made him groan.

"Fuck, you're so tight, honey." his thrusts were slow at first, but he quickly increased the pace as he heard your moans and whimpers getting more needily.

-

His grip on your hips got tighter and his thrusts harder and faster.

You felt your second orgasm build up, making you arch your back into him and your moans getting louder.

"I knew you would love my cock, baby. But Don't worry, you will get more of me."

Poe felt himself getting close again too, and soon enough he buried his whole girth inside you and came hard. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as his breath slowly returned to normal. He pulled out and handed you some tissue to clean yourself up. Poe cleaned himself up too and put himself back into his boxers.

Poe turned his attention back to you, watching as you pulled your panties and pants back up.

"You better listen to me from now on and do what I say. Because if not, then this will be a common thing." He waited for your answer.

"Yes." You nodded weakly.

"Good." With a satisfied nod, Poe unlocked the door and stepped out, leaving you there overstimulated but satisfied.

[augustghosts]

Stewy Hosseini x female reader fic that i once again have no title for

SEEEEE i told you i was gonna write this. Part 2 of this but you can defo read it alone! This took me months because I’ve been busy getting fired from two jobs in a row and losing my mind but i’m kinda back <3

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ pls because this is smuuuuuut - Apparently I can't help myself. Fem reader. Oral and pinv, the usual. A little bit of angst and jealousy. Final warnings are my bad writing and no proofreading because I'm lazy.

The same hotel bar, the same stool and the same eyes watching you from across the room. 6 months later, this time a birthday party. Apparently this place is a popular party destination among the rich and boring. Although now, it is associated with a night you would rather forget. You and Stewy ghosting each other after that night was not something either of you intended. He’s busy, you know that. But you can’t help but feel some resentment as you look over at him. Maybe because of the ghosting, but it’s definitely not because of the girl he’s talking to. The girl who’s currently caressing his arm and looking into his eyes a little too intently as he talks. She laughs loudly and you cringe, your fingers tightening on the wine glass in your hand. What could he possibly be saying? He’s not that funny. You shake your head with a sigh at the thought, because - fuck, he is that funny. He’s made you laugh like that a million times.

Eventually you decide enough is enough, you gather your things and make a conscious effort not to look over at where Stewys and his new friends are sitting. You say your goodbyes to the birthday girl, someone you’ve only met once and she looks at you like she couldn’t care less whether you live or die. Rich and boring. Whipping out your phone to order a car and mentally preparing yourself to stand in the cold and wait for it takes all of your attention, so you miss the fact that someone had noticed you leaving and followed you out. You jump out of your skin at the footsteps behind you and whirl around ready to face the culprit. Whatever obscenities you were about to throw at the ghost that had snuck up on you got caught in your throat as you’re faced with a pair of familiar brown eyes.

“Jesus,” Stewy says. The corner of his mouth twitches with a smile, although he looks just as shocked as you. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you heard me.”

“Well I didn’t.” You say, your hand still glued to your chest - your heart racing.

“Sorry.” He repeats. His smile falters when he realizes you aren’t as happy to see him as he is to see you.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” You ask, looking over his shoulder. You regret it as soon as it leaves your mouth because it sounds so fucking childish, also because the way he grins at you makes you want to slap him.

“Who?” He smiles. He knows exactly who you’re talking about. Despite talking to her all night, his eyes have been on you. Watching you angrily glance over at him. He wasn’t even interested in her, in all honesty, and a part of him feels bad for wasting her time all night. But a bigger part of him was getting a kick out of making you jealous. He just can’t help himself.

“No girlfriend.” He says when you don’t respond, you just roll your eyes and look back down at your phone. He peeks over your shoulder at what you’re doing and boldly tries to take your phone out of your hand. “No need for that, I'll give you a ride home.”

“Hey!” You hold your phone out of his reach and scoff a ‘no thank you’.

“Why not? Come on, I'm on my way out and I’m not leaving you standing out in the cold waiting for some creep to come pick you up.” His warm hand wraps around your elbow as he speaks. You’re a goner, you want to let him drive you home - or let his driver drive you home. You want that girl to see you get in the car with him and you can’t help but think about his hands wandering in the back seat. He watches you with a grin as you wrack your brain, trying to come up with an excuse to say no. But alas, one doesn’t come. It’s like your brain short circuited when he touched you - so ridiculous.

“Fine.” You say, letting him pull you towards his vehicle.

“Wow,” He laughs. “You gave up easily, I expected more of a fight.”

“I can still change my mind,” You stop in your tracks. “You can take your new girlfriend home instead.”

“Shut up.” He mumbles, his arm moving to wrap protectively around your waist this time as he guides you to the car. Fuck, what were you doing? Why does he always have this effect on you? But little do you know, he’s thinking the same fucking thing. He came here tonight hoping he wouldn’t see you. There was a quick second where he actually did think about taking the other woman home. But one look at you and he knew he couldn’t do it, it’s always been you for him. No one compares.

“So, yours?” He asks once you're both in the car, after he gallantly opened the door for you and helped you step into the vehicle. You nod, and the car ride is uncharacteristically silent. He doesn’t really know what to say and he knows you’ve always felt awkward speaking in front of random drivers. You much prefer it when he drives, unfortunately he didn’t know at the beginning of the night that he would be in a car with you. He would have happily sacrificed drinking to drive here in an expensive car and show off to you.

When the car stops outside your familiar apartment you both linger awkwardly.

“Am I allowed in?” He asks, his cheeky smile almost breaking your stoic act.

“No.” You say, opening the door and stepping out. You’re lucky that he knows you so well, that he recognises your sarcasm and could tell by the look in your eyes that you wanted him to follow you.

Stewy fishes for his wallet in his pocket and hands way too much money to the confused driver. “Don’t wait. Thanks, man.”

He practically jumps out of the car and races into the building, finding you waiting for him by the elevator. There’s suddenly an awkwardness in the air, neither of you wanting to address the ghosting after sex six months ago. The elevator is moving way to fucking slowly and you finally decide to just ask.

“Why didn’t you call?”

Stewy sighs, suddenly he feels like the elevator is way to small and moving way to fucking slowly.

“Why didn’t you?” Is all he can come up with. Stupid, he thinks. He doesn’t have an excuse so his immediate response is to get defensive. Fortunately, you recognise this in him.

“I was just asking.” You mumble. “Thought you might want to tell me about your girlfriend.”

Stewy, who was previously leaning against the elevator wall in an embarrassingly attractive way, stands up straight and throws his hands in the air.

“Will you drop it?” He asks, his voice sounds louder than he intended it to be. The small elevator that he suddenly feels trapped in making his voice echo off the walls. “I don’t have a fucking girlfriend and I don’t know why i didn’t call you. I just didn’t, okay?”

The bell that sounds as the doors slide open makes him jump and he’s the first to leave. You follow silently, suddenly wishing you hadn’t got into his car. He walks to your apartment door, knowing the way like the back of his hand.

“Why did you come? Because, honestly I’m confused.” You ask him as you reach the door. Standing in front of him, he’s so much taller than you but you force yourself to look into his eyes as you speak. “I assumed you didn’t call because you didn’t want to do this again. That’s the vibe you gave me. Now you’re following me home and arguing with me in the elevator. Why are you here?”

“Fuck-i, can you open the door?” He hesitates, looking around down the empty corridor.

“No.” You stand your ground. “Why are you here?”

“Because-“ He starts to speak but, fuck. He’s too much of a pussy to tell you he loves you. That he still loves you. So he does what he does best and kisses you instead. Your first instinct is to push him away and keep arguing. Demand an answer. But he’s so good at this, he makes it so easy to forget why you’re even mad at him. All that matters is that he’s here in front of you. Kissing you in front of your door and murmuring against your lips about opening the door.

You do as he asks, pulling away from his lips and fishing for your key. Once the door swings open you grasp his shoulders and pull him into the room, your lips meet him again and he slams the door behind you both. He grasps your hips to push you up against the door, smiling against your lips as you whine into his mouth. No, you had to tell him what you wanted to say.

“I thought you didn’t want me, or that you regretted it.” You pull away from his lips to blurt out. He looks surprised at first, but his eyes soften and you sense something else, guilt? He doesn’t know how to respond, god knows he’s never been good at talking about feelings. But god also knows that he’s damn good at showing them.

“Does this feel like I don't want you?” He asks, his voice drops into that deliciously low growl that you love. He pushed his hips into you, his erection pressing against your thigh. “Of course I don’t regret it. Not you.”

You smile up at him, he always knows what to say - and whether you believe it or not, it works.

“How about I show you how much I want you?” He whispers in your ear. “I’ve always dreamed about bending you over in front of this window. We can show the whole city how much I want you. How about that?”

You blush as he gestures to the floor to ceiling windows, the sprawling city underneath. Holy shit. Your words fail you as you look over his shoulder at the window. Although it sounds hot, you can’t help but be embarrassed at the thought of being seen. Although you’re several floors up from the busy streets below, someone might still look up at the right moment and get lucky.

“Come on.” He grins down at you, enjoying seeing you speechless. Leading you over to the couch, his hands make quick work of your dress and he shrugs off his own jacket. God, you always loved seeing him in just a button up shirt - the first few buttons undone like they are now. His hair is slightly messy. All he needed to do was roll up his sleeves a little and you’d be a goner.

His lips find yours again, his hands cradling your face as he kisses you as only an expert knows how. He places one final and playful kiss onto your lips before he grabs your shoulders and maneuvers you down onto the couch. Once you're seated he sinks down to his knees and you groan as he pushes up his fucking sleeves, sometimes you swear that he’s a mind reader.

He lifts one of your legs up, pressing a kiss to your ankle before resting your knee on his shoulder. He starts at your thighs - gentle kisses, his eyes watching you closely.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty baby.” He all but groans before he finally dives in, the first gentle sweep of his tongue has you leaning your head back against the couch with a sigh. He’s so skilled, it kind of pisses you off. You writhe and use his thumbs to gain access to your clit. His big brown eyes watching you all the while as he does everything he knows you love.

He thinks you look gorgeous, he always does, but never as much as you do right now. Your hands find his hair as a car horn from outside catches your attention. You almost forgot that he was eating you out on a couch in front of a huge window and it makes you laugh. He glances up at the sound of your breathy giggle and smirks against your skin.

He incorporates his fingers, expertly pressing into that spot inside of you that is guaranteed to finish the job. Though he holds off, slows down and takes his time. Reveling in your moans and whines as he slowly brings you to the edge.

There was something the both of you found painfully addictive about each other, and neither of you had figured it out yet. You wonder if you ever would. He loves seeing you fall apart for him, loves having you mewling at the end of his tongue. He works you gently through your orgasm, his mouth feeling like home around your swollen clit. He pulls away from you with a grin, dramatically wiping his mouth with the back of his hand - his tongue dipping out to further taste you when he licks his lips.

He stands up, towering over you as he rids himself of his shirt. You sit up, your hands flying to help him with his belt as he sheds the rest of his clothes. He climbs on top of you, you’re trapped underneath him on the couch - there's nowhere else you’d rather be. You’re suddenly thankful that you were able to afford a decent sized piece of furniture, because as awkward as sex on a couch is, it would be worse on a small one.

“Should we go to bed?” You ask, a last ditch attempt. His eyes travel to the window and you can see him thinking about it.

“No.” He finally answers. “I’ve been desperate to fuck you all night.”

He ends his sentence by taking his hard cock into his hand and lining himself up with your entrance.

“All night?” You tease. “Even while-“

“Yes, even while I was talking to my girlfriend.” He cuts you off, anticipating the joke long before you had even thought it up.

“Oh? So now she is your girlfriend?”

You’re annoying him, but the smile on your face and the way you’re laughing makes him smile back and laugh with you. He decides to shut you up, by sliding his fingers into your mouth. Your eyes widen but you take them easily- sliding your tongue over his fingers.

“Good girl.” He mumbles as he slides his now wet fingers out of your mouth and brings them down to your clit, pressing slow circles into it as he pushes into you. He holds still for a moment, his forehead dropping to press against yours. You grasp at his face as he starts to move, pulling his face down to yours so that you can sloppily kiss him as he fucks you.

He knows you inside out, making it look effortless as he makes you feel better than anyone else ever had. He’s talking you through it, whispering dirty things into your neck but you can hardly hear him over your own whimpers. He keeps up his pace, his lips are at your ear now - calling you beautiful, telling you how good your pussy feels and how much he loves hearing you moan his name.

“Fuck, i can feel you baby.” He moans, his skilled fingers slide down to your clit again.

“I’m so close.” You whine, you feel his hips stutter. Knowing he’s close too. You’re walls squeezing him - pulling him to the edge along with you.

“Come on baby.” He groans. “Come for me.”

You cling to his shoulders as you ride out your release, his name leaving your lips as if it's the only word you know. He carries on for a few more thrusts before he tenses and stills. Filling you up deliciously and equally beautiful moans of your name reaches your ears. Suddenly everything is calmer, your thumping heart beat and Stewy’s heavy breaths are the only sounds.

He slips out of you and sits up on the couch, helping you sit up next to him. You reach down for his shirt, suddenly feeling exposed - sitting naked on the couch. If you were in bed you could have pulled the covers over you, but his shirt that smells like his expensive cologne is just as good.

“So, are you gonna call this time?” You joke, breaking the ice.

“I don’t know.” He answers. “I might go home and call my new girlfriend instead.”

You look at him in pretend shock, pulling away halfheartedly when he reaches for you. You both laugh as he pulls you into his chest, his heart still hammering against your ear - his warm hands traveling up and down your back. You love him. That's the conclusion you’ve come to after tonight. So, what the fuck are you supposed to do now?

[mimiixen]

"𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐆𝐨"

Synopsis: You both knew the risks that came with being a Jujutsu Sorcerer and yet you find yourself clinging on to Suguru, terrified of losing him.

Pairings: Geto Suguru X GN!Reader

Genre: Agnst , Hurt and comfort if you squint

Notes: We makin it out of the hood w/ this one boys 🗣🗣🗣🤞(no we not) also I purely wrote this for myself teehee

Suguru lazily tousled through your bangs as you rested your head in his lap, rambling about the mission you had just returned from. He nodded along, allowing short comments where it was needed. He had missed you so badly when you had been gone but now that you were here he couldn't find any energy. He felt tired. He felt happy to see you, of course he did, he was beyond happy. Then why? Why was he exhausted? Why couldn't he find it in himself to express that damn happiness.

"Enough about me, Sugu, what've you been doing while I was gone?" You sat up, raising your head and staring at your boyfriend with a smile. Suguru tilted his head slightly as his brows furrowed. What had he been doing while you were gone? He couldn't even remember.

Suguru shrugged and gave his head a shake, his bangs falling into his eyes. You reached over to tuck them behind her ear as he spoke. "Mostly nearby missions. Find a curse. Exorcise it. Find a curse. Exorcise it." He mumbled, moving his hands to fix his own hair. "And Satoru? Have you two done anything note worthy?" At the next question Suguru felt himself grow irritated. "Satoru's busy."

You nodded, laying your head back down into his lap as the two of you lapsed into a silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. The sound of the rain hitting the ground was becoming deafening to Suguru. Since when did it get so loud? Rain shouldn't be this loud. After all it was just water hitting-

"Suguru." He turned towards you and looked down. "Hm?" He prompted, wanting you to continue. You hesitated for a few seconds, opening and closing your mouth, before finally deciding to voice your thoughts aloud.

"I know we both decided to be with each other knowing the risk of sorcery and I know we both mentally prepared ourselves to..." Suguru was listening closely now. "To lose each other" You continued "But I don't know, Sugu, it all feels too real nowadays. The chance that I might lose you at any moment feels too real." You confessed, your eyes fixed away from his. Suguru noticed the way your finger was tracing patterns onto his wrist as you spoke. Your voice was shaking. He had never heard you this way. He should know what to do, a few months ago he would've fucking known.

"Suguru I'm scared." You admitted, swallowing back tears as you gave your cheek a pinch. It was an odd habit of yours, you always did it when you wanted to stop yourself from crying. He hated seeing you cry and feel so helpless.

"I know" He murmured, pulling you up so that you were face to face with him. He cupped your jaw and took a deep breath. "I'm scared too. I'm scared every second that I might lose you." He told you and realized how true it was. He had unconsciously let the thought loom over his head every waking hour of his days. "But we chose this, didn't we? We chose to love each other despite the risks." He crooned, stroking your jaw with his thumb as he tilted it slightly so that your eyes met his.

You nodded slowly and before he knew it you had thrown your arms around him, burrying your face in his shoulder as your hands gripped the material of his shirt tightly. "Don't go, Sugu" You gasped against his shoulder as He rubbed a soothing hand up and down your back, pulling you close. "Don't go where I can't follow." You pleaded, your voice muffled against the material of his shirt that was now stained with your tears. He wished he could promise you that. He wished he could promise you he'd stay. But he couldn't. He would leave, whether that was because of death or simply because of his own choices, either way he would have to leave.

He would have to leave but he was here for now. He was right here with you right now. "I'm right here, baby." He murmured against your hair. "I'm right here."

Notes: Guys did I 4+4 = 8 with this 😍??? Also constructive criticism and comments in general are highly appreciated 😔🤞

[dorkyteenagedirtbag-ks]

Synopsis : A singer on the brink of quitting finds unexpected support from a fan, leading her to reevaluate her future and rediscover her passion for music.

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

You can do it. One last time and then it's over forever. You will have finished what you promised yourself to realise.

It was what Robin was telling herself when she was immersed in the preparations of her next concert, her last concert.

Her fans didn't know it yet but Robin was planning on stopping her carrier as a singer. Since the day her brother left, she felt like her voice was sounding more and more off tone. She always admired her brother with all her being, she couldn't bring herself to keep doing what she'd always dreamed of while his brother saw his dreams and wings destroyed.

The night that followed the first day of the preparations for the big Penacony's festival only ended up being another restless night for Robin. She spent the whole night having panic attacks that she wasn't able to keep under control whenever she thought about going back on stage to satisfy her fans' needs. She was terrified. Her brother wasn't here anymore, he was gone. He was the only one who cared about Robin, people only cared about the image that Robin gave them everytime she went up on stage, hidden behind a fake smile she took years to elaborate.

-

It was finally time. Robin has been waiting anxiously for this day to come, the day she would end up her carrier forever.

She didn't know that it was also the day that March 7th has been impatiently waiting for. She has already met her idole many times during her journey at Penacony but it was the first time she was attending one of her concerts.

March couldn't handle the patience and felt like the queue was endless. That was so unfair. Why did she have to wait that long to see her friend ? Besides, she was one of the first people to arrive.

Time went by so slowly and she hadn't eaten anything for hours. Fatigue began to set in.

-

March 7th opened her eyes in an unfamiliar space. She heard a masculine voice coming from behind her.

- "You're awake."

"Sorry but we had to bring you backstage after you passed out. The public had already settled into the stadium. It means that you'll be at the back."

"Let me guide you to the entrance."

It was a man. He was kind of tall and marked by experience in life. It was obvious that he was a bodyguard.

He looked at March with an unreadable expression. He just seemed a bit bored.

- "I passed out ?"

"Oh ... huh ... I think I'll pass by the toilets before going in..."

"I need some fresh air and water."

March walked away from the man without saying anything more.

She was usually more energetic and joyful but she couldn't hide her sadness.

All of this waiting to end up being at the back ? All of that because I didn't listen to Dan Heng when he told me to eat more. I'm sure he'll tease me about it when I'll tell him.

-

Robin was preparing herself mentally on the balcony near the backstage. She started to panic.

I'm so stupid. I should have stopped a long time ago. I can't do it. I'm gonna fall and embarrass myself. They'll have a real reason to hate me. What should I do ? I'm completely lost. Sunday, why did you choose to follow this path while being fully aware that you'll lose ?

Thoughts started to get the better of her. Robin couldn't hold herself together, her breathe was getting heavier. She knew she was having another panic attack. A familiar voice coming from the window that leads to the balcony broke the flow of her negative thoughts.

- "Robin ? What are you doing out there..."

"Wait! Robin!!"

March ran to Robin, all excited.

"It's been ages!! I'm sorry, I planned on being right in front of the stage so you could see me but I passed out... well that's not the topic!! I'm so happy to see you again!"

March couldn't keep her excitment under control and started to yap about how they should see each other more.

She suddenly stopped talking. She had a curious expression on her face. She thought that Robin's smile looked weird.

- "Hum... I'm sorry Robin, I got carried away. You might be really busy with your concert. It's gonna be amazing, you're gonna be amazing!"

"Even if you make a mistake, no one will hear it because I'll scream your name so loudly that you'll feel like there's only us in the stadium."

March chuckled at her own words, feeling a bit silly for saying such a cheesy thing.

Robin sighed softly before allowing the corner of her lips to curl upward into a polite smile.

- "I really appreciate what you're telling me March but I'll be fine."

"I know I'll make it."

"You should hurry up and get into the stadium before they close the doors."

Robin's mouth and tongue were on autopilot mode. She knew that if she started to think about what to say, she'll just break down. She can't allow that in front of her fan. She just can't let herself explode like this.

- "Oh..."

"Hum... yeah."

"Yeah, you're right, I should be going by now! Sorry again for the bother. We'll see each other later!!"

March started to walk away from Robin, trying to find her way to the entrance. She sticked out her tongue while waving.

But she's not just a fan.

Robin grabbed March's wrist before she could go any further away from her.

- "Hum..."

"Well... in fact

"... maybe you could..."

Robin's voice broke mid-sentence and she looked away before letting go of March's wrist.

"No... nevermind."

She smiled again. It wasn't a genuine smile but she wasn't in the mood to try and make it look sincere.

- "Say Robin..."

"You're planning on stopping, don't you ?"

"I watched the live videos of your last concerts and I can see that you're not having fun at all on stage. It's like you're not yourself at all. The fan in me tells me to go settle in the stadium. But the friend in me screams to not leave you struggling alone. You can talk to me, you know that, right ?"

March tried to not be too flustered when she was talking but, with Robin that close to her, it was just impossible.

She never thought about it before but Robin's skin seemed clearer from close by, her eyelashes were really long and her hair smelled sweeter than she imagined it.

- "..."

Robin didn't know what to say.

She was struggling with her own emotions.

"I have to go."

"One last time."

"Then, I'll have accomplished my dream."

- "Wasn't your dream to sing all of your life ?"

Robin's eyes widen when hearing March's remark.

"You think you'll feel less guilty about your brother's departure if you stop singing ?"

March frowned.

"It's just the consequences of his own choices."

"He caused too many trouble at Penacony and now he's taking the responsibility of it."

"The only thing he'll never give up on is the love he has for you. Do you really think he'd want to see you like this??"

"Do you think he'd want you to stop doing what you like because of guilt ??"

"It's not because you lost your spark that you can't find it back! Why are you giving up so easily, that's not fair!"

- "No..."

"That's not..."

"That's not true. I'm doing that for myself."

Robin couldn't look at March in the eyes, she was overwhelmed by everything.

"Do you believe I like to sing ?"

Even Robin didn't know the answer to that question. She wasn't waiting for any comeback from her fan.

- "You saved his life with your songs."

"You always had the brightest smile when you sang."

"I've never seen anyone as happy as you when you were on stage."

"You knew how to show people what following the right path meant."

She paused for a moment.

"Do you actually think that stopping will make you happier ?"

"Even if you fail, even if you can't sing anymore, even if your vocal cords refuse to vibrate, you'll always have people behind you. I'll always be by your side to admire the smile you have on your face when you're performing. You just can't give up now. There's so much more you can do."

-

Robin was about to place her first step on the stage. Her discussion with March got cut short by a staff member because it was time to join the stage.

Robin apprehended her last concert.

She was so nervous, knowing she had to put that goddamn feet on the stage again.

But when her left foot reached the stage she understood that she wasn't scared to sing for her fans, she was nervous to sing for March.

Her mouth opened and, for the first time in months, her voice sounded true and her smile was sincere.

Whenever she closed her eyes she could hear March screaming and cheering her up from the back of the stadium.

She knew she wasn't only a fan.

Robin hit a wrong note when she thought about the proximity she had with March earlier.

Her heart skipped a beat and she looked at the crowd completely panicked.

No one noticed.

They were all singing and having fun, not caring at all about her making a mistake.

Her eyes lit up.

She was enjoying her time on the stage.

For once in a while she thought :

I don't wanna stop doing that.

She could see her brother's face in her mind, he seemed proud.

Her spark was back.

She didn't find it back though.

It was a new kind of spark and, strangely,

that spark was pink.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.185 Serendipity

Sophia made a great suggestion as I prepared breakfast. She said we should take Desi to the splash park while it's still warm enough to enjoy it. I'm pretty sure her time in the pool yesterday planted the idea. I've never known anyone who loves the water as much as she does. She takes every opportunity to be submersed in it and even bathes more than she showers. I've been enjoying all this family time we've had lately, so of course I was down for it. I thought about calling up Dub and Maia to bring Tami but quickly decided against it because I want my girls all to myself even though I thoroughly enjoyed our families hanging out together. We definitely need to do that more, but not today.

Sophia asked about the milk I added to the oatmeal. One thing led to another, and before you know it, we're laughing and joking about bubble guts. It was the most bizarre and inappropriate conversation, but it reminded me of how we were in the beginning, before I started wearing robes, before I had so many worries, and before I knew exactly how much I adore this woman. Life is different now—in a good way—but I hope, in time, we'll be able to find our way back to that silly, carefree couple.

Evening came, and that meant the sun would take the warmth with it, so we dried ourselves and bid the splash park goodnight. But the night was very young, if you could even call it night, so we walked around the lake. Desiree isn't old enough to appreciate the beauty that is Gibbs Gardens, but I wanted to share it with her, anyway. One never knows what these young children pick up and remember.

I had walked this same path many times and thought I knew it well. But that night, I noticed a house I'd never seen before. It's probably been there this entire time, but I felt like it had just popped up seconds before I saw it. I likely overlooked it because I'd never been interested in a duplex before, but it's precisely what I'm looking for.

I stopped and stared at the house with my mouth gaped.

"Sophia-"

"I know!"

She felt it too. How perfect would it be to live right across the street from all of our favorite attractions in this city?

"If this house is for sale, buy it," she said. "I don't care what it looks like inside.

Ha! She was dead-set against moving at first, and now she's telling me to buy this house sight unseen. The Watcher works in mysterious ways.

As soon as we got home, I grabbed my laptop and searched for the house. Both of us were too excited to get the address, so I had to do a few searches to find the right house. Oddly enough, Dub's house kept popping up. I'll have to ask him if he finally got rid of those pesky tenants. Actually, that reminds me I should put Dad's house up for rent since Less doesn't seem interested in doing anything with it. I make a mental note to go there tomorrow and switch it up a little bit.

Back to the search, we finally get the right combinations of search terms and find our house. Yes, we're claiming it! Both units have three bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms. The kitchen and dining areas are pretty large, and there's a nice space upstairs too, so even though I'd lose the office, it probably won't be that big of a deal, not that I use it much, anyway. The bedrooms are really tiny, but that's nothing we haven't dealt with before. Each house has its own fenced-in yard, but there's land behind the houses we can use as a common area. One thing I looked forward to in this house was building the treehouse with Dad. I won't get to do it with him, but maybe Desi can still get her treehouse. The best thing about the house is...it's for sale! We're moving to Gibbs Gardens!

[momma-pixel]

A Journey Can't Begin Until You Take The First Step, And Then There's No Telling What Will Happen.

[Content Warning: A single mention of drugs, alcohol, suicide. Lots of discussion about depression and mental illness.] This is my 3rd attempt at transitioning and I swear to whatever high atop the thing if this attempt fails I'm gonna absolutely lose my shit. I didn't know it at the time but the route I took from there to here would be wrought with chaos and pain.

My first attempt was an abject failure. Back then we had to follow the Harry Benjamin Standards and go through a Real Life Test in order to start hormone therapy. Unless you were really lucky or had sympathetic doctors you had to deal with the Gatekeepers who wanted receipts, and living in the deep south at the time made this all even worse. This would lead to my final attempt at shedding my mortal coil and boxing her up in the deepest corner of my mental closet.

This is where I danced a downward spiral and gave absolutely no fucks. Drugs and alcohol. A long path of broken hearts from relationships I kept sabotaging. Excessive eating. A day that ended in -y meant the plan was the same - lets make some bad decisions and self-destruct. I was damaging myself physically, mentally, emotionally, and I didn't care. I wasn't looking to the future because I didn't plan on having one, I didn't look to the past either because it only led to blaming myself even more. I looked at the here and now simultaneously damaging myself and doing damage control. It was exhausting!

I had a fight with myself that sort of stopped this. I was in the midst of a manic episode and just riding its wake, coming up on day 3 of no sleep and was working on getting pretty well sloshed. I was alone and just pacing around my house in the dark saying some very awful things to myself and then it happened - I saw my reflection in the mirror and absolutely loathed it! I wanted to recoil from it but instead I got angry. Really angry. Hulk angry. What commenced was a rage-fueled screaming match with myself of hurricane proportions. I can't tell you exactly what was said nor how long it lasted for, but I seems I managed to sleep as when I came to again I was in bed. The brain fog was heavy and deep which was normal, but I would eventually notice a note I wrote myself on my hand that said "I forgive you". I remembered, sort of. The memories were (and still are) hazy, but I remembered just enough to be numb. This was an absolute vast improvement that can't be understated. Its like being negative 5million and suddenly being at 0.

Reconstruction takes time. Current damage has to be assessed and additional damage mitigated. I'd gained a ton of weight, had either burned down or set fire to numerous social bridges, and had a few new health issues that needed to be repaired. A few years later I eventually considered the repair project complete and I was very much a blank slate. I didn't know who I was or what I wanted - it was a pure existential crisis. It made perfect sense at the time and hindsight (and my therapist) says it was absolutely the wrong thing to do, but I said fuck it and built a new me. I frankensteined a new person and would proceed to alter and replace pieces as needed. Write this down kids, this is called an unhealthy coping mechanism.

This invariably leads to the second attempt at transitioning. New me found themself in a new state with new friends, a new path in life, and a new opportunity. Planned Parenthood was now offering transitioning services! No gatekeeping. They said "you know you better than we ever could, as long as you know the risks and are prepared for the changes we can help". This was a warp speed steamroller event. I dug deep into that closet and pulled that box out, letting her out and unabashedly parading her around. Got my hormones, got new clothes, got my own place, and had all the amazing safe and consensual sex I could (sane was not welcome, because this girl had time to make up for!). It was intoxicating! Living, working, shopping, dating as the true me. In this whirlwind I lost friends and family but didn't realize it. I created a hollow existence that had no actual meaning or substance. Sure, my body was starting to look the way I always wanted it to, I was living the life she always wanted to, and there was no one there to stop me.

So that's the thing - there was no one there. It was chistmas day and I was sitting alone in my apartment eating ramen and cold pizza. No text messages or calls, no visitors or invites. The only gift I received that day was from myself, an epiphany. I had once again blown up my life. You see, when you take something out of storage and intend to use it you need to make sure it's still fit for function. She wasn't. She was a battered and bruised beast from a much earlier part of my life that I just kept feeding and had lost control. I had such terrible tunnel vision that I mistook the light of an oncoming freight train for the light at the end of the tunnel.

I detransitioned. I guess you could say I also detoxed. But this time I did not do it alone, I had a good therapist and a good friend that moved in with me. We examined the deepest parts of me, of her, of I. It was tough. The toughest and hardest thing I ever had to do, but it HAD to be done. This civilization I had built was done on the rubble and ruined remains of the last one, which makes for a very poor foundation. It was doomed to fail. My friend sort of acted like a sponsor. She was there to help guide me and make sure I didn't relapse. She helped me sell or give away what I had to, and by the end I had a clean and empty plot of land. Maybe something would grow there, or maybe something would be built there. But no matter what happened, I had to stay vigilant. I had to protect this land because this land was me. I was the sole resident, caretaker, gardener, builder, guardian.

My wife is my world. She knows my entire history, the battles and wars I've fought, the mental and emotional challenges I face every day, and she takes it all with open arms and never complains. When we talked about having kids we didn't know what would happen - between my own biological issues and the changes from the hormones it was a huge question as to whether I even could father a child. We talked about doing all the medical tests my doctor wanted to do as a kid, but when we really thought about it, what would the results change? Would knowing I was intersex, or had some kind of biological irregularity change anything for us? I already had a somewhat clean bill of health from my last checkup. So we said fuck it. It took quite a long time (and not for lack of effort or trying) but we eventually had our first daughter. We also inadvertently sparked something in me.

My therapist didn't know it, my wife didn't know it, and I didn't know it but the birth of my daughter was the trigger for a cascading series of events. As much as I had tried, using all the tools available, I could not keep denying my transgenderedness. Transness? It had always been there, in a quiet and overlooked part of my land, dormant but with just enough life to keep existing. Having a child and becoming a parent was the trigger needed to spark it back to life. Slowly, silently, it grew and stretched out its roots all the while causing emotional and mental issues. My depressive episodes were coming more frequent, but we didn't notice it was depression. My dysphoria was coming back with a vengeance but we thought it was from other sources. My egg was cracking open.

All it took was a simple, innocent, statement and everything changed. My daughter had tripped and fell, started crying, and as I picked her up I said "Come to mommy, baby". My wife noticed what I said, I noticed what I said, and the egg fully cracked open. It would be a series of conversations, large and small, over a few years. It would be 2 steps back and one step forward and jumping in place. We eventually would have the final conversation and determine that yes, I needed to transition. This part of me cannot be denied, ignored, or buried. When I asked what it would mean for our marriage, I said losing you wasn't worth it. She said I married the person, not the gender. We would have our second and last child before starting down this path.

So here we are in my third transition attempt. She has been an integral part from day one. We've explored what I want from this, what can be obtained and what can't, what needs to adjust in our marriage and how we can do it successfully. She gives me my weekly E shots and comes with me to every appointment. This change has also given her the ability to not only explore her own bisexuality, but also gender. We consider our friendship, relationship, and marriage even stronger than before. Our own little family unit is building quite the home on my land. My girls flip/flop between calling me mommy or daddy, but we don't mind since they always call me she or her or even ma'am. My eldest daughter always tells me how pretty I look or how she likes my dress or jewelry. Thanks to an obsession the youngest one had with the movie Coraline, father's day has been celebrated as Other Mother's Day.

Life isn't perfect though, nor should I expect it to be. This journey has also she light on how just how my own mental illnesses have been impacting me and the decisions I've made (if my biography is ever written a copy of the DSM V will need to be packaged with it for reference). Despite my vigilance things do sneak past and I've only just started climbing out of the deepest depression hole I've ever been in and this episode started 4months ago, but my wife has been loving, understanding, and supportive which helped immensely in pulling myself out.

I've socially transitioned at home, at work, and in the world at large. I'm medically transitioning and will soon legally transition. While I mourn that she never got to experience this in it's purest form, I do take solace in knowing she would have approved.

I've received my share of flak from people before, saying that I shouldn't transition because of my mental illness or that my history gives other trans people a bad name. Some bolder individuals have even said that because I detransitioned that means I was never trans to begin with. It hurts for a bit, but the haters are gonna hate and sometimes bitches just be trippin. From the time I started that Real Life Test to now it has taken me 21 years, a herculean task if there ever was one, and I have earned every. little. inch. This victory was earned with blood, sweat, and tears. Want to devalue that? Want to invalidate that? Want to take that away? Well, you'll need to pry it from my cold, dead, fabulously-manicured hands.

If you've read this far and you're struggling with your own transition, know that I understand and I support you. You aren't the first, you aren't alone, and you are heard. I love you!

A man is walking down the road and falls into a hole. He tries and tries but he can't climb out. A doctor passes by and he yells out "Hey doc, I fell in this hole and I can't get out! Can you help?" and the doctor looks down, writes a script, and sends it down saying "This should help!" and walks away. The next passerby is a priest and he yells out "Hey padre, I fell in this hole and I can't get out! Can you help?" and the priest says "Yes! I'll pray for you!" and walks away. The next person is his friend, Joe. "Hey Joe, I fell in this hole and I can't get out! Can you help?", Joe looks down, see's his friend, and jumps in the hole with him. "Joe, what the hell are you doing? Now we're both stuck down here!" he says. Joe replies "Yeah, but I've been here before and I know the way out".

[maverickbabes]

I've got you

I've got you

Dilf!Jake Sully x female!navi!Metkayina!reader

Warnings: Lots of angst, mentions of self harm, mention of scars, insecurities, anxiety and panic attacks, body shaming, rude comments, angry Jake, some fighting, cussing, fluff ending.

Summary: While y/n was making bracelets and armbands, a few of the clan members approached her and bullied her. They comment on her body and her figure, her appearance, etc. When y/n finally tells Jake what happened, he takes matters into his own hands.

Y/n sat down on the beach, threading beads into the third bracelet she was making as she enjoyed the sound of the waves crashing along the shore. She shifted her weight and smiled at the bracelet that she was in the process of making.

"He's going to love this" She murmured to herself as she grabbed a few more beads and began threading them through. One of the clan members notice y/n sitting on the beach, so they get the attention of their friends and make their way towards y/n, whispering about their plan.

A couple of shadows loom over y/n, causing her to turn around and look up at the clan members standing there. "Whatcha making y/n?" One of the girls asked as she lifted up her hand to her mouth and giggled. The others were whispering and snickering while y/n got up from her spot on the sand.

"Oh I'm making a few bracelets and armbands for Jake and myself. Do you want one?" She tells them excitedly as shows the bracelets and armbands. "Maybe instead of making bracelets and armbands, you should work on yourself" The other girl snickers as she looks y/n up and down in disgust.

"Besides why do you even wear this hip scarf huh? to hide your fatness?" The boy closest to y/n says as he reaches out and yanks the hip scarf away from her waist, revealing her thick hips and thighs. "Are those scars I see? Damn y/n so desperate for attention that you give yourself cuts" The first girl tsks as she laughs evilly, pointing at the scars on her thighs.

Tears form in y/n eyes as she looks down at the ground, wrapping her arms around herself, shielding her body from their nasty gazes and words. "Aww look who's trying not to cry. Not even tough enough to handle the truth" The other boy says as he grabs her chin forcing her to look at him.

Y/n shoves his hand off of her and grabs her belongings before running towards her mauri pod. They all laughed and pointed at her as they watched her run off then going on about their days. Once y/n made it to her pod, she hurriedly set the jewelry down on one of the side tables and quickly unfolded the front flap, shielding herself from everyone else.

Panic fills y/n's body as she starts to pace around the pod, frantically running and pulling at her hair as hundreds of thoughts run through her head.

Not even tough enough to handle the truth

Damn y/n so desperate for attention that you give yourself cuts

You're too fat, lose some weight

Why do you even wear a hip scarf huh? To hide your fatness?

"STOP" Y/n screams as she slides her arm over the main table, knocking everything down to the ground in a huge clatter. Her chest heaves up and down at a rapid pace as she bent down grabbing one of the knives, tears streaming down her face. Y/n knees give out causing her to collapse onto the ground, sobs racking through her body.

**Small Self Harm Scene Begins Here**

"Just a few..." Y/n whispered to herself as tears clouded her vision. She runs her fingertips over her previous scars, letting out a small noise as she lifts the knife to her skin mentally preparing herself. "Hey baby I'm ba-" Jake says cheerfully as he opens the front flap but immediately stops in his tracks and looks at y/n shaking body.

Small blood droplets slid down her teal thighs as she looked up and gasped. "J-Jake what are you doing here" Y/n stutters out as she scrambles to her feet and hides the knife behind her back. "What are you doing baby" Jake asks as he drops his bow and arrow onto the ground and rushes towards his mate.

**End of Small Self Harm Scene**

"I-I can explain I..." She starts to say but Jake hushes her as he wraps his arms around y/n, kissing the top of her head. "It's okay baby, I've got you" He reassures her and this causes y/n to break. Sobs rack through her body as she slowly falls onto her knees, Jake falling onto his knees immediately.

They stayed there for a few minutes just holding each other until Y/n's sobs turned into small hiccups. "Can you tell me what happened ma love?" Jake coos as he places his hand on her cheek and strokes his thumb against it, wiping her tears. She nods her head slowly and looks down at her hands, trying not to cry again.

"A few of the clan members came up to me and just had a few things to say" She whispers as she picks at the bandage on her thigh in which Jake gently grabs her hand and squeezes it. "What did they say to you babygirl" Jake asks her, Anger already bubbling within his veins.

She explains to him what they told her and what they did, refusing to look Jake in the eyes. "I'll be right back my love" Jake said as he gets up from the ground and makes his way to the front flap. "Please don't do anything Jake it's fine" Y/n tells him, also getting up from the floor as she maneuver over the still on the floor.

Jake turns around looking down at her as he leans down and kisses her softly. "I won't do anything stupid, I just want to talk to them. You stay here okay?" Jake says grabbing her face in his hands and she wraps her arms around him, letting out a small sigh.

"I'll be back shortly princess, nge yawne lu oer" He said then walks outside, on a mission to find those clan members and teach them a little lesson. Within a few minutes, he finds them sitting around on one of the large rocks along the beach and he could feel his anger boil over.

He storms over to them and they look up at him, all their smiles dropping. "Hey there Jake, How's it go-" One of the boys starts to say but Jake lets out a feral sound mixed between a deep growl and hiss as He grabs the boy by his arm and drags him to the ground.

"I heard that you were talking shit to y/n about her body?" Jake says angrily as he looks at the boy on the ground then at the others who were sitting on the rock, utterly shocked. "You're gonna regret that old man" The other boy says hopping off the rock and charging towards Jake.

"Let's dance" Jake mumbles before tackling the younger na'vi down to the ground, throwing a couple of punches to their face. "Argh!" The boy that was dragged to the ground yells as he quickly gets up and grabs Jake by the shoulders. Jake let's out that feral sound once more, turning around and kneeing the boy in the chest.

Tonowari rushes over to the commotion that has now gathered a small group of watchers. "ENOUGH!" Tonowari shouts in which Jake shoves the boy off of him, wiping his bottom lip then spitting some of the blood out. "What is the meaning of this" Tonowari asks angrily and Jake grabs the two boys by their arms, shoving them towards their clan leader.

"These two decided that it would be a good idea to make my mate feel like shit about herself so my mate harmed herself, these two were in on it as well" Jake explains, motioning towards the two girls on the rock, glaring at them. "You four with me. Now." Tonowari orders gruffly as he looks at Jake with a solemn look.

"Make sure y/n is okay Jake" Was all Tonowari said as he made his way back to his mauri pod, the four teens following close behind with their heads down. Jake makes his way towards his mauri pod, praying and hoping that y/n was safe.

He pushes the front flap away as he walks into the pod, the flap closing silently as he makes his way over to the hammock. Y/n laid there, sleeping peacefully as she wrapped the blanket loosely over her. Jake smiles at the sight and slowly climbs into the hammock, careful not to wake his mate.

He wraps his arms around her small frame, holding her close to him as he left kisses all over her face.

"I've got you ma love, I've got you"

[angelsanarchy]

One Long Weekend: - Clyde/YN One-Shot Series CH 05

"Thanks for letting me stay." "Thanks for staying."

Tagged: @roryculkinluvr Let me know if you want to be tagged in these updates.

SATURDAY, 2:15AM

Y/n looked at herself in the dirty mirror of Clyde's bathroom. The shirt he had given her fell to about the middle of her thigh. She silently wished she had at least worn shorts today so she would be more comfortable sleeping with something on her legs. When she walked out of the bathroom, Clyde had tossed a pillow onto the couch.

"So I can't guarantee the last time I cleaned the sheets but I did just wash the comforter so you should be good to go." Y/n looked over to the bed and realized he was giving up his bed for her.

"Clyde, I can't take your bed. The couch will be fine." Y/n tried to argue but he laughed.

"Trust me, the bed is much safer to sleep on than the couch. Especially if you have your legs exposed." Clyde took in the sight of you in one of the oversized band shirts he kept laying around the apartment.

"I guess I'll take your word for it. I'll make a mental note to burn my jeans once I get home." Y/n teased. Clyde had changed into soft pants but kept the same shirt on. He walked over to the door and made sure she was watching when he locked the door.

"Are you feeling safer already?" Clyde asked running his hand through his hair.

"I should be asking you that. Sorry about the whole...mauling you thing." Y/n could feel the heat in her cheeks and Clyde laughed.

"Mauling me? You sat on my lap. That's hardly grounds for public shaming." Clyde shrugged it off plopping back down on the couch. Y/n sat next to him, feeling much more exposed now that her legs were bare.

"I guess thanks for not holding it against me. I don't do this a lot...ever actually. I haven't spent a night away from my apartment in years, let alone with a guy I met at a club." Y/n explained seeing Clyde smile.

"You don't go home with guys who aren't even in the band to get high and have an impromptu date?" Clyde teased.

"No this is very out of the ordinary. I'm usually working my ass off or visiting my dad." Y/n confessed.

"You seem a little young to be a workaholic." Clyde wanted to know everything about her. He wanted to know what she liked, what she hated, why the hell she had given him the time of day and how he could get her to stay.

"Paying for an apartment and trying to keep my shit a float has been a bit more challenging than I'd like to admit. I wasn't really prepared to support myself at 18 but when you drop out of school and have no where else to go, it's kind of the only option." Y/n didn't like to talk about her home life. She hated when people showed her any sort of pity. She was in control of the decisions she made.

She dropped out of school to take care of her dad. She moved into a shitty apartment with a roommate in order to save money to afford his care facility. She could count on one hand how many people she trusted and confiding in Clyde didn't make a lot of sense to her either but she just felt like she could openly be herself with him.

"Hey dropout twins, let's go!" Clyde held his hand up for a high five and y/n shook her head meeting his hand.

"I'm not sure that's the thing we should have in common but I won't leave you hanging." Y/n laughed.

"Maybe it's not. We both seem to like live music. I don't want to get into favorite bands just yet because I don't want to lose this feeling I currently have." Clyde put his hand over his heart.

"Hey! What makes you think I like shit music? I happen to have a very eclectic taste in music." Y/n defended but Clyde put his finger to his lips.

"I'm not doubting that but we've had such a great first date, why chance it with the possibility of you liking Nickelback?" Clyde joked earning a playful slap to his chest.

"How dare you. Now I'm truly offended. I think I'm going to go see if Johnny will give me a ride-" Clyde reached out and grabbed y/n's hand.

"No no...if you approach Johnny without pants and ask for a ride, you'll definitely get more than you bargained for." Clyde seemed genuinely worried she was going to actually leave but instead she plopped back down next to Clyde, closer than before, him still holding onto her hand.

"If I had my pants on, I'd consider tasering you just for insinuating I was a Nickelback fan." Clyde softened and held your hand between his own, bringing the back of your fingers to his lips.

"My apologies. Thank you for resisting the reoccurring urge to taser me." Clyde's smile was intoxicating. She just wanted to feel his lips pull into a smile against her own.

"You're just lucky you're cute." Y/n tested seeing Clyde blush. She could feel a yawn crawling up her throat as she turned away and Clyde stood up, pulling her by her hands.

"You need to sleep. We can compare playlists tomorrow over breakfast...stale bagels or donuts?" Clyde asked leading her to the bed. She sat down and he tossed her a blanket.

"You know how to spoil a girl." Y/n grinned laying back on the comforter. It smelled of coconut shampoo and cigarettes. It wasn't an awful smell which was surprising. Rarely did she ever find herself surrounded by band guys who smelt halfway decent. Clyde jumped over the back of the couch and let out a heavy sigh.

The two of them laid in perfect silence, trying not to breathe too hard or start snoring randomly. Y/n moved around under the blanket trying to get comfortable and not get caught checking over by the couch where Clyde laid, one leg dangling over the back, arm stretched behind his head. Clyde felt tense. He hadn't ever just had a girl spend the night with him. Snow, Lola and the rest of their friends were different. None of them really looked at him the way y/n seemed to look at him, or flirt with him. He didn't want to make things weird or fuck this up. He wanted her to like him. He wanted her to want to stay because of him, not because she was hot for one of the guys.

"Clyde?" Y/n broke the silence.

"Yeah?" He sat up to see her sitting up in the bed.

"Would you be completely opposed to just laying in the bed next to me? I just...its a big bed. There's no point in you sleeping on the couch and I don't want to wake up freaking out in a strange place." Y/n explained and Clyde shook his head.

"Yeah of course. I just didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable." Clyde walked over to the bed and laid down next to her carefully. He let her keep the blanket over herself and put his hand up when she tried to offer it to him. He laid on his side facing her and she smiled at him.

"Thanks for letting me stay." She said softly.

"Thanks for staying." Clyde returned equally as soft. The light in the room was dim but they could still see one another clearly. Y/n reached over and pushed some of Clyde's hair off his face and noticed his hearing aid for the second time this evening.

"How do sleep with your hearing aid in? My grandfather never kept his in to sleep. He said the slightest noises startled him." Y/n brushed her fingertips over the piece and Clyde brought his fingers up to hers.

"Um...I don't usually sleep really well anyway so I just don't bother taking it out." She was right. Clyde never took his aid out when he was sleeping in the apartment. Anyone could just sort of bust in and he never wanted to be caught off guard.

"Have you tried taking it out to sleep? Maybe that's why you can't sleep well." Y/n suggested.

"I used to at my Dad's but not here. You never know who'll sneak up on you." Clyde tried to joke but y/n scooted closer.

"The door is locked. I'm a light sleeper. Why not just taking it out while you have someone here to watch your back?" Clyde was surprised at her offer. No one really cared this much about his lack of sleep, let alone his comfort level.

"No pressure of course. I just...I want you to be able to be as comfortable as I am." Y/n didn't want to push Clyde into doing something he wasn't comfortable with but to her surprise, he leaned over her and removing his aid placing it on the nightstand next to her. She felt the trust he was putting into her by taking his aid out. She put her pinky out and Clyde laughed locking his pinky into hers.

"I gotchu." She mouthed. Clyde laughed shaking his head.

"I'm partially deaf, not completely deaf." He reminded laying back down. The silence that grew between them was so much more peaceful now. Y/n could feel the mattress moving whenever he moved, which wasn't a lot but after a while she could hear his soft snores. She peered over his shoulder and saw his mouth hung open, hair covering his face and his elbow as his arm stayed tucked tightly under his head. She glanced at the clock on her phone that barely had 20% charge on it and saw that it was 3:10 AM. That was the last thing she saw before she passed out, snuggled into a fuzzy blanket and a soft pillow that carried Clyde's scent into her dreams.

[thenightfolknetwork]

Due to a combination of bad genes and bad luck, I suffer from various physical and mental difficulties and pains. Technically I count as disabled, but the term has never felt right for me; it doesn't FEEL like the problem is in my body and brain, even though I know it is, it feels more like the world rearranges itself to be just a bit harder for me than for other people. This isn't something I've talked about much, it's always seemed like it would be horribly rude, plus I have more important issues to work on with my therapist than "how much a particular word does or does not match how I parse my subjective experience".

Then I came across an expression, and for the first time, something felt like it fit. "Cursed by a wizard". It's not that I lose energy quickly, it's that I've been cursed with fatigue; to give one example. I know it's not literally true. Even aside from my diagnoses and symptoms and treatments, a year or so back I got screened as part of a workplace health and safety initiative, and no curses. Still, it's not like the language we use is literally true all of the time; expressions exist for a reason.

You know how it is, whenever you find something cool and new, you want to share it with everyone. Nobody else cared as much as I did, of course, but general reactions were polite, "I'm glad you've found something that works for you". Except for one person, who immediately got a Look on her face -- the kind you get when a foreigner says a word they don't know is a slur over here, or when someone bad-mouths a person they don't realize is nearby -- and changed the subject.

I'm not going to change how I think about myself. "Cursed by a wizard" is a useful mental framework. However, my question is whether it should stay solely within my own mind. I'm worried now that it might be insensitive to people who've actually been cursed, or to wizards.

Thank you for getting in touch, reader. I have one small point to make regarding the start of your letter, particularly regarding the word “disabled”.

To be clear, you are absolutely entitled to your own personal relationship with the term, and I don't mean to suggest that you need to adopt it if you don't feel it reflects your experience. However, I don't agree that “the problem” is in your body and brain. It is, as you say, in the way the world is arranged to make life that much more difficult for you.

A framing I have seen from some disability activists is to speak of themselves as disabled by society, rather than by their condition. They don't consider disability to be a trait in and of itself, but a condition put upon them by an ableist society.

I don't know if this framing is a helpful one for you personally, and as I said, I don't wish to tell you how you “ought” to describe yourself. But I wanted to mention it as a possible alternative way of thinking, in case it proves useful to you.

But that, I know, was not the point of your letter. Unfortunately, reader, I don't have a clear cut answer for you. People who have been cursed are not a uniform group – neither their experiences, nor the way they speak about those experiences, are identical.

The fact is, yes, some people will be offended by your use of “the wizard's curse” to describe your experiences. Others will find it an expressive, even entertaining way of viewing your situation.

You also run the risk that some people will simply not understand the metaphorical nature of your statement, so please be prepared for those well-meaning folk who hear this and immediately start recommending salt baths and smoke cleanses.

I can reassure you that this is not a term that carries any particular historical reason to avoid its usage – it isn't comparable to such out-dated idioms as referring to public outcry as a “witch hunt” or the use of the phrase “Frankenstein's monster” when speaking of a messy, difficult situation, and implicitly associating reanimation with negativity and failure.

Instead, it is rather like the English language use of the word “slimy” to mean “dishonest” or “morally corrupt”. Certainly some people see the usage as offensive, but it isn't actually rooted in any specific anti-liminal sentiment and those voices are the minority.

In fact, some people argue that it is more offensive to assume “slimy” must somehow be associated with people of viscosity. But I think we are getting rather into the weeds of what is, to be honest, a largely online debate with very little real-world application.

In short, reader, it is up to you how you proceed. You need to decide for yourself whether you're comfortable with the ambiguity of your language and with the diverse ways you may be interpreted.

There are rarely any clear cut answers on the topic of language, and it may be that your feelings on the matter change over time. But the fact remains that only you can decide how best to describe yourself, and only you have the power to make this decision.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Hey there, if you are up for it could I make a request for angst/comfort/fluff with Batcher’s x fem!reader or (wrecker x fem!reader).

The situation: she’s been with the team for a while and is used to their teasing and can dish it out, but unknowingly, they tease her about something from her child hood that she would get teased about (something silly, not too serious). She hasn’t told them about it bc she still gets bothered by it and they notice her withdraw and one finds her upset. She knows she shouldn’t be mad at them and of course feels bad that they feel bad. They talk it out and she clears the air, things go back to normal, etc (maybe a kiss from Wrecker).

🫣I hope this makes sense. Feel free to interpret how you feel fit. (If not, just scratch it)

Thanks for being an amazing writer! 🎉

Warnings and Information: No real age rating. 2nd person POV; undescribed fem!Reader with the use of she/her pronouns. Wrecker has a crush on Reader. Light, playful teasing all around from our Batchers and Reader. Mentions of a generic, embarrassing situation that happened in the reader's childhood (part of your clothing getting stained/dirty and not remembering how it happened). Minor language. Sprinkling of Mando'a. I wasn't quite sure where this was going for a while honestly, but I think I got it all smoothed out! Thanks for making a request! <3

Word-count: 5,046

Hyperspace was a strange and mystifying concept. You could spend hours, days, even whole weeks traveling at breakneck speeds among the eternal, ethereal canvas of space. Time felt different in hyperspace. Too short, too long, and everything in between. Were it not for a day/night system within the attack shuttle, you'd lose sense of time, and much like the primary navigator of Clone Force 99, your sleep schedule would be kriffed. 

You could stare out the viewport of the Havoc Marauder at the swirling, shimmering and shifting blues for hours at a time. If only you had a moment of peace, though. You can hear someone calling your name, the voice growing closer as they search for you. 

It's a small ship, he'll find you eventually. You keep your eyes fixed on the hypnotic scene just outside the viewport. 

"Hey, daydreamer. Thought I'd find you here. Chow time." Hunter steps into the cockpit, the hinged box of foodstuffs tucked in the crook of his right arm. With his left hand, Hunter scrounges up your share of the rations and passes them over to you. "Here. Best-tasting bits in the box." 

You roll your eyes playfully. "Oh I'm sure." Everything about ration bars and sticks are incredibly bland. They're not meant to be flavorful. They're just supposed to keep up with the minimal nutritional needs of the lifeforms they were formulated for. Your options were "chewy" and "crumbly" if you were lucky. "Thanks, Hunter." You bite down into one, and as expected, it's just barely palatable, but chewy today. 

His head bobs politely. "You're welcome. We make planet-fall to meet up with Commander Cody in 12 standard hours." Hunter closes the box and tucks it away in an overhead compartment within the cockpit. You must have been the last of the squad to get your last meal of the day before the Marauder automatically cycles itself into nocturnal lighting. 

Twelve hours… just two more meals at least before you'd reach your destination. Just twelve more hours of hyperspace to lose yourself in before you had a job to do. You weren't going to let Commander Cody regret his decision to allow a non-Clone researcher into the ranks of the GAR. 

Hunter catches the way your shoulders droop just half an inch at the news. "Hey. Something on your mind?" 

"Hm?" You perk up at the shift in tone of his voice, wondering what tipped him off. "Nothing's the matter, Hunter. I'm fine. Only thinking." 

"About…?" 

You shake your head softly, smiling gently at the Clone Sergeant who had spent considerable effort to make sure you felt like part of this team. "I promise, I'm fine. Just mentally preparing myself for what Commander Cody asked of us." You could be honest with Hunter. When he learned that the seventh researcher considered for his squad could tolerate a bit of rude humor and teasing, he had admittedly thought about testing his commander's claims alongside his brothers, save for Echo. 

"She spent some time with the 501st. If she can handle them, she can handle you. She spent six months with them before Commander Cody considered reassigning her. They're not an easy group." Echo cautioned Hunter after reading the introductory files. 

"Neither are we. Sounds like she's in for a challenge." Crosshair scoffed, waving away the files he had no interest in reading. Hunter would have been completely on board with the idea of seeing how soon they could send researcher number seven running, were it not for the way Wrecker took Tech's datapad and frowned in deep concentration as he read. He kept scrolling back to the top of the file every few minutes to glance at the portrait attached. 

Researchers one through six had been men. 

Men who'd had their pride hurt when Tech corrected them, men who'd promptly disembarked the attack shuttle the next time they reported to Commander Cody because they couldn't stand the unprofessionalism, and men who realized too late that they were not cut out for traveling the galaxy like they once thought and had been more of a liability than an asset to CF99. 

"She's pretty." Wrecker murmured to himself, scrolling back up to the portrait for the fifth time. "And she's… uh, what's that word mean, Tech? … Oh wow. That's a lotta certifications. So she's real smart? When's she supposed to join us?" 

"Twelve standard hours." Tech replied nonchalantly, taking the datapad back before Wrecker would change his mind and steal another look at the professional headshot embedded in the file. "Which means we would have ample time to come up with an excuse to-" Hunter shook his head sharply, silencing Tech. "Let me see the file." 

He thumbed his way down the file and made his selection. Crosshair tucked his arms around his chest, toothpick swaying in the air like a conductor's wand as he spoke, hearing the cheery tone that denoted Hunter had selected ACCEPT rather than dismissing the application. "You're approving her to join our squad? Just like that?" 

"Just like that." 

Twelve standard hours later, Hunter knew he was not going to regret this spur of the moment decision to include this woman on his squad. Crosshair made a blunt remark about needing to move things to shelves you could better reach, and you wasted no time in retorting that there was no need. 

"I'll just be sure not to wear my shoes when I use you as a footstool or a ladder, string bean." 

The toothpick fell from his lip, expression incredulous. "Stri-?" 

"HAHAHAH! I like her already!" Wrecker declared before pushing through his brothers to be the first to introduce himself, "Hi! I'm Wrecker!" 

Things only got easier from there. They liked that you weren't afraid of a little teasing. You could definitely dish it, too! When Commander Cody asked to see the squad three months later when there wasn't so much as an inkling as to whether you were still with them or not, he had been surprised that his brothers were prepared to go and beg to keep this seventh researcher. 

Tech appreciated that you didn't take great offense to his gentle, or not-so-gentle, corrections. A new conversational partner with an inquisitive mind was sorely needed, too. 

"It's 'clusters of three, leave it be' when it comes to select plants found on planets like Naboo, yes. But not where we're going." 

"Is it? … Oh, yes, you're right. Interesting. 'Leaves of three, safe for me. Leaves of four, internal war.' That's… ominous. I'll be sure to study up on this; thank you Tech." 

Crosshair didn't tolerate anyone other than you (or his brothers) comparing him to a kriffing vegetable. Matter of fact, he took it badly if you didn't playfully mock him every couple of rotations. 

"What's got you so sour this morning? Didn't chew enough logs for your beaver den last night?" you had teased, alluding to his habit of gnawing on a toothpick whenever he had the chance. 

"... caf pot is just taking its sweet kriffing time." 

Echo had enjoyed that there was someone who could share in the stories about the shenanigans of the 501st in the wee hours of twilight. Someone to reminisce with. Someone to tell him what he'd missed.

"Captain Rex had to separate a couple of batchmates, I think,  because they wouldn't stop making faces at each other when they thought he couldn't see!" you giggled, drying the tears from your eyes and clutching the aching ribs from laughing so much during one of your happier recountings. 

"Are you sure they weren't Shinies?" Echo asked. You shrugged honestly, admitting you couldn't tell, and did your best to describe the patterns painted in blue on their armor. Echo only sighed and laughed. "Of course it'd be them."

Hunter found greater relief for his episodic headaches since bringing you on board their team. You weren't brought there to be their medic, but you had a knack for knowing just what sort of headache plagued him before he could puzzle it out with everyone making so much noise around him. 

"Here. Give this a try, see if that does anything to relieve your migraine, sarge." 

"How could you tell it was a-?"

"Shhh. I'll explain later. Go lay down in your bunk. I'll ask the others to be quiet."

And Wrecker…

… oh you had him wrapped around your little finger so tightly. He just loved you. The rest of the squad often found the two of you sharing snacks, or found you curled up in his bunk (with Lula snug in your arms) if Wrecker discovered you passed out in one of the crash seats, and entertained him with stories about your childhood. It would've broken his brother's heart if Hunter had been asked to transfer out their seventh researcher. It took less than a full week for Wrecker to realize that he didn't just find you pretty; but he was starting to develop a crush on you the longer you'd been with them.

You weren't stupid to the crush, either. You definitely noticed. But in the interest of professionalism, you and Wrecker both were very careful to keep things platonic and friendly. No one was quite sure if romantic partnerships could be pursued between the Clone soldiers of the GAR and nat-born personnel with the relative newness of this program. 

For now. 

You were supposed to meet up with Commander Cody every three months. It's been six months (and a handful of days in hyperspace) since you had joined the ranks of the Bad Batch, hoping to get approved to remain with them longer by the Marshal Commander. And it'd take just less than twelve standard hours to find out just how much or how little the two of you cared about keeping it professional. 

You could hear Echo groaning in the bunkroom from the confines of the cockpit. "What's with Echo?" you asked Hunter, wondering what was troubling the cybernetically enhanced soldier this… well, you guessed you could call it evening. "He okay?" 

"Dunno." Hunter shrugged, letting you exit the cockpit first so the two of you could go see what was wrong. 

Echo is sitting in Tech's rack, the two of them trying to scrub a mysterious stain out of the material of Echo's modified sleepwear. Nothing they have tried seems to be working. "It's getting worse." Echo insists, the edge of his voice suggesting he's getting very frustrated. 

"We will find something to remove the stain, Echo," Tech insists, trying to be reassuring and supportive, "don't worry." 

"We've been trying to get it out for the last ten minutes, it's not working!" You ask to give the sleep-shirt a look, offering to help so no one loses their temper with one another despite best efforts. "I'm no stranger to stains as a researcher. I get my clothes dirty all the time." you say, trying to lighten the mood. It looks like the stain is oil-based when you lift it up to your face to make a closer visual inspection. "Oh, this shouldn't be too hard to remove. Just need a little hot water and some cleaner. I've got something that should do the trick." 

You nab the container of laundry detergent powder that you have tucked among your things that's never failed you in removing even the toughest of stains, and there's some nervous snickers over the size of the box. "Are you really gonna need that much to get a little stain out?" Wrecker asks curiously, eyes flitting from container to the stain on the shirt that's roughly the size of a fingerprint.

You laugh gently, taking the top with you to the sink in the tiny on-board 'fresher. "Oh, no-no! I just like to be prepared and have a lot of this on hand." 

You're not quite sure who makes the first remark (or what it is exactly) over the gush of the faucet, but someone makes a jab that sounds like it's about the size of the detergent box and your comment regarding preparedness. You're honestly not sure. You're more focused on removing the grease from the sleepwear to completely pay attention. When you're finished, you carefully wring out the water from the material of the sleepwear and give it to Echo. "Here, give that a look. See if I got it out." 

He exhales softly with relief, thanking you. "Like it was never there. Thank you. This was one of my last sets of clean sleepers before we see Commander Cody." 

"Hey, like I said," you remind him with a smile, "plenty of experience with stained clothing as I've gotten older." 

Rationally, you understand that the remark one of them makes is made innocently, but it strikes a sore nerve all the same. "Hah. Betting there's some clothing that you ruined as a kid that you'd know how to get out now and save yourself some embarrassment or something, huh?"

You swallow uncomfortably. There is at least one occasion you can think of, yes. But it happened so long ago you don't recall the specifics. Maybe it'd been a party with your family or some friends, or maybe it was a sleepover, and you can't recall if the stain had gotten on the tops or bottoms of one of your favorite outfits as a child. But it was so bright and obvious that it was impossible not to miss. Trying to clean it up with a napkin or paper towel only smeared it into the clothing. And trying to use water just made it even worse, even larger and more noticeable than before because now part of you was wet. And some people had laughed. People with good intentions tried to help you clean the stain, but it just ruined your clothing, and you had to wear it for the rest of the day. 

You had been so kriffing embarrassed that you didn't even remember when you got your clothes stained, or what stained them to begin with. You just remember the teasing that came later. It probably wasn't even all that much teasing, in reality… but to a little girl, it sure felt like a lot. 

Someone timidly calls your name, noticing how silent you've become. An uneasy silence that you rarely fell into. "You okay, cyar'ika?" 

You don't say anything for a long moment, debating if it's worth explaining the embarrassing memory such a simple, honest question unearthed. No, you decide. It's silly. They've witnessed far worse as soldiers than a kriffing stain on their favorite clothes. Complaining about it to them would be… childish. You're being childish, you tell yourself. You're still bothered by things that happened so long ago that don't even matter, and those people who teased you likely don't remember now. How pathetic of you, you scold.

"I'm fine… I think I'm just tired. What, uh… what time is it?" you glance around the ship, genuinely forgetting where you might find something with a display of the time at the present moment. 

Tech, faithful datapad ever in hand, has the time. "It will be twenty minutes before the Marauder's internal lighting changes over to try to simulate nocturnal conditions." 

"Oh, no wonder…" you murmur, feigning a soft yawn. "I swear, it's always just shortly before we make planet-fall that my circadian rhythm finally takes the hint and wants to cooperate." Echo and Wrecker both nod sympathetically, Echo more so because he shares a similar struggle. Poor man is often turning like a nuna on a spit over an open fire in his bed, and it doesn't surprise Hunter, Crosshair or Wrecker anymore to now find three people chatting in the cockpit of the attack shuttle sometimes since the addition of the female researcher. (It certainly surprised Commander Cody on that three-month-mark check in that you were all getting along so well.)

Echo follows suit with a yawn of his own. "Yeah, I know whatcha mean, ad'ika… Think I'll turn in early too, if I'm not needed for watch duty."

Crosshair shakes his head, silently communicating with Hunter through a simple look, listing off your name along with Echo and Wrecker. "You three get some sleep. And Tech, do whatever the kriff you feel like so long as you do it quietly." If Cross and Hunter were taking watch together, they had something to discuss for a while before Crosshair would come along and collect Tech from wherever he inevitably passed out and tuck him into his bunk. 

You bid everyone good night and climbed up into your rack, laying on your side to face the inner wall of the alcove for some semblance of privacy. Being sleepy was a façade, of course. Even when the lights dimmed, you didn't find yourself any sleepier. You just kept thinking back to that comment someone had said. 

You hadn't thought about that instance of your childhood in ages until tonight. But you're starting to think it affected you a lot more than you initially believed. 

Is that why I learned how to get stains out of practically every kind of clothing? Is that why I have such a big container of laundry detergent "just in case"? Am I worried that they'll make fun of me if I ever got such an obvious stain on my clothing while I'm doing my job as a researcher? Am I worried that… Wrecker will make fun of me? 

Wrecker whispers your name from his rack after a few minutes of silence. "Are you okay?" Unbeknownst to you, he's been thinking about the way you reacted after the question too, and he wants to see if you're okay. But you don't want to bother him while you're feeling so blue about childhood embarrassments, so you pretend to be asleep by not answering him. "Think she's asleep, Wrecker…" Echo mumbles somewhere below you. "You should try to do the same."

You can imagine the dejected frown as Wrecker turns into his bunk and with a sigh says, "... 'kay. I'll ask her in the morning, then. G'night." 

You'll have at least six standard hours to hope that Wrecker forgets to ask. Or, with a healthy helping of mercy from the galaxy, that you'd forget too. 

You wake up to a timid hand reaching up into your rack and poking you gently between your shoulder blades. You know without having to roll over or even open your eyes that it's Wrecker. Each one of them has a different method of waking you, and Wrecker is always cautious. 

"Mm. Mornin'." you mumble, carefully sitting up and easing yourself to the edge of your bunk. "Sleep well, Wrecker?" The team's always been real sweet and considerate in the "mornings" through hyperspace travel, but there's something with Wrecker in particular you're drawn to in the morning… you've never quite gotten it figured out. "No bad dreams at least, right?" 

"Eh… think so, at least!" Wrecker chuckles with an exaggerated shrug, stifling a yawn with the palm of his hand. "None that I can remember, anyway. What about you?" 

Cautiously lowering yourself from the bunk, you think back to last night's dreams and vaguely describe what you remember of the disjointed sequence of events. And of course, there had been something related to your recollections last night, but you didn't tell Wrecker about that. For the time being, you're just going to keep mum about it.

You have things to do around the Havoc Marauder to prepare for meeting up with Commander Cody; a little bit of paperwork, mostly. After Hunter divvies up the morning rations for everyone, you say that you're going to retreat back to bunks where it'll be quietest to get this all sorted out, indicating your paperwork. 

The neater you make this, the faster a busy man like the Commander will be able to approve you for another three months. 

Wrecker follows you back to the sleeping racks, followed after by Tech, who rouses you from the files just as you find your groove. 

"Is there something bothering you?" 

Your head snaps up in confusion and surprise. "Huh?"

Tech states your name and repeats his question, believing that you hadn't been paying attention at all rather than just listening half-heartedly. "I asked if there was something bothering you. You're not one to shy away from doing your paperwork around the squad. In fact, doing your paperwork around us has never been a problem before until-"

Wrecker cuts to the chase when he senses his brother's explanation is getting too long-winded. "Tech's asking if something upset you last night." 

"If one of us upset you last night." 

Cross, Hunter and Echo have now come to make themselves part of this budding conversation, joining everyone else presently in the bunkroom. "We noticed that you got really quiet, and that's not exactly like you." one of them remarks. 

"If there's a problem, we want to sort this out before we see Commander Cody. If he thinks there's a chance things aren't working out-"

"-he'll probably reassign you. And we don't want that. I-I don't want tha'..." Wrecker admits bashfully. 

Someone nudges Cross in the ribs to say something. "Did something one of us said last night embarrass you?" 

You shake your head firmly. If the five of them are worried enough that a playful taunt was taken too far last night, and they were scared to risk you becoming reassigned that they were getting the jump on things before they had the chance to kick off, then they must really think they did something to screw up, or that you're mad at them, and that's why you're not talking to them as you do your paperwork like usual. 

"Oh boys…" you start, setting aside the datapad to give them your undivided company. "No. You don't have to worry. And I'm truly sorry that I made you all worry, but… nothing's wrong, really." You explain in some detail that you're really and truly okay. Maybe feeling a little blue about the memories that resurfaced after you confide in all of them that it turns out that incident from your childhood still upsets you more than you initially believed. "I know rationally none of you knew that. Or that it would upset me. I didn't even know it'd upset me to think about the time I got some clothes dirty as a little girl. So I don't blame anyone. And once again, I'm really sorry if I made any of you think I was mad, or offended, or anything like that just before we see the Marshal Commander. You don't have to worry about me asking to reassign just because my feelings got a little bruised. C'mon. We've all teased each other plenty. Ain't that right, Mr. Toothprick?" 

In his relief, Cross can only chuckle silently. "Think you've used that one before. Don't tell me you're running out of ideas." 

"She has not. I've been keeping a list of her- Nevermind. That's not important." Tech interrupts himself, adjusting the strap of his goggles. "What is important is we've cleared the air. And everything seems to be in order once more, as we hoped." 

You smile. “Heh. Never change, Tech.” Before most leave you to your paperwork, Tech assures you he doesn’t particularly plan on it. Among those that stay are Hunter and Wrecker. Hunter will need to add his signature to the paperwork once you’ve gotten it completed, and Wrecker just wants to keep you company. And give, or get, a little reassurance. “You know we’d never make fun of you for getting a stain in your clothing and mean it, right?”

“Yes Wrecker,” you promise, pawning the datapad to the sergeant of the rogue Clone squad once you’ve scribbled out your own signature. Getting up from the borrowed bunk you had been sitting in, you give Wrecker a friendly kiss on the cheek just to see him smile again before you make your way to the snug ‘fresher aboard the attack shuttle to freshen up. In less than six standard hours, you’ll be making planet-fall, and there’s still lots to do. “I trust you guys. You don’t have to worry, big guy.” 

Neither do you, turns out. 

Very shortly after touching down on the landing pad, you trot down the gangplank of the Marauder, datapad with all your necessary files prepped and ready once Cody comes to greet you in your hand. As civilian personnel, you’re not exactly sure how far you can stray from the ship while you wait for the Clone Commander. Or if there’s even protocol for that kind of thing to begin with. Strangely, there’s more than just the members of the 212th here; you’re seeing hints of blue armor of the 501st roaming the landing pad too.

Someone calls your name. It’s a younger trooper you made friends with in the sixth months that you were with them, surprised to see you. “Ad’ika? Hey, long time no see! Hope the Bad Batch hasn’t been giving you too much trouble!” 

“Not at all; they’ve been great! Oh, it’s so good to see you.” you reply, excitedly throwing your arms around your friend before he gets the chance to warn you.

Poor fellow begins to sputter nervously. “Y-yeah, it’s good to see you too, but uh…” He utters something that sounds like the words oh no under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, pulling away from him. That’s when you notice why he’s panicking. You’ve just given your friend a hug not long after he must have touched up the paint on his armor. There’s a bright splotch of blue all over the front of your field uniform now. “Oh kriff, I’m so sorry…!” you apologize to one another simultaneously. The paint is very fresh, and there’s no hiding it either. Oh stars, that’ll be a nightmare to get out… and you have to speak to Commander Cody soon, there’s probably not enough time to change into another field uniform!

“Oh no… um, Hunter? C-could you take my datapad please? I need to-” You’re about ready to ask Hunter if he can possibly stall for a little time if the Commander comes to review the report, but when you turn around, you find that Cody’s already here and talking to Hunter. Wrecker takes one look at you, your clothing covered in blue paint, and decides that he’s not going to let you be the only one covered in paint before the Commander notices. Thankfully, he’s too distracted with the supply manifest Tech’s presented to him to have heard you asking Hunter to help. One look at the situation, and he’s made up his mind on what to do; your warning can’t sway him.

“Wr-Wrecker! What’re you-!”

Bounding up to you with a laugh, Wrecker hoists you into his arms against his chest, transferring some of the paint from your clothing all over his plastoid in the process after safely tossing the datapad to Hunter from your hands. “Hey, if you’re offering hugs, I want one too!”

Wrecker carries you closer to the group and the others take some of the paint off your clothing and add it to their armor without complaint. You and Wrecker bare the most paint of the six of you standing near the Commander as he glances down the paperwork to make sure everything appears to be in order. “Ah, well I see you boys have been getting along very well with your seventh researcher.” Cody remarks casually, looking up from the datapad now everyone had a little bit of blue on them. “Guess I don’t need to ask whether this means you’re all sick of one another, yet.” Hunter’s jaw drops open to comment, but he’s silenced when the indicator tied to the APPROVED button chimes. So instead, he simply thanks the Marshal Commander and offers a polite salute as Cody dismisses himself. 

Hunter swears softly when he takes a look at the datapad. “He’s… approved you for another six months.” he says incredulously, showing you the screen when Wrecker refuses to put you down still.

 APPROVED FOR: SIXTH MONTHS 

REASON: CAMARADERIE

Wrecker in particular whoops loudest of all, everyone delighted that you weren't going anywhere any time soon. Caught up in the euphoria of the moment, just as someone suggests that you all go get some real karking food to celebrate while you have a brief reprieve before your next assignment as a squad, you take advantage of your proximity to Wrecker and kiss him before you completely consider what you're doing. Laughing when the two of you pull apart, Wrecker gives you a slightly befuddled look and asks, "Heh, what was that for, mesh'la?" 

You start to apologize, saying things like you should have asked and you’ve been wanting to kiss him for a while now, but you just weren’t thinking, much like now as you continue to ramble on apologizing. “I- I’m sorry, I guess I just got carried away.”

“Hey,” Wrecker chuckles, finally setting you on your feet, “S’okay. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while, too. But uh, I didn’t want to cross any boundaries, so I tried to keep it professional. But… if you-” Crosshair scoffs, softly nudging your elbow as he brushes past the pair of you. You know by the wry smile, he’s teasing both of you, not just his brother. “He’s been secretly practicing his confession for the past twelve standard hours and it’s not gonna get any smoother than this. If you just say “kark the professionalism” you can spare us all from more embarrassment.”

Most everyone can only laugh to themselves. “Aww, don’t you worry Cross,” Wrecker tells him, you and Wrecker sharing a look that says y’know what, he’s right, kark the professionalism already, “she’ll make sure to get all the blue paint off your armor later.” 

Cross only rolls his eyes at that. But under his breath, as everyone steps into the din of the mess hall, it sounds like he’s asking Hunter if he has to pay up if it was exactly twelve standard hours from the time he thought you and Wrecker were finally going to move beyond this “little mutual crush” stage. 

(Yes. He does, it turns out.)

Frost's Note: Merkitty, I gotta admit, I totally thought of your OC Ohno during that wet-paint-and-hug scene at first. 😅 Once again, I hope you enjoyed my interpretation of your request! 🩷

[Masterlist] [TBB Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

[tsukimefuku]

Some advice about choosing a career (from a burnoutee in her 30's)

I kinda talked about this already on my X/Twitter, but I figured I'd bring these thoughts here too.

If you don't know me or this is the first time you're seeing my content, hi! I'm Fuku, and I'm a criminal defense attorney irl.

Earlier this week, I suffered a pretty heavy loss at my job. Without going into any details, something bad happened to one of my clients when this person should've been taken care of by the institution they were being kept in and I wondered (like I always do when these types of things happen) if it was my fault.

You know, law school and med school are still seen as very safe bets to have a financially stable future. I cannot talk about med, but I can, from experience, talk about law -- I got to the 10-year mark now in 2024 working in law, ranging from internships, to public service related to law, to being a lawyer.

Law still is, to a great extent, a very safe degree to get -- you do have a ton of options from it. You can become a lawyer, in some places you can become a govt employee, or even teach if that's your thing (it is mine, and I already began my transition into a college teaching profession).

Now, I wanna address this... The most important thing you've gotta ask yourself if you want to be someone that is responsible for other people's wellbeing (such as a doctor is responsible for someone else's health, or a criminal defense lawyer is responsible for someone else's freedom) is this:

Are you prepared for the heavy mental load of having this degree of responsibility?

There is an extent to which everyone can make mistakes in their jobs. However, in my profession, a mistake can mean someone will be imprisoned for years, and we all know how awful life behind bars is. If the person comes out, they'll be forever marked as an ex-con, their life will NEVER be the same. From one mistake -- failing to observe a deadline, for example.

I'm not the one to suffer the dire consequences of my mistakes in my job, because my job is about other people's freedom. If I lose a deadline, it's not me who's gonna be behind bars for the foreseeable future -- they are.

That level of responsibility over other people's wellbeing constantly drives me to exhaustion, because I double, triple check everything I do to avoid having someone else losing their freedom because I did a poor job and failed them. It has taken a heavy toll on my mental health and a lot of therapy to not blame myself for things that weren't my fault. They were systemic issues within the criminal justice system itself.

Loving your job is important, it is. But loving your job isn't enough, especially when it drains the life out of you and has you panicking 24/7. I am transitioning careers because I can't stand being that heavily responsible for other people anymore. I wake up terrified and go to sleep just the same. Sometimes I dream of just being responsible for pushing meaningless data into spreadsheets and have the worst that can come from it be a roasting session. That's it.

So my nugget of wisdom for those who are still choosing a college/career path is: if you want a job that involves other people's wellbeing, take some time to consider how that will affect you, and how well do you think you'll be able to handle the losses that will inevitably happen in the future.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello! I have a book question 😊 Why does Armand decide on Claudia's... well, fate? Is he being malicious? Or what's the reason?

Hey nonny!

Hmmm.

Malicious... I'm not sure I would call it that.

Book spoilers ahead (and therefore likely show spoilers to an extent):

He is/was a vampire coven leader, and has followed certain rules in that capacity, for centuries. He tells of those rules in The Vampire Armand:

One, that we were formed in Covens throughout the world, and each Coven would have its leader, and I was destined to be such a one, like unto the Superior of a convent, and that all matters of authority would be in my hands. I and I alone should determine when a new vampire should be made to join us; I and I alone would see to it that the transformation was made in the proper way. Two, the Dark Gift, for that is what we called it,, must never be given to those who were not beautiful, for the enslaving of the beautiful with the Dark Blood was more pleasing to a Just God. Three, that never should an ancient vampire make the new fledgling, for our powers increase with time and the power of the old ones is too great for the young. Witness the tragedy of myself, made by the last of the known Children of the Millennia, the great and terrible Marius. I had the strength of a demon in the body of a child. Four, that no one among us can destroy another among us, save the coven leader, who must at any time be prepared to destroy the disobedient of his flock. That all vagabond vampires, belonging to no coven, must be destroyed by that leader on sight. Five, no vampire must ever reveal his identity or his magical strengths to a mortal and thereafter be let to live. No vampire must ever write any words that reveal these secrets. Indeed no vampire's name was ever to be known in the mortal world, and any evidence of our existence which ever escaped into that realm must at all costs be eradicated, along with those who allowed such a terrible violation of God's will.

Now, after Lestat comes along and more or less upends that last coven under Les Innocents (or wherever they'll be in the show since Les Innocents is already closed in the adapted timeline) by more or less merely being there Armand becomes... unmoored. Lestat gives the theater to him (and Nicolas, longer story), and Armand becomes the leader there, another coven, another existence.

He never quite loses that coven leader mentality again. He regularly "cleans up" the vagabonds, the young ones he doesn't attribute value to.

That is what Lestat was afraid of, too, why he tried to keep Louis and Claudia in the "New World", and why he went and tried to plead for Louis' and Claudia's life by going to Paris and Armand (and also he was asking for Armand's blood, since Armand had offered (or seem to have offered) to help him should he come back.)

Now Claudia... Claudia was simply a violation of rules, and "nothing" to Armand. She was in the way, too, since Louis wants to go with ther and Madeleine.

And so Armand does not "stand in the way" when the coven goes after her, but of course there is more to it:

Armand tells of how

For the record, she was slain by my Coven of mad demon actors and actresses, for, when she surfaced at the Theatre des Vampires with Louis as her mournful, guilt-ridden protector and lover, it became all too clear to too many that she had tried to murder her principal Maker, The Vampire Lestat. It was a crime punishable by death, the murdering of one's creator or the attempt at it, but she herself stood among the condemned the moment she became known to the Paris Coven, for she was a forbidden thing, a child immortal, too small, too fragile for all her charm and cunning to survive on her own.

... well, after he tried to "grant her fondest wish", namely give her an adult body, by chopping off her head, and sewing it onto another's body. The little experiment fails, and he destroys the evidence:

Let me say here, she was herself again, hideously wounded, a botched reassemblage of the angelic child she'd been before my attempts, when she was locked out in the brutal morning to meet her death with a clear mind. The fire of Heaven destroyed the awful unhealed evidence of my Satanic surgery as it turned her to a monument in ash. No evidence remained of her last hours within the torture chamber of my makeshift laboratory. No one need ever have known what I say now.

And then he goes on:

I never loved her. I didn't know how. I carried out my schemes in chilling detachment and with fiendish pragmatism. Being condemned and therefore being nothing and no one, she was a perfect specimen for my whim. That was the horror of it, the secret horror which eclipsed any faith I might have pleaded later in the high-blown courage of my experiments.

She was a "specimen for his whim".

Lestat is relieved when Armand falls for Louis, because it means that he wouldn't kill Louis. In the same way it is unfortunate that Armand did not find it within himself to love Claudia, because that would have kept her safe...

I did not love those decadent and cynical French mummers. Those I had loved, and those who I could love, were, save for Louis de Pointe duLac, utterly beyond my grasp. I must have Louis, that was my injunction. I knew no other. So I did not interfere when Louis incinerated the Coven and the infamous theatre, striking, at the risk of his own life, with flame and scythe at the very hour of dawn.

I think in the show, Louis will still decide to go with her and Madeleine, so she will still be "in the way". I think Claudia will still be able to see right through Armand, and know she is in danger, like in the book. I think Louis still won't listen.

And so the tragedy will unfold.

Armand did not kill Claudia because he was being malicious. He does not kill the vagabunds because he is malicious.

He kills them because they are against rules he follows, and because he cannot love them. They are "nothing" to him, nothing... but in the way.

And so they have to go.

It's more... pragmatism, than anything.

Does that make it malicious? Maybe, by our standards.

But these are vampires, and vampires rape, maim and kill. Later Lestat sometimes helps Armand "clean up", sometimes he lets the young ones be. Fareed uses other vampires and their bodies for his studies, uses body parts of them for others. And so on.

These vampires are monsters.

And Armand - and all the others - is/are monstrous.