#also yes I’m doing this it’s so painful

[thebookewyrme]

Go ahead and use the mobility aid if it helps you and you can access it, even if you don’t have a prescription from a Dr or whatever. Mobility aids are available to help you. Yes, even if you technically CAN do whatever without it. Does the mobility aid leave you better able to do other things after using it? Then use it, and don’t feel guilty about needing help like being pushed in a wheel chair (you may have to train your friends/family in how to do this particular one, people are REALLY BAD at understanding how to push a wheelchair).

Don’t hesitate to ask for accommodations you need, even if it puts someone else out, even if you’re “younger and shouldn’t need it”. I’m thinking specifically of sitting and chairs. If a particular type of chair will leave you hurting after a short time of sitting, or you need to sit because you can’t stand for too long, ask that accommodations be made. Ask someone (not themselves disabled) to switch chairs with you if you need to. Ask someone to let you sit in their seat if you’ve reached your limit of standing. And with those you regularly interact with like friends or family, voice when certain things exacerbate or bring pain. Tell them that sitting on that specific couch makes you hurt so you can’t sit on it long. Tell them you can’t stand longer than X minutes or walk further than X distance. The ones who care about you will listen and remember and help you get situated without you even needing to ask yourself. Whatever you do, don’t just sit there and suffer in silence on whatever is causing you pain/flares/etc. that does no one any good and only makes it harder to advocate for yourself later, and may do lasting damage to your body at that.

Most of all, be kind to yourself about needing help. You are not “lazy” or “a failure” or whatever. This is especially important for invisible disabilities where people may be implying this to your face regularly whether they know you’re disabled or not. But it’s also true for more visibly disabled people. You are doing your best, and what is your best will look different for every person and that’s ok.

I've been disabled for almost 29 years. Here's what I've learned.

Tablets sink and capsules float. Separate out your tablets and capsules when you go to take them. Tip your head down when taking capsules and up when taking tablets. Liquigels don't matter, they kinda stay in the middle of whatever liquid is in your mouth.

If your pill tastes bad, coat it with a bit of butter or margarine. I learned this from my mom, who learned it from a pharmacist.

Being in pain every day isn't normal. Average people experience pain during exceptional moments, like when they stub their toe or jam their finger in a door, not when they sit cross-legged.

Make a medical binder. Make multiple medical binders. I have a small one that comes with me to appointments and two big ones that stay at home, one with old stuff and one with more recent stuff.

Find your icons. Some of mine include Daya Betty (drag queen with diabetes), Stef Sanjati (influencer with Waardenburg syndrome and ADHD), and Hank Green (guy with ulcerative colitis who... does a bunch of stuff). They don't have to be disabled in the same way as you. They don't even have to be real people. Put their pictures up somewhere if you want; I've been meaning to decorate my medical binders with pictures of my icons.

Take a bin, box, bag, basket, whatever and fill it with items to cope with. This can be stuff for mentally coping like colouring books or play clay or stuff for physically coping like pain medicine or physio tape.

Decorate your shit! My cane for at home has a plushie backpack clip hanging from the end of the handle and my cane for going places is covered in stickers. All of my medical binders have fun scrapbooking paper on the outside. Sometimes, I put stickers and washi tape on my inhalers and pill bottles. I used my Cricut to decorate my coping bin with quotes from my icons, like "I've seen enough of Ba Sing Se" and "I need you to be angrier with that bell".

If a flare-up is making you unable to eat or keep food down, consider going to the ER. A pharmacist once told me that since my eye flares can make me so nauseous that I cannot eat, then I need to go to the hospital when that happens.

Cola works wonders for nausea. I have mini cans of Diet Pepsi in my coping bin.

Shortbread is one of the only things I can eat when nauseous. Giant Tiger sells individually-wrapped servings of shortbread around Christmas or the British import store sells them year-round. I also keep these in my coping bin.

Unless it violates a pain contract or something, don't be afraid to go behind your doctor's back to get something they are refusing you. I got my cardiologist referral by getting in with a different NP at my primary care clinic than who I usually saw. I switched from Seroquel to Abilify by visiting a walk-in.

If you have a condition affecting your abdomen in some way (GI issues, reproductive problems, y'know) then invest in track pants that are too big. I bought some for my laparoscopy over a year ago and they've been handy for pelvic pain days, too. I've also heard loose pants are good for after colonoscopies.

Do whatever works, even if it's weird. I've sat on the floor of the Eaton Centre to take my pills. I've shoved heating pads down my front waistband to reach my uterus.

High-top Converse are good for weak ankles. I almost exclusively wear them.

You can reuse your pill bottles for stuff. I use my jumbo ones to store makeup sponges and my long skinny ones to hold a travel-size amount of Q-Tips.

Just because your diagnostics come back with nothing, it doesn't mean nothing is wrong. Maybe you were checking the wrong thing, or the diagnostic tool wasn't sensitive enough. I have bradycardia episodes even though multiple cardiac tests caught nothing. I probably have endometriosis even though my gynecologist didn't see anything.

You can bring your comfort item to appointments, and it's generally a green flag when someone talks to you about it. I brought a Squishmallow turkey (named Ulana) to my laparoscopy and they had her wearing my mask when I woke up. I brought a Build-A-Bear cat (named Blinx) to another procedure and a nurse told me that everyone in the hall on the way to the procedure room saw him and were talking about how cute he was. Both of those ended up being positive experiences and every person who talked to me about my plushies was nice to me. If you don't feel comfortable having it visible to your provider during the appointment, you can hide it in your bag and just know it's there, or if you're in a video appointment, you can hold it below frame in your lap.

Get a small bucket, fill it with stuff, and stick it in your bed (if you have room for it). I filled a bucket with Ensure, juice boxes, oatmeal bars, lotion, my rescue inhaler, etc. in October 2023 in anticipation of my laparoscopy and I still have it in my bed as of January 2025.

If your disability impacts your impulse control (e.g. ADHD, bipolar disorder), you should consider setting limits around your spending -- no more than X dollars at a time, nothing online unless it's absolutely necessary, and so on. Or, run these purchases by someone you trust before committing to them; I use my BFF groupchat to help talk sense into myself when I buy stuff.

Feel free to add on what you've learned about disability!

[monster-effer]

HIIII.. your write rlly good for autistic reader so i would like to request lads boys with an autistic reader that gets overstimulated and accidentally gets angry them? when i am overstimulated i get really angry so i feel bad,,, (hi fellow autistic gals)

Thank you so much 🥰 and yes I can!

In all of these headcanons, it is assumed that each love interest is aware that the reader is autistic and experiences overstimulation on occasion.

Sylus – temperature dysregulation (hot)

It was midsummer in Linkon and you feel like you are boiling in your flesh suit.

You have always had issues with temperature regulation. You get hot from the smallest amount of physical exertion, from eating warm foods, or being outside long enough when the sun is shining. And then you begin to sweat. Being hot and sweaty makes you irrationally angry, and you can’t help it.

Usually, you bring a portable fan and wear tank tops to avoid becoming a sweaty mess. In the summer even these things don’t save you. And today is one of those days.

You are out with Sylus at a summer market in Linkon city. He is wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, a tank top, shorts and sandals as you two peak at the stalls you pass by.

You were so hyped when you first got here because usually Sylus is sleeping during this time of day. But he was willing to sacrifice his sleeping schedule to see you smile.

You have been walking around for an hour, indulging in free samples being handed out and stopping at any stall that catches your eye.

But your blissful afternoon is interrupted by the all too familiar feeling of your body heating up past the point of comfort. You feel agitated and upset that you can’t just enjoy a day out without heating up and getting sweaty. And unfortunately your irritation leaks into your conversation with Sylus.

“Which booth would you like to check out next kitten?”

You let out an audible sigh before replying. “Why do I always have to choose?” you ask harsher than you would have liked.

Sylus pauses at your tone and takes in your body language. Your face looks flushed, you’re starting to fan yourself with your hands, and you have an adorable grumpy expression on your face. He knows what this means.

Instead of commenting he begins to steer you back towards the parking lot, so he can get you back home in a cool environment. He also makes sure to turn on your AC via the smart thermostat he installed in your apartment.

“The booths are that way you know,” you say quietly.

“I know sweetie, but right now I think it’s time for us to go home.”

Instead of acknowledging his response with an answer you focus on fanning yourself with your hands. And lifting your arms up so your armpits can get some air. You blessedly arrive at his motorcycle and after a quick ride you are home once again.

When you arrive back at your apartment you sigh in relief because the air conditioner is already on. Without saying a word, you head to your room and begin to strip down to your undies so you can cool down completely.

Sylus walks to your kitchen to get you a glass of water with ice in it, he’s very familiar with this routine. After giving you a few minutes alone, he brings you the glass of water with adoration in his eyes.

“…I’m sorry. I got so hot and it made me upset. You didn’t deserve me taking it out on you.”

Sylus leans towards you and gives you a smooch.

“I forgive you. Now, drink this glass of water and continue to cool down for me okay?”

Zayne – being tired + in pain

You are beyond tired, there is a large gash on your leg and you’re sitting in urgent care at Akso hospital. The mission you just completed was rough to say the least. As you sit in the waiting room marinating in your misery, you decide that you’ll request a vacation once you’re all patched up.

You can almost feel your social skills slip through your fingers. It’s taking more effort than usual to keep up the niceties when you interact with the hospital staff, but you manage to do it. Just barely.

And when you are finally ushered into a room, the bright fluorescent lights instantly give you a raging headache.

As you close your eyes and cradle your head in your hands you consider going home instead of waiting for the doctor to come in.

You hear the door open, someone walk in then the door close once again. But you don’t bother looking up.

“What damage has your body sustained this time?”

Zayne’s voice is usually very soothing to you. But today his voice feels as smooth as sandpaper on your nerves. You cannot take his teasing at this moment because way too much is going on. You are overwhelmed.

“It’s not like I seek out ways to get hurt you know,” you reply petulantly.

Before he can reply, you can’t stop yourself from continuing “Also who thought it was a good idea to install these blinding lights? My eyes feel like they’re going to explode.”

Zayne silently observes you as he lets you vent. He turns off the lights in the room and opens the curtains so now there is only soft light coming in from the setting sun.

He then turns to you and speaks in a hushed tone. “Is this natural lighting more tolerable? I had to open the curtains so I can inspect your wound.”

You nod your head.

“Let me clean up and cover your wound then I will grab some aspirin for your headache.”

With the threat of the overhead lights gone, you finally open your eyes and look towards Zayne. “Zayne, I’m sorry for snapping at you. Everything just felt like too much at once.”

Zayne lets a small smile reach his lips. “I can tell when you’re overstimulated my love. No need to be sorry for things that are outside of your control. You were my last patient for the day, let’s go home together.”

Rafayel – crowded places

You are attending one of Rafayel’s gallery shows near the beach.

You, for the most part, came to support your lovely boyfriend but you also came at the urging of Thomas because “If you don’t come, Rafayel will not show up.”

The gallery is more packed than usual, with the news of Rafayel making an appearance spreading like wildfire through the news.

Rafayel is currently occupied by conversation with someone interested in buying one of his paintings. You wander over to the refreshment table to grab another flute of champagne.

You feel antsy from the amount of people at this gallery showing. The sensation of being trapped is putting you on edge. As you chew on your bottle lip and take a sip of your drink, you contemplate making a quick exit and apologizing to Rafayel later.

As you scope out the exits, you hear his familiar voice behind you. “Where are you heading off to cutie?”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel like you are under attack. “Coming here was a mistake. I feel like I can’t breathe,” you say quickly. You avoid his gaze because you know your words hurt him.

Before he can reply you rush out of the gallery and make your way down towards the beach before plopping down on the sand. Your dress be damned.

Watching the waves lap against the sand helps center you. After a few minutes you hear the crunch of sand as someone approaches you. You know it’s Rafayel because he is the only person who sits so close to you, both of your knees touching.

Both of you are quiet for a beat because he speaks up. You tense as you ready yourself for the backlash of your harsh words. But you are surprised at what he says.

“It really hurts when you run away from me” Rafayel says in a soft tone.

You feel like a piece of shit because you know Rafayel has abandonment issues. And you unintentionally played into them this evening.

You feel even worse once you look in his direction and see his signature pout and puppy dogs in full effect.

“Rafayel I’m so sorry. I thought I could handle being around all those people but it become too much for me to handle.”

Hearing your sincere apology softens the blow of your actions. “I figured that’s what happened. We didn’t expect there to be such a large turnout for this showing.”

“You know I would never purposefully put you in a situation that causes you distress, right?”

“I know.”

You two sit in companionable silence after reconciling.

“Do you want to take a stroll along the beach with me?”

“Don’t you have to stay at the gallery showing?”

“Ehh, Thomas can take it from here,” he replies nonchalantly.

With that you two stand up and walk hand in hand along the sand.

Caleb –loud noises

You are enjoying the atmosphere at the Linkon New Year festival with Caleb.

You still can’t believe that he’s back in your life after believing that he was dead for a year straight.

You have exhausted yourself from trying to visit every booth.

Before you know it, it is nighttime, and everyone is walking towards the open lawn to watch the fireworks show.

You turn to Caleb to ask if he wants to leave when he interrupts you by speaking first. “Will you be okay with watching the fireworks show before we head home?”

You swallow your own question after seeing the smile on his face, you don’t have the strength to deny him anything. But you’re not sure if you can handle how loud things are going to get.

“Sure,” you say with a tight smile as you dig through your bag for your earplugs. Your heart drops when you recall that you changed bags this morning. You are now woefully without ear protection. You feel like crying but decide to push through, not wanting to disappoint Caleb.

The fireworks show starts off fairly tame. But the loud boom from each firework frays your nerves and fills you with anxiety and dread. You feel like a cornered animal in a cage.

Caleb suddenly gets close to your ear. “What’s the matter pipsqueak?” He shouts in an attempt to be heard over the continuous fireworks.

The volume of his voice makes you jump and shout back “Get away from me!” Before you take off running through the crowd, towards the parking lot. This moment reminds him of a time in your childhood when you reacted the same way. You were overwhelmed and he refused to leave you alone in this state.

Caleb extensive exercise regimen kicks in as he catches up to you in no time. You have shakily climbed into the passenger seat of your car.

When he gets into the driver’s seat, he turns towards you with concern furrowing his brow.

“How are you feeling?”

“I feel okay now,” you reply quietly.

“Maybe we should look for some new earplugs for you. They didn’t seem to help much during the fireworks show.”

“I forgot to bring them with me today.”

“Ahh well that explains it. Why didn’t you mention it to me? We could have left early”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Caleb sighs and shakes his head in amusement. “You could never disappoint me princess. Let’s go home. I’ll make you some chamomile tea when we get there.”

You nod your head and buckle your seatbelt. The ride back to your apartment is filled with companionable silence. Nothing else needs to be said. Caleb accepts you for who you are, and he prioritizes your wellbeing above all else.

Xavier – lack of sleep

It took:

six fucking days

to track down and kill a wanderer that was causing havoc in remote town.

You learned during your investigation that this wanderer appears randomly, but always at night. You and Xavier have been taking turns patrolling.

You learned during your investigation that this wanderer appears randomly, but always at night. You and Xavier have been taking turns patrolling.

Your body, mind and soul are beyond exhausted. And you feel ready to take a week long nap in your bed.

As you finish compiling your report you are fighting to keep your eyes open. Once you send your report to Jenna you see Xavier approaching your desk from your peripheral vision.

“Hey, do you want to stop at the hot pot restaurant on the way home?”

The irritation you feel from lack of sleep reaches a boiling point. You don’t know what comes over you, but you just snap.

“Do you ever think of anything besides food? I am going home then straight to bed.”

Although it felt good to release that pressure and frustration. You regret directing it towards Xavier, especially when you look his way.

The soft and open expression you’ve grown accustomed to is gone and replaced with the blank and closed off one that he wore when you first met him. His tips are tensed in a straight line and his beautiful blue eyes are intently focused on you.

As you open your mouth to try to salvage things, Xavier interrupts you.

“Okay. How about I get us both home and while you sleep I’ll put some takeout in your fridge? When you wake up you won’t have to make anything,” he says in a monotone voice.

You feel tears pricking your eyes. Xavier is incredibly understanding even during the moments you misdirect your anger towards him.

“That sounds good. Thank you for being patient with me.”

“Like my love, my patience for you is limitless. Let’s leave, you need your rest.”

[mommyslittlebird]

Far From a Monster

Wanda x Reader

After a particularly intense session, Wanda has some conflicting feelings about what it means to be your dom.

CW: Dom Drop, Blood, Mommy Kink, Guilt, Sexual Shame

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: As someone is who isn’t a dom very often, I don’t know how accurate a depiction this is of dom drop. This is just what I’ve heard from other people. But I hardly ever see it written about so I wanted to give it a shot.

A/N: I KNOW, I said in the poll it was going to be more stepmom!Wanda next, but that fic is going to take longer than expected. Also in my defense this one was in the lead until almost the very end.

She had you just where she liked you.

You were face down on the bed, a sobbing mess in her hands. You had started on your hands and knees, but had long since collapsed forward. She had her hands drilled into your hips, which was the only thing that kept you up on your knees. She used her grip on you to force you to keep her brutal pace, cruelly dragging you back on to her each time she slammed her hips into you.

“Mommy please! Mommy it’s too much! Please mommy it hurts!” You cried. Your arms were wrapped around a pillow you were pathetically crying into.

“Aww sweetheart,” she cooed with faux sympathy. “You can give me one more, I know you can. Can you do that for mommy?”

You whimpered and squeaked into your pillow, but nodded nonetheless.

She reached down to pet your hair, but inadvertently drove your head further into the pillow. You moaned as her hand gripped your hair. “Oh you like that? Do you like it when mommy hurts you and pulls your hair?”

You nodded, but she pulled harder, pulling you up off the bed a little bit. “Words, princess.”

“Yes mommy! Yes I love it when you hurt me a-and pull my hair!” You cried. “Please mommy, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Is it starting to feel good again, baby? See I told you mommy’s cock wasn’t too big for you. You said it wouldn’t fit, but it’s made you cum, what, three times now?”

“You were right! You were right!” You conceded. “Please let me cum on your cock. Please mommy please.”

“Hmm,” She pretended to consider the request. “Tell mommy about how you're her cockslut and you can cum.”

“Yes mommy, I’m your cockslut. I’m your little toy you can use however you want,” you pleaded. “Fuck I’m gonna cum. Mommy I’m gonna cum for you.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you came so hard the strap fell out of you and hit your leg. Wanda smirked, satisfied with herself as you collapsed onto the bed.

Until she looked down.

There was blood.

And not an insignificant amount of it either. She swallowed. It couldn’t have been your period, could it? No you had been on birth control for years and hadn’t had a period since she’d known you. Besides, this was too bright and fresh to be period blood.

“Honey?” She asked, voice shaking slightly. “You don’t have a period anymore do you?”

“Hmm?” You asked, not immediately registering her question in your fuzzy haze. “No. Why?”

You looked down, seeing the blood that covered both your inner thighs and Wanda’s. “Oh. I must’ve torn a little bit. Sorry.”

Her brows knitted in concern. Her heart was racing. It felt like it might beat out of her chest. “I-I’m gonna go get a towel. Stay right here, baby. I’ll be right back.”

You couldn’t tell through your haze how panicked she truly was. You missed the way her voice broke when she spoke. You didn’t see the tears that pricked the corner of her eyes. You didn’t notice the frantic way she scurried into the bathroom. You simply laid on the bed, blissfully nuzzling a pillow.

Wanda closed the bathroom door, taking off the strap and running it under the sink. A cry broke through her lip when she watched the water run red.

How did she not notice you were bleeding? Were you telling her to stop when you said it too much? Did she push you too far? Had you torn at the beginning and just been in pain the whole time? Did you forget your safe word? Fuck did you say the safe word and she just hadn’t heard it? Did she genuinely hurt you? Were you going to be mad at her?

All the worst case scenarios ran through her mind. She felt a monstrous guilt rise up in her chest. She hurt you. She hurt you and she didn’t even realize it.

Why was she like this? Why did she even like to hurt you in the first place? Why did she like it when you cried for her? What kind of monster enjoys hurting the person they love?

“Wanda?” She was pulled from her thoughts by your gentle voice at the bathroom door. “Is everything all right, honey?”

She was bent over the bathroom counter, bracing herself against the granite. Tears were running down her cheeks causing her hair to stick to her face. You took a couple steps towards her, cupping her cheek. She pulled away.

“Wanda, baby, please tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something?” You asked.

Wanda shook her head. “No, love. No you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what is it?” You asked softly, reaching out for her again.

Her teary green eyes finally met yours. Her bottom lip trembled. “I hurt you,” she admitted softly, in almost a whisper.

You took a sigh of relief. “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just a little tear. I’ll wear a pantyliner, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” she cried, “I hurt you! You were bleeding and I didn’t even notice! You were telling me it hurt and I didn’t listen!”

You pulled her into a tight hug, cradling her head into her chest. “Wanda, it's okay. We were just playing, just like we always do. I was having fun. I would’ve used my safe word if I wanted to stop. You did everything right, love.”

Wanda wrapped her arms around your shoulders. “I feel like a monster,” she cried softly.

You rubbed her back, kissing her temple. “You’re not a monster, love. You’re nothing of the sort,” you reassured. “You are so so far from a monster.”

She clutched you harder, pulling you impossibly close. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, honey,” you said, taking a moment to rub her back before proposing: “How about we get cleaned up and have a nice soft snuggle night, huh?”

Wanda nodded into your chest. “Is it alright if I take a shower up here and you take one downstairs? I think I just need a minute to myself.”

You pulled her out of the hug, holding her face in your hands. “Of course, honey. Just no more spiraling into thoughts of being a monster, okay?”

She smiled, turning her head to kiss the palm of your hand. “No more spiraling,” she agreed.

You pressed a long kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Wanda. And I think you’re a wonderful person. And I think you did everything perfectly.”

She giggled. “I love you too, darling. Now go take a shower downstairs. I’ll be ready for you when you come back up.”

—————

You finished up your shower, returning to your room in some soft pajamas pants and one of Wanda’s sweatshirts. You limped up the stairs a little awkwardly. The tear hurt a little bit more than you expected after the adrenaline wore off, but it was nothing a Tylenol couldn’t fix.

You walked into Wanda nervously fluffing the pillows in a little nest she’d made for the two of you. She turned around when you opened the door, still looking a little anxious. “Oh, hi I um, I got this for you. And some Tylenol.”

She held out what looked like a pad, but was cold to the touch. “What’s this?”

“It’s just a pad with some chilled witch hazel. It’ll help with tear,” she explained.

You looked down at the pad with a hint of disgust. Pads always made you feel so uncomfortable. But when you looked back up at Wanda’s anxious frown, you simply smiled and said “thank you, love. I’ll put it on now.”

You tucked the cool pad into your underwear. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it felt better almost immediately afterwards. The cooling sensation did wonders for the burning of the tear. Wanda smiled for a moment when you sighed in relief, but quickly went back to nervously playing with her hands. “C-can I ask you something?”

You took her fidgety hands into your own. “Of course love, anything.”

She tilted her head up to briefly look you in the eyes. “Do you think you could call me mommy for tonight?” She asked. The words came fast and jumbled, like she had to force them out of her mouth before she changed her mind. “I mean I know we only use it while we’re playing and I’m being rough with you and that’s fine if you just want to stick to that and you’re under no obligation to say yes or anything I just thought that maybe I could be mommy and be sweet and take care of you just so it’s clear that I still love you when I’m mommy and I’d never do anything to try to hurt you on purpose even though mommy Wanda seems super cruel and sadistic…”

You interrupted her nervous rambling with kisses to each of her knuckles. “Of course, mommy.”

She stopped speaking for a moment, looking at you with all the love a gaze could possibly hold. She looked like she might cry again, but she simply reached up and touched your cheek. You melted easily into her touch and it made her heart sing.

She loved you, and you knew she loved you. You didn’t flinch or shy away from her. You didn’t wince like she was going to hit you. You trusted her. Even as mommy, she was going to take care of you.

“Okay, my love,” she whispered. “Let’s get you to bed.”

—————

You spent the rest of the night cocooned in a variety of soft blankets. She had you sat between her legs, arms wrapped around your waist while she repeatedly kissed the top of your head.

She had her laptop open on your lap. The two of you giggled over a game of Firegirl and Waterboy. She even let you play as Firegirl even though the Waterboy keys were much harder for her to reach around you. For a kids game, the two of you were doing exceptionally poorly, not even making it past the first few levels before your eyes started to droop and you yawned.

She gently closed the laptop, moving it to the bedside table. “Alright princess, I think it’s about time for bed.”

“We’re already in bed,” you teased through a yawn, curling up on your side into her chest.

“Cheeky girl,” she chuckled, kissing your head and turning off the bedside lamp. She pulled you close, swaddling you against her chest with a blanket.

You rubbed your face into her neck and sleepily mumbled, “I love you, mommy.”

She smiled giddily, glad you couldn’t see her in the dark room. She gently rubbed the back of your head. “Mommy loves you too, princess. Sweet dreams.”

[atleastpleasetelephone]

NYMPHO ELVIS.

A/N: Hilariously, according to the dictionary nymphomania only refers to excessive sexual desire in a woman. That seems kinda sexist to me, since it suggests any about of sexual desire in a man is perfectly normal. So I'm disregarding the dictionary 🤣

Also, someone else asked me for nympho BDE (all in caps, I wonder if you are the same anon?) and I'm not going to write both I'm afraid. I think BDE would be too tired to be sex-obsessed, he'd rather curl up in his jammies.

One more time

Pairing: 1969!Elvis x reader

Word count: 714

TWs: Overstimulation, praise kink, reader has been/is crying, general smut, Elvis refers to himself as Daddy. Also Elvis is sex-obsessed, if that wasn't already clear.

“C’mon baby, jus’ one more,” Elvis pleads, his head still between your legs. 

You’re sweating, moaning, exhausted on the bed. “I c-can’t El… I’m… oh…” 

You’re not making sense anymore, either. He’s trying to coax a fourth orgasm out of you but your body is wrecked. Your pussy is puffy and sore and every time he touches you now the combination of pleasure and overstimulation threatens to cut your brain completely free of its moorings. 

“Yes ya can. C’mon. You’re my good girl.”

Whining, you twist your body away from him but he’s not having it, pressing your belly down firmly with one big hand whilst he abuses your clit with the other. He’s not going to stop until he gets what he wants. He’s like a vampire, desperate to feed on your pleasure. He’s already cum twice and he can feel himself getting hard again just watching you like this. He’s smeared your lipstick across your face with his sloppy kisses, your hair is a mess and your mascara is running down your cheeks with the tears that slide down them. 

“‘S too much, El. Please.”

He can’t help it. He just wants you too much, all the time. He starts to wonder about pushing his half-hard dick inside you again when he hears your breath hitch and looks at your face to see your eyes widening in surprise. 

“Oh, God!” You exclaim, as another orgasm hits you. You didn’t think it was possible, but he is determined. 

His mouth curls into a grin. “I told ya you could, baby.”

Lying down beside you, he cups your cheek gently in his hand. “Good girl. Now let’s have one more for Daddy.”

Your surprised eyes are back as he takes your hand and wraps it around his dick. It hardens a little more in your firm grip, but you’re not sure you can make him cum again. You thought men only came once and then fell asleep. But Elvis is clearly different. 

As you move your hand on him, gathering pace, it’s his turn to feel the complicated interaction of pleasure and pain, overstimulation and soreness threatening to override any kind of pleasant feelings now. But he wants it. He wants another. He’s sure he can do it. 

“El, you want me to stop?” You ask after several minutes. He’s still half-hard and his breathing is irregular, but he doesn’t seem any closer than he did before. 

His eyes had been squeezed shut in concentration, trying desperately to will another orgasm out of himself, but now they spring open again and stare at you. 

“If I wanted ya ta stop honey, I’d say.” He takes your other hand and moves it to his balls. “Here. Squeeze.”

You do as you’re told, squeezing as you carry on jerking him, watching his face contort with a mixture of pleasure and something else entirely. Being with Elvis is exhausting. He wants you all the time. It’s gratifying and exciting, but sometimes you’re sore and you want to just cuddle. He never shows any signs of wanting to rest, and you’re sure that he’s with other girls too. You can’t quite understand how one man can have such an insane libido. 

“Shit,” he mutters, his hand wrapping around yours to help you squeeze his shaft more tightly and move on him more quickly. “Yes… yes… ohhhh… keep goin’ honey, Daddy’s almost there.”

There’s not much chance of you stopping, since he’s got such a strong grip on your hand, but you nod and take the opportunity to press lazy kisses to his skin as his moans get more insistent. 

“Oh yeah… that’s it honey…” 

He lets go of your hand as a tiny amount of cum leaks out of the head, flopping back on the bed in exhaustion. Until a few seconds ago it seemed like he’d been contracting every single muscle in his body as he tried with all his might to orgasm again. It’s a relief to stop, though the feeling of ecstasy is so addicting. 

You curl your body around his, and kiss his shoulder. 

“Feel good, Daddy?” You ask, sweetly. 

He smiles back at you sleepily. “Real good honey.” You relax, thinking about sleeping soon, and then you hear him speak again. “For now…”

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

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[loopstagirl]

Mute

For @febuwhump day 1: vocal chords

-x-

“Enough!” 

John smirked as his captor stalked away, frustration radiating from him. He wasn’t having trouble getting John to talk: he was having trouble getting him to talk either in a language he understood or for John to say anything his somewhat limited intellect could handle. 

Shifting position, John sighed. He couldn’t doubt the man’s intelligence that much. Not considering his shore-leave had somehow ended up with him handcuffed to a chair in a warehouse downtown New York somewhere. He’d promised Scott he’d be back at the penthouse for lunch after dropping something off at the office. He wasn’t worried about this man killing him: he was more concerned what his big brother would do when he failed to show up on time. 

“We’re going to try something new.” 

John blinked. The man was back in front of him. John didn’t say anything, just stared at him, acting bored. Yes, he was worried: his hands were cuffed behind him; his captor had managed to whisk him off busy streets without anyone being the wiser; somehow, he also seemed adamant John was able to access his father’s accounts and was refusing to take no for an answer. 

(John wasn’t going to admit that he could: even his dad didn’t know that. John intended to keep it that way.) 

His gaze moved past the man and his heart sank. A camera had been set up. So much for hoping he could get himself out of this without anyone noticing he’d gone. 

He knew how this went. They all did. It wasn’t the first time some low-life criminal had got lucky and attempted to ransom one of them. While they had never got away with it, John wasn’t in the mood to handle his brothers’ teasing that he’d ruined his reputation of being the only one not taken hostage one way or another. Even if Gordon protested that his captors had been of kindergarten age and didn’t count. 

“John!” 

John blinked. He hadn’t paid attention as the man had set up a vid-call with the island. His father’s concerned face was staring back at him from a small monitor. Judging by the tone of his voice, that hadn’t been the first time he’d called John’s name. 

“I’m okay.” John forced a smile. 

“This is how it’s going to go,” his captor said. “Your son is going to tell you what I want. You are going to comply. You will regret it if you don’t.” 

“You’ll regret it if he does,” John muttered. While the man didn’t hear his words, he heard him say something. 

“And you.” He rounded on John. “You’re going to tell your father exactly what I want, or you’ll pay, understand?” 

John didn’t bother answering. He just stared coolly back. 

“Go on then.” His captor gestured at the camera. 

“Downtown New York. Six blocks from the office minimum. Warehouse. Damp smelling, old, can just about hear traffic-,” 

“Silence!” 

The man approached, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking John’s head back.  

“Middle-aged, Caucasian, brown trousers, green-,”  

John gasped. His mouth stayed open in pain as agony shot from a point in his neck, fire running through his veins as he squeezed his eyes shut. Chest heaving, he forced them open to look at the camera. 

His dad was on his feet, yelling something, but there was a ringing in his ears that stopped John from hearing him properly. He tried to say something... and nothing happened. 

His mouth moved, his brain yelled, and no words came out of his mouth. 

“Ah yes, I thought that might shut you up.” The man sounded smug now. John looked at him in time to see him throw a needle in the bin. The man saw him looking and chuckled. 

“I just paralysed your vocal chords,” he sneered. “Be thankful it’s a targeted drug and the effects don’t spread. But never fear: I have another dose if we need it.” 

He turned back to the camera. “Now, where were we?” 

“John!”  

His dad was ignoring the man, his attention fixed on his son. John tried to speak again, but nothing. He shook his head desperately, staring at the image of his father, rising panic making his breathing pick up. 

“It’s okay, Johnny.” The reassuring note helped him control the rapid rise and fall of his chest. 

“It’s not okay!” his captor screamed. “I’ve paralysed your son’s vocal chords, Tracy. Next one goes in his heart!” 

“I don’t think so.” 

John recognised the cold edge to his dad’s voice. The man had overplayed his hand. He might’ve walked away if he just asked for money and didn’t harm John. Of course, he wouldn’t have got a cent, but he might have kept his life. Now, however, it was a different story. 

“You don’t understand-,” 

“No. You don’t understand. You’ve made a very big mistake coming after my family and my boy. If this is not temporary, no jail on earth will keep you safe from me.” 

There was utmost certainty in Jeff’s voice. But it didn’t reassure John. Not temporary? It had to be temporary! His voice was his life! He’d be no good to his family, to International Rescue, to the world, if he couldn’t speak. 

“You-,” 

Whatever the man was about to say was lost in a tremendous crash as the door was kicked in. John looked, but he didn’t need to. Only Scott would make an entrance like that, and the terrified squeak from his captor meant it had the desired effect. 

In two strides, Scott was across the room, his hands bunched in the fabric of the man’s shirt, almost lifting him from his feet. 

“You okay, J?” 

John stared helplessly at his brother. When he didn’t answer, Scott glanced at him. He didn’t say anything else, not needing to ask but seeing the sheer panic in John’s expression. He put the man down. 

“That’s right. I’ve silenced the know-it-all-,” 

He probably didn’t even see Scott’s fist coming. After checking he was out cold once he’d hit the floor, Scott straightened. He too was breathing hard. 

“No one calls him that,” he spat. He glanced at the monitor before hurrying to John. 

“Are you okay?” 

John shook his head. He tried to speak again and stared at Scott, willing him to understand. 

“It’s alright. I’m getting you out of here.” 

John didn’t pay attention as Scott freed his hands and spoke quickly to their dad. From what he did hear, Scott had already been tracking his signal and was close by. John’s description of his location had helped him pinpoint it even quicker. But he couldn’t listen as his dad returned the favour and told Scott why John couldn’t talk. 

“Let’s get you to the hospital, little brother.” 

Scott helped him up. John pointed at the man, then when Scott frowned, shrugged off his brother’s grip and rummaged in the fellow’s pockets. He shuddered when he realised he’d been telling the truth; there was another dose waiting. Scott took it from him. 

“Understood.”  

The doctors would need it to know what he’d been hit with. Hopefully, it would mean they also knew how long the effects would last or have a counterdrug on hand to help. 

A couple of hours later and John had been examined. They’d taken his blood, prodded and poked around his throat, asked him questions he couldn’t answer until someone had finally given him an old-fashioned pad and pen. 

The examination felt like a lifetime. Scott stayed in the room, but kept quiet after a formidable doctor told him that he either shut up or get out. Just because John couldn’t speak didn’t mean he couldn’t answer for himself. Scott had done as he was told. 

Eventually, the doctors were in a huddle on the far side of the room. Scott moved to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured. John held up a hand, asking his brother to be quiet as he strained to hear what was being said. 

“... results are back. It should’ve worn off by now.” 

“We’ll keep monitoring. Let’s do another CT to see if the nerves have been damaged.” 

They left, having no idea their patient had heard them. John looked at Scott, and knew his brother saw the terror in his eyes. 

“It’ll be okay.” Scott took his hand, kneeling by the bed. “I swear, it’ll be okay.” 

John shook his head, blinking through tears as he gestured for Scott to hand him the pad. His brother obliged. 

What if it’s not? 

“Then we’ll find a way,” Scott said. “You know us, Johnny, we always find a way.” 

And if we can’t? If I can’t speak... 

He glanced at the door. He didn’t dare write anything about IR. Scott understood, though. 

“If this is permanent,” his voice shook as he said it, “then we will adapt.” 

John closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look at Scott. He didn’t understand. Scott was a man of action: he let his body language (or fists, sometimes) do the talking for him. But from the moment he’d learnt to talk, John knew that was what he was destined to do. What was the point of having knowledge if he couldn’t share it? What was the point of monitoring the world’s problems if he couldn’t offer reassurance, couldn’t talk his brothers through danger zones? Couldn’t yell warnings or offer comfort from Thunderbird Five after a bad rescue? 

If he couldn’t speak, John didn’t know who he was. 

“J. Look at me.”  

As always, he was helpless to resist the commanding tone in Scott’s voice. 

“We have Brains. We have Dad.”  

John read between the lines – they had their father’s money, which meant they had the best specialists in the world. 

He started to shake his head again, but Scott rested his hands (gently) on John’s neck, stopping the action. 

“We have options, John. Besides, it might still be fine. Just because it’s taken longer to wear off than it should do doesn’t meant that it won’t. Not like the guy was a pro at sticking needles in people.” 

John knew Scott was trying to cheer him up but it wasn’t working. The fact the man hadn’t been a professional only increased the risk that he’d done something irreversible. Scott saw that his efforts were in vain and he stood up. 

“Dad’s on his way. I’ll go and talk to your doctors, find out exactly what they think rather than what we’ve overheard. It’s going to be alright, little brother.” 

He squeezed John’s shoulder, gave him a long, worried look, and left. 

Once alone, John tried to speak. His mouth was open, his throat working, but not even a whisper escaped him. The words were all in his mind, ready to spill out, to tell everyone was he was thinking, what he was feeling, but nothing. 

No matter what he tried, he couldn’t make a sound. 

He didn’t know how long he tried for. It was if he lost all sense of time, eventually coming back to himself only to realise he was out of bed, on his knees by the side of it, hands scrunched in the blanket in his frustration. The silence of the room was deafening him, mocking him with the idea that’s what he’d be surrounded by now. 

With a wordless cry, he swung his arm up, knocking everything off the unit next to the bed with an almighty clatter. His mouth stayed open in a silent scream. Running footsteps hurried towards his room, Scott bursting in, a doctor on his heels. 

“John!” 

John doubled up as Scott dropped to his knees next to him. Strong arms pulled him upright, holding him. 

“We need answers, doctor,” Scott commanded. “Whatever it takes.” 

“Understood, Mr Tracy.” 

The doctor disappeared again. John closed his eyes, trying to focus on the rhythmic sound of Scott’s heartbeat under his ear, hoping it would calm him. 

“I know what your voice means to you, John. It means everything to the rest of us as well. Knowing that you’re watching over us, guiding us through situations that need an eye in the sky viewpoint. Hearing you reassure us that we did everything we could, even when it feels like we didn’t. What you have to say keeps our family together: it always has. No matter what the doctor says, we will not give up. And I meant it earlier: if there is no easy fix, we’ll adapt. No voice doesn’t mean you can’t speak, little brother. I promise.” 

John couldn’t bring himself to nod. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, allowing the tears to leak out as Scott gently rocked them both, as if John was still the little boy who didn’t understand why other children picked on him for always knowing the answer. 

“I promise, J. It’s going to be okay.”  

There was something safe about Scott’s arms. He didn’t need to speak for his brother to know what he wanted. They stayed there, Scott either not noticing or uncaring that John was soaking his shirt. After a while, he dozed off, exhausted by the day’s events. 

“How is he?” The quiet voice drew him back to alertness. He was still in Scott’s arms but as he regained consciousness, he felt a soft blanket being placed on his shoulders. 

“How you’d expect,” Scott said. “Still can’t speak. The guy who did this to him?” 

“In custody.” It was their dad’s voice. “About to get hit with everything our lawyers can get on him.” 

“Good.” 

“I’ll take him,” their dad offered, but Scott’s grip tightened. 

“I’ve got him.”  

“Virgil’s gone to find coffee and Gordon and Alan are checking the penthouse is secure if we need to stay in town.” 

“It is secure. He wasn’t taken from there.” 

“I know that, and you know that, but your brothers don’t, do they?” 

Scott gave a small chuckle that John felt reverberating through his entire body. No doubt their siblings needed something to do, and John was glad they weren’t all crowding him when he couldn’t reassure them. 

He tapped Scott’s forearm with one finger. His brother’s hold changed until he helped John sit up. John pulled the blanket further around his shoulders, although he wasn’t sure if he was cold or not. 

“Hey, kiddo,” his dad said warmly. “Wanna let your brother off the floor?” 

He took his father’s outstretched hand, allowing him to draw him first to his feet, then into a hug. John smiled weakly when the man drew back. 

“Still no luck, huh?” 

John shook his head and glanced away. It was bad enough that Scott had seen his emotions overcome him. He didn’t want his dad seeing them too. 

“Don’t mind me,” Scott pretended to grumble as he got to his feet. “I’m just the one that’s had a sleeping lump on me for the last hour or so.” 

“You’ll survive,” Jeff said lightly. John appreciated that they were giving him something else to focus on.  

He reached out, touching Scott’s arm and nodding in appreciation. Scott smiled. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

John sat down on the edge of the bed, absently rubbing his throat, wondering, praying, that it was feeling any different. He couldn’t tell.  

He pulled the pad towards him, flicking to his last message to Scott and turning the paper to face his father. 

If I can’t speak... 

He was only supposed to be home for another couple of days. Alan had come down early so Brains could run some maintenance. John was due back on Thunderbird Five by the end of the week. They needed a plan, needed a contingency... 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” his dad murmured. “We’ll deal with that as and when the time arrives. I’ve spoken to your doctors. They aren’t sure why the drug hasn’t worn off, but have a few options of things they want to try. We’re nowhere near the end of the line yet, Johnny.” 

He nodded glumly. They were speaking sense. He’d be the first to tell one of the others not to panic; there was still time and alternatives before they needed to dwell on worst case scenarios. But it was apparently a lot easier reassuring them than it was himself. 

He drew his knees up, hugging them to his chest, feeling young and vulnerable. His family appeared around him, gentle touches and words of reassurance as they tried to make him feel better. But every time he tried to say something, nothing happened. 

Gordon and Alan exchanged worried looks. Virgil was pouring over his chart, murmuring suggestions out loud to Scott, who was watching John and probably not understanding a word. Their dad was once again talking to the doctors somewhere out of sight. 

They’d sat around a bedside, all of them together, countless times over the years. Maybe it was a good thing that John couldn’t tell them to just leave him alone. He was feeling crowded, slowly suffocating under their concern. 

When he finally looked up, he felt Gordon’s eyes on him. There wasn’t pity or sympathy, but understanding. He, more than the rest of them, knew what it meant to lose the one thing that defined who you were and not be sure if you were going to get it out. 

“Everyone!” Gordon called, waiting until the voices had faded away. “Get lost.” 

Alan opened his mouth to protest, but Virgil looked between Gordon and John and grabbed his arm, pulling him out.  

Gordon followed them to the door, poking a finger in Scott’s chest.  

“You, stay.” 

“Yes, sir,” Scott said sarcastically but Gordon was already leaving, calling after the other two to wait up. 

“Budge up,” Scott said, climbing onto the bed next to him. He reached for the TV remote, flicking it on and channel-hopping until he found something vaguely interesting. John wasn’t paying attention to the show, and he doubted Scott was either, but the feeling of his brother’s shoulder pressed against his said more than any words could. 

It was late by the time the doctor returned. His dad had joined them, flicking through his datapad but content to not speak. John highly doubted the other three had gone back to the penthouse like they were supposed to, but were no doubt lurking in the hospital somewhere, waiting for news. 

“We’re going to try something,” the doctor said. He held up a syringe. “With your permission?” 

Scott shuffled out of the way. John looked from the needle to the doctor, and shuddered. 

“I’m here, J,” Scott murmured. His dad also stood up to stand the other side of the bed. 

“We both are.” 

John couldn’t watch. He closed his eyes as the doctor approached. There was a sharp scratch that made him suck in an involuntary breath, but nothing like the pain from before. He swallowed hard. 

“Give it a minute, and try and speak,” the doctor instructed.  

John did so. 

Nothing. 

Not a sound escaped him. 

He looked at the doctor, desperate, but the man was frowning. 

“I hoped that would work. Right, let’s see what else we can do. Don’t you worry, Mr Tracy, we won’t let this beat us.” 

John wasn’t sure which ‘Mr Tracy’ he was talking to, but the doctor hurried out of the room, muttering to himself. 

“I’ll find out the plan,” Jeff said, squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t worry.” 

He went after the man. Scott grimaced. 

“I won’t ask if you’re okay,” he said.  

A treacherous tear slipped from John’s eye, but Scott caught it on his thumb.  

“You heard the doc, Johnny. He’s not given up. Neither should you.” 

John nodded, not able to look Scott in the eye. He couldn’t fall apart on him, not again. Scott seemed to read that in his expression. 

“I’ll give you a minute,” he said. “Fill the others in.” 

Gordon had always needed someone by his side when he was injured or sick. Virgil always wanted Scott. But John had preferred his own space and knew that Scott was trying to respect that now. His brother turned away, heading to the door. 

STAY! Screamed John’s mind. 

“Stay.” 

Scott whipped around, grinning. John blinked at him. 

“What did you just say?” 

Slowly, realisation crept upon John. He hadn’t just said it in his mind. He’d spoken the word, out loud. 

[tofuto-official]

My OC, SD-L before she was corrupted by The Chimera Code + back when she was a worker drone

Some Context!

L was never good at the murdering drones thing and would hesitate when she sees her target crying or screaming in pain.

The rest of her team thought her program was “faulty” but in reality, it’s just what’s left of her old programming. She was a drone programmed to look after children and be a substitute teacher, that’s why when she became a DD she thought everyone was just on a Girl Scout mission so she acts more approachable/softer than the others. However, she does get the job done with some convincing from her teammates bc they need oil to survive. (yes, I’m bringing that idea back for DD’s cuz I do not like how they got rid of it in the show)

Her good nature might be the reason she ended up deactivated, I’m not sure yet. Gotta think of a story for that one. I might design the two other team members IF I’m not lazy. This is all for now lol.

Feel free to ask me if you have any questions abt her, I love answering em 😈

[Also, might be posting less MD this month bc I have a LOT of work to do irl and I’m working on other projects]

[chdarling]

Its a curse. No matter what story I read I always have to compare it to yours. Your writing and characterization is just perfect especially your Lily and James. I loved how you made James re-think his actions and when he questioned himself about being a bad person. Lily is often either a goody-goody or the biggest bitch alive. It really got me thinking when you said that shes kind but not nice. I am so excited for Lilys reaction when she finds out that the dog she revealed her secrets to is actually Sirius omg 🫶🫶🫶

I know its not a common question but when and where do you write? Do you have like your writing place or do you just begin if you have an idea. And another: Have you written many later scenes without writing the earlier ones?

Thank you so much 🥺❤️

I write in a lot of places!

I have my insane power user desktop set up (I have 4 monitors inherited from different jobs that thought it was less expensive to just give them to me when I quit rather than have me ship them back lol), but tragically this space has been spiritually tainted by remote work so I mostly only use it for plotting purposes when I need multiple screens. (I look like a serious business hacker gal with all my screens until you zoom in and see they’re all about my blorbos).

I’m not at Terry Pratchett levels yet but this is the vibe:

I also have a little secretary desk in my living room and this is where I tend to write the most actual prose. Unplug the Internet, close everything except my scrivener doc, sit in the slightly uncomfortable dining chair my kitten has chewed to bits, and disappear from the world for hours. This is why I have back pain. :)

I also write on my phone a lot, usually when walking. I will 100% stop in the middle of the sidewalk (or politely step aside if it’s crowded, I’m not a monster) and hash out a full scene of dialogue if it arrives while I’m commuting, which it often does. Yes I have been late to work this way on more than one occasion haha.

As far as the when, that varies. During a good, fruitful writing season, it’s any moment I can get. During periods of burnout and block (which tragically I am weathering right now), I have to make a concerted effort. I have made it a habit to write every day first thing in the morning (well, after feeding the cats, I’m not a monster). These days it’s mostly just a free write/brain dump of everything in my head, but hey, it’s words. During better writing times, I have been known to crank out an entire chapter before work 😭

And to your final question, oh yes, I write totally out of order. I have more of TLE4 written than I do TLE3 haha. But I find this fun because then I get to sneak in all sorts of foreshadowing nonsense. 😈

Thanks for the kind words and fun questions!

[haedre]

I can thirst him in so many ways lmao.

But specifically in one fic where he plays the mind game with a certain prisoner… being all gentle, loving, seductive, caring, at moments when this said prisoner needed those comforts the most. Then he does the whiplash thing, hot and cold, doing all the most vile and unspeakable things to him all at the same time. Torture, or aiding in the torture process, and even *worse* things. So cruel so evil. All that false hope, confusion, seduction, and it was so, so brutal. You don’t know if he really had any feeling for this prisoner or he is playing his dutiful part or if he is sadistically enjoying all of it. Truly living up to his names as Gorthaur the Cruel. Well tbh I’m still reeling from it 🙂.

I also love love love him with melkor. Both subbing and being dominant and assertive with him. All that devotion and worship and loyalty and angst and pain/grief 🙂🙂. In my mind he gave his true heart only ever to Melkor (ofc bc I pretty much only ship angbang).

So yea I know most ppl see this completely differently but I just don’t see him truly fall for someone else, he will have feelings to quite a few characters and obsess over them but he won’t let himself go too far into it, and will stay in control if you know what I mean. So most of time you’ll see a lot of ambiguity and confusion and hot and cold probably. Glimpses of possessiveness/jealousy as well, yes. And unable to share. and being mean, or even petty - it makes sense because he is ultimately very selfish and arrogant and have little to no regards to other people’s will. Plus I just like the confusion part and the idea of ambiguity, it adds to the sense of danger and thrill to me 😉

COMPLETELY OUT OF CANON DISCUSSION ALERT!

After all the discussion and interesting ideas from you guys yesterday because of my analysis. I was wondering what kind of lover Sauron would be. I'm not respecting canon here guys, let's just talk as people thirsty for Sauron. :)

I read all your answers and was left thinking, because I agreed with several of them. I believe, as some pointed out, that Sauron would relate to more people at the same time, seeking a goal in the end, weaving his victims into his web of desires and obsessions.

It was a super interesting line and I don't remember who suggested it first. But, it also made me think of another side of Sauron. Be warned that this will stray even further from canon and I honestly don't care, because well, this is for fun.

Yes, I believe that Sauron would have multiple lovers when he wanted to achieve something. But I'm totally addicted to a vision of Sauron as more possessive, jealous. A version in which he is so obsessed with a person that he is incapable of sharing that person and would freak out if any other being, of any species, was interested in his object of desire.

Maybe I read too many fics and this is blowing my mind. But I'm curious now. Tell me what kind of lover you think Sauron would be!

[thatonepikminperson]

HEY GUYS “““““FUN”””””” PIKMIN 4 CHALLENGE

[rhymeswithumbrella]

you know what really pisses me off? so many people acting like he is the worst person out there and no one will miss him. A LOT of people are grieving now and missing him including people that these people supposedly follow and care about. liam was not the supervillain people wanted him to be. he was messed up and did messed up things likely because of what happened to him. this conversation deserves so much more nuance than people are giving it. and maybe it’s too early to have this conversation now but it’s helping me process and grieve so i’m really writing this for me. people are complex and doing bad things doesn’t make you a bad person or someone worthy of death without being given the chance to make things right. and another thing, it is SO hypocritical to make fun of him and look down on him like he’s the ultimate Bad Guy meanwhile i bet every single person you have ever admired in the spotlight has likely also done bad things or at least things you wouldn’t be proud of. fame is an illness and it can cause people to harm others because they were hurt themselves. human beings are a culmination of everything that they’ve been through and everything they’ve done. he is not only the bad things he’s done and it’s okay and normal to grieve him as a whole person, because he was one.

[aggressivedaikons]

PART ONE OF MY WILLIAM MILLER AU!!! THIS TOOK SO LONG BUT IM SO PROUD!!! Most of this is the setup of how this happened, so if I find the motivation to actually continue this (more likely than not) then you’ll get some (half written) plot!!!

Part #2

If you liked this, PLEASE consider reblogging. I worked really hard on this and it would mean a lot to me if you helped this reach more people >.<

[briskoftrouty]

The thing about Sam was, even if he was hurt, angry he knew what it was like to feel small. To feel those insecurities. He knew what it was like to feel like you weren’t enough, the situations you were pushed into, were fate. And he knew Quinn, and yes some qualities the self serving, the thinking she’s queen of the school were some he personally could do without. But there was no denying even when bandaged up, even when she was in pain, the bruises on her face from the accident she was drop dead gorgeous. And Sam knew he wasn’t ready to jump in and fully trust the blonde. But sometimes all a girl needed was that reassurance that she was beautiful, and he meant it. She was. 

And the quinn he got was different from how she constantly represented herself around others. She had a good heart, even if she tended to shield herself. I think it had to do with how her dad treated her when he found out she did the ultimate disappointment move, which was be pregant. So she tried to be perfect so no one judged her, so no one saw underneath the scars of hurt. Of that lack of love. Sam understood quinn or so he believed he did. All that to say; the male was one to smile and nod his head now. “ I’m here to lean on, if you need me.” Supportive was by nature. Being a friend it was a given, Sam couldn’t with a good conscious slip away and leave the blonde to fend for herself. And her mother did like him, he could imagine the way she was giddy, setting up the place sets at the table for three, I liked her mom but she was also a tad pushy if you asked me. All that to say; the male was slightly dreading confirming his friendly behavior because her mother would probably try to push the get back together agenda. Which was one he’d swallow his pride and be polite about.

By now the pair had turned the corner within the car, and were just inches from the curb where he’d be parking his car. “ I know sometimes you don’t think you’ve changed, but you have Quinn, yeah you still that girl who wants to be on top, but you also care about the glee club and your at the state where you know we only want the best for you.” A reassuring smile on his lips as he nodded with encouragement. “ Yeah, just don’t let her push me into a corner okay.” We both expected how her mother would be, a playful wink left his eye as he slowed into a stop.

Continued

@teasedontplease

Broken hearts; the break ups haunt you. Sam always had a big heart; he felt it came from being a big brother. He tended to sugarcoat his feelings in order to put his siblings first. He cared about others more than he wanted to care about himself. When it came to Lima he felt he’d be the outcast, he never expected to be recruited from the glee club, or to make it onto the football team. He wanted to be involved. He wanted to be liked. But he got more than he felt he deserved. 

Quinn; she was the princess, the sweetheart of the cheerios. She was the it girl; and I liked her instantly. The second I laid eyes on her I felt that flutter in my chest. And I knew I wanted to win her over. She had reservations, she had her own secrets. Obviously he heard the rumors of her history; of the gossip mill. But Sam never cared he didn’t care about her mistakes from the year before. I cared about getting to know the her now. I had been stupid and naive to believe the blonde would fall in love with me. I had been stupid and got wrapped up in the us i wanted. Did I think too far beyond high school? Absolutely not. I had no idea what my future looked like; I played the days one at a time. I tried to replay the days that led up to the female cheating on me. Could I have do something differently? Was it my fault she felt the need to fall into the arms of an ex? Sam kept replaying the thoughts in his mind. And he was the good guy; the guy that cared a tad too much until she gave me the reason to turn my back on her. My biggest mistake was falling for Santana’s game; believing her when she told me she thought I should know. I was hurt, I felt my heart break into two. 

I lashed out; I felt out of character being with Santana; but it was easier than to face the hurt I felt. Each time I looked at her I felt the tighten of my chest, I felt the thought of wanting to cry spring to my eyes, but Quinn didn’t deserve me to react; she had hurt me on her own. But I also was sorry for hurting her instead of being the man my dad raised me to be which was to comfort the people who upset you. To comfort those that did you wrong. I had morals and for a few weeks I lost sight of it. But now I knew I was wrong; and that’s why I felt a piece of myself was forgiving Quinn. I cared enough to drag her out of her house after the accident. I cared enough to look her in the eye; to lash it out with each other. 

Tension and awkwardness; but I think the storm passed as we sat within the walls of my car. I felt the tension slowly wash away; I felt like we had to forgive ourselves before being able to be friends. Did I love Quinn? Yes; no doubt, but I was in no means prepared to jump right in. She had to earn the right to make her way into my heart again. Today wasn’t about us; it was about her; the want to take her mind off her injuries for a few hours. I had a plan in notion; the movie in the park; it would be dark in a few hours; and even if we sat in the car facing the screen I think she’d smile because it was her favorite movie. Well one of them. 

Hand rested on the wheel at the subject of prom. Did I detect a hint of hopefulness in her voice? Did I detect that she wanted me to ask her? Maybe a few months ago I would’ve but now? I didn’t trust myself or the blonde sitting in the seat next to me. I had tried to dodge the answer; not wanting to hurt Quinn and I didn’t lie. Tina and mike did want to go as a group; well more like I was tagging along as the third wheel. I had to laugh at myself how pathetic..? The blonde held his laugh until I turned his gaze over to the female. A soften gaze fixed onto his features. 

“ You know, I’m sure if you wanted you can tag along with the group, the more the better right?” A lightness to his voice shown, as he extended his hand out to place upon her own. A small touch to say he understood. “ I think each one of us is, for what it’s worth, you always have my vote for queen.” A softness in him; his eyes fixated on her; holding her gaze, a moment; one where he knew he was going to be in trouble.

[jane-not-rizzoli]

*Endless suffering*

[ninawolv3rina]

Cenobite design that’s been brewing for a couple years now - Meet The Spine.

OC: The Spine (They/Them)

[lale-txt]

friends tell me lore about a tattoo of yours

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

All I’m going to say I think now that my brain remembered part of what it was thinking is that Taylor and Joe went through a lot together (good and bad) and regardless of how it ended or what led to it they both seem to be determined to keep that private and not throw each other under the bus and in the end they’re just two very, very different people whose outlooks in the long term were just never going to align and never has that been clearer.