#and knows what it takes to carry guilt even though she rejects it

[icarryitin]

Comeback Kid

spencer reid/gn!reader

and if i’ve also come back from the dead (purely out of guilt for missing last week)??? what then??

series masterlist

word count: 1.2k // warnings: a few swear words i think, grief, discussions re emily’s ‘death’, it’s not specifically referenced but you could read reader’s reaction as a panic attack

summary - Turns out the dead do walk amongst the living, not that anyone thought to tell you.

You’re pretty sure you’re going to be sick. Which would be a shame, because these are new shoes. And they’re cute, even if they still pinch your toes a little, that and you’d rather not vomit in front of everyone else. Though, they all look just as green as you feel.

Emily Prentiss is dead.

You know this.

Because you collapsed when you saw them carrying her out of the warehouse, the fresh scars on your knees where they split open on the concrete prove it. Because she never came out of the hospital. Because you went to her funeral, to her wake. Because you barely held back your tears as you shook her mother’s hand, and stammered through an apology for her loss. Because the person you trust most in this world retreated so far into himself, so far away from you, that you spent weeks worrying he’d never come back. You’ve only just stopped having nightmares. Of warehouses, red and blue lights, Morgan’s bloodied hands. You’re still getting back into the swing of things - Spencer cracked his first smile in months only last week.

You know this. And yet, there she is. Standing in front of you as if no time has passed, as if you’re supposed to just forget all of that. Your eyes peel themselves away from Emily in the doorway to find Hotch, to search for any indication of how you’re supposed to react. Except he’s not shocked, he’s apprehensive. He knew - he fucking knew. There’s a rational part of your brain that isn’t surprised, there’s very little that happens on this earth that Aaron Hotchner isn’t privy to. But you don’t expect JJ to have the same nervous look on her face. JJ, the one who told you all that Emily hadn’t made it. Who looked her own team, her own family, in the face and lied to you. They both did; for safety, for security. Sure. It still hurts like hell.

Spencer’s hand tenses in the corner of your eye, knuckles white where he grips the back of the chair he stands behind. You’re afraid to look closer. To see him pull back again, from everyone this time, maybe for good. Your own hands shake where they wring themselves in front of you - that’s where you choose to focus your gaze. You don’t want to watch Penelope cry in Emily’s arms, you don’t want to see everybody else forgive and forget. You don’t want to look at her just yet.

You’re not ready.

But then there are warm hands around yours, and you can’t delay it any more. God, you want to stay mad. You want to be aloof and cold and stubborn - but she’s back, and isn’t that what you’ve wanted for the last however many months?

Emily’s grip on your clasped hands is so gentle it threatens to break your resolve. You’re holding strong, averting your eyes to the ceiling to keep the tears at bay.

“Breathe.”

That’s what gets you.

It’s not the first time Emily Prentiss has held your hands in hers and reminded you to take a breath - it drags you right back into a younger version of yourself, just as distraught, just as tense. Her calm, even tone shatters you the same way it did back then. She catches you the same way too, squeezes you so tightly it hurts. You’re not any lighter in your grip around her shoulders. The familiarity of it is painful, almost as painful as it is to watch Spencer take half a step back when she pulls away from you to approach him. Her disappointment at his rejection is clear on her face, although it disappears as quickly as it came - schooled into a tight-eyed smile instead. She’s not angry at him, you don’t think, she understands the hesitation.

It’s like an itch you can’t reach from the word go. Hyper-aware of every movement you make, every twitch from your teammates, every breath. The hammer will fall eventually, and the longer it takes the more mess it’ll make. It’s fairly easy, given the stakes, to skirt around Emily’s return for the time being - although it looms like a thundercloud. And then Ian Doyle is dead, and there’s no avoiding it anymore.

Spencer is the first one to leave the office, unsurprisingly. You’re next, only a minute later, the churning in your stomach far too strong to ignore. Now that there’s no case to distract you? Your anger is starting to build, it wouldn’t be fair to let everyone get swept up in the shockwave of it. The rational part of your brain knows that it was a necessary evil - that Hotch and JJ keeping this from you was for the safety of Emily and the team. The less rational part wants to throw a tantrum like a toddler. And if you don’t take the time to get yourself together, the toddler will win.

You’re sure Spencer had the same idea, when you exit the building to find him kicking stray pebbles back into the gravel surrounding the paving stones. So you don’t say anything as you pass, you leave him to his stewing. He doesn’t extend you the same courtesy.

“Where do you land on this?” His eyes are wide, earnest, he’s genuinely curious. He’s not looking for an argument or an excuse to rant about it all, he’s unsure.

“I feel sick,” You can’t be anything but honest, “I know why they did it, but I don’t have to like it.”

Spencer says nothing, just looks back at the pebbles on the ground.

“Neither do you.” You double down - he gives reassurance so freely, but so rarely asks for it himself. He’s allowed to feel whichever way he wants for however long he wants to feel it, you’re sure Emily would say the same. Though he only shrugs when you tell him so.

There’s not a lot anyone could say to dig him out of the hole he’s sinking back into, but you’re stubborn when it comes to your friends. Spencer, a little more so maybe than the others. He’d do it for you. The offer of pizza, via the library that stays open late, is enough to raise his head from the pebbles by his shoes.

A book, dinner, and absolutely no expectation of conversation. You’re not all that up to talking things over either, parallel dissociation in a public space might just be exactly what the doctor ordered. Pun half-intended. It doesn’t quite tug a smile out of him, though you’re not expecting it to. His careful footsteps on the pavement, just behind yours, are a comfort. He’s not pulling away like before.

Whether or not Spencer will ever address that is a different question - those weeks where he barely existed to himself, let alone anybody else. Much less you, who would have unraveled his careful shield of apathy with one look. It had been better, safer, to pull back entirely. He’d put it all on JJ, and she’d known the whole time. There’s a wave of fresh anger that crests in his chest when he remembers. The fury dulls the further you lead him away from the building, further into town, towards the safety of bookshelves and cheap Italian food. He wants to apologise for it all, but words fail him. They do more often than not when it comes to you, a superpower you seem to use for evil whether you know it or not. But tonight, he’ll take it. The silence. Because it’ll all be there in the morning, all the complicated feelings and confusion, he doesn’t have to say a single thing for the rest of the night if he doesn’t want to.

For now, he can rest with you.

i didn’t know how to wrap this one up and it SHOWS wow😬😬 i may or may not come back to revisit this…

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Tommy and Lucy decide to put the suite they got for themselves and May to good use.

Word Count: 5,338

Notes: There was supposed to be more actual plot in this chapter, but I couldn't resist giving them a moment of peace and fluffiness before shit hits the fan in the next couple of chapters. Warnings for depictions of smut and references to polyamory.

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Chapter 15: More Than Enough

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked, thumb petting at her shoulder where his hand was still holding her, the mist coming off of the cut swirling around their ankles. Lucy hadn’t said much at all since May had departed, staring down at her boots, watching them sink slightly into the mud with every step. When she sighed, her shoulder shifted under his hand, her face angling up to look at him, the top of her head bumping into the bicep of the arm he had wrapped around her. 

“Yeah,” her lips pouted slightly, giving a small shake of her head. “I just really liked her, you know?” 

“I know,” he said in agreement, swallowing roughly.

If only you could change.

The thought had burrowed like a parasite in his brain, coiling in his head, refusing to allow him peace.

If he'd been able to change, maybe Grace would still be alive. Maybe they would not be locked in a deadly war with the Italians. John would still be breathing. Lucy would have an actual chance at peace, not burdened with having to care for him and his mess of a head each and every day. May wouldn’t have left. 

All his fault. All because he couldn’t seem to figure out how to be a better man.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured softly, thumb still stroking up and down against the thick material of Lucy’s overcoat. She peered up at him again in puzzlement. 

“What? Why?”

“If it weren’t for me she might have stayed…”

“It’s not your fault,” she said firmly. “She…” Lucy trailed off a moment, eyes staring out at the cut while she gathered her thoughts, lip caught between her teeth. “Neither of us can give her what she wants. I think that part of why she came at all was to see if that had changed, and it hasn’t. And it isn’t going to. But that's not your fault. It just wasn’t going to work. Stopping things before they get more complicated was probably for the best,” though the disheartened tone to her voice significantly undercut her words. “At least if we all want to remain on good terms with her.”

Tommy nodded silently. He knew that she was probably right, though the guilt still chewed at him. 

After Grace, neither of them had even entertained the idea of a third party entering their relationship again. They had returned to how things had been before her arrival in their lives: just the occasional encounters with whores when they were looking for something to spice things up a little, or seductions carried out for business reasons. Nothing more serious than that.

May was the only one who may have even had a chance. And it would not have been the same as it was with Grace. Though that did not mean that it couldn’t have been good. 

Lucy wasn’t wrong, though. It was for the best that May had recognized that she could not get what she wanted from them. Better for all three of them that she take a step back, rather than stay and cling to misguided hope that she could change them or insist on being given something they were unable to provide. 

Hell, Lizzie’s latest temper tantrum had been a perfect example of why that mindset would bring nothing but misery to all of them. 

Still, the rejection from May smarted. They could have had a good time together. And not just at the suite he’d booked for them.

He sighed. It would be alright. The sting would fade away with time. Besides, they had each other. That was more than enough.    

Lucy’s hand lifted to take his, thumb stroking across his knuckles while her head leaned a little into him. Her big eyes were sad, reflecting the same hurt that he was feeling. 

He squeezed her fingers, looking around with a frown, attempting to think of some way to cheer her up. 

“You know,” he wetted his lips. “That suite is already paid for…”

Her gaze raised to his, eyebrow lifting, mischievous glint already starting to reignite behind the deep green of her eyes. “Is that so?”

They had walked far enough away from the boats and main streets that the path they were on was completely deserted, save for a few birds watching them from nests in the trees growing out of the bank of the river. So he had no qualms about his actions as he turned, removing his arm from her shoulders to instead rest on her waist, pushing her lightly against the wall of the canal.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pressing his body to hers, mouth dropping to place a deep, slow kiss to the bright red, tempting lips currently curling into a fond smile at his movements. “We could order one of the girls from Billy…or it could be just us.” He spoke between kisses pressed to her mouth, then her throat, pressing himself more flush against her when she tilted her head to give him better access to her neck, hands knotting in the lapels of his overcoat. She made a soft sound from somewhere low in her chest when he brushed across the particularly sensitive spot below the right side of her jaw, and he felt his cock begin to stir.

“Hm��” she considered, interlacing her hands at the nape of his neck while he nudged his forehead against hers, kissing her again slowly, sucking briefly on her bottom lip before letting it go with a pop. “I’d rather it be just us.”

He nodded, the answer what he’d expected, tilting his head for another kiss. She reciprocated for a moment, then pulled away with a giggle.

“You keep that up and we aren’t going to make it to the suite, love.”  

He chuckled, giving her one last kiss and pulling away, albeit reluctantly. Her body was soft and warm under his hands, the scent of her rose perfume rich and sweet. She took the hand he held out eagerly, small fingers clasping firmly in his as he started to pull her along the path, towards where it let out onto a busier street that would take them to the hotel. 

“How did things go with Devlin?” she asked as they walked. He sighed. There was yet another reason why it was probably ultimately for the best that May had left, after all. 

“I think that we may have to fuck Jessie Eden.”

Lucy didn’t appear overly surprised at the statement, though she did raise an eyebrow at him. “What does that have to do with Devlin?” her nose wrinkled. “I hope you don’t have some sort of foursome idea in mind, because he’s really not my type…”

He snorted in spite of himself, nudging her fondly with a roll of his eyes. “The strikers are getting more aggressive. We need help with them. I’ve asked Ada to meet with her and extend an invitation for us to have dinner with her.”

“And how exactly do you intend to get her into bed? Considering the whole part where she hates your guts and all?”

“I’ll charm her with stories of my impoverished youth.”

Now it was her turn to snort. “I know you’re half joking, but I honestly think that might work.”

“You can soften her up a bit by helping to showcase my more progressive attitudes towards women.”

“By ‘progressive’ I’m assuming that you mean things other than your willingness to fuck more than one woman at a time?” 

“Preferably.”

“She might not go for both of us. I don’t think she’s all too fond of me either. We’ve gotten really lucky in the past, you know.”

They had. It was always a bit of a coin flip if the women they intended to bed would be amiable to both of them. But they had rules and they always stuck to them: both of them, or neither of them.

“If that’s the case, then we’ll figure something else out,” he said simply, glancing over at her hastily. “You’re alright with it?”

He always made sure. If she wasn’t, they wouldn’t pursue it. End of discussion.

Lucy shot him an affectionate look, clearly grateful for his asking. “I am.”

They had come to the steps of the Midland, his fingers flexing against hers as he gave her a tender look. She followed him to the doors, waiting at his side while he checked in at the front desk, acquiring the key for the room and heading quickly to the elevators. 

The door to the suite opened up into a sitting area, decked out with deep red couches and plush rugs. A tiny kitchen and dining table was tucked away in the corner near the window, hallway leading towards where he assumed the bedroom was located.

Lucy wandered in, looking over the sitting room and peering out the window to the street below. It was rare that they got a suite; often when staying at the Midland they just got a single room. Peeling off his coat to hang on one of the hooks by the door, Tommy watched her, black coat swishing around her legs, her fingers, nails painted a bright red and adorned with multiple, plain golden rings, fumbled together in that unconscious way that they so often did.

She dragged off her own cap, tucking it away into her pocket. Like a blazing halo of fire around her head, her red hair fell free from where it had been mostly tucked under the hat, shifting against her cheeks and chin when she moved, the curls free and loose. She had always hated using products or overly styling her hair, often rolling her eyes at the idea. 

“Why bother when it’s going to spend most of the day squished under my cap, anyway?”

He suspected that her aversion to having her hair tugged also had at least somewhat of an influence on those feelings. But he appreciated the decision. It made her hair soft and pleasant to run his fingers through.    

She pulled off her coat along with the suit jacket she had on underneath, draping both across the back of a plush armchair, and he was left to swallow hard at the unimpeded sight of her waistcoat and trousers fitted so snugly to her body.  

“Love,” he said, hoarsely, not sure how much longer he could go without touching her. Face turning his way, her red lips quivered upwards at whatever she must’ve heard in his voice, head cocking ever so slightly before approaching him. 

He pulled her into his arms with a mumbled “c’mere,” mouth descending upon hers. She smiled against his lips, fingers coiling in the material of his suit jacket. His hand smoothed along her waist, feeling how it dipped in before flaring out into round hips, fingers skimming over curves that never failed to make his mouth water.

She shoved his suit jacket from his shoulders, letting it collapse noisily to the floor. He moaned softly into her mouth as he ran his hand along one of her breasts, cupping it firmly through the layers of her clothes, feeling the weight of it in his palm. She looped her arms around his neck, drawing his face down closer to hers. 

In one quick movement he picked her up, an arm under her thighs and the other around her waist, holding her bridal-style against his chest. With measured steps, he carried her towards the bedroom as they continued to kiss–a little sloppily, noses bumping against each other every once in a while as a result of his movements.

The bedroom was lush; dimly lit, with a massive bed in the center, tall, upholstery headboard towering above it. An ornate chest of drawers decorated with intricate, painted details was pushed against one wall next to a nearly floor length mirror, the windows large, but covered by half-sheer curtains. To the left, the carpet gave way to tile, opening up into a washroom. At the wall opposite the foot of the bed stood a massive, porcelain bathtub.

He set her down gingerly onto the bed, immediately raising up and crawling on top of her, kissing her with a deep inhale of air, fingertips laying on her cheeks. Lucy put her arms around his shoulders, lips parting to his, and when he shifted to sloth a thigh between her legs, she made a sound that vibrated against his tongue and sent shots of arousal directly to his cock, already stiffening rapidly in his trousers with every soft touch and sound. 

He pushed his thigh up more firmly into her, grinding it slightly against her clothed cunt, and her head fell back against the mattress with a sharp whine, legs twitching. Tommy had to fight back a self-satisfied smirk at the reaction, placing tender kisses to her cheekbone. 

She started tugging, rather insistant, at his waistcoat and the shirt underneath, and he sat up to help her with the buttons, Lucy following him so that she could pepper kisses down his neck. The moment that his chest was bare, her hands were all over him, sliding across the naked skin, tracing delicately along his scars and tattoos, making him shiver when she passed over one of his nipples or a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

He smoothed his hands on her, rucking up the material of her waistcoat and shirt where it was tucked into her trousers, tangling in her hair, pulling clumsily at her belt. Pushing on his shoulders, she rolled them so that she was on top of him, leaning back just enough to rearrange herself in his lap, giggling when he rested both palms on her shoulder blades, urging her closer.      

“Mm,” she purred as he pawed at her breasts through her shirt, suddenly very badly needing her to be bare. 

To be fair, he was always overly eager to get her naked, but that wasn’t the point. 

Her hands fumbled to help undo the buttons, arms spreading wide to let him pull the waist coat and shirt off of her arms, wasting no time undoing her bra and tossing that away as well. 

“Remind me when we’re done that I want to take a dip in that bathtub before we leave,” she mumbled, head tipping back, hands sliding into his hair as he dipped his face to press the first of many kisses to her chest. His gaze shot up to hers sharply at the offhand comment, brow raising.  

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” His attempt to appear cross didn’t really have the effect that he wanted, bemusement sneaking its way into his voice. She shot him a cheeky grin.       

“You can join me, if you want.”

He hummed at the thought, the mental image of her all wet, half submerged in the water beneath him with soap bubbles clinging to her skin only fueling his building need for her. He angled his face up, stretching forward to catch her lips in another kiss before returning to his previous task of reacquainting his mouth with her chest. The scent of roses invaded his senses, and Lucy moaned as he laved his tongue across one of her nipples, palming at her other breast while he worked.      

Her legs crossed behind the small of his back, hands clenching in his hair and drawing her nails down his arms, just enough to leave very light red scratches in their wake. His erection throbbed needily against the seam of his trousers, aching to be freed. 

At the first grind of her hips against his, a deep growl rumbled from his chest, rolling his hips up to meet her. Shots of pleasure raced down his spine at the sensation. 

Switching sides so that he was giving attention with his mouth to the other breast, he dropped the hand that had been cradling the middle of her back to follow the curve of her waist until he came to her belt, working to undo it. It only took a moment for one of her hands to join his in getting it loosened.    

She had to raise up off of him and the bed to push her trousers down. Tommy followed her movements with a half-desperate gaze, entirely intoxicated on her, watching the way that her breasts bounced as she hopped from one foot to the other to loosen the laces on her boots and wriggle them off. Sitting up and scooting towards her until his legs dangled off of the bed, Tommy wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her in close so he could press his lips to the spider web of scars on her stomach. The stroke of her fingers through his hair made his eyes flutter closed, allowing himself to be momentarily lost in the feeling of her. Moving slow and carefully, he hooked his fingers in the material of her trousers, pulling them down her muscular legs. Nosing at her hip, he ran his hands up her thighs, smiling to himself at the way that they jumped under his palms, sliding up to the swell over her hips, then around to grasp handfuls of her round ass. 

His kisses moved lower, to below her bellybutton, taking hold of her knickers and drawing those down slowly as well, following their descent with his mouth and burying his nose in the soft patch of dark red hair between her legs, deeply inhaling the musky scent of her. 

The wild, pounding need for her flared into a fever pitch. The desire to claim and be claimed.

Seizing her strongly by the waist, he pulled her closer, licking his lips at the sight of her pretty, dripping cunt. Lucy moaned, back arching as his tongue darted out for the first swipe across her folds. 

He set to work at a steady pace, not rushed, but not glacially slow, either. Sometimes, he’d take his time, teasing her with gentle sucks and licks and touches everywhere but exactly where he knew she needed him, until she was crying and babbling, pouting as she tugged at his hair and begged him to please, please, please, touch me, Tommy, please–

He let out a low groan, the taste of her sweet on his tongue. No; he’d save the teasing for another night.

She was positively dripping onto him, wetness coating his mouth and chin. Focusing his tongue on the sensitive bud of her clit, he tentatively brushed a fingertip at her entrance, ensuring that it was properly wet before he breached her. Lucy made a strangled sound, nails scraping pleasantly against his scalp, one of her legs raising up into the air to try to help him get at a deeper angle. He groaned at the action, grabbing her thigh with his free hand, lifting the leg to hook over his shoulder. 

Lucky thing that she was so flexible. That would have been harder to accomplish with someone not so bendy. 

“Oh…” lifting the leg had opened her up more, his finger sliding deep inside of her, splitting her open a bit more while his tongue continued its ministrations. The hand not in his hair latched onto his shoulder, nails biting into the skin there and making him growl from the sting of them. When he curled his finger slightly within her, she whimpered his name, using her grip on his hair to help guide the movements of his mouth. 

He could never get enough moments of her like this: all beautiful and spread out for him, head lolling back with his name in her throat, cunt squeezing and fluttering around his fingers.

“Fuck, Tom–” 

The beginnings of straining pleasure was starting to build up under her skin, the band within her drawing tight. He’d made love to her so many times, he could tell her body’s reactions as easily as his own. The thigh of the leg propped up on his shoulder twitched, and when he peered up, he was treated to the glorious sight of her lost completely in the ecstasy he was providing her: head thrown back and jaw slack to let her moans release freely. His cock pulsed, straining painfully in his trousers, begging to be inside her. 

Not yet. 

Slipping a second finger carefully inside her, he continued his deft strokes, focusing particular attention to the spongy spot inside her that made her gasp every time he brushed against it, tongue relentlessly circling her clit, eyes fixed on her earnestly, committing every little movement, every hitch in breathing and deep moan and twitch of pleasure that crossed her features to memory. 

She came with a cry and a spasm of her whole body, scrabbling for purchase against him while she rode out the waves of it, hips bucking greedily against his mouth, hands clinging to him as if he was all that anchored her to the world. 

The taste of her release on his tongue was better than whiskey, better than cigarettes, and he drank it up eagerly, gratefully, happily taking all that she gave him. And still he longed for more. But he took care to keep his movements gentle and soothing, bringing her down from her high gingerly, keeping mind not to accidentally overstimulate her. His free hand petted her leg tenderly, coaxing her to relax, bringing it, shaking, from where it was draped over his shoulder to rest again on the plush rug, arms going around her waist to make sure that she didn’t fall. 

Lucy hugged his head, holding it to her chest, leaning into him. Tommy nuzzled into her, closing his eyes and relishing in the feeling of her soft skin against his cheek, face tucked comfortably on her bare breasts. Emotion, so often tempered down under the layers of brick and mud and steel that he kept it contained with, bubbled up inside him. 

No one else had ever managed to extend to him such feelings of comfort. Such intimacy and absolute understanding and safety, as Lucy did. He did not have to fear being himself around her. She wouldn’t run away, nor beg him to change, nor flinch away at the bundle of contradictory and warring emotions that ravaged inside of him. Vulnerability was not something he had to fear when he was with her. She knew him. And she loved him. 

With a shiver, he raised his head, cocking it up to stare at her urgently. Her eyes were heavy lidded, still a little glazed with the afterglow of orgasm, small hand cupping his cheek, stroking adoringly. 

He kissed her, and between kisses he told her that he loved her, words that she reaffirmed on the next brief separation of their lips for air. And then she started to kiss his neck, down to his shoulder, along his chest, nuzzling at the tattoo encircling his pec, skimming those soft lips over his nipple in just the right way that she knew always made him shiver. Her hands cupped him briefly in his trousers, where his cock was straining painfully, palming him before moving to his belt. Tommy smoothed a hand over her hair, caressing the soft tendrils before cradling her cheek. She smiled up at him, almost shyly, and turned her head to press a kiss into the center of his palm. 

He groaned to the ceiling when she freed him from his trousers and lowered her head, promptly wrapping her lips around him and swallowing him down almost all the way to the root. Careful not to accidentally push her down or yank on her hair, he rested his palm on the back of her head, just helping guide her bobs on his cock.

Her mouth was divine; the sight alone of her kneeling before him, his erection stretching her jaw to its limits, eyes watering and drool oozing around him, was almost enough to make him come.

“Good girl,” he whispered, stroking her cheek as he praised her, the moans that vibrated along his shaft in answer causing him to hiss. “Look so pretty with my big cock in your mouth, sweetheart.”

She hummed around him, and he let his head fall back, mouth going slack with a deep groan as she took him all the way down, until her nose pressed into the dark curls of his pubic hair, throat convulsing as she purposefully swallowed around him, the sensation sending firecrackers of pleasure shooting up and down his entire cock. It flexed against her tongue, his balls quivering. Tommy let his sounds flow freely, wanting her to know that she was doing a good job. That she was making him feel so fucking good. 

He was often more restrained with others, when it came to noises. It wasn’t even something he was entirely conscious of. Maybe because, often, he was performing, at least to some degree, with the other women. Perhaps it was a result of his seemingly inability to be fully vulnerable and open with anyone other than Lucy. He couldn’t entirely be sure. What he did know was that when it was just them, she could get him to be quite noisy when she wanted him to be. 

“Feels so fucking good, love,” he babbled. A tingling was starting at the base of his spine, cock throbbing harder. She cupped his balls in one hand, gingerly fondling them while the other hand wrapped around the base of his cock, helping to cover what she could not fit in her mouth without deep throating. 

“I’m close,” he warned at the tightening sensation in his balls, eyes rolling in his head when she didn’t let up but instead doubled her efforts, pulling back just enough to suck hard on the sensitive tip before sliding him down deeply into her throat once more. Tommy’s head fell backwards, back arching slightly, fighting back the urge to thrust his hips, not wanting to cause her to gag or choke on him.    

It had never been lost on him how significant it was; that she felt safe enough with him to do this. After everything she’d been through regarding men and sex, it was a miracle she could even let him touch her at all.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Lucy…” he chanted as he started to shoot hot white ropes into her mouth, whole body wracked with his release. His chest heaved, a thin sheen of sweat beading down his skin, hand stroking her head reverently as he came down. 

 His cock twitched weakly at the feeling of her swallowing his thick load, lips cleaning him off thoroughly, from base to tip, sucking on the head for a teasing moment more before letting it go with a small pop. 

He pulled her into his arms the moment that she stood, kissing and nuzzling into her. She let him arrange her into his lap, hugging his shoulders and settling her face into the crook of his neck. 

“So,” he said after a long stretch of comfortable silence, pretty sure that she was dangerously close to dozing off in his arms. He rubbed her waist while he spoke. “You wanted to try out that bathtub?”

She let out a breathless laugh, nodding into his skin, and he patted her once on the hip, reaching around to take hold of her ass, lifting her up with him as he stood. Lucy immediately locked both legs and arms around him as he carried her, setting her down on the edge of the tub so that he could fiddle with the knobs to get the hot water flowing. 

“I think that it’s alright, you know,” she remarked, watching him test the stream of water with his fingers, waiting until he deemed it warm enough before plugging the bottom of the tub. “That May didn’t want to stay with us.”

He raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm,” she kissed his shoulder a few times, nosing at him like an affectionate cat. “You’re more than enough for me.”

He moved to sit on the edge of the tub with her while they waited for it to fill, taking hold of a soft curl that had fallen to rest against her cheek, letting it slide between his fingers before tucking it back behind her ear. 

She really couldn’t say things like that to him; it rendered his heart close to nearly bursting with its affection for her.  

“You’re more than enough for me too.” He kissed her, putting his arm around her while she leaned into him with her head on his shoulder. “You know, if you ever wanted to stop things with all of the others…that would be alright.” Fun as they were, he could live without them. He couldn’t live without Lucy.   

Her head cocked up to look at him, appreciation for the offer blatant in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly, touching his face with the fingertip of her index finger, dropping it to wrap around his back, snuggling closer to him. “Maybe someday. I’ve kind of enjoyed having you mostly to myself this past year.” 

He smiled down at her, kissing between her brows. “Me too.”

He turned off the water once the tub was filled almost three-fourths of the way full, holding her hand to help balance her as she stepped in. A soft groan, not unlike the one she’d let out when he’d had his face buried in her cunt, fell from her lips as she sank into the warm water, eye closing. Tommy smiled to himself at the sight of her so relaxed, standing and grabbing his shorts where they were crumpled in a ball on the floor, pulling them on and going to the nightstand where the suite’s phone sat in its cradle.

“Are you not getting in?” Lucy asked, watching him curiously.

“In a minute,” he pulled open the drawer to the nightstand, finding what he was looking for stacked neatly within. “Are you hungry?” he pulled the menus out, taking one to her. “We can order food from the restaurant downstairs and they’ll bring it up to us.”   

She skimmed through the menu, giving him her order which he repeated into the receiver of the phone, along with another entree for himself and a dessert Lucy picked out for them to share.

“It’ll be ready in about thirty minutes,” he reported, setting down the phone and returning to her. She’d been fiddling with the soap while he talked on the phone, examining the label.

He felt his cock stir in his shorts as he gazed at her, all that white as winter skin dotted with freckles on display. Catching him watching her, she raised a tempting eyebrow, sitting up just enough in the bath that he could see her nipples, hardened in the cool air and coral pink, her full breasts glimmering with droplets of water, rising and falling with every breath.

He swallowed hard, mind already stirring up all sorts of devilish ideas for what he could do to her: climb on top of her in the tub and fuck her while water sloshed around them and onto the floor…let her ride him after he’d covered her in suds from the soap…let her bathe and massage him, her small hand sliding below the water to stroke his cock…carry her from the tub to the bed, not caring about the water they got everywhere as he laid her down and thrusted into her with everything he had…

His cock throbbed achingly, its definitive answer to all suggested scenarios a simple and firm, yes.

 Kneeling by the tub, he kissed her. “Thank that we’ve got enough time?”

She raised an eyebrow, coy. A smirk started to bloom across her face. “For what?”

He slipped off his boxers and climbed into the tub with her. Water sloshed dangerously close to the rim, his body pressing down into hers, arms caging her in by resting on the edge of the tub at either side of her head. Lucy laughed delightedly.

“For this,” he rasped, and kissed her again.  

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[potatomountain]

*739 Yeosang

*739 Masterlist

Synopsis: with sex work legal, it was as readily available as texting *739, filling out the form sent, and setting a time and place with an easy charge to your credit card. Even the more hefty kinks could be fulfilled with a professionalism that was respected, and could be addicting.

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings below cut! taglist at the bottom

Smut warnings: soft dom Yeosang, sub reader. wax play, temperature play, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it). paid sex, sex worker, ice play, slight overstimulation, sensory deprivation, blindfold, voice kink, breath play, massage oils, oral (fem receiving). as always lemme know if i missed any!

They say you make rash decisions when you’re hurt and emotional. They would be right.

Sometimes those decisions work out for the better, sometimes for the worse, you weren’t sure where this decision would lead you. If you asked your friends, they would ask why you hadn’t done this sooner, especially since you had the funds for it.

You might be asking yourself the same thing, staring down at the simple text, knowing that it would result in something memorable. You had the funds, the time, but it never occurred to you to try out the *739 hotline like now.

But coming to the realization that your unrequited love would only be just that, you had acted simply on your need to feel anything but the suffocating rejection and loneliness.

It had started yesterday with, much like right now, a simple text: a picture of the man you carried a flame for with a beautiful woman, too close and intimate to be just friends like you had hoped. One of the few people who knew about your affection for him had spotted him, even overheard part of the conversation that didn’t bode well for you at all, and she had offered to comfort you, telling you that she was there if you needed her.

When you asked what she would do in this situation, you didn’t even question it and just did it: you sent in a request to the *739. Of course that was last night when you were a blubbering mess and through snot and tears that had your face red. Now you were thinking clearer, only to be reminded of what you had done with the text staring you in the face now. 

A message confirming your session in an hour with a man named Yeosang. 

Part of you wanted to cancel, but the larger part guilted you out of that. You already paid for it, already spent nearly an hour filling out the form and signing the disclosures, and even if money wasn’t a concern for you right now… you wanted to give it a chance. Perhaps this really would be an experience to remember, that it would do just what your friend suggested: make you forget the pain.

But then again, looking around your shared apartment, you didn't think you would be getting over your roommate that easily. It was worth a shot though right?

That was enough motivation for you. Climbing out of your nest of blankets you opted to make your bed first, a quick shower to wash away the depression that had begun to sink into your bones, and then you were left just standing in your room… lost.

How does one prepare for this? There were things you had selected in the form that were new to you to begin with, but you were sure a typical bedroom wasn’t the place for. Would this Yeosang come prepared? Would you have to move locations?

It had seemed like your apartment was good enough of a location for the session so you just had to trust the process. That still had you lost on what to do for the next half hour almost. What would you wear? Should you tidy up a bit?

Stressing over the situation, you wandered around the apartment mindlessly tidying up before your state of undress reminded you that clothes would be needed. You settled for something easy to take off, a simple summer dress with a built in bra, clean and cute underwear, and nothing else. If you needed to change you would, but only if you were told to.

Still, by the time there was a knock on your front door your nerves were quite frazzled. You had changed out of the dress three other times only to stick with the dress. Rushing to the door you made a mental check of the apartment, nothing too crazy in the shared living space as you and your roommate kept most personal stuff in your rooms; while that eased some anxiety, you only opened the door a crack and peered out.

The sight of the very attractive man on the other side of the door shouldn’t have been a surprise to you, but your eyes still went wide, jaw slack, while he just offered a small smile. The deep voice calling out your name shook you back to the present, his smile widening to a cute degree.

Was this man really a sex worker?

Trying to wrap your head around it you opened the door further, nodding as a blush crept up your neck. “Ah yes, that’s me. You must be Yeosang?” “Mhmm. Are you the only one here?” Stepping in he glanced around, eyes falling to some items that weren’t yours and clearly male: like the few pairs of shoes in the entryway on the shelf.

Shutting the door behind him you nodded. “My roommate works the late shift so we have the place to ourselves for the next few hours.” 

Slipping off his boots he was polite enough to step into the guest slippers, carrying a black leather bag into the living space as he looked around some more. “That gives us plenty of time to go over things, set up, and take our time then. Where would you like to talk things over?”

“Um… the couch is fine, we aren’t doing anything yet right?”

He nodded, heading right for the couch and sitting down. He seemed quiet, observant- or maybe stuck up? No, that couldn’t be right. Sure you were overthinking things again, you joined him on the sofa, smoothing out the skirt of your dress. He was still quiet though, eyes on your hands and then up to your face; you were looking everywhere but at him, only aware of his gaze due to your own anxiety.

“If you want to back out-”

“No!” In a panic you looked up at him, not at all expecting the look of concern there. “N-no, I just… I want to do this, I promise, but my experience is limited and I’m feeling really self conscious right now. You’re gorgeous and I’m- well not. I’m sorry, I keep overthinking this whole thing and I- are you laughing.”

He was. A soft chuckle and a knowing look in his beautiful eyes as he turned to you fully. “It’s cute, how flustered you are. I see why your client profile was… unique as well.”

“Unique? Is that bad? Oh God I didn’t fill it out properly did I? I swear I went over everything twice. But I was also, like, having a breakdown so I’m not entirely sure I did anything ri-right.” He had gripped your chin, the slightest touch but it had your words stuttering to a halt. He was closer now, this time you could tell he was observing you, an intelligence in his eyes that normally would frighten you but somehow was reassuring.

“You did everything correctly, Pretty, it was just interesting what you had in the request section. What was it now… ‘I just want to forget’?” 

His question threw you for a loop, racking your brain for any memory of doing so. It was still what you wanted, wanted all this anxiety to go away, the heartbreak, and just pleasure. Cheeks warm, you nodded slowly, his hand falling from your chin. “I… I got rejected, you could say, and I just want to forget how I’m feeling right now. I don’t know if I’ll like all of the things I picked, but I’d like to try them. Is that manageable?” “You booked three hours so I don’t see why not."

“That was the recommended time…” “Yes, but this is also your first time. I'm a bit surprised you wanted such a long session. It’ll work in your favor, for the things I specialize in a lot of time is required to get to know you and your body. There is a bit of set up as well, so we’ll need to talk about a safe space to do that.” You nodded, pointing to the leather bag. “I take it, everything is in there?” “Yes, would you like to see?” At your nod he brought the bag onto his lap and began to rummage through it, the first items being a pair of elbow length red leather gloves the same shade as his outfit, but you figured the shade was deliberate. He set those aside, no explanation, and instead held up some candles. “While I’m showing these off, we’ll go over your checklist. Visuals might solidify or change your mind. These are for wax play, it burns easier at a lower temperature so that the wax won’t leave any burn on your skin but will still be hot enough for temperature play. Are you still interested?” “Y-yes.”

Setting them on the coffee table before you, he pulled out a black semi-plastic tarp, which your best educated guess was nylon. “We’ll be using this as our play area so not to get wax or water on your things. The surface area is important for temperature play. We can use your bed, all blankets and pillows removed, or the floor so I have the space to move you around, or move around you. I recommend the floor, beds dip and the less aware of your surroundings the better.” “My room, floor is fine. I can push my bed out of the way a bit.” That’s right, you had selected desensitization, although you weren’t entirely sure how that worked, you were curious.

Pleased with your answer, he set the nylon tarp aside and reached for the next item: a black blindfold. “Desensitization would be this, I’ll also have the lights low. If you don’t have a blacklight, I have one here.” He pulled it out next, an LED strip that could be plugged in. You weren’t sure how that played in with desensitization but you were still excited.

“I have some around my room. Black out curtains too. But um… why the lights?” He set the ring of lights down. “In case you want the blindfold off at any time, and it helps keep light from streaming in while giving me enough to do what I do. Is that alright?” “Yes.”

“Good. Next, temperature play. While the candles will suffice for that, do you have ice cubes I could use?” He pulled out a small thermos. “The shift from hot to cold is important for it.” Quickly you stood up with the intention of grabbing what he needed, but his hand on your wrist stopped you. “No need to get them yet, we still have time.” 

Sheepishly you sat back down, watching him from under your lashes. “What else did I agree to?” “Hm the usual things after that. Praise for one, oils-” At the mention of them he pulled out a few small glass bottles with droppers screwed as the caps, “-there are a few uses for these, such as scent, massaging, or making certain parts more… sensitive.” You didn't miss the way his eyes flicked down to your chest, then skirt. “You selected these but they might be a bit much for your first time. I might use one if I see fit, is that alright?”

“Yes but um… why are you explaining it all to me?” With an incredulous look he chuckled. “You said you hadn’t done any of this before. Knowing about the things we’ll be using puts you at ease a bit right?”

Well… that was true. Biting down on your lip, you nodded. “Thank you for that then.” “Mmm of course Pretty, I want to make sure you enjoy the time we spend together.” His voice had dipped a bit further, coiling in your lower stomach and settling there. “Moving on, breath play?” “Yes.” You couldn’t find your own breath at the question, imagining his against your skin.

“And based on your request for a deep voice, you have a voice kink as well?” He continued without an ounce of shame, lowering his voice even further as if to tease you.

You hummed out, gripping the edge of your dress. You wouldn’t indulge in the real reason you wanted a deep voice, shame clouding your mind. How would he feel if he knew you wanted to just imagine for a moment that the one who would be touching you, loving on you, wasn’t him? Instead the very man you also wanted to forget for a moment.

Guilt twisted your stomach, souring your expression. If he noticed, he didn’t say, instead continuing on. “Right, onwards to safety measures. You already signed the waiver that rights off any accountability on our part if you end up injured during this session, as well as pregnancy. We still have a safe word in place, and I’ll check in at any time I feel like you may want to stop. If that’s alright with you, repeat the safe word you listed.” “College.” As a student, you thought of no better word to kill the mood for yourself.

He nodded, reaching for the lights and putting them back in the bag. “I won’t start the scene, or your time officially, until we are set up. Consider it a bit of a discount. Just show me the space you would like to set up and I’ll do the rest.” He set everything on the tarp and set it on top of the open bag for easy carrying. 

Realizing this meant go time you stood up, wiping your sweaty palms on the sides of your dress again. “Then uh, follow me.” Nervous all over again you lead the way down the hall, sparing a glance out of habit at the bedroom door across from yours. It was a shame that you had this beautiful, almost angelic man behind you in an outfit and makeup that gave him a devilish vibe, and yet you were longing for what you couldn’t have.

Mentally chastising yourself for being so pathetic, you stepped into your room and turned on the lights. Quickly you busied yourself with trying to find the remote for your LED fairy lights hanging around, glancing back to see how he was fairing.

He was analyzing your room with an unreadable expression, moving to your bed where he sat the bag down. “You actually have a fair enough floor space if we push the desk chair elsewhere. While I’m setting up you can change into anything you want to. Any lingerie you want to wear for it, or I could strip you myself.” Taken aback, you let his words run through your mind, going red. “Um, Yeosang? You said these are the things you specialize in… what exactly do you mean by that?” When you turned he was already setting the tarp down, the chair pushed out of the way near your closet. “The business I work for, while it’s easy enough to request our services, finding appropriate workers is harder. They have a wide range of workers, but encourage that each one specialize in at least one area. You have your rough and tough, your bottoms, switches, those who leave nothing off the table and those who can get you off without ever having to see their face. Those who specialize in public settings, even romantic ones, with the company's goal being to fulfill any sexual fantasy, including the buildup. Even those of us who will work and do things to each other for a client’s pleasure.” It sounded like the company prided itself on giving its clients the perfect fantasy, and it was admirable how serious they took it. But- “You didn’t answer my question.”

He looked up now, pausing in his actions as he was in the middle of setting the items on the bed, a smile on his face that was somehow cocky but cute. “You haven’t guessed it?” Blushing at his words, he strode over and once more grabbed your chin in his fingers, bringing you dangerously close. You thought he was going to kiss you, but instead he leaned down, breath against the shell of your ear. “I’m a sensual, romantic lover, Pretty. I take my time, learning every inch of you and what makes you tick, and use it to bring you to the sweetest highs. In your case… I’ll make you forget anyone but me for the next three hours, pretty girl, just like you wanted.”

Were your knees always so quick to get weak? How did you breathe again? The low tones of his words barely a whisper against your skin had you losing all control over your body momentarily, but you didn’t mind.

You wanted more.

Yet he was back by the bed when you snapped to your senses, leaving you a bit disorientated. “I uh- I’m not sure what to do.” “Do you trust me to lead then?” “Yes.” No hesitation, he was the expert here after all.

He chuckled, everything laid out nice and neat and just in range of the tarp. “Cute. I’ll start with the lights, turn them to a red, blue, or purple. Keep it low however.”

Remembering that you had the remote for the lights in your hand, you switched it to your favorite of the three, admiring how it bathed him and the red he wore with a glow that was honestly breathtaking. He definitely knew what he was doing.

“Come here.” He motioned you over, pointing to the center of the tarp. You obliged, biting down on your lip as your nerves skyrocketed. This was it, it was about to happen.

But nothing happened right away. You stared up at the lights, embarrassed and waiting, giving him all the control. At least until he was taking the remote from your hands, eyes flickering down. “S-sorry.” “No need to apologize, I got you.” He tossed it aside, then brought the blindfold up. “I’m going to put this on now, tell me if it’s too tight, or if you can see out of it.” With a nod you stood rigid, still biting on your lip as he wrapped the sash around your eyes, pulling it tightly behind your head. It was pretty snug, but not uncomfortable. “How’s this?”

“G-good.”

Humming in approval, you felt him pull away. “Don’t remove the blindfold, and don’t move, I’ll be right back.” The only indicator you had that he had left the room was the click of your bedroom door opening. You never heard it click shut, never heard his footsteps or even the sound of his clothes rustling- not even his breathing.

You slowed your own breathing to listen better, head tilting as if that would help, but even as minutes passed, you couldn’t hear him. The anticipation was affecting your nerves a great deal, as you were anxious by nature, so you started to fidget, wondering if you should call out to him, as he hadn't told you to be quiet. It was your nerves that kept you silent. What you couldn’t see was that Yeosang had returned moments ago, gone for only a few seconds as he had gone to get ice as quietly as he could. He had returned, set the thermos of ice down, and was now just watching you. He could tell when you started getting nervous, as you were biting on your lip again and gripping the skirt of your dress over and over. He wondered how long he should let you stew, but this was your first time, and he didn’t want the experience to be ruined for you before it had even begun.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you suspected at least five minutes. Or perhaps that was just your anxiety getting the better of you? Doubting your concerns, and lost in your own head, you physically jumped when you felt his hands on yours, stopping your anxious movements. “Y-Yeosang?”

“I’m here.” Gently pulling your hands from the fabric of your dress, he ran his finger-tips up your exposed arms with a feathery touch, raising goosebumps in their wake. “Relax for me, focus on what I’m doing.”

Nodding, you did, picturing his hands on you just as you felt them. Even though he was barely touching you, the feelings felt a bit more intense; or like you were just more sensitive to it. Knowing this was sensory deprivation at work, you were glad you had opted for it. In particular because everything else was going to feel even more amazing.

His hands ghosted over your shoulder and then down your back as he circled around you. Carefully, like everything he had done so far, he undid the dress, pushing it off your body and pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck. Once the dress was piled on the floor around your feet, he helped you out of it and tossed it aside, leaving you in just your underwear. 

He took his time running his hands over a great deal of your body then, taking in your simple reactions from how you would tense or relax- to the slightest changes in your breathing. He was learning where you were sensitive, where he would focus his ministrations later, and so forth. He avoided the usual suspects at first, but he was pleased to hear the small hitch when he brushed the pads of his thumbs over your perked nipples. 

You couldn’t get a sense of where he was in the room, just where he was touching you, and every second that passed by, your hands were itching to reach out and grab him, a “please” on the tip of your tongue that you couldn’t find the will to actually speak. Over your chest, down your stomach, up your sides, down your back, over your rear, and then up your spine. He repeated this trail another time, but the third time you were leaning into his touches, body moving on your own.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well Pretty.” His breath against the back of your neck had a shiver running up your spine, getting warmer by the second as you now found your back pressed firmly against him. “You still trust me right?”

You nodded, turning your head towards his voice even though you couldn’t see him. “Y-yes, Yeosang, I trust you.” Probably not the smartest idea, but you reminded yourself he was the professional here and hadn’t steered you wrong yet.

He cupped the opposite side of your face and pulled you closer, his warm breath against your cheek the only warning you had before his lips were on yours. It caught you by surprise, but it wasn’t unwelcome, your lips chasing his as he kept it brief, just a taste of what’s to come no doubt.

Like every touch beforehand, the kiss was soft, methodical, testing the waters. You had to admire his dedication, the gentle way he poked and prodded to learn your body- learn you- despite the fact you could never see him after this. Warmth rushed through you and it wasn't just lust and desire… you felt loved. Cared for. Appreciated.

Yeosang swallowed up your thoughts with the chaste kisses until all that was left was him and what he was doing to you. Well, that was what you had requested, but it still shocked you how well he did it and how fast.

Your body chased after him when he stepped back, the warmth slipping out of your skin and leaving a chill behind. Before you could gather up the courage to whine, his hands were on your hips, thumbs dipping under the waistband of your panties and pushing them down. You felt his lips on your chest, right above your breasts, kissing a soft trail down between them and over your abdomen while pushing the fabric down your legs.

Slow. Sensual. Requiring all your focus. 

You could feel his breath just above your core as he helped you step out of the cloth, tossing it aside and leaving you fully bare to him. He didn't move, each steady breath of his on your skin had your body reacting but you didn't move either aside from pressing your thighs together. You could feel how aroused you were, clit throbbing and begging to be touched.

To your disappointment he pulled away, extracting his touch. This time you did let out a soft whine, hands clenched into fists at your side.

You could hear his soft chuckle, just out of arm's reach you assume, which has you blushing but unsure why. Maybe it was how cute it sounded despite the nature of the situation?

"Don't worry, Pretty, we'll get there." He reassured, voice a bit husky.

You just nodded, trying to pinpoint where he was but he was good at keeping quiet, only letting you hear what he wanted you to hear. Once again you found yourself in awe of him, of the subtle all encompassing control he had over all your senses with everything he did; and it wasn't the least bit overwhelming or terrifying- instead it felt freeing.

Something cold and wet running up your arm startled your emotions back in place, breathe halting in your lungs as goosebumps prickled your skin. You realized it was ice, anticipation running its course from head to toe as you waited with bated breath.

You could picture the trail he left behind as the ice moved up your wrist and along your bicep, then across your collarbone and down your other arm. The trail of water left behind left your skin sensitive, feeling alive in a way you weren't used to- it was invigorating. With shallow breaths and swallowed gasps, you were at his mercy. The ice skimmed down between your breasts and over your stomach, circled around your navel before it was brought back up. 

Legs pressed tightly together you were becoming restless, needing to do something. "Yeosang- tell me what to do." You pleaded, hands shaking at your sides.

He hummed thoughtfully in that deep voice of his that shook you to your core. "Don't do anything, not yet." 

Any protest you had died on your lips as the ice cube was pressed to them, running over them as if he was applying chapstick or something similar. He nudged your mouth open and you obeyed, breathing around the cold cube as it settled on your tongue, melting quickly. Before it was gone his lips were on yours again, this time more heated, and more desperate on your end.

It felt as if he was slowly unraveling you piece by piece, sensation after sensation.

His hands were busy running along your body, barely a touch but enough that you were leaning into them. The heat of his lips, his breath, mingling with the cold the cube had left your mouth made the kiss more intense but left you wishing you could see his face- feel more of him.

You swore you heard him make a sound, like a soft groan or gasp, which had you chasing his lips as he pulled away. "Not yet, we have plenty of time for that." He chastised gently, cupping the sides of your face and holding you at bay.

A soft whine was your only protest, and even that died on your lips as you were lowered down onto your knees. The feel on the nylon was a bit warm, grounding you a bit as this whole experience was beginning to feel as if you were both outside your body and so very aware of it.

Another shock reverberated through you, back arching in response to the cold wet cube running around your nipples. Unable to keep still, you gripped your thighs, panting as he swirled it around both peaks, leaving them wet and perked, goosebumps spreading across your chest. You could only imagine how it looked, the thought dashed as his cold wet lips latched onto one sensitive peak and he sucked.

The moan you let out was sinful even to your own ears, pressing your thighs together. As his mouth moved to the other, he pushed your legs apart, situating his knee in-between to keep you from closing them again.

Your body was shaking, the mixture of cold and heat of his mouth sending jolts right to your core, soaking your thighs further. He hadn't even touched you there, and yet you could feel every touch mirrored in the deepest parts of you. So focused on his mouth you didn't realize you were being moved until your head rested against the nylon, legs spread further and his mouth and tongue running over your stomach as you shook beneath him, your body hot and cold all over.

His mouth was warm by the time he got to your lower abdomen yet you still felt feverish. There was a brief moment of reprieve as he pulled away, leaving you breathless, but some time to regulate your pulse before another shock had you gasping. The cold ice on your inner thighs had them shaking, your fingers digging into the nylon at your sides and head falling back.

"Yeosang~~"

"Look at you, positively shaking for me. I can see your pussy clenching desperately, so needy. Does this feel that good?" 

You whined out in response, the deep gravel of his voice effecting you just as the ice cube against your pelvis felt, so very close to where you wanted to be touched. 

Yet he wouldn’t.

He touched and kissed nearly every part of you, lighting your whole body’s nerves on edge, taking his sweet time learning your body all over again. 

Slow. 

Sensual.

It was driving you mad.

Writhing and shaking beneath him you reached out on more than one occasion, begging him for more, just for him to gently set your hands back down or promise you ‘soon’. 

When it felt like your frustration and desperation reached its peak, you were crying out as finally, you were given what you wanted. Hell, it was more than you had expected. His mouth was cold as his tongue lapped up your slick, lips latching around your clit and sucking just as he had done with your pebbled peaks earlier. The duality of the sensations, after being teased for so long, almost had you coming on the spot.

You were sure he knew that, not at all disappointed as he licked and sucked until you were soaking his cold tongue with your cum. It shot through you like a tsunami, washing over your nerves that had been on edge and overwhelming your senses with ecstasy. Sure this was only going to be the first of many orgasms tonight, you wondered if you’d even be able to think for days after he finished with you.

He brought you to another orgasm with his mouth before you were flipped over onto your stomach, his hands running over the curve of your back and ass before leaving you there. You had plenty of time to calm down and catch your breath, head resting on your forearms as you focused on the remaining waves of pleasure coursing through you.

A drop of heat hitting just between your shoulder blades shot down your spine to your throbbing clit. Another drop hit just below it on your spine, leaving you gasping at the unfamiliar sensation. The leftover splatters hardened against your skin, locking in the heat but it wasn't hot enough to burn.

You would writhe with each drop, to the point Yeosang sat on the back of your thighs to keep you pinned down. Down your spine he dropped glob after glob of hot wax, muttering in his deep voice how well you took each hit while giving you enough time in-between to still again. When he reached your ass, the drops on your tailbone had you moaning and whimpering.

Every drop you were still painfully aware of, as well as the lack of friction and touch on your clit. He had you desperate, bucking your rear up for something and was pleased to feel a bulge in his leather pants. "Yeosang please- please." 

The candle gone from his hand, they both gripped your hips to hold you still as he tutted. "We've only gone an hour- don't be in such a rush Pretty, I want to take my time with you."

"B-but Yeosaaang- you've taken so much time, I want to feel more." You whined, attempting to buck your hips again but his grip was firm. "I want to feel you inside me, please. I've been good right?"

He hummed thoughtfully, and you swore you could feel his heated gaze running over your body, but maybe that was the lack of one of your own senses making you far too hyperspace. You definitely were hyper aware of every touch, every sensation, every breath and sound he made; Yeosang filled up your remaining senses with himself. 

"You have been good." He muttered matter-of-factly, pulling himself off your legs and away from you. You gripped the nylon, lifting your head as if you could get a sense of his whereabouts but the only indication was the rustling of clothes. your heart kicked into overdrive, breath freezing in your lungs at the realization he was discarding his clothes.

You awaited with new-found patience, biting down on your lip when his hands were back on you, pulling your ass up until you were on your knees that were pushed apart, leaving your dripping cunt fully exposed to him. The anticipation of what he was going to do was eating you alive.

You tried not to expect what you wanted, he had made it clear he would be taking his time, but still the feel of his cockhead rubbing in between your folds had your head falling forward and the breath you were holding leaving you as a sinful sound. "Oh God, Yeosang please!" His hand on your hip kept you still as he ousted his length through your folds without entering, coating himself in your slick and doing so in a way your clit was practically untouched.

You could only imagine what his cock looked like, maybe not the longest but it was thick, and felt so good against your cunt you were rocking your hips back as best you could, begging between little pants.

"Are you sure, Pretty?" You swore he was teasing you as he pulled away, a cry of desperation leaving you followed by his low laughter. "Alright alright, I suppose I've teased you enough."

You felt delirious with lust when he finally pushed in, slow and steady just like the rest of the session so far. Patient, even as your walls clamped down around half his cock and he halted. Only because you were so aware of him did you notice his own breathing get heavier.

"F-fuck…" With every inch you could feel pleasure tingle all over your body, head feeling as if it was filling with cotton. He bottomed out, balls slapping against your clit sending a jolt through you. Finally he was inside, finally you didn't feel empty.

"I need you to relax alright?" He leaned forward, running his hands up your sides, his breath fanning against your back and reminding you of the wax spots on your spine. You could tell you were affecting him, although it was the slightest tell, yet it made you feel amazing.

This beautiful, patient man, who was an expert in love-making, was affected by you. Whether you felt that good, or he saw you as that beautiful, you didn't know- but he was twitching in your walls, breath hitching every time you clamped them down, and his careful touches felt the smallest bit less careful.

It was enough to have you smiling, nodding against the nylon and complying. He gently nipped at your shoulder, his body covering yours and adding just enough weight to keep you in place without feeling suffocating. It was a steady reminder of the man who was pleasing you, and for a moment your brain fought to remember why it was important that it was this man doing this to you- since it felt as if he should be the only one doing this to you. You had the feeling that's exactly what he wanted.

Sensual. Sinful. A devil disguised as an angel- or perhaps the other way around?

When Yeosang began to move his hips, any thoughts of another man or anything but the feelings were gone. With his breath on your back, the low groans that almost sounded like whines, you knew he felt just as good as he was making you feel and you reveled in that. He hit deep with each slow, steady thrust, holding you in place and mumbling against your skin.

One thing was for certain, you have never felt so loved before- not like this. Every inch of your body was alive with emotion, sensations you couldn't put into words, and he was the cause of it all.

"So good- really- so damned good." His breath against your ear had a shiver jolting down your spine, your own pants heating up the nylon beneath you. With each thrust his balls slapped against your clit, moving against your g-spot inside, only the leisure pace keeping you from bursting at any second. 

It was still enough- "Yeosang, I'm close- please want to cum."

"Of course baby girl, where do you want mine?" He nibbled down on the shell of your ear, your pussy clenching in response and pulling a growl from him.

"F-fuck… on me. L-like the wax and ice, c-cover me in it."

"Mmm proud of you Pretty, being so demanding." He appraised as his pace quickened. He kissed along your shoulder, suddenly more vocal and it was driving you right to your climax just as much as his thrusts were.

When it hit, the disgruntled moans he let out in response sounded euphoric. He pulled away, hands on your hips as his cock slipped out and pushed through your ass cheeks, pulsing as his hot cum splattered on your back and ass.

Your head was buzzing with the overwhelming pleasure, white flashing behind your eyelids for the briefest moments and ricocheting through your body in waves. It left you disorientated and barely aware of your surroundings, barely aware of your body being moved back down to your stomach. Which was good, as your legs felt like jelly.

The quiet space was filled with only the heavy breathing of you both.

You couldn't stop smiling; it felt that good. Even when the blindfold was removed and you were greeted by the sight of Yeosang's head resting on the nylon next to yours. "We're going to end it here for today if that's alright?"

That had the smile wiped clean off, but protests were stopped by his finger against your lips. "I don't want to push you any further for your first time. I'll clean you up, take care of you, and give you a massage before I leave. You'll only be charged for half your requested time." He explained, fingers moving to brush some hair out of your face.

His words didn't disperse the pout on your features though. "Yeosang… are you that eager to leave?" It might be a low blow, but after the way he made you feel you were more than just a bit reluctant to let him go.

He shook his head, bringing his forehead against yours as his hand rested on your hip. "Not at all, Pretty, but it is your first session and I don't want to overwhelm you with more. You're more sensitive than I expected." He smiled. "Besides, if we go another round I'll wear you out far too much. And part of my expertise is taking care of you, I wouldn't be very good at my job if I ran you ragged. So again, I'm going to clean you up and then give you a nice massage to relax your muscles, okay?"

He pressed a kiss to your nose when you nodded in reluctant agreement. Leaving you alone for a moment, he followed your directions to the bathroom and then came back with a damp towel. You hadn't moved from your spot, well aware now that your muscles were sore all over. As he gently wiped off the wax and his cum, he explained that he had been edging your muscles all this time as they'd flex or react to each of his touches- the heat and ice- and would feel as if they are overworked.

Suddenly grateful he stopped when he did, you didn't mind his gentle touches as he cleaned off your back and bum before rolling you over and running a fresh cloth over your front and in between your legs. There was no sexual intention behind his movements, just care. It still had you reacting to every touch, heart racing, but you weren't drowning in your desire this time.

When both of you were clean, he easily lifted you up, holding you on his lap as he cleaned off the nylon. It occurred to you just how strong he was, amazed that he had been so gentle despite how easily he could do just the opposite.

When he laid you back down you found yourself observing him. From his focused expression to the barest sheen of sweat over his skin, defining his muscles even more in the light. He was beautiful, and not just his face- which you just realized he had a mark by his eye, barely noticeable but in the dim light looked like a heart.

It made the moment even more endearing.

In your distraction he had moved to grab something, a small bottle. He dropped a few drops of the room temperature liquid on your body: a drop on your stomach, on your chest, on each thigh and each forearm. Your eyes followed his hands as he began to rub the oil into your stomach, soft circle motions outwards. With each stroke of his hands your skin felt a bit warmer and more relaxed. “That’s it, just relax.”

You hummed in response, feeling a little guilty as you realized he had done all the work and you hadn’t done anything for him- but he was watching his own ministrations so intently you didn’t have the heart to bring it up or try anything yourself. So you just watched, falling into a daze as his skilled hands rubbed the oil into every inch of your torso, arms and legs, leaving a warmth that made your muscles melt and your brain fog up.

The occasional praises he gave helped to further the daze you found yourself in. As if surrounded by the softest cloud, basking in the sun and enjoying the warmth. 

When he rolled you over onto your stomach you let out a soft whine of protest, not wanting to move at all. If his hands on your torso had put you on cloud 9, his hands on your back was absolute heaven. You’ve never had a massage before but now you debated on seeing a masseuse regularly just to experience this feeling of weightlessness often. No stress, no thoughts, just absolute relaxation.

Even as his hands kneaded your ass and thighs, exciting you a bit, you were just far too relaxed to care.

You hadn’t realized you were dozing off. No, even in your dreams Yeosang was still the one touching you.

It was a shame you were startled awake by a door shutting, interrupting the sweet dreams. You found yourself safely tucked into bed, the lights still on but one look at the floor and there was nothing, or no one, there. Your sleepy gaze narrowed on your door, but you didn’t think it was that door that woke you- something told you Yeosang would have been far too quiet leaving to wake you up.

That just meant your roommate was probably home. Even in your sleepy state you remembered just why you had… well why you did what you did. To your surprise, you were far too relaxed to care.

So what if your roommate had someone else? So what if you were sure you were still in love with them? Right now, you could still feel Yeosang on you, still hear his voice in your ear and smell the oil he had rubbed into your skin. Even if you hadn’t been good enough for your unrequited love- Yeosang had made you feel plenty good enough, plenty loved. 

So much so that you fell back to sleep with a smile on your face.

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[sunflowerdigs]

Imo, Buck won't truly get off the hamster wheel until he figures out what he wants and goes after that instead of simply going for what's available because he's afraid of being alone and afraid of rejection. I think he'll end the season by breaking up with Tommy in order to go after Eddie, but Eddie may not be ready. And so Buck will decide to focus on just being a good friend to Eddie until he is ready. If Tommy wants to hook up on the side, it's fine, but Buck will have made clear to him that it's not going anywhere - he knows what he wants and what he wants is worth waiting for.

Eddie can't get off the hamster wheel until he finally exorcises Shannon's ghost. Chris' abandonment issues are similar to Buck's but the reason that he has those issues is similar to Eddie's reason - a percieved sense of failure over the fact that Shannon left. And both Chris and Eddie have dealt with it by not allowing any of the women in their lives to get too close, so that there's always room left for Shannon to come back and fill up those empty spaces. But she's not coming back, and both Chris and Eddie have to move on. Imo, by the end of the season, Eddie will have said goodbye to Shannon, but he may not feel that he's ready for a relationship. He will want to take a breath after the emotional work of letting go of his dead wife, breaking up with Marisol, and letting some of the guilt fall from his shoulders. And I think he'll communicate this to Buck.

I suspect that's where we'll end the season. Unless...rocks fall and everyone dies in 7x10 and Eddie decides that tomorrow isn't promised. So, even though he's maybe not 100% ready, he's going to make a go of it with Buck anyway and let Buck carry some of the weight if he can.

[flowercrowngods]

i just figure steve deserves some actual healing, and nancy needs to own up (something something don't thank those who broke you for making you grow)

Steve’s not very proud of it, but being alone with Nancy always makes him a bit antsy. Like the history between them is making the air sizzle and cackle with guilt and treacherous what ifs that Steve doesn’t really care about but can’t help obsessing over. Not in a desirable way, just in an If I don’t think through every possible outcome of this specific scenario, I am going to combust on the spot. 

So he thinks about Nancy. Like that, sometimes, but not because he wants her. It’s just… He knows her either like that or not at all. They never really talked about what happened. They never really cleared the air and instead let the heaviness settle. 

Maybe it’s because heaviness in the air is all Steve knows, but it is starting to wear on him. Especially after everything he said in the face of approaching death. He meant it, too, but in retrospective, he is aware he only sees Nancy with him because no one else ever let him see himself somewhere. 

And Nancy let him. When she knew damn well that her heart wasn’t with Steve. She let him. 

And she let him in the Upside Down, too, let him ramble and let him apologise and let him thank her. I love you, I’m sorry. What the hell am I sorry for?

He wants to be mad, wants her to acknowledge the hurt he went through, wants her to apologise. But it’s been two years. He should be over it. 

How could he be, though? With air so heavy it feels like he’s breathing in lead? 

And now here they are, alone in his house – this big fucking house – and she’s taking a seat on the couch opposite him, both of them leaning sideways against the backrest. 

“Steve,” she begins after a while, her arms around her legs, her head on the couch, looking really pretty in the soft glow of the warm light. 

“What’s up?” 

They’re quiet. Somehow, with Nancy, Steve is always quiet. 

There must be a poem in this somewhere. 

She sighs and just looks at him for a while with that look. That Nancy Wheeler look of I’ve got you all figured out but you need to help me fit the pieces together and show both of us you’re more than the mere sum of your life’s pieces. Steve swallows and waits, mirroring her position on the couch. 

“I need you to take that back. What you said in the Upside Down.” 

His heart skips a bit, the lead growing heavier now, turning into apprehension and dread and the fear of being seen by Nancy Wheeler. Or the fear of having her think that she sees him when she never really did. And now she’s asking him to take back the one time he needed her to really, truly see him. 

“What do you mean?” It’s barely more than a whisper, but it carries through the heaviness just fine. Don’t reject me now. Not again. Not as your friend. Not as Steve. 

“You called yourself an idiot,” she says, a smile tugging at her lips, but there’s more, so Steve bites his tongue. “And you said something about… You were thanking me. For giving you a hard enough thump on your head so you could change and grow into a better person. Remember?” 

Remember the one time you did not shy away from sincerity because you thought you were going to die and told the one person who let you love her, really love her, that you were thankful for everything that happened even though it ended like it did? Remember the one, the first time, you told anyone about your dream? About your life, your future, your desire? 

Remember, Steve Harrington? 

“Sure,” he rasps, his eyes now breaking away from Nancy, focusing on a loose thread on the blanket thrown over the couch. “What about it?” 

“I need you to take that back.” It’s Nancy’s turn to whisper now, and she sounds so sincere that Steve never wants to look at her again because he’s so scared of what he’ll find in her eyes. 

“Why? It’s true.” 

“No, Steve. No, it’s not.” 

She doesn’t say anything more than that for a while but he feels her gaze on his shoulders. His confusion must show on his face and his head is starting to hurt form the frown between his brows, but still he doesn’t look up. 

“Steve,” she whispers, imploring now, and he closes his eyes because he has a feeling like his world is going to fall apart again any second now, and once more it will be because of Nancy Wheeler. 

Even two years later, she still holds that power, even though she doesn’t hold his heart anymore. 

“That growth, that healing that you did? That’s not on me.” Her voice is wavering and Steve’s frown feels more intense by the second, and maybe he’s clenching his eyes shut. Maybe his hands are shaking where they’re clenched together, wrapped around his shins. “You can’t… I hurt you. I hurt you so bad, Steve, and I know that. You didn’t deserve any of that, and–” 

“You were scared and grieving Nance, it’s–” 

“It’s not fine,” she interrupts him, and she sounds so final that Steve clamps his mouth shut. Everything about him is tense and he doesn’t want to hear it, but at the same time he feels like he can only breathe again when he heard what Nancy has to say. It’s a special kind of torture. The Nancy Kind. 

“It’s not fine, Steve, and… And still you’re out there, thinking you will die, and you thank me? That’s when I realised that I never apologised. I never let you… I just…” A sniffle interrupts her monologue and Steve feels his own eyes beginning to sting. “All that growth, Steve, that’s on you. And you didn’t grow because I thumped your head. I broke your heart. Big time. And you chose to grow. To heal. You chose that. Do you remember when you told me, right after everything happened, ‘It’s okay, Nance?’ and ‘I might be a shitty boyfriend but I’m a damn good babysitter’, or something like that? That’s. That’s you. That’s always been you.

“I’m the one who hurt you. Who broke your heart. But I will not be the one who lets you believe that those who break you get to take any credit in how you heal. I will not be the one who stands by and listens to you calling yourself an idiot in the same breath you’re thanking me for breaking your heart like that.” 

Nancy is crying now, the silent way that will make your voice waver and the tears roll, but that won’t turn into sobs or anything like that. Steve knows, because maybe, maybe he’s crying, too. 

“You can’t spend your life tricking yourself into misguided gratitude when the only one to ever change your life and your heart like that is you, Steve Harrington. Do you hear me?”  

There is a hand on his knee, and suddenly they are hugging, clinging to each other like the lead in the air between them has now settled on their shoulders, and the only way to be okay is to cling to each other with the grip of understanding and forgiveness. 

“I’m so sorry,” Nancy whispers into his neck. “You’re so good, Steve. So good. And you’re all of that because of you.” 

Steve doesn’t really know what to say, and even if he did, he couldn’t say it around the lump in his throat, so all he breathes out is, “Okay,” and, “It’s okay,” and, “Thank you.” 

He’s not sure if Nancy hears, but it doesn’t really matter. She is smart enough to know simply from the way he refuses to let her go, breathing around her for the very first time in two years. And he knows from experience – so much experience – that breathing is where healing starts. He has a notion that they will be fine. Finally, finally, they might be fine.

[oblivious-aro]

What was it that made you pick Skybound out of all the Ninjago seasons to rewrite? I know I usually do rewrites for story concepts that hold potential but are never lived up to them; is there anything like that you see in S6? :O

Boy is there ever!

There are a lot of things that could be tweaked to make Skybound way better, but the main thing that grabed me was Nya and Jay's storylines, which are actually set up to be pretty solid.

I liked how they actually set up an arc for Jay to go through. A focus season that actually focuses on developing the ninja's character? Sounds great! I'm so down!

Okay, Jay makes a wish he shouldn't have in a moment of weakness. This is a good setup. It's obviously gonna be a moment he regrets, and he's going to be carrying a guilty conscience-

Oh, actually, he immediately lies to Nya to try and manipulate her into liking him after she firmly started she wasn't interested.

His friends are mad at him for his actions later, though.

Okay, good. Having to deal with the consequences of his actions (remember how invested we were in "actions have consequences" in the first episode?) will surely spark some personal growth-

Nope! His friends immediately do a 180 and start talking about how sorry they are for being mean to Jay.

...what!?

You had Jay all set up to learn a lesson, and have to reflect and grow, but then we're suddenly supposed to feel sorry for him even though he hasn't shown the slightest hint of guilt? After half a season of nothing but him being a selfish lying remorseless jerk?

I'm not even being a Jay-hater. I love the idea of Nadakhan preying on Jay's low self-esteem, especially when he takes advantage of Jay's emotionally vulnerable state fresh off of Nya's rejection to trick him into making a wish. But even though Nadakhan influenced him, it was still Jay that made the wish, and that's an uncomfortable truth he's going to have to face.

You might say it's...Jay's wish to keep.

They've got a really good start to a story about a flawed character improving themselves, but then they don't put the part in where he improves himself, just more and more flaws with only the barest amount of growth (the one ninja guy stopped moping and saved the day like he and all the ninja do every season. That doesn't even come close to balancing out all the lying, whining, and possesivness we've been subjected to from him this entire season).

And then there's Nya.

Oh Nya.

Things again start off good. Nya's facing a lot of misogyny for being the first girl ninja. It sucks, she's mad, but at least her friends stick up for her.

Sure, it's done kind of clunkily, but showcasing that girls have to face a lot of unfair attitudes can be a very validating thing for real girls to see, especially if the girl characters are allowed to get angry, and the other characters take their anger seriously and help fight back.

Furthermore, having the main characters (you know, the ones the kids watching the show are supposed to relate to/look up to/think are cool) stick up for their friend, and learn that they need to check themselves sends a pretty good message to the kids watching. Like, exactly the kind of message you want to send.

And after Ninjago's previous poor handling of female characters, it would be a much appreciated gesture.

But as we know, that's not how things went down.

Instead, Nya gets kidnapped, doesn't get to be part of the climax, is killed for a man's character development, and then gets together with a guy she initially said 'no' to dating as a reward for his arc.

...why?!?

I think what gets me is they kind of start to go in a compelling direction, but then they make the most violent u-turn possible in the wrongest direction. It's not unusual for Ninjago to be bad, but here it almost feels like they were trying. Like...how does a conscious attempt to be more feminist result in the most misogynistic season of the series?? How could you set out on such a right direction things and end up going so wrong???

I know the reason the season's so bad because they're were basically no women involved in the writing process, and I get the feeling said writing process was on a time crunch, but even with those stipulations, I still don't understand how you can screw up that badly. It's genuinely baffling.

Skybound's failings stick out because it feels like they were purposely dumping gasoline on the misogynistic dumpster fire, and also trying to make Jay as hatable as possible. Like, you had some really solid storylines set up for your characters, why'd you suddenly stop and start shooting yourself in the foot???

I couldn't stop thinking about it. They were right there, and then they missed so dramatically.

It plagued my brain from the moment I first watched it.

Also I do like how Nadakhan's a more talky/manipulator type villain, that really let's you dig into your main characters weak points in an interesting way, but holy hell did he need a redesign because yikes.

[zeroaccord]

Idk if i asked already, but could you tell us more about Mira?

Of course! I've already answered this, so people that have already seen this skip this post

Mira asterope was born to the void scientists, Citlali & Indus asterope. Her family was mostly made of higher ranking orokin, including her parents and self.

She is a very kind and shy girl, but can be incredibly blunt. She is very easily tired and stressed out.

Her parents were pretty well known for discovering important mechanics to make the zariman even possible, including helping with rather important aspects of the ship.

Because of that and her rank as a orokin, she was highly respected even as a young child - taking on the 'lady' title.

Mira was raised by multiple people due to her parents research on the zariman taking away their time to be with their daughter. Some were family friends, others were other high ranking orokin. Despite not being able to be with her parents like other children, she still loved them and wanted to make them happy.

When she got older, she was taking extra curricular classes regarding the void. Along with that, she also took singing classes on the side. She often performed for people and for important events.

During the time of the zariman, her and her parents lived on the ship for research reasons. Mira was used to moving constantly for her parents, so she quickly got accustomed to the ship.

During the day of the void jump, her parents and herself were prepared to leave back to their home ship before the jump. Unfortunately, they had to go back home without her because of an important meeting on their home ship. They would have her transferred over safely by people they could trust.

What they didn't expect, was the void jump going wrong. Because of this, Mira suffered from the void during the incident. Her body rejected the power, and caused extreme physical pain whenever she used her power.

Shortly after the ship was found, they investigated mira's parents and falsely found them guilty for "intentionally sabotaging the empire" and held them in prison before their death date was scheduled.

During them training the children for use in the warframes, they noticed mira's struggle with her powers and attempted crude and brutal experiments to 'fix' her - only causing more pain and potential risk when using her powers.

They selfishly turned to her parents - to have them 'fix' her in exchange for their life. They built a device that would harness her power - allowing her to focus on something to draw it out and allow her to use it in a way without harming herself. The risk of potentially hurting herself is still there, though. By over exerting her powers, she can easily overdo it and cause herself to be in a comatose state.

They formed it into the shape of a beautiful pendant, and had them gift it to her.

They didn't follow through with their agreement, though. They killed mira's parents the following day the pendant was finished.

They forced Mira to watch her parents be glassed, and it caused her to carry a deep guilt within her. She became skittish, afraid of anyone knowing her or recognizing her.

When she was eventually woken up after being stored away on lua - she had a habit of hiding her face or wearing veils to hide herself. She also actively destroyed any book or document that mentioned her parents or herself out of guilt.

Mira's power via the pendant is triggered by singing - her preferred way of activation.

Her void power looks like water droplets, and functions similarly to yareli's abilities.

[yareli-1999]

Can you maybe give some information about mira? She seems very interesting!

I might as well re copy her story stuff so i can link it whenever anyone asks !!

Mira asterope - 21 - Intersex transfem

Mira asterope was born to the void scientists, Citlali & Indus asterope. Her family was mostly made of higher ranking orokin, including her parents and self. She is a very kind and shy girl, but can be incredibly blunt. She is very easily tired and stressed out.

Her parents were pretty well known for discovering important mechanics to make the zariman even possible, including helping with rather important aspects of the ship.

Because of that and her rank as a orokin, she was highly respected even as a young child - taking on the 'lady' title. Mira was raised by multiple people due to her parents research on the zariman taking away their time to be with their daughter. Some were family friends, others were other high ranking orokin. Despite not being able to be with her parents like other children, she still loved them and wanted to make them happy.

When she got older, she was taking extra curricular classes regarding the void. Along with that, she also took singing classes on the side. She often performed for people and for important events. During the time of the zariman, her and her parents lived on the ship for research reasons. Mira was used to moving constantly for her parents, so she quickly got accustomed to the ship.

During the day of the void jump, her parents and herself were prepared to leave back to their home ship before the jump. Unfortunately, they had to go back home without her because of an important meeting on their home ship. They would have her transferred over safely by people they could trust.

What they didn't expect, was the void jump going wrong. Because of this, Mira suffered from the void during the incident. Her body rejected the power, and caused extreme physical pain whenever she used her power.

Shortly after the ship was found, they investigated mira's parents and falsely found them guilty of "intentionally sabotaging the empire" and held them in prison before their death date was scheduled. During them training the children for use in the warframes, they noticed mira's struggle with her powers and attempted crude and brutal experiments to 'fix' her - only causing more pain and potential risk when using her powers.

They selfishly turned to her parents - to have them 'fix' her in exchange for their life. They built a device that would harness her power - allowing her to focus on something to draw it out and allow her to use it in a way without harming herself. The risk of potentially hurting herself is still there, though. By over exerting her powers, she can easily overdo it and cause herself to be in a comatose state.

They formed it into the shape of a beautiful pendant, and had them gift it to her. They didn't follow through with their agreement, though. They killed mira's parents the following day the pendant was finished.

They forced Mira to watch her parents be glassed, and it caused her to carry a deep guilt within her. She became skittish, afraid of anyone knowing her or recognizing her. When she was eventually woken up after being stored away on lua - she had a habit of hiding her face or wearing veils to hide herself. She also actively destroyed any book or document that mentioned her parents or herself out of guilt.

Mira's power via the pendant is triggered by singing - her preferred way of activation. Her void power looks like water droplets, and functions similarly to yareli's abilities.

[starjxsung]

everything will be alright

tw: SA, molestation

i can’t much other than i’m sorry for what you went through star. my heart always goes out to sa victims. i understand a little of what you’re going through as i’m a molestation survivor. i’m not sure what exactly you’re going through cause everyone is different, i hope you take all the time you need to come back online. take all the time you need to get back into writing sexual content. i hope you’re getting professional help, and if not then i hope your circle is a safe space for you. at the very least i hope you have someone you can talk to about this. it’s important.

on the topics of christianity what sparked this renewed interest? is it just the christian town you’re at? did you grow up christian or was it something you’ve heard of/been around?

sending love your way, ☁️

:(

I am so so so beyond sorry to hear that you went through that. I love you and I’m sending you all my love and healing vibes. I hope you always have the help and support that you need, and please know that I’m always just a message away if you need somebody to talk to. I love you :(

I’m healing slowly, but surely 💘 my family have been super supportive and I’m inquiring about therapists again since I think some professional help might do me better this time around. But I promise I will be okay :’) and even though it’s hard, I promise I will be back as 100% for you guys with less depressing stuff on my mind. Just a little bump in the road for me 🫶💓

tw: religion & mentions of ocd !!!

christianity is always heavy on my mind (to say the least 😅). I actually grew up very christian, but around high school I really began to reject a lot of the ideology, and by early college I was a raging atheist. I went through 2 separate events in my second year of college that were so traumatic for me they were the catalyst to starting antidepressants, and then I began to question how I was even able to survive them without some form of divine intervention. Which in TURN was the catalyst for terrible religious ocd I’ve struggled with all my life since. I still don’t consider myself christian, but for a good chunk of college I physically couldn’t leave my house without a bible because I felt like god was “going to kill me”. It was really bad lmao

My relationship with religion is still pretty rocky and I still struggle with religious ocd, but I’ve gotten a lot more open-minded about it and I’m more willing to listen to stories without this level of disillusionment I felt for so long. I no longer have to carry a bible with me when I go anywhere (which was HUGE for me, as dumb as it sounds) and I actually keep a little gallery in my phone of religious imagery when it finds me. “surely there is god in this moment” type beat. My sister says she thinks I’ll just always struggle with this very heavy guilt for as long as I live, but it’s learning to coexist with it that’s the healthiest thing for me at the moment. So that’s what I remind myself, and it helps :’) the little town is indeed very religious, and though I’ve not claimed to be christian, having conversations with people and not being so judged for my beliefs has been really healing. It’s times like these I’m just like. hey! the guilt isn’t so heavy these days. maybe it won’t be heavy forever, after all

thank you so much for all your lovely words. and again, I am always here if you need to speak or vent or anything of the sort. Sending all my love to you and I hope the universe is treating you well.

here are some random moments I bumped into religious themes this week. featuring the cross necklace I bought recently (the same one Jisung wears !)

all my love to you ❤️ :’)

[gregorygerwitz]

Here I am, back again asking for another meta! Tell me about mouse's exit in 4×05, I am absolutely interested!

no gifs because it took me too long to eat dinner and now I don't have time to screen record and play with photoshop before bed but I'll get the canon dialogue so we can all be sad anyway

Thank you for asking about this, honestly, I think about it more often than is healthy and quite frankly I need to get it out somewhere that's not just Kit's text messages. She gets so much of my nonsense, bless her for putting up with it.

All of it is going under a read more because these topics get really heavy, especially when I really dig into it the way I'm planning on doing.

Warnings for: drug use/addiction, PTSD, survivor's guilt, depression, anxiety, death, attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation

The very short version is this: Mouse gets a call from an old army superior with an offer to basically get his old job back (potentially a promotion from his old spot? canon tells us nothing) as a communications specialist with a new unit. He decides to take it, after getting his felony record cleared by Trudy, and quits his job with the CPD to reenlist.

Which like... I have complaints about, on the surface. We watched him go from a drug addict who relied on crime (and informing the police about crime) to survive, who was not taking care of himself and definitely dealing with PTSD and survivor's guilt and depression and anxiety (and undiagnosed autism but that's significantly less relevant here) in season one, to two years clean, holding a steady job, and looking physically healthier toward the end of season three. He was even more obviously confident in his abilities and was engaging socially with more people than just Jay, which is great for him. Go baby go.

To basically give up that progress, reject it in favor of going back to the exact same situation that made him into the addict we saw early on, feels like really lazy writing, at best. If that's on purpose? It borders on cruelty. something something the implication of him inevitably going back to that version of himself if he makes it back to Chicago alive at all because "once an addict always an addict" or whatever bullshit makes me so angry actually

And those are only my surface complaints. We haven't even gotten to my backstory deep dive, and all of the issues I have with the canon dialogue where he explains part of his reasoning behind the decision. Because the implications there are... not great. But we can start there and build to the rest of it.

Jay calls him out on exactly all of the above, when Mouse first brings up the idea of reenlisting in 4x02:

"You're serious-? Are you serious right now? [...] Do you forget what it did to you? Depression? Can't sleep at night? You want that? You want to be- you want to be calling me at three in the morning? You can't sleep, you're popping pills? "

I know I read into things a lot, especially with Mouse, but I'm not doing that here. Jay says it outright. Point blank to his face. This is what the war made him, last time, and he can't seriously be considering risking that again, right? this scene did give me Moustead canonically calling each other in the middle of the night though so it's not all bad that's my favorite crumb

And then 4x05 is after Mouse asks Voight to help with his record, and he's told no, but Jay is still actively trying to stop the reenlistment from happening. He himself goes to Voight about it in the first scene of the episode, desperately trying to keep his best friend safe - from the dangers that come from a war zone, from the risk of going back to all of that, from himself:

"Hey, Sarge... I heard Mouse came looking to get a felony dropped so he could reenlist. [...] I think he's carrying around a lot of guilt that we made it home safe and friends of ours didn't."

It's this attempt to get Voight to hold onto that decision, that no that means Mouse is essentially stuck with the CPD and can't leave the country and risk his life in the army again. Jay is absolutely in the wrong for meddling the way he did, going behind Mouse's back like that, but like... he's right. Everything he says is absolutely correct. Survivor's guilt can manifest in some destructive ways, and the urge to throw oneself back into the danger that nearly killed them the first time is one of those ways.

I think the fact that the case in 4x05 that the team is working on deals with a lot of overdose victims fed my angst loving heart just a little too well. But it, combined with my headcanon that Mouse tried to kill himself with an overdose in 2011 (this is a very specific headcanon, with a whole essay's worth of reasoning/explanation, but I mention it in a few fics, for some reason there's no post just about that headcanon? I'll fix that one day), and everything that led to it, definitely feeds into how absolutely gutted I feel any time I watch another scene in that episode, this one a conversation between Jay and Mouse:

M: You know, maybe Voight's right. Maybe I just need to clear out of here. J: What are you gonna do with your felony record? You gonna go back to boosting stereos? M: That guy on the board - that could have been me when I came back here - high, doing something stupid and dangerous. J: Greg, that is not you. That's not you now. M: I am telling you, Jay, if I lose my job because of a bender or whatever... I'm looking at Tyler, and that could've been me. It still could be me.

Between that subtle emphasis on telling you and the heavy implication that he could still be killed by (or lose his job because of) those old habits, with my headcanon that, at one point, they did almost kill him... it's very easy for me, personally, to read into that as Mouse trying to tell Jay, while not letting on to the rest of the team and making them worry, too, that he's feeling that way again. That he's suicidal again, that the level of stress he's feeling while working in Intelligence is driving him back to that point. This could very feasibly be part of the reason that Jay changes his mind on fighting him so hard on all of it between this conversation and their next scene together. However...

Even without the context of my headcanon, the conversation outright says that Mouse is actively thinking about how he might die. He's going to a place where he could potentially die every single day, and he's not concerned about it, not only that, but he seems to be welcoming it. If not suicidal, he's being reckless and careless with his life, telling Jay he's being pushed to the brink, actively concerned that he's taking just as much of a risk even if he stays in Chicago...

Mouse's exit actively undid all of the progress we got to see on screen, putting him right back where he started if not worse off - if he even lived long enough to make it home at all. And it makes me absolutely furious every time I think about it. It turned his arc of recovery into a net negative outcome, and in the best case scenario pushed him back into a potential cycle of trauma and addiction. And even a rushed exit doesn't have to be that cynical.

He could have easily had a more positive exit - maybe going back to school to finish his degree, if he's really set against the police academy. But this exit, and all of the awful, devastating implications that come with it, were a deliberate choice that shouldn't have been made.

TLDR;; Mouse's mental health was an absolute mess, to put it lightly, and I'm constantly confused about why his exit was allowed to play out like this, and how he could reasonably pass any psychological evaluation that would let him reenlist in the first place. yes I know the government and the armed forces specifically are awful about mental health and actively tell people not to report how they're feeling let me apply some logic to my anger please it keeps me sane

[flightfoot]

Tough ask, maybe one that isn't fair but hey you are the ML guru, I apologize if it is.

What makes someone an ML 'Salter'?

I had someone call me a salter before, but then I the 'They would write Marinette as Velma' ask and essh, no.

My concern has always been how the show seemed to deviate from its own one-time core values or treat characters as disposable props for singular points. Is that salty?

I know all shows have slight OOC moments for plot, but degree varies. I think it is also safe two say prople approach these moments differently. Dome people acknowledge them, others weave narrative justification. One camp will accuse the other of being too narrow and looking for any excise at all to bash the characters/writers. The other will say the counterpart will do anything to justify the text, even read it while squinting with one eye covered and standing on their head.

But when I see something like the homework situation- something made ludicrous by existing since kindergarten unchecked, and we have Chloé(yes I know discourse lightning rod) about to be saddled with 9 years of makeup work, that seems for ML to be the perfect blend of comedic commuppanance. Chloé buried under a pile of books and papers is a great image, and perfect kharma for dodging so long (even if enabled by literally everyone)

So when Marinette -the protagonist- jumps up and starts railing about how it isn't enough. It feels... Gross? It doesn't feel like Marinette. Is she having guilt issues about facing zero consequences for losing the miraculous? We get nothing, but it's nails on a chalkboard and very much feels like someone else speaking from Marinette's mouth.

Am I going to go out and write Marinette-as-Velms fic? No. I *like* Marinette. Marinette is not mean spirited. That's the very problem I have with the interaction here.

If I were to write anything it would focus forward. Chloé buried under her extra work, visibly struggling because while the school assigned all the work and tests, they gave no plan or structure for the learning (now that is a good school critique)

Marinette feels for her, because Chloé is in full on Diktator-roof-meltdown. Sure there is satisfaction at first, but Marinette doesn't revel in Misery. She inquires, which leads to a chain of events. Chloé fobbing her off->admitting she needs help->Marinette tries to build her a study plan-> Chloé trying to get Marinette to do some of her work->Marinette realizing and rejecting this->Chloé coming back defeated again, submissive, just asking Marinette to check her work->Marinette realizing quickly that Chloé has been following her plan(though she gets a lot wrong) and studying->Marinette offering to help Chloé study for the subject-aptitude tests only, Chloé has to do all the coursework on her own.->Chloé finally coming to terms with give-and-take, and thanking Marinette. Maybe even apologizing. This would either be in time-crunch or carried over into S6 as a background arc.

This puts Marinette ascendent, demonstrates her core strengths of intelligence,planning, and compassion, has her interact with her former nemesis from a position of power while showing the difference between them (Does not abuse this position or revel in the disparity) shows boundaries being set, and keeps with the overall theming of hope over despair.

So is that 'salty'?

Okay so, as far as "salt" goes, it tends to have two different meanings that stem from the same root: the first being intense criticism of something, being unhappy with it in some way. And then a more specific meaning, referring to the way "salt" and "salter" were being used when the term first started being used a lot in the ML fandom, to describe the group and conceit that Miraculous as a show was being horribly unfair to Marinette, that her friends and family were all awful to her and needed to be punished while Marinette got what she "deserved" in terms of getting a new group of friends and family who would happily hurt anyone she was mad at and follow her orders without question.

For the record, when I rail at how terrible salters are, I'm talking about the latter category. I don't necessarily want to hear people go on too much about Miraculous being bad or the characters being bad, but some criticism is fair and reasonable. It's just the criticism that spawned out of Chameleon and the entire saltdom that formed around it that tended to not be.

Technically, what you're describing, being unhappy with the way the show did something and wanting to change it, would be classified as salt. HOWEVER, it's not the kind that people generally have a problem with - there's a reason there's been discussion of trying to get "critique" to catch on for that instead, when it's a saner form of criticism that isn't just hell-bent on revenge.

Also something to note with what you're laying out - you're looking to make the situation better, to address it and doing more of a fix-it, rather than just trying to burn the characters at the stake. I think that's what got the people who initially joined up with the salt in the early days, when it was billing itself as being "progressive" and "the right thing to do to address the problems of the show" to slowly bow out of the saltdom. Some people joined up with it because it criticized problematic elements of the show and they wanted to join with what appeared to be the more morally, socially conscious side of the fandom. Some ventfics made sense in that context, but once it became clear that was all it was, and that it wasn't actually setting out to fix things, to make things better, a lot of that group left the saltdom.

I don't personally have a problem with Marinette being upset that Chloe didn't get a greater punishment - she's got plenty of reason to be upset with Chloe and to believe that Chloe will wriggle her way out of any punishment she's given anyway - but your points are fair and I like the way you're seeking to address and fix the situation, laying out an alternative scenario, rather than, you know, burning everything to the ground.

That's a key difference - you seem to be aiming for a fix-it scenario rather than a bashing one.

[i-mybrunettelady]

4 and 12 for Alysannyra from the ask game?

hello anon! i assume you meant this ask game? Either way, Commander asks are so good, so we're going with them, and ty for dropping by <3

4. How intertwined is the role of Commander with them as an individual? Are they lost without it?

A good question!! Very intertwined. But not the way you may be thinking. Nyra's always been ambitious, wanted great things, we all know that, and the physical manifestation of that is her tenure as Commander. She's attached to the Pact, it's as much her child as Aurene is, and even though she does follow the canon storyline of resigning in season 3, she later rejoins in season 4 at the behest of Logan. But even if she didn't, her goal was met; people knew her name far and wide.

Yet, she would stay around the Pact for the rest of her life even if she wasn't the Commander still. She would try to affect its decisions and her word would (and does) carry great weight. And she'd use it to stroke her own ego, maybe even unknowingly. She can't stay away from what she created, she can't stay on the sidelines while the organisation her decisions brought to life and shaped since its infancy.

So yes, the role of Commander is important to her on a personal level. She could survive without being the Commander, but she's also the Champion of Aurene, so it's good. And she rejects the Wayfinder title because it's nearly not authoritative enough for her tastes. So she's either Commander or Champion! Though Astral Ward must call her Commander bc she asks to. It's.. It's a point of pride at this point.

12. How has their opinion of themselves changed during the course of their adventure? Was this a gradual change?

It was very much not a gradual change. She basically went from I AM THE GREATEST PERSON EVER to I AM A MURDERER AND THE LITERAL WORST in the span of... 45 days, iirc that's how long HoT takes place. Babymander Nyra, as I affectionately say, is the prideful, arrogant, egotistical, immature version of the person she is now; that's Nyra between personal story and HoT, so ages between 19 and 22! There's a lot to be said about Babymander Nyra but she is just that - a baby on a power trip, cocky, self-assured, nothing can touch her, she's soaring high above.

Then she had to do what she did in HoT and it forever changed her view of herself. In the aftermath of it, where she's dealing with self-loathing, grief, guilt, healing from a very difficult shoulder surgery to, y'know, help save it from when Mordremoth struck her, everything she was once proud of became a brand on her skin and bad. She still doesn't really like herself, but she's not as bad as she was back then. She's since had extensive therapy as well.

Now, she's a mixture of both. She's healing, she's doing better, but she will never be the person she was before Maguuma again. Nyra's awfully bad at self-compassion, so there are times where she actively resents it, even though it's still who she is, deep down. Nyra's view of herself is messy, complicated, ever changing, but deep down, she has remained the same. And I will leave you with this - if she were offered a chance to take it all back, she wouldn't. There are demands greater than her suffering, which is... herself and her ego and her ambition. So yeeeaaaaah.

[shallowrambles]

WHAT IF the key to unlocking it all is the little story Sam urges Dean to tell to Cas in 10x09.

You know, that story about Dean getting roofied by a group of adults and John as savior, arriving just in time to save Dean from being taken advantage of.

It's a lie, see. Perhaps, John wasn't in time. Perhaps, this is another one of those heroic!John fictions for Sam's benefit. The uglier truth is that John arrived just in time to see Dean getting taken advantage of, maybe even by the "safety pin through his nose and a Kill Everything tattoo" guy.

Perhaps, John was horrified, and angry, and Dean interpreted all that anger as being directed at him. John was ashamed of him. Maybe that's the root of the, "He never looked at me the same way."

///

It's the raw nerve here.

Dean went to that bar looking for validation, maybe even trying to soothe rejection and a lack of support at home. (Indeed, in his mind, maybe season 8-9 was him perceiving that no one was supporting him when he felt he needed it. He was killing himself to support everyone, and still failing.)

So, like with the bar, he went looking for heroic validation. He went to take down Abaddon, was led into disinhibition by Crowley, and was (symbolically) taken advantage of by Cain.

///

And when he sees those men trying to get at Claire in 10x09, he slaughters them all, the same way he'd always wanted to slaughter those adults at the bar. You can only swallow the anger and shame for so long.

And so, when he sees Cas is doing for Claire what John failed to do for him, it hurts it hurts it hurts. Cas saved Claire. Where was someone like Cas back then?

CASTIEL: Where’s the girl? [They hear screaming come from upstairs. In the room, Claire is screaming, trying to fight Salinger off. He’s trying to hold her down, and the door flies open. Castiel is standing there, and Salinger turns to look at him, giving Claire enough of an opening to kick Salinger in the face and get up. She kicks him, over and over again.] CASTIEL: Claire. Claire! [Castiel grabs her arm, and she finally stops kicking. Cas leads her from the room. They walk downstairs, and Claire moves away from Cas.] CLAIRE: Randy. [He looks at her, then stares at the floor, guilt on his face.]

//

SALINGER: Hey! [Dean turns around and Salinger smashes his beer bottle over Dean’s head. Dean falls, bleeding from his forehead. He looks up, then flashes back, to receiving the Mark from Cain, the feeling of holding the First Blade, killing Abaddon. The men crowd closer around him, and he remembers beheading Magnus, holding the First Blade, waking up a demon, the ritual of the sanctified blood that made him human again. Back in the present, Dean shakes his head.]

This flashback is disturbingly linked to what just happened to Claire.

///

And carrying this whole father!protector theme further, Cas did Claire wrong, like John did him wrong, but he keeps trying, and why couldn't John have just kept trying?

Dean would've even forgiven him if he'd just tried. There was patience and understanding, just waiting to be given to imperfect father!protector...

Cas eventually relinquishes care of Claire to a trusted friend, even though he wants to keep her.

And oh, how Dean wishes John had done that for him, too.

[alixennial]

For Indie, how about The Magician, Death, and The Star?

Ooh this was a good set of questions that got me thinking about how events up to this point are affecting Indie, especially now that she's leaving Heavensward behind and heading into Stormblood territory…!

The Magician: how does your muse feel about fate? do they believe they can change their own destiny?

Indie rejects the idea of fate - she doesn't believe in a predetermined path that she's powerless to influence, as if her actions don't matter. Everybody's actions matter. Haurchefant's death and her husband's death were the consequences of many actions, inactions, and choices. It would be too easy to allow ✨Fate✨ to take away that heavy feeling of responsibility and she doesn't believe in making things easy for herself!

She once believed in destiny though. She believed that with diligence and positivity you could fulfil your purpose and achieve your dreams. Her adventures in Eorzea have certainly muddied those mental waters, especially with how Moenbryda and Papalymo et al chose to fulfil their purposes.

Death: is there anything in your muse's life that they should be letting go of?

Yeah. Indie needs to let go of her guilt and open herself up to grieve properly. She carries a lot of guilt about failing to protect her late husband and often makes things hard for herself when there's really no need to; atonement for her lack of action when it mattered. She also feels guilty about forming or even considering new romantic relationships, unsure of how to move on. She tries not to give power to the things that have hurt her and protects herself with positivity and a smile. While she has a plan and a purpose and a smile on her face, she's less likely to feel her losses. It would probably do her good to let some of her anger surface - justifiably lose her shit.

The Star: what does your muse take inner comfort in knowing? what guides your muse?

That she's not alone. That there are people in the world that share her values and principles and that her purpose is meaningful. She takes comfort in the fact that she makes a difference, every day, however small. A mother, father, husband or wife will get home safely today and their families will not have to go through what she did.

She's guided by her wishes to make everyone around her feel happy and safe and loved. She has a whole different set of wishes for anyone associating with the Garlean Empire though, understandably.

Tarot Asks

[cairocuestaff]

so we both feel abandoned by my system. thats... ironic. tragic, but ironic. its interesting to me how she doesnt seem to realize that the two of them are more a "group" than the rest of us right now. she was the one who caused us to realize that feeling supported in multiple ways by our environment and circumstances is a critical factor in whether or not the other parts of my system engage with the outside world, but that seems to be a forgotten fact now.

i dont know. i suppose im being cruel. i think maybe im struggling with the guilt and sadness i feel about what shes going through- what im putting her through- and leaning into the bitterness i feel about my own situation instead. ive never done well with having the correct emotions about other people and their struggles, have i? its overwhelming to hear other peoples problems, and its a hundred times worse to hear other peoples problems when my brain sees (justifiably or not) that i am at least in part to blame for said problems. the bad feeling it causes is so big, its too much for me to hold all at once. so i just turn towards the far more "safe and familiar" thing, which is feeling pity for myself, commiserating over my own pains and issues in response to others sharing theirs

theres an undeniable way in which i feel blamed by her, too. i am my system, so when i hear "the system doesnt talk to me anymore"... inevitably it sounds accusatory, like im doing something wrong by existing in the way i do. i cant control that my headmates arent around much anymore, you know? my life is shit right now, truly in the fucking gutter, and i dont blame them for not wanting to be around. god fucking knows i dont want to be around, either. the host doesnt really get to just check out like that, though. theres shit to be done so i force myself to do it to the best of my ability.

anyway. idk. i feel bad for her. i feel bitter about the position im in, how shes contributed to it, how im still carrying everything in my life on my own. i want her to be happy and feel like part of the timeline, but at the same time shes right in the respect that i dont see her as an "honorary member" of the system anymore- because it seemed like she was taking that as an open invitation to speculate or even overwrite my narrative about the nature of my system and how it works. it seemed to be viewed as a stake in ownership over my Self, which is ultimately what my system is. a construct of my Self. and now she feels abandoned, rejected... i want to help, but im in the same boat, and im getting a finger pointed at me to boot.

yeah im a terrible fucking partner. great. how is this empathy thing supposed to work when every time it tries to activate it just completely overloads/overwhelms me in the most emotionally painful way possible?? tips??

[howtowearblackinthesummer]

See THIS is why I needed my tumblr back.

I know a therapist is what I really need but this app is free 😭

I have been doing REALLY BAD for an extended period of time now. I have a panic attack almost every morning that comes with nausea. I’ll smoke to stop the nausea but it doesn’t help the lack of motivation to leave my bed. When I finally do get dressed to go to work I’m already 2 shots in before I get there and I drink sporadically throughout the day. I’m fucking a married man that I work with, planning on fucking a different guy that I work with out of sheer curiosity, and bcuz of a few bitter women I am now the resident slut in my workplace. My clients and admin love me so my job isn’t in jeopardy but I’m not well liked amongst colleagues. My days are so energetically taxing that by the time I get home I’m EXHAUSTED. I don’t wanna talk, tidy up, I don’t even have the energy to roll the blunt that I believe would make me feel better (or at least numb). I either cry most of the way home or just ride here in silence. I have no motivation or energy to even draw or play video games. I feel physically attractive but I don’t think I like who I am anymore. I’m just always fuckin tired or sad.

I thought I was doing well to build my credit and become a homeowner, but now even my dad has given up and suggests I move out of my house and into an apartment instead. I hate being a disappointment and lately that’s all I see when I look in the mirror. I never finished college. I didn’t even go to school for art or teaching so I constantly feel like an imposter, and even though I’ve been given a raise and a promotion I don’t think I’m actually taken seriously.

I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. I hurt so bad internally that I impulsively got tattoos that didn’t even hurt. Last time I got like this I cut myself to see if I could even still feel things bcuz I felt so numb and apathetic.

THEN I don’t have anyone I can talk to about all this. My friends have their own lives. And honestly I think they’re my friends, but I don’t think I’m theirs fr. Not from their perspectives.

I just feel so rejected and unwanted. Like if it weren’t for the kids at my job (and of course my mom) I don’t think I’d actually be missed ? Like it’d be a passing memory of “oh I wonder what happened to Taylor” with no further follow up.

I also feel unworthy of even being able to vent about my sadness. I didn’t grow up in an impoverished or abusive home. I haven’t experienced the death of someone close to me. I have chosen to end the lives of beings growing inside me and I carry that guilt TREMENDOUSLY.

Like I really and truly don’t want to be here, but who am I to take away the life that my mother prayed for. A life she kept and wept for. She wouldn’t understand why I couldn’t just hold on until she left first. Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children. But FUCK

I want my mania back 😭😭 where is that delusional hyperactive bitch when you need her.

Thank you tumblr for being a void I can scream into that sometimes echoes louder than the void inside of me. Maybe one day I’ll feel full again.