#and morph them into just a space of tolerance

[agentsquirrelsgotrobots]

As a trans man that still goes by his mildly femme birth name (because I absolutely adore it and no other name compares), I absolutely get giddy whenever I meet another transfemme in the wild that shares my name.

I met a young Trans girl yesterday who also went by my name, and she was a blast to hang out with.

When I was just starting out figuring out my own identity, my name was a HUGE insecurity. I got it into my head that being "stealth" was everything, and I got super paranoid about being safe at all costs, even at the expense of my own comfort, delaying coming out to people in my life who were vocal allies and refusing to believe that there were people around me that were willing to go out of their way to protect me.

My sense of caution wasn't unfounded unfortunately, a commuity group near and dear to my heart allowed and tolerated new transphobic and misogynistic members for far too long, causing me to have to get the owner of the space involved to lay down the law. It got better, but it's heartbreaking knowing that even though the space is accepting, these people will only ever tolerate me.

However, the owner has my back, and he's kicked out more than one bad actor over my time going there.

Anyway, back to my name.

My name has, mostly because of tiktok, morphed into a stereotypical "nonbinary" name.

Honestly, I hate how this community has the tendency to categorize itself and go to war over the littlest things. We are all a part of the same umbrella, and by infighting over things that really don't matter (masc/femme vs. male presenting/female presenting, neopronouns, is-queer-a-slur), we weaken our sense of community and make it easier for bad actors to take root.

Seriously, it doesn't matter. I will use what name you want me to use and make a good faith attempt at any requested pronouns, and laugh as a small portion of the community tries to assign boxes to a community that literally is ostracized for not fitting into them in the first place.

Really, if you are the type to try and assign a social dress code to a group that is infamous for breaking them, you might need to lurk in our spaces a little more before hitting post. It's ok to admit that this community is a LOT at times because it is. We have been organized for such a short time, and we really don't have too many elders (people older then the age of 35) active in the same spaces that a lot of younger people start in. It's weird to think that at 17, I am edging on the older part of the community. (No, really, that's bonkers. The fact that I remember a time before smart boards and going to computer labs should not make me feel old.)

There is SO MUCH to learn, and as someone who has a VERY practical view on identity and relationships, I am used to the feeling of culture shock in some areas. I wish I had some good recommendations on some good people to follow for interacting with older community members/BIPOC perspectives/diverse economic and social backgrounds, but I am new to Tumblr and haven't found many yet. If you fall into the above, please reblog and @ yourself.

My follow list for people who talk almost exclusively about being in the community on here is mostly white and upper middle class, and I would like to break out of that. You learn nothing by never stepping out of your own demographic, and I would like to see the difference between here and tiktok, especially how there's a lot more people in their twenties on here.

So, hi, my online name is Squirrel. My pronouns are he/him, and I already have a pinned post with my boundaries on here.

[pluvialpoet]

bergamot

Summary: moments of quiet reflection reaffirm what you both already know to be true- he’s always going to come back, and you’re always going to be waiting with open arms

Pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader

Requested: no

Warning: idiots in love, friends to lovers, mutual pining, scarecrow's fear toxin, mentions of death and grief, slight angst, fluffy ending, loosely based off of batman: hush (2019)- but no major spoilers

Word Count: 3,930

masterlist

a/n: I know that dick has a tolerance against/is immune to scarecrow's fear toxin, but let's pretend he isn't...for the plot

Sleep is cruel in the way it continues to evade you when you crave it most. Mocking and teasing, exhaustion morphs into desperation. Even with your eyes shut dreams fail you, and nightmares taunt.

A siren wails, bellowing out into the night and echoing caution even after the initial cry has faded. Could be a police car, or an ambulance. Maybe even a fire truck. You try not to consider all of the possibilities, knowing it’ll only starve your slumber, further. With a huff, you adjust the heavy comforter, pulling it up until it bunches just under your chin.

In a few weeks, branches will be stripped of their leaves. Snow will fall, and the city will suffocate under a blanket of white. July was only yesterday, sticky and never-ending- infinite until finite. Now, January lurks around the corner- weeks away, but daunting, nevertheless.

The pillow tucked behind your back is a poor imitation of the brawn you wish feathers and fill could replicate, just as the one pressed to your chest acts as an imposter mimicking the body meant to be sleeping peacefully beside you. It’s impossible to tell feelings of loneliness apart from being alone, and deep down you know that reminiscence is merciless. Memory is wicked. But you can’t help remembering. It’s the only way you won’t forget- and even then, so much time has passed that you’ve begun to fade, and he’s begun to blur. Spiraling further and further away from reality and control, you drift towards hope, feeding each dangerous possibility until you have nothing left to give, but delusion takes and takes and takes…

Answers elude like comfort- and sleep. When, how, and why is lost upon you. He’s been gone for so long. Even so, your life has continued, evolving to accommodate the gaps he used to fill. Though, it’s about as effective as papier-mâchéing an open wound shut. Everywhere you look, everything you do, every time you shut your eyes, he finds a way to bleed into you, one way or another, and you welcome it every single time. All you really have are memories and a space in your bed which has always been his to come home to.

Outside, the wind howls. Angry and violent, the sound rattles the windowpane and you burrow deeper into the covers trying to block it out. Shadows dance across the ceiling, but none of them belong to the ghost you’ve been waiting for. Another frustrated huff fails to quell burning exhaustion, and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before checking the clock next to you. Neon green flashes, all too pleased to report that it’s well past midnight and you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep. Already tomorrow, and you’re still mourning today.

Pushing the covers off, you shiver. There’s a chill in the air and little comfort to be found in the fact that the entire apartment feels cold and empty without him in it. At least it’s not just the bed. It’s the entire room, the hallway, and the kitchen, too. You reach for the light above the stove and begin to search the cupboards for a mug. If nothing else, at least a cup of tea will warm you up. Thanks to muscle memory, you act on autopilot, filling the ceramic with water and placing it in the microwave before picking a teabag and waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting, always waiting. Three monotone beeps call your attention back before it has another chance to wander away from you, and you retrieve the cup and place the teabag inside. Steeping time be damned.

You can’t wait any longer.

One leg curls under the other as you take a seat and bring the mug to your mouth. It burns the tip of your tongue, a small price to pay for your greed, and you swallow the too-hot liquid regardless of the consequences. The pain barely registers, anyway. With both palms pressed to the vessel, warmth finally finds you, and a barely contented huff passes your lips to blow the steam from the cup. It’s not always like this. It’s not supposed to be, but for so long, it has been. Never months, always weeks. You don’t know how to do this or how much longer you can put yourself through this torture when every sunrise twists the knots in your stomach tighter and tighter. How much longer until you snap?

You’re so tangled up in your suffering that you miss it the first time, until the hair on the back of your neck bristles. Did you imagine it? Silently, you wait, setting the steaming mug down to listen, and this time, you hear it. Faintly, but there. Real.

Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.

I’m here. I’m safe. Can I come in?

Your feet move before the rest of your body does, and the chair scrapes loudly across the hardwood as you jump from it in shock. A cocktail of excitement, worry, disbelief, and fear bubbles and swirls through you when you spot a familiar glimpse of black and blue through the window near the fire escape.

“Dick?”

Crossing the room without any memory of doing so, you fiddle with the latch that keeps you from him, and him from you, until finally it clicks. With only one foot through the window, you reach for him, desperate to savor the illusion until mass, warmth and a heartbeat prove it to be real. Upon realizing, your breath hitches. He’s real. He’s real, and he’s here. No longer a dream. No longer a nightmare. No longer a vision only sleep can grant or mold, he stands before you. He takes a moment to properly slide the window shut behind him, returning the lock to its rightful position- keeping the rest of the world and the winter, out- before turning to face you once more. He can’t even get a word out before you’re pressed against him, wrapping your arms around him and holding yourself back from crushing him with the intensity of your longing. Overly cautious of injuries you can’t physically see- mindful of bruises, tears of flesh, and wounds that remain eclipsed by kevlar and moonlight- you embrace him with a hesitancy that severely undermines your fervor. Holding him gently- delicately, tenderly- the way you’ve dreamt about entwining with him on nights when sleep has been generous instead of cruel, you finally look up at him.

A sigh of relief dispels the hoarded tension in your neck, shoulders, and chest when you rest your head against his chest and inhale. Sweat and copper muddle his natural scent, but even when he’s covered in his victories, even when he’s drenched in his defeats, he still smells like home- warm, safe, familiar, and comforting.

He hesitates to envelop you with the same thinly veiled desperation, holding himself back.

Every muscle in his body carries the strain of battles fought and won. His head throbs with the force of his thoughts, and the inescapable dizziness that always accompanies crashing down from a high. Then again, he’s never been one to ease into things gracefully. Tiny cuts and scrapes, angry blacks and blues, and even gaping gashes that are still seeping and tender to the touch hardly register as anything other than a stinging, burning sensation. Everything is dull. Ferocity and intensity both subdued. Through the haze of everything that competes for his attention, you’re the one thing that’s clear. As always, the hold you have on him, both physical and metaphorical, brings him back to his senses, but doubt keeps him withdrawn.

Warily wrapping his arms around you, Dick returns the gesture as best as he can. Cages built of muscle, meant to keep you close, refuse to lock you in place, and he finds it increasingly difficult to resist surrendering to you entirely. Just as his nerves begin to settle they spike once more when the gravity of the past few months finally begins to sink in. As you continue to tremble in his arms, he swallows a lump in his throat and fights the urge to hold you impossibly closer. If he weren’t so afraid, he’d never let go again. But he’s not the same man he was the last time you saw him. Having seen too much, he knows that he can’t let this become something more. Fear is rotten. He’s seen the future, and if he keeps leaning on you then he’s only going to drag you down with him. Regardless of what he really wants, he won’t let this become something more, but then he looks down at you in his shirt and realizes it’s always been something more- and it terrifies him more than anything.

When pink swirls around the drain- a muted severity of soapy lather and remnants of crusted, oozing red- he rests his forehead against the cold tiles and lets out a deep sigh. He can’t remember the last time he’d had a proper shower. Under the trickling scorch, he allows his shoulders to slump forward, letting the too-hot water soothe his muscles like a balm, and it stings in a way he welcomes- a reminder that he’s done it again, he’s survived the worst and now he just has to survive the recovery.

He’s never been good with the after, always losing himself in possibilities of what comes next without taking a minute to catch his breath, but he’s trying to be better. He owes it to you. Not only you but himself, too- but mostly you. So, he tries to forget. He pushes memories too fresh to be forgotten somewhere else, banishing them to the far corners of his mind and locking them away until he’s ready to face his demons at his own pace, on his own terms, but his wicked creations fight back. Even when they’re crafted from delusions, mirroring real-life counterparts with a precision too exact to be a figmented replication, he finds himself engaged in an internal match that never crowns a victor. It’s a conflict that never ceases, even after his own surrender. Still, he’s found that the intrusions are less when copper is overpowered by citrus, and when red, inevitably swirls into pink.

Steam amplifies the smell of sweat and body odor, so pungent that the only word to describe it is bad, and he holds his breath while he reaches for your soap once more. He can’t believe you let him anywhere near you. It’s even more unfathomable that you sought an embrace, despite the remnants of battle that’ve woven themselves into his being- lingering, even long after. He’s repulsed by that which exposes him, a stench so strong that it serves as a testament to the fact that he reclaimed you as soon as he could, coming right back to this haven of sorts without any prior stops, and his stomach churns uncomfortably, the once soothing mist tainting each attempt at air, and a weight teases the aching muscles of his chest which breath does not alleviate.

Through the haze, he sees the truth- when reality remains undistorted by the tricks of his own want and longing, he recognizes fact without his own warped perceptions of fantasy- and he realizes just how careless he’s been. By allowing desire to suade better judgment, he’s put you at risk. Guilt punishes with an onslaught of emotions ranging from frustration to anger, sadness to grief, and even regret to sorrow. His own reluctance to accept how dangerous it was, and always has been, to lean on your affections as a crutch has finally caught up to him. After all that he’s seen, after everything he’s been forced to bear witness to over the past few months, coupled with a lifetime of loss, he’s no longer able to ignore the thought that’s broken free from the shackles of elsewhere. What was once dull, always there but never really forgotten, has become intense and persistent.

Every time he finds his way back to you, he invites peril into your life. He’s hazardous. Even if he’s not, being attached to him- in any way- puts you at an even greater risk of endangerment. Trying to justify something even as tame as a friendship is absurd. You’re so much more than that. Whether he meant for it to happen or not, you’ve found a place within his heart. Every beat echoes your name and carries secrets of his devotion. All that remains of the walls meant to protect both of you is rubble, and Dick stands alone in the epicenter of the aftermath, unsure and torn between chaos and order. Selfishly, he wants. Greedily, he craves. Morally, he knows that he should just walk away- but he can’t.

The scene shifts, ceramic tile falling away to reveal an eerie, yet familiar boneyard, and he shakes his head. It’s not real. It was never real- but it was so vivid. Cold fog obscures his vision, and he closes his eyes. This is a trick. This isn’t truth. He knows what comes next. Forced to indulge in his worst nightmares, the shrill, piercing sound of your terror renders him numb. He can’t move. Paralyzed, he fights limbs of lead, but he can’t act. It surrounds him, your agony, and he can’t do anything to save you. He can’t protect you. With each cry of his name, you plead, but there’s nothing he can do. When silence follows his ragged breaths, he refuses to look down. He hates this part the most, but he doesn’t have a choice. Crimson stains the black and blue weave, and he can taste metallic. He doesn’t have any control over this hallucination, born and bred from his greatest fear, and all he can do is witness the fallout of your shared torture- your blood on his hands, his body slumped against your tombstone, and the triumphant laughter of a clown, a scarecrow, a ventriloquist, and a hundred more that delight in your demise.

He can’t catch his breath. Drifting further and further away from reality, he struggles to claw his way back towards the light. When his vision begins to fade, he reaches for more soap. In for three counts, out for four. In for three counts, and out for four, again, Dick feels lightheaded. There’s no limit to how far he’d go to keep you safe, not a single rule or code he wouldn’t break to protect you from anything and everything- and that’s an entirely different threat, in and of itself. His loyalty has the potential to become his ruin, and he’d let it- for your sake- but would that be enough? Could his devotion be enough to keep you safe from the otherwise brutal fate that awaits you with, and without, his intervention?

The bite of a washrag leaves his skin raw. Lost to his thoughts, he’s been mindlessly scrubbing away at his flesh, dousing himself with bubbled distraction. Another breath fails to alleviate his unease. All he can think about is that which is out of his control, and he can’t help but wonder, is there even a chance for the two of you?

Every thought is a contradiction.

He could wax poetic to Bruce about love- how precious and fragile and conscious it is- but he can’t even bring himself to act upon his own advice. Even worse than following in a denialist’s footsteps is being a hypocrite, but there are just too many variables for him to take into account- too many what-ifs and maybe’s that enable him to cower behind words left unspoken.

In spite of this, he dares to dream of a future where you’re his and he’s yours, and nothing else matters. Lost to his delusions, a smile threatens to work muscles that’ve remained dormant for months of disuse. It hurts. Stretching, pulling, and manipulating his face to actually convey what he’s feeling instead of trying to veil it, hurts. However, the worst pain follows. As he reaches for the illusion, it slips through his fingers- so close he can almost hold it, yet just out of reach, simultaneously- and just like that, reality distorts the mirage. Pried from him, ripped away and sporting his claw marks, what could’ve been remains what could’ve been- and it’s all his fault.

Fear suppresses his love.

He’s already lost so much, he can’t lose this, too. He won’t. However glutinous, he craves more- even when he knows he can’t have it, he wants with a desire that’s almost too strong to ignore. Almost. Locking his feelings away, he throws away the key, but his ribs begin to expand with the intensity of his longing, and his chest feels tight. This isn’t like before. It seems as if his secrets have outgrown their cages, and he finds himself at a crossroads. His mind begins to drift and he wonders if this agony is why Bruce kept Selina at arm’s length…

A sigh, and a revelation- he’s not Bruce, and you’re not Selina.

Dick’s been going about this all wrong. Despite everything he’s been taught about love and loss, he’s allowed a life outside of a domino mask and kevlar. He deserves to cherish someone, to protect and devote himself to something other than his work- someone to fight for, someone to come home to- and he deserves to be beloved, too. Even if only for tonight. Even if tomorrow isn’t promised and all you have is right now, you’re here. On the other side of the frosted glass screen and plaster, you’re waiting for him. Another smile, less forced and genuine, feels like a relief instead of a burden. His skin pebbles under the frigid stream left in the wake of molten steam. With a shiver, he seeks your warmth, reaching for the faucet and stepping out of the enclosure.

A worn shirt rests atop the counter, the fabric faded from years of wear and wash, folded neatly beneath a pair of fresh boxers and socks likely left behind from the last time, or the time before that, or even the time before…truth be told, he thought he’d lost it, misplaced it, or given it away. Of course, you’ve had it in your care, all along. The corner of his mouth threatens to twitch into a smile. Slipping the towel from around his waist, he begins to dress, wondering when you managed to sneak in without him hearing you. The door used to creak, and he realizes that you must have fixed it while he was gone. It’s hard not to think about what else might’ve changed since the last time he saw you. Would you have stayed with him, if he asked you to? You always have. Six years and counting, he muses if you always will…

His hair is getting long, again. Droplets fall from the overgrown strands at the base of his neck down his back, making him shiver and reach for his towel once more. He pats his hair down, ruffling it with the towel a few times before wiping away at the mirror. Making eye contact with his reflection he’s the first to look away. He’s looked worse and supposes that's a small win in and of itself, though he can’t stand the sight of himself any longer than he has to. A deep exhale and a shake of his head diverts his attention to the countertop where a spare toothbrush has been left out for him to use. Of course, he already knows where the toothpaste is. He helps himself with a growing smile and places it in the holder right next to yours when he’s done. His chest expands with something he can’t quite name when he finds himself surrounded by gentle reminders of your care. A small cup of water and painkillers act as physical embodiments of your thoughtfulness and he revels in the knowledge that you’re letting him know you’re there for him while giving him space to come down from whatever adrenaline rush the past few months have spiked. It’s in those silent gestures of love that he hears it the loudest, echoing and amplifying all around him.

It must be killing you to act so selflessly, and he tries not to be selfish with your affections, but it’s difficult not to feel like a burden when you’ve rearranged more than just a spot on the counter, or a place for him to keep his toothbrush next to yours, for him- giving him a home without expecting anything else in return.

Down the hall, the mattress protests against his arrival, angry springs squeaking from months of disuse before welcoming his weight and warmth on the side opposite of yours- his side, from the very moment, years ago, when he found his way back to you after a night that left him bloody and beaten but not broken. Never broken- not when he’s always had you. Though most memory of the first evening spent beside you remains a blur, the ability to recall details and specifics stolen from him as his wounds wept crimson tears that stained your hands and upholstery, fondness prevails. Despite robbed recollections, tender warmth, and affection remain. Even then, he knew. Without really knowing, without certainty, he was certain- he loved you, and you loved him, and every gentle, devoted gesture has always reaffirmed the one thing he could never doubt. Every silent offering, every selfless sacrifice, and piece of yourself that you’ve surrendered to him further insists that your heart acts in favor of three words never spoken.

His arm finds your waist easily, and he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to tiptoe around his reluctance to accept what this is, anymore. Not when you’re here. Not when you’re waiting so patiently for him, and snuggle back into his hold the moment he reaches out for you. Some limbs tangle, but not yours- the two of you fit perfectly together, like you were truly meant to be, and the moment that you’re allowed to converge, you press your palm flat against his arm, holding him close to you.

Reacquainting yourself with him after is always your favorite part. Though, your heart cleaves when your fingertips ghost over a new scar- the skin still raised and angry, even if the wound has closed. With something akin to sympathy, an apology for the pain he’s suffered that you can’t take away, you gently trace the new mark in acknowledgment.

Tomorrow, or later today, when the sunlight illuminates the sky, you’ll ask him about it. Or, maybe you won’t. When the first glimpses of warm light threaten to spill over the horizon, you might get answers to the questions you’ve spent the last few months pondering. Or, perhaps everything unasked will remain unresolved. Either way, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the fact that tonight, you’ll sleep- safe and protected, at ease and engulfed by all things him- and even if it only lasts for the night, you’ll cherish whatever small moments of intimacy the moon grants before the sun, inevitably, rips them away- a fate you’ve grown to expect, time and time again.

Still, you let your eyes flutter shut, basking in the silence for only a moment before it’s interrupted.

“I love you,” Dick confesses softly, words warm and whispered against your shoulder encouraged by a fleeting moment of courage- and the tender caress of your touch- that prompt the secret to spill from his chest, an accident he fears he may have to render excuses for to salvage whatever broken pieces are left of this unspoken relationship.

“I know,” With your back towards him he misses the stretch of a smile ghosting your lips, and finds himself tensing behind you. Could you have really known? All this time? Is that why he always comes back? Is that why you let him? “I love you, too,”

“No, I mean, I really lo-“

“Tell me in the morning, yeah?” You suggest before he can get too far ahead of himself. Torn between wanting to clarify his confession and realizing that maybe he doesn’t have to, Dick relents. He can’t really argue, anyway- having kept this to himself for so many years, another few hours won’t hurt. With a breath- of acceptance, not defeat or surrender- he closes his eyes and finally relaxes into your embrace.

It’s over.

For now, Dick can rest easy knowing that when the smell of bergamot fades, this tacit love will always remain, and he finds enough comfort in the realization to let it lull him into a peaceful sleep.

a/n: I love him so much!!! this has been rotting in my brain for nearly a year and I just found it in my drafts last night lol! anyway, this started as a challenge to myself where I wanted to see if I could write something with only five lines of dialogue, and I'm curious to hear how you all think it turned out! as always, requests are open! check out my request guidelines before submitting! and if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! 

everyone who requested to be tagged: @idyllcy @wicked-laugh @ul4lume

Send me some feedback, or request to be added to my taglist! (please specify which taglist you’d like to be added to- character or general) !Requests: OPEN!

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[floralpascal]

The Ghost of You

Summary: After you go on a months-long mission without Ghost, he’s left to reconcile the ever-increasing loneliness that’s left in your absence.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.3k

Rating: Mature (But the series is explicit, so 18+ only, mdni!)

Warnings: kissing, secret relationship, little hints of agonizing over feelings, fluff, mention of sex, a metaphor that mentions drugs, Ghost getting a little overstimulated

A/N: I know I promised this one would be more fluff than angst… but apparently I can’t help myself

This series: Illicit Indulgences Series Masterlist

Loneliness was a sly, malicious sort of pain. Before a person could realize how deep the affliction ran, it was already too late. They were already drowning in it. 

It started, as it often did, in Ghost’s dreams. You haunted him often in them, that was no surprise. Hell, sometimes it was a good thing — depending on the type of dream. But recently, the dream version of you wasn’t right next to him like you usually were. At first, you were just out of reach, the ghost of a woman he could never seem to catch up with. So close, yet so far away. Even when the dreams weren’t the kind that he wished he could forget, the distance between you filled him with a sense of unease that he couldn’t shake until long after he awoke. Slowly, the dreams morphed, always leaving you farther and farther from him and in increasing peril. What the danger was or where you were, he never quite knew. All he knew was that he had to close the distance, he had to catch up to you. But he never could. 

The dreams had begun to leave him more on-edge than he was willing to admit. 

Maybe they would’ve been more tolerable if he would have woken to find you next to him or — at least — been able to see you at some point in the day. Instead, the only contact Ghost had with you was with the ever-elusive ghost of you in his dreams. 

Price had taken you on an operation with him three months ago. When you had left, no one knew how long it would take, especially seeing as it was likely to take you to several countries. It was a delicate operation — one Price was working with an old friend — that could use someone with your swiftness and precision. Much to Ghost’s annoyance, it did not require his particular skill set and he was needed on a base in England for the next few months anyways. 

“Don’t worry about me. It’ll be fine, Simon,” you had assured him, easy confidence in your voice as you traced the edges of his mask with your finger. You laid in his bed, completely bare merely hours before you would catch your plane. “Just don’t go missing me too much.”

As weeks turned into months without seeing your face or hearing your voice, the only contact coming in the form of small updates from Price, Simon found himself truly without you for the first time in forever. Since you had joined the 141, you had almost always worked with Ghost, even when the team had to split up to do separate missions. Being without you for so long would’ve felt wrong even if there was no personal component to his relationship with you. 

But there was. 

Sometimes, late in the night, he would forget and start to consider how he could sneak over to your quarters and into your bed. Or he would hear a set of footsteps approaching and think for a moment it might be you. The realization always came to him, each time more biting than the last. 

If he thought you occupied his mind before, you had truly conquered it now. The ghost of you always there. Would you have chuckled at Soap’s joke? Would you have given Gaz a hard time for his favorite football team’s huge loss? What witty, teasing remark would you whisper in Ghost’s ear as you passed him in the hall?

Those questions only led to more. Were you thinking of him? Was he haunting you like you were haunting him? 

Were you okay? 

The space you left felt like a cavern. The dull ache of it gradually spread, taking hold deeper and afflicting more and more of him until he finally had no other option than to admit it. 

It was lonely without you. 

When you were next to him, it was easy to forget what life was like before you joined the team. Before you had wound your way into virtually every aspect of his life with him hardly noticing. Your current absence, however, made this fact painfully obvious to him now.

The days were dimmer, his usual tasks almost unbearably tedious. He had never realized how much he looked for your presence before — or how plentiful it was — until it was gone. He had come to rely on your witty banter while you both did paperwork, your never-ending input on his decisions, and the hidden, imperceptible touches of your hand against him throughout the day. 

It surprised him how much he missed your touch. Out of all the things he missed about you, it was the lack of your soft skin against his that left him endlessly irritable. Enough so that even Soap had noticed that something was wrong, though the Sergeant knew better than to push this subject.

What made him even more irritable were the worries he had about your safety. At least when you were by his side in the field, he could try to protect you. He could do something. There was something agonizing about being unable to even know if you were in danger, let alone do something about it. Ghost had never thought himself to be a worrier, but now he found himself unable to stop. But why was he surprised? He had always worried on some level even when you were right there next to him. Now, the feeling was simply multiplied by uncertainty. 

As Ghost sorted the clean mixture of black, green, and camo laundry in front of him on his bed, he found himself finally being able to put a name to the feeling he felt: emptiness. It described loneliness better, he thought. Loneliness implied that there was a space left that no one had ever occupied. Emptiness, however, left him with the distinct impression that there was a space left unoccupied that was supposed to be occupied. Like someone had once been there and now their absence left a gaping hole. 

You bloody sap, he thought to himself as he laid another worn, soft green shirt onto a stack. Even his own chastising didn’t help.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Ghost silently sighed, rolling his eyes. He ignored the knocking at his quarters’ door as he resumed his sorting. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Ghost simply called, “Go away.”

He knew what Johnny was here for. The man had pestered him to go with him to some concert at a local pub tonight for days now. Apparently, he didn’t want to take no for an answer.

The door handle jiggled before the door swung open, a line of privacy that he thought Johnny knew much better than to cross. 

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, Johnny,” Ghost snapped as he whipped around to face him. “What d’ya think you’re-?”

But when his eyes landed on the doorway, Ghost froze, his eyes going wide as he stopped dead in his tracks.

It wasn’t Soap. It was you. 

You. Not the amorphous phantom of you that had haunted him for so long. Undeniably, you. You wore your usual black tee tucked into camo pants, looking rumpled and a bit disheveled. It hit him then that you must have just gotten back. Your eyes were tired and wide, but a small smile still clung to your lips. Even though you had been the one to seek him out, you seemed almost as surprised to see him as he was to see you.

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving the two of you alone and in private as you both simply stared — almost disbelieving — at the other. 

You took him in as your shoulders relaxed. 

“Simon,” you sighed, relief dripping from the word. It hung in the air, feeling like it had physical weight to it. 

You stepped forward tentatively, your eyes drinking him in for the first time in months. 

Suddenly, you were in his embrace. He didn’t know if you had thrown yourself there, if he had pulled you in, or if some mix of the two had occurred. His brain was too busy still catching up with the fact that you were really here. That the warmth he felt in his arms was you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, hands clutching at him as if he might turn into smoke and disappear at any moment. He wrapped his strong arms tighter around you to pull you closer so that any and all space was eliminated from between the two of you, not at all reluctant to seem desperate for this. For you. Maybe some part of him should’ve been mindful not to crush you, but you didn’t seem to mind. You only melted into his embrace even more, your body slumping against his. Wordlessly burying his face in the crook of your neck, he let the long-forgotten scent of you wash over him. 

He had imagined what you both would do when you saw each other again a ridiculous number of times in the last three months but, surprisingly, none of them had gone like this. There wasn’t a sense of lust in the air. There wasn’t any witty banter. There was only the overwhelming need to be close. To simply feel that the other was really here. It conveyed something that words or sex simply couldn’t. A silent, languid, but no less urgent discussion. It felt like recharging after running on low battery for much, much longer than either of you had ever been meant to operate on. This was more than enough, almost too much and not enough at the same time. But that was what being with you was often like.

You both stood there for a while in each other’s embrace. When it became obvious that neither of you were ready for this to end any time soon, Ghost detached from you only enough to gather the just-sorted clothes on his bed and toss them haphazardly to the floor. He pulled you down to lay with him, fully clothed and overwhelming. Your touch soaked through his clothes and through his skin like a drug that he had been suffering withdrawals from.

He found himself lying in the same position with you that he had the night before you left: facing you, his legs entangled with yours, and his arms around you as you ran a finger along the fabric of his mask. The feeling was so fine, yet so strong it sent a shiver down his spine. 

“Missed you,” he whispered, so soft he didn’t even know if you had heard it. The words felt flimsy, useless to describe what he had truly endured. Even if he could describe that, however, he still may not have been able to say the words. It felt too dangerous to put something so vulnerable out into the world like that. Historically, it had always bit him in the arse in the end. Uttering the two simple words he had was already a Herculean feat. 

“I thought I told you not to,” you countered, but it wasn’t a true rebuttal. He couldn’t tell if it was for your own need to hear his voice once again or if you could tell that his admission had taken a lot from him and he needed your wit to lighten the conversation. By the way you longingly studied his face, he placed his bet on both.

He shrugged. “Didn’t listen.”

You looked at him lazily, your expression turning serious once again. “Neither did I. I missed you, too.”

If his senses hadn’t already been overwhelmed by your sudden reappearance, he was sure your admission would’ve hit him harder. He stored it away for another time when he had more clarity to devote to unpacking it. 

To unpacking what any of this meant for the two of you. 

Part of this job was being apart. At any moment, the two of you could be ordered to the opposite ends of the world for an undisclosed amount of time. Maybe at one point in this relationship that would’ve been possible for the two of you. Now, even the thought caused physical sharp, searing pain. 

You brought him back from his thoughts as your hands found the edge of his balaclava, eyes asking him for permission. It wasn’t like you needed to ask anymore — he had already given it to you the night that he first pulled it off of his head in your quarters — but you always did. Without fail, you always asked. 

He gave a curt nod, one that said you know you already have the answer to that question. 

Fingers grazing over his neck, you gathered the soft cloth before gingerly pulling it up and off of his head. Something about taking the mask off in your presence never ceased to make him hold his breath. Each time, you looked at him as if it were the first time again and, at the same time, as if it may be the last time you ever would. 

You took him in for a moment before slowly moving to capture his lips with yours. A soft, world-tipping affair. 

When his senses became overloaded, he pulled away, opting instead to tilt his chin up to place a kiss to your forehead. You scooted closer, tucking yourself under his chin before letting out a long, satisfied breath. Hands slowly traversing your back, he let his eyes fall closed as he simply took in the feeling of you against him again.

Even though he knew you couldn’t stay here all night — not on this base — he needed to take advantage of every second he had with you. Was he making up for lost time or trying to burn these moments with you into his memory in case of another extended time apart? He didn’t know. All he knew was the thought of enduring another second without you made him feel sick. 

Simon pushed the thought away. He didn’t need to think about it right now. You were here in his arms once again, solid and real. And like this, that feeling of emptiness he had grown accustomed to for months was long gone. 

[aggro-my-beloved]

Angel Face → David Shaw x Reader Imagine

note: i can’t write a grumpy david shaw i’m sorry he’s like .03% tsundere in this re-imagined meet cute between him and angel and his anger isn’t even directed towards them. i’ll be leaving a poll at the end for which paring you’d like me to write for next in this scenario. please like and reblog as it’d really mean a lot!

pairing: david shaw x gn!reader

summary: solstice bar is packed tonight for an up-and-coming performance by a local band, and security guard david is left as a stand-in for the usual bartender. just when he thinks he’s at his wit’s end, a stranger in desperate need of conversation and something to soothe their nerves makes this shifter’s thursday a bit more tolerable.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, mild swearing, damn crew as frat bois and other shenanigans

wc: 2.1k

estimated reading time: 10.5 mins

“Welcome to Solstice!” 

At a certain point in the night, the patron’s slurred chattering morphs into white noise for David’s ears. While manning the bar, beckons and calls for another round are less distinguishable but still audible if he concentrates hard enough. 

“Kitchen’s closed!” 

“Soda or seltzer?” 

“Special is a…” he turns the still full bottle on the center of the bar to face him. “A Port Charlotte single malt whiskey. You in?” Seconds later, he heaves a mix between a grumble and a sigh. “Course not.” 

“I said the kitchen’s closed!” 

“Try saying it louder,” chortles Milo. His dark stature barrels through the swinging door leading to the kitchen, behind the bar. Amidst his rapid collecting of fingerprint-stamped brandy bowls and red-kissed crystal stems, his hand flies up to release his chestnut waves from the hairnet securing them. “Don’t think they heard you the seventeenth time.” 

“Remind me why I agreed to pick up a Thursday for Sam. I never work Thursdays.” David raises his voice the farther Milo retreats into the kitchen. The clinks of glasses tickle his ears but do little to nothing to ease his nerves. The cook returns with a pristine array of cocktail glasses sat on a black tray. If there’s anything David admires more than his colleague’s house-made wings, it’s how he can make the same dingy glasses sparkle night after night with a quick wash. 

“Because…” he sets down the tray carefully on the open bar space perpendicular to David, in between the ripened limes he prepped hours ago, and the beer taps. “Ash and his band finally wrote enough decent songs for a gig here and we agreed to be here tonight to support him.” What Milo didn’t know is that the extra tips made between David and Asher tonight were in contribution to the soot-covered kitchen drawers at their home–courtesy of the main act’s drummer insisting he fulfill his oatmeal craving. There wasn’t a chance in hell those two were getting the security deposit back, not if the cherry-oak wood soaked in gray and smelling of cinder and their landlord’s new vendetta had anything to say about it. The two shifters were already ripped a new one last week for their scratch marks on the recently renovated hardwood flooring, which they credited to “dog sitting for a friend.”

“And no more animals!” The unempowered and oblivious landlord scolds them, red in the face. 

“Yes sir.” They reply in unison.

Ash tries choking down a smug laugh and fails miserably. David smacks him on his chest. 

Milo grabs a handful of peanuts from a stray bowl set aside to be washed, and pops them in his mouth, savoring the salt dancing on his taste buds. “Also,” he makes out through munches, “Sam’s out tonight from sun poisoning.”

David scoffs at this. “So he says. Tank was flirting with him so much last night, I could hear them from my post at the front giving stamps.” The promises of what his younger sibling would do to the fanged creature behind closed doors cued David to shudder. Before disappearing behind the kitchen door once again, Milo quips:

“Better hearing it than smelling it.” David refuses to ask the cook to elaborate and instead shifts his attention to the front entrance, where drunken yells and chants resound. His lips curl down in a fierce scowl as the melded odor of sweat and liquor becomes six bodies more pungent. Like a cavalry, they march in with arms looped through one another’s to keep stable. If the young faces weren’t already a dead giveaway for what would be in store for David tonight, their tacky shirts did enough talking. Each one color-coordinated for a significance the man was too exhausted to mull over, but all reading: “Straight Outta D.A.M.N” in giant, bold font. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me–Hey, Milo, were you just not gonna tell me it’s the E and E’s Annual Frat Bar Crawl tonight? Because that’s a pretty fucked up thing to do to a bartending security guard!” 

“What!” Milo’s accented shriek rings through the building, and he peeks his head out of the aluminum swing door to view the staggering group of drunkards for himself. “Ah, fuckin’ hell..” He fully steps out from behind the door and cups his hands around his mouth. “Hey, hammered frat dudes!” A couple of heads from the group turn in his direction. “Yeah, you guys! Kitchen’s closed!” He turns to pat David on the back of his shoulder, over the white rag he’d been drying glasses and countertops with all night. “You got this, buddy.”

“Uh uh, I don’t think so.” The man shakes his head in disbelief, and a chorus of whines echo from the group of empowered frat members. One brave soul steps forward, the beefiest of them all. He dons a shamrock green shirt with the sleeves (poorly) cut off and a pleading set of eyes. His deep voice floats to the bar from where he stands, almost devastated. “Even for fries?” 

Milo is halfway through his strut back into the kitchen but is halted by David’s hand gripping his shoulder. “Even for fries, Milo?” The man cocks his head to the side, jutting out his bottom lip in a pout. They both knew why he was playing so coyly; resorting to the rarely used puppy dog eyes; mimicking the man’s tone from moments before. It was the same reason they consulted Asher’s band to play tonight. As much as either of them try to deny it, the bar needs the business. And if Sam’s claims during their Super Smash Bros tournament from weeks beforehand weren’t all talk, he’d hate to see what the vampire could do with just a walker and pure unbridled rage at tonight’s numbers. 

Through gritted teeth, the shorter of the two mutters something about putting his hairnet back on before continuing his journey to the clean fryers. 

“Come on in, people!” He waves a hesitant arm in his direction, encouraging the clan to venture further. The solemn whines morph into cheers as they proceed their march to the bar.  Though he was dreading it at first, the orders were easy enough. Bud Lite, Rum and Coke, two more Bud Lites, another Rum and Coke, and a Mojito. In addition to this, anungodly amount of fries, but that is for Milo to deal with. 

Halfway through the intoxicated army's orders, he spots a straggler trying to squeeze through the ever-growing crowd anticipating their next round and tonight’s show from the local, up-and-coming Howl’s Highway. Asher thinks the name is awesome. David thinks it’s one step closer to breaching covert to several unempowered beings who may be wandering into Dalia from out of town. They agree to disagree.

“Excuse me,” the voice croaks. “Sorry.” It pipes up every few seconds, complemented by the sight of shuffling bodies. Finally, a face pops up before him, splotched with red and with bloodshot eyes, but not from any addictive or bitter-tasting substance, other than heartbreak. David can sense their aura with the proximity. They are devastated, even more so than the student begging for a plate of fries. 

“Evening, Angel. What can I get for you?” The patron’s mouth falls open, and without intent, David does the same. He was never fond of pet names at the bar, rather he viewed it unprofessional as much as he did embarrassing. This is why Sam mans the bar, and he manhandles the bastards before they can order a drink. But no, tonight he needs to strip off the leather jacket and tough exterior and ask himself: what would Sam do? 

I can name someone. 

Milo, politely get the fuck out of my head and cook your goddamn–

“Uh…” The unempowered stranger gnaws on their bottom lip in thought. 

“Hey man, we weren’t through ordering!” His mouth retraces the snarl from earlier, and he apologetically directs his attention away from the distressed figure and to another fart member. The most inebriated and demanding of them all, if David had to guess from his words coming out like fondue. This one had a red shirt and an overall bad attitude. 

“Ah,” he holds a finger up, allowing the man to pause. “Let me take their order, and I’ll come back to you, okay?” He offers a thumbs up to the man, hoping this will mollify him. 

“No, not okay.” He crosses his arms, a newfound flame lit in his eyes. Oh great, just when I thought I was done putting out fires this week. Now the red shirt makes sense–fire elemental. “We were here first-“

He hopes for his friends’ sakes, he’s much more pleasant sober. 

“Dames,” Greenie butts into the argument. The one in red simmers down at the feeling of the large hand resting on the small of his back and drawing gentle circles. “It’s alright, he’ll only be a minute.”

“Y-yeah, maybe we can go find some uh–some good seats for the band tonight and come back?” A meek voice offers. He’s hidden behind the other members of the group, all that is visible of him is a pair of round frames and a flash of gray on his upper body. Similar to how they breached the entrance of the place, the squad links arms to continue their journey deeper into the crowd.

 

“God, those were some tacky shirts. Straight Outta DAMN? What does that even mean?” The newest customer shakes their head in disgust as they eye the backside of the frat disappearing into the sea of bodies. “Seems like you’ve got your work cut out for you tonight.” 

“Who, the Bud Lite bunch?” He waves a hand nonchalantly. “We get ten of those on nights like these.” 

“Well, I hope that was your tenth and final bunch of the night. I don’t do too well around rowdy people.” 

“So what brings you to one of the most packed bars in town tonight?” David quirks a brow at the stranger. 

“Well, the pictures online made it seem a lot less busy.” They rub the back of their neck with a sheepish smile coating their face. “I just needed to get away from…I got dumped tonight and wanted to drown my sorrows.” David tries not to be offended by how invisible they are to the public and the stranger’s acknowledgment of it. The bigger chains are killing them. More recently, they’re treading on the outskirts of Dalia and monopolizing over each empty plot of land they deem a cash cow.

“Your wish is my command. What’ll it be?” David crosses his arms, causing his muscular arms to bulge against the thin fabric of his white tee. Simultaneously, the hem of his shirt rides up to reveal a very tan, very toned v-line vulnerable to the wandering eyes of the one sitting before him. They try not to make it obvious. Menu, eyes, menu, abs, arms, back to menu. 

“Maybe an Espresso Martini?” They peer up to lock eyes with him again. Truthfully, they hadn’t read a description of any drink on the list and were taking a lucky guess. 

A few seconds of silence transpire before David responds firmly. “No.” They almost choke in disbelief, and their heart rate picks up.  

“Pardon?” 

“You need something stronger.” He decides, ultimately picking up a few bottles that the dejected newbie couldn’t decipher the labels of. Their eyebrows stay furrowed as David fills the cobbler shaker with a handful of ice cubes and a generous amount of liquor. 

“C’mon, trust me. What’s in here,” he shakes the stainless steel vigorously for emphasis, “ain’t gonna kill you.” 

“I think a hole-in-the-wall bar is the last place I should be told to trust  a stranger.” David considers this and hums. 

“I think the alley in the back of this place might take the cake.” Wiggling in the leather barstool from anticipation, their eyes stay concentrated on the clear glass as a slow strain of amber liquid occupies it. Before sliding it to their side of the bar, David is sure to garnish it with some orange zest.

“Go ahead, it’s on the house,” David smirks, before retreating to the kitchen to help Milo plate the heaps of fries. 

“For real? No, I have to owe something.” 

“It’s a new recipe. I wouldn’t even know what to charge you.” The man admits. “Go on,” he insists, prior to disappearing behind the swing door and being greeted with Milo’s sassy commentary on how David’s going to be working overtime to help him clean tonight. 

As the cook is balancing plates onto his arms, he hardly feels the burn of ceramic against his arms. For all his senses are concentrated on his new patron–more specifically, the sound of them sipping his innovation and a delightful hum leaving their lips. 

“Damn, that’s good.” 

He ponders shortly after, amidst delivering fries to the ravenous elemental crew, I think I’ll call it Angel Face.

＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊＊

[leahrintarou]

☠︎︎ DAY TWENTY-ONE: PIERCINGS FT. AKAASHI

☠︎︎ WARNINGS: sexual tension, makeout, finger play, non-detailed piercing process, fingering, fem reader

☠︎︎ WORD COUNT: 1.6k

y/n walked along the outsides of the strip mall's now closed stores, taking small glances at the shops dimmed interiors, signifying its temporary and nightly closings. she arrived in front a specific store, seeing that it was one out of so many, that was actually opened.

it was a piercing shop

it'd be a not so thought through decision if she decided to walk through those doors. just an hour prior to her walk for fresh air, she were scrolling though the social apps on her phone, mesmerized into all the different jewelry pieces and placements. her legs carried her directly in front of the door before her hand reached for the handle.

the sound of the bell above the door created a small indication of her entrance before the figure of an unfamiliar face walked out from behind the secluded area, being the front counter. "are you guy's open right now? i know it's kind of late but.." she trailed off, eye's traveling to his hands as he removed the black colored latex gloves, tossing them into the trash bin.

"i was actually just about to get ready to close. what was it that you needed?"

y/n noticed how his attention was evenly distributed between she herself, and a printed sheet of paper that he seemed to write down a couple things onto. "i was thinking about getting a piercing of some sort but if you're closing, it's fine. i'll come back here tomorrow." before y/ n could take a step to following out with her farewell, she heard the voice of the guy speak once again.

"a tongue piercing"

she looked up at his figure, a small expression of confusion morphing onto her features. he let out a small chuckle at her reaction, reaching for his phone that was resting atop the counter. his slender digits made a few swipes against the screen before he motioned for y/n to walk over to him. once she did, he shared with her a few pictures of jewelry pieces and styles of tongue piercings, allowing her to see some options.

as he swiped, he noticed how y/n hummed at one specific picture. "hm. do you like this one?" he questioned, a smile appearing onto her lips when she nodded. "so, have you done that one before?" she asked, eye's slightly widening when his showed her his own piercing that was located on his tongue. "all of the pictures i just showed you, is my own work" he mumbled.

after his acknowledging words and the sight of the guy's own jewelry piece that was pierced through the muscle of his tongue, y/ n began to notice the rest of the piercings that accompanied it. one on his lower lip, an array of them on both of his ears and a septum. "so, are you down?" he questioned, breaking the small amount of silence.

"do i get one of those lollipops?" she asked after eyeing the jar of assorted sweets. despite her childish words, y/n managed to use a stoic expression. the figure nodded before walking over to the swivel chair, accompanied by a leather chair. "of course...uh, what's your name, pretty?".

"y/n. how about you?" she returned his question, taking a seat of the chair after he motioned her permission. "akaashi" he nodded, adjusting the height of his chair to get the needed supplies ready for use. "how bad did this hurt for you?" y/n asked, gently fumbling with the hem of her clothing. "it depends on your pain tolerance. for me, it wasn't too bad. i'm sure you can handle it, right?"

y/n hummed, returning akaashi's smile when his gaze met with hers for a split seconded, before he focused back down to drag a pair of gloves onto each of his hands. "all you have to do is take deep breaths. i won't hurt you..." he paused his words before standing up from his seat to be faced to face with y/n. "on purpose, atleast"

y/n furrowed her eyebrows at his joke before noticing how he tapped her thigh, signifying for her to allow space between them so he'd be able to comfortably proceed with the piercing process. "tongue out for me, pretty" he mumbled, eye's focusing from y/n's eyes to her lips. she hummed quietly before parting her lips to follow out with his request.

"breathe, okay?"

she nodded and he grabbed the pair of tongs, aligning it with the markings that he'd previously made on her tongue before lightly clasping it to a tighter grip. he mumbled a few numbers, counting down as he penetrated the needle through the muscle. y/n directed all of her attention to his voice, trying to ignore the sensation that coursed through her tongue.

"see? wasn't too bad" akaashi smiled, screwing the ball onto the bar. "i almost cried" she said through and obvious and sarcastic tone. y/n let out a sigh once his fingers left her tongue so he could hand her a bottle of water. "quick question though" y/n announced, taking a sip from the uncapped bottle.

he slightly backed away from in between her thighs to give her a bit a space, signifying for her to continue. "will it be harder for me to do things with this?" she asked. "things? like what?" he laughed, using a tone with little to no innocence behind it. "eating, making out-"

"shouldn't you have asked this before getting the piercing?" he met eye's with y/n, noticing how she rolled her own due to his confrontation. "i got distracted" y/n's gazed darted to his lip's, admiring the singular ring that decorated the corner of his lower one but, quickly focused back up when he smiled.

"by me?"

"yeah actually. by you"

akaashi let out a small hum before speaking up once again. "eating is kind of..the same and making out; is pretty easy. it'll be weird feeling at first but you get used to it as time goes by." he answered, picking up the tools that were previously used just seconds ago. "what about making out with someone who also has a tongue piercing?" akaashi's movements paused for a split second after putting away the items for sterilization. "why would you want to know that, pretty?"

"curiosity"

"well, curiosity doesn't usually stop until you've seen or experienced something for yourself" akaashi began to remove the pair of gloves from off of his hands, tossing them into a near by trash bin before returning to his previous stance, dangerously close to y/n's face and in between her loosely hanging legs. "so, are you offering me some experience?"

and with another hum that was accompanied by a smile, y/n felt the lips of akaashi press against her own. it was an automatic reaction for her hands to graze the fabric of his clothing, desperate to pull his figure closer to herself. akaashi were a few steps ahead of her though. his hands rested on either sides of her thighs, slightly gripping the area to lessen their amount of distance from each other's bodies.

y/n felt a bit clumsy with the way the unfamiliar jewelry piece clashed with the one of akaashi's. he noticed her tenseness that was being caused from her unfamiliarity with the whole situation and how she was too focused on avoiding mishaps instead of trying to feel relief and pleasure from the shared kiss. akaashi pulled back for a split second to mumble quick but familiar words of reassurance. "breathe, okay?"

akaashi returned to his previous movements, feeling satisfied when y/n did in fact listen to words and took a deep breath into the kiss. although, he didn't know if it was for a small feeling of relief or the need for more. his question was answered when his hand, that now rested on her hip, felt how she would make small grinding movements towards his body. akaashi was just as aroused by the whole situation, himself.

a small moan ruptured past both of their lips when y/n successfully grinded against his hip. akaashi tried to focus on their shared yet intimate moment but instead, his mind couldn't help but occasionally trail off to how y/n gained slight friction from her movements against him. "can i touch you?" he asked, fingers making it's way to the hem of her pants as soon as she nodded.

he fumbled with the material before successfully inserting his slender fingers behind the fabric of her underwear. y/n let out a small moan when the pads of two digits pressed against her bud. akaashi's head felt clouded from the satisfaction of hearing y/n's pleasure filled sounds whilst also sharing their heated kiss that slowly became less and less cordiated since y/n and he himself, were focused of his pleasuring fingers.

with the mix of his tongue against hers, heavy breaths, his fingers, and the small moans that he made, y/n felt a wave of satisfaction brush over her when their low lidded gazes met for a split second. "more" she managed to request. with another stream of pleasure filled sounds, y/n felt her high suddenly creep up on her and akaashi noticed it too when she broke the kiss to bury her lips into the crook of his neck, muffling her sounds.

her thighs tightened around his wrist when her high finally reached its peak, her whole body unsteady from every movment that akaashi's fingers would make against her now sensitive bud. "y/n?" akaashi called, slowing his movement to allow her to form audible responses.

"would you be down for nipple piercings, too?"

"do i get another loli-pop"

"i think i know something that you prefer more than a loli-pop"

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Febuwhump Day 7 - Suffering in Silence

LU in Healthcare! Feat. Warriors and Legend, PTSD and difficulties with empathy and difficult patients

XXX

Warriors rolled his eyes as he heard the patient yelling.

Legend shot him a bemused, somewhat disconcerted look. "Look, I get people can be dramatic, but he is hurting."

"He bruised his hip," Warriors snapped. "I've seen the films. Literally nothing is broken. He has no medical history to denote that this is aggravating something that already exists. And he's screaming for the entire ER to hear. He needs to suck it up. I gave him an ice pack to hold him over until the pain meds get verified by the pharmacist, I'm not denying him anything, but this is excessive."

"Yes," Legend agreed as the man screamed again, making people pause and turn their heads. "It is excessive. But maybe he's never had a bruised bone before. They hurt. He's in pain. People express pain differently."

"Obviously," Warriors grumbled, rubbing his forehead as a headache developed with another yell from the room.

Legend watched him, his eyes becoming more discerning. "Link... just because you've been through some serious shit doesn't mean everyone else should understand that. I... I get that the military makes you build a tolerance, but not everyone goes through that."

Warriors paused, closing his eyes and trying to regulate his breathing as the patient hit the call bell.

"I... look, I can tell you're angry, and I can't really... understand why, but--"

"Because people here get to just make demands and expect us to wait on them hand and foot when others are dealing with so much worse and never ask for such things," Warriors snapped before he could stop himself.

Yes. This patient was in pain. Yes. He would treat said pain. It was cruel not to do so. But that wasn't the issue, it was the entitlement, the demands that came with it. I'm in pain, I can't reach something that's within reach. I'm in pain, give me food. Why can't I get fucking food? My mouth is so fucking dry and you're denying me that?! Warriors had heard it again and again, had explained multiple times to multiple people that if someone is going to get surgery they can't ingest anything or they might vomit and aspirate during surgery, he'd seen a grandmother with a broken hip politely deny pain medication and apologize for even needing to be there while others like this one made sure to let the entire world know he had a bruise.

Fuck. Warriors chewed on his lip. Civilian life was certainly different.

Legend huffed mildly. Although the army nurse expected some snippy remark, his friend instead bounced his eyebrows briefly and looked away. "Yeah, I get that." But then the travel nurse looked back at him, holding eye contact. "But you can't take it out on him."

He's still a person. He still deserves respect. He's in a rough spot and you know it.

Warriors sighed and nodded, walking away. He needed space to calm down, somewhere he couldn't hear the screaming.

The screaming. The agonizing screaming of his brothers-in-arms as they lost legs, as they bled to death with nothing he could do about it. The patient's yells pitched higher, morphing into a woman's yells instead, and Warriors felt his heart stop. His world shifted, he wasn't in an ER anymore, not in Castle Town, not in--

"Hey, looks like pharmacy verified the med," Legend said from the nurses' station. "I'll give him the medicine, okay?"

Warriors swallowed, leaning against the wall, counting to ten over and over and over. "Yeah. Okay."

[bdsmess]

hii what are white ladder laces ?

Hey friend. White ladder laces most commonly look like this (straight bar style):

And unfortunately you may see them on a lot of leather/military/hypermasculine type of fetish blogs around here. Ladder lacing has kind of a complicated history but in summary, the colors of this style of lace pattern on combat boots have been used to signal affiliations with various identities and political ideologies since at least the 70s. Different colors have had meanings that have morphed over time. But almost without fail - and across the world for a long time now, not just in the US - white ladder laces have been worn exclusively by skinheads, neo nazis, and white supremacist groups.

There are those who will claim it’s just part of their fetish, that it is used by alternative kinds of skinheads, that it’s just linked to power dynamics, whatever. Do not buy that shit, and don’t let them convince you to do it. They say that because male fetish spaces are spaces where nazi ideology has always been more able to proliferate unchecked under the guise of kink. The links between skinhead and gay fetish communities are really interesting but it’s a topic too big for this ask. Basically, I can promise you that I have almost never seen or met someone wearing these who did not know perfectly well what kind of people they were signaling to.

I hope you never see someone wearing them in real life, but if you do and you aren’t willing and equipped to commit an act of violence (which ummm I would *never* condone violence but this would not be.. the worst time to take out your face covering and a baseball bat) you should probably walk in the other direction.

IC: Do not tolerate white supremacist dogwhistles or ideology in queer fetish spaces. We protect us.

[dronegutz]

wcue rant

i'm going to be petty for a moment !!!

why are spectators always treated like utter shit for just existing???

like it get that it's hard to rp with them in the clearings, but you don't have to be rude about it. the ruder you are, the more aggressive the spectators will be, and it will just be a neverending cycle. the best you can do is ignore them. the more you stir up with them, the more they'll come, just to spite you.

i especially hate those clans run by bugeye morph users who always act like their better than everyone. it's so fucking annoying. like actually shut up, no one cares that you want to run a spec-free roleplay except maybe you and the singular friend you have with you that probably doesn't like you anyway because you're so stuck up and bitchy.

it's not worth it to be constantly praying on spec's downfall when the devs actively refuse to give us a space to go. just fucking tolerate us, or don't play the game at all. there's a reason that the moderators have the rule of 'no harassment' and 'no discrimination' in the fucking rules. it's to shield us from you insolent fucks.

[morbidsmenagerie]

Best Beginner Scorpions

I get asked a lot about good starter scorpions and best beginner scorpions. I've also seen quite a few people get into scorpions and start with either a Heterometrus silenus or a Pandinus imperator, and quickly decide scorpions just aren't for them. Also, some of you might already know I'm a huge fan of US native scorpions, and most of my experience and interest is in those. I think there are a ton of US native scorpions that are overlooked, when not only would they make excellent beginner pets, but they would probably be more what people are looking for in a scorpion than getting a Heterometrus or Pandinus.

So I'm finally going to talk about my recommendations for good beginner scorpions, and rate them based on Personality, Care, and Availability. This is not going to be a caresheet, I'll mostly just be talking about their care in broad strokes or talking about specific unique aspects of their care. Please do your research before getting a scorpion! Also not giving these scorpions a venom rating, all of the scorpions listed have mild venom and are not considered medically significant, but please keep in mind that anyone can have an allergic reaction to venom or have a particularly bad reaction to even a mild species.

These are just my personal takes based on my experience and what I've seen about their care, if I don't have personal experience with one of the scorpions listed I'll say that and base my rating of what I know of similar species or have seen from other people. The personality rating especially is based more on personal preference as well as size. This list also isn't all inclusive, there's definitely some out there that are great beginner scorpions but I don't know enough about to really give my opinions on them. This thread also wont have pictures because there's going to be a lot, but if you search through my blog I should have pictures of most of the species I'll talk about. Hopefully this introduces you to some scorpions you may not have considered as beginner pets, and gives some pointers on what to look for when picking a beginner scorpion.

Anuroctonidae

Anuroctonus pococki

Personality - 5/5 Care - 4/5 Availability - 2/5

Anuroctonus pococki is a medium sized (about 2") scorpion native to Southern California. There's two color morphs, a darker morph that is more common and a lighter morph, sometimes recognized as the distinct subspecies Anuroctonus pococki bajae (though to my knowledge the subspecies status is still up for debate). Both morphs are very bold looking, but the main selling point of this genus is their larger than life personalities. Although I've never seen one attempt to actually sting, they readily threat pose and will challenge anything that gets in their space, including prey items, forceps, and cameras. They readily burrow in the wild, so deeper substrate should be provided, which means the enclosure needs to be a bit taller than expected. They also aren't as readily available, if you live in Southern California they're common enough that you should find one fairly easily, but outside of this area only sellers that have US native scorpions are likely to have them.

Anuroctonus phaiodactylus

Personality - 5/5 Care - 4/5 Availability - 2/5

Very similar to Anuroctonus pococki, this species is slightly smaller and more widespread, found in California, Nevada, and Utah. They have the same bold personality, and because of their smaller size wouldn't need as big of an enclosure. They are lighter than A pococki and less granulated, which gives them a very shiny appearance.

Buthidae

Centruroides vittatus

Personality - 4/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 3/5

I'm hesitant to say any scorpion is truly communal, but bark scorpions seem to be more tolerant of each other than a lot of other scorpions. I wouldn't keep juveniles with adults because a molting scorpion can easily be preyed upon, but so far my communal set up with all adult females is going well. Centruroides vittatus are common in Texas, although they can be found in several neighboring states as well. They're arboreal, and need vertical places to climb and molt. They're also a bit on the smaller side, topping out at 2" though adult males have tails that might exceed this. Their small size detracts them a point, but they're very active and can readily be seen exploring their enclosure and have great prey drives. If you live in Texas these are very easy to find locally, outside of their native range though they're less commonly sold.

Centruroides gracilis

Personality - 4/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 3/5

As with Centruroides vittatus, the adults seem to do alright communally, and some people have had success keeping juveniles and adults together. They're larger than most other bark scorpions in the US, reaching about 3" in length with adult male's tails possibly reaching beyond this. One of the most interesting things about them is the wide variation of color, with some appearing solid black and some appearing almost uniformly red. There's also individuals that have black bodies and red legs, or other combinations of color. They're found in Florida and seem to be reasonably common there, being from a tropical area more care needs to be taken in keeping the enclosure humid and warm.

Chactidae

Uroctonus mordax

Personality - 1/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 3/5

Although common throughout the West Coast, Uroctonus mordax can be harder to find locally because of their small size, impressive camouflage, and timid personality. A very interesting scorpion from an unusual family, adults top out at about 1.5". Care doesn't get much easier, they're very forgiving and tolerant of colder conditions (to an extent!) and are happy with slightly damp soil and a hide. I wish I liked them more being the only scorpion found around where I live, but their mild personality definitely puts them in the "pet rock" category.

Diplocentridae

Diplocentrus spitzeri

Personality - 3/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 2/5

I have 2i babies from this species, and I help take care of what is presumably an adult at the PDXinsectarium, but I don't know for sure if the one at the insectarium is full grown. If it is, these scorpions are on the smaller size, as the one we have there is no longer than 1.25", but from different sources online they appear to get up to 2" as adults. I can't personally verify this though. I will say Diplocentrus are one of my favorite genus, due to their unique subaculear telson and their extremely shiny cuticle. That being said, Diplocentrus spitzeri are not my favorite species from this genus, the downsized of their small size bring them down just a bit. These guys are more common than other Diplocentrus though, and are still an excellent choice if you want to keep this unique genus.

Diplocentrus peloncillensis

Personality - 3/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 1/5

Absolutely gorgeous species, their highly shiny caramel coloration makes this one of the prettiest scorpions around. Adults are about 2", but unfortunately not very common either in their native habitat or in the hobby. I would definitely keep a look out for if these species ever does become available though.

Diplocentrus whitei

Personality - 3/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 1/5

I have only ever kept juveniles for this species, I have never seen an adult in person, but that doesn't stop this from being one of my favorite US native species ever. Relatively large, with sources saying they can reach up to 3", looking at these photos will surely enamor them to you. Shiny black, with bulky chela and a lean build makes them look like the scorpion equivalent of a sports car to me. Again unfortunately not very common in the hobby anymore, but definitely one I will be keeping an eye out for.

Hadruridae

Hadrurus arizonensis

Personality - 2/5 Care - 3/5 Availability - 5/5

Although highly recommended as a beginner species by most people, Hadrurus are the only genus of scorpions I refuse to keep myself. They are large, impressive looking scorpions, and their care definitely can be easy, but I think this genus suffers from multiple drawbacks that keep me from recommending this as a first choice. For one, Hadrurus are large, reaching up to 5" long. They're also obligate burrowers, and can dig burrows up to 3 feet deep in the wild. This means they need a lot more space than a lot of other scorpions would need, I honestly think a 10 gal is too small and ideally I would go with something even taller than that. They do best on clay-based substrate to maintain their burrows, which clay can be an issue if it ever gets wet. Wet clay will stick to a scorpions tarsi and claws, and can dry into a hard cement like block around their feet, which is a sure way for a scorpion to get mycosis. This isn't necessarily an issue if you never introduce water into the enclosure, but for beginner scorpion keepers it can be stressful if your scorpion goes on fast for several months and you also can't provide them water at all. They are hardy, and can survive several months without food or water, but it can be hard to not stress out about your scorpion when you haven't seen it or noticed it eating for that time. Also being obligate burrowers, this is a very likely possibility, they can spend 95-97% of their lives in their burrows. The other issue I have with them personally is that they don't seem to be readily bred in captivity. Wild caught scorpions are common, in fact most scorpions you will buy are likely to be wild caught, but most other scorpions at least can be bred in captivity so ideally more people will be invested in breeding them and establish a hobby population that will reduce the need to collect wild caught. Hadrurus species have difficulty breeding in captivity, both getting them to mate in captivity seems difficult to induce and even when females to give birth in captivity younger instars are unlikely to survive. Feasibly this is a problem that could be solved with dedicated time and effort, but for now I wouldn't recommend this species.

Edit: I'm actively working on improving the care for this species, I've been compiling reports from people who have gotten them to successfully molt in captivity as well as reports on their behavior and habitat in the wild. Some of this information is out of date because it was based on the old way of keeping, but I don't feel I have substantial enough evidence currently to confidently propose an alternative yet.

Hadrurus spadix

Personality - 2/5 Care - 3/5 Availability - 3/5

Hadrurus spadix has similar points and issues as discussed with Hadrurus arizonensis. They're very similar except Hadrurus spadix has an all black body and is found further up North, as far North as Idaho.

Hormuridae

Hadogenes troglyodytes

Personality - 1/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 1/5

This scorpion species is pretty special to me, it's the first scorpion species I ever owned, and got me into keeping scorpions as a whole. It's also one of the main two precautionary tales on the importance of captive breeding. Care for them is extremely easy, they aren't big burrowers and instead prefer tight crevices between rocks or in cracks, which makes them extremely fun to set up an enclosure for. Hot gluing rocks into a terrarium in a loose pile and filling in substrate into the gaps makes a fun display tank for them. They're also very forgiving, with only moderate temperature and humidity requirements. They are also appreciably large, though I think calling them the "biggest scorpion in the world" is misleading as most of their length comes in the extremely long tails of the males, their actual body size is around 3-4", and they are considerably less bulky than other large scorpions. The main drawback they had in the hobby was incredibly slow growth rates, with it taking 8-10 years for one to fully mature. Gestation periods were also long, reportedly up to 18 months between mating and birth. This terrible combination meant it was way easier and more profitable to collect from the wild, and though exports aren't illegal as they are with other scorpions on this list, availability has tanked in the last 4-5 years. When I first got into the hobby in 2018 I bought my Hadogenes troglyodytes for 25$, and she was about a 4i juvenile. Now, the only person I've seen sell them only has a small number of 2i captive bred babies, which he's selling for 200$. They're also reportedly rather boring, people complain about them being pet rocks or inactive, though honestly from my personal experience the scorpion I had was rather active and explored around her enclosure a lot, she also exhibited a lot of interesting behaviors like tail wagging which helped get me interested in other scorpions. This might be either due to a difference in care or a difference in individual.

Liocheles australasiae

Personality - 1/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 3/5

The poor man's Hadogenes troglyodytes. These guys benefit from being parthenogenetic, faster growing, and much more readily available, at the massive downside of being much, much smaller. Adults top out at about an inch. I've also found them much less active than my Hadogenes troglyodytes was, though again from what other people say this is closer to how H trogs normally behave. They do play dead when disturbed, which can be kind of alarming as you'll pick up the bark they're hiding under and they'll fall flat onto their backs and stay frozen there for a couple seconds. Other than that they're fairly inactive, but you will get to see them molt and grow a lot more.

Scorpionidae

Heterometrus silenus

Personality - 3/5 Care - 4/5 Availability - 5/5

Ah Asian Forest Scorpion, the reliable fallback. Most people first getting into scorpions start here. They are easy to care for, decently big, and readily available. And with the amount of misidentified "Heterometrus sp" or "Asian Forest Scorpion sp" in the hobby, even if you didn't want to start here you probably ended up starting here. As far as I know, most of these are imported from Thailand, even with a widely available species that breeds readily in captivity, most are still wild caught. This could mean an unexpected brood if you buy an adult female, and you may not know your scorpion is an adult because these guys are often sold as Heterometrus spinifer which get a lot larger. If your Heterometrus silenus is over 3" (from mouth to tailtip) I would assume it's an adult. These guys are also obligate burrowers and so need deeper substrate (and subsequently larger enclosures) but moist soil maintains a burrow much more readily and it's way easier to ensure they're hydrated as they appreciate having a water source constantly available. I have heard people caution that Heterometrus species are much more aggressive and feisty than Pandinus species, and should not be kept by beginners, but honestly I haven't found this to be the case. Both genus are rather mildly behaved in my opinion, though having dealt with several Heterometrus silenus and Pandinus imperator there are individuals from both species that can just be more high strung. Neither species is quick to sting, though pinches can hurt. The main benefit of Heterometrus silenus as a beginner species is how easy they are to find, a lot of major pet stores will have them for sale, though keep in mind that most subadults/adults for sale anywhere are more than likely wild caught.

Heterometrus spinifer

Personality - 4/5 Care - 4/5 Availability - 1/5

Much harder to find than Heterometrus silenus, much larger, and commonly mislabeled, Heterometrus spinifer are the pinnacle of Asian Forest Scorpions. They're shiny black, but can have a distinctive green hue under certain light, and can get up to 5" long. Because of their larger size, larger enclosures are required to ensure they have enough substrate to burrow, but as with Heterometrus silenus moist soil readily holds its shape. These guys also have a surprising affinity for water, so I would definitely recommend providing them with a deep water bowl they can fully submerge in (as long as some rocks or grip is provided to allow them to climb back out).

Pandinus imperator

Personality - 3/5 Care - 4/5 Availability - 1/5

Once the staple of scorpion enthusiasts and beginners alike, now a precautionary tale about captive breeding. Though they don't take as long to mature and gestate as Hadogenes troglyodytes, they still take a lot of time and patience to breed. It was way cheaper and easier to continue mass exports from Ghana, until their wild populations got so depleted they were put under the protection of CITIES to stop excessive exporting. Now, because so few people captive bred them, they are much less common and are much more expensive. I also think some are definitely still wild caught and illegally exported, which is also why you should take particular care with vetting any sellers before you buy one of these scorpions. If you do get one though, you can see why these scorpions were hailed everywhere as the perfect introduction to this amazing order of arachnids. Easy to care for, easygoing personality (for the most part), long lived, and one of the largest scorpions that was readily available in the hobby, there's a lot to like. Again, as a large obligate burrower more substrate and tank space will be needed, and once they do make their burrows don't expect to see them all that often, but these are still fascinating animals that help demonstrate how important it is to maintain captive populations and reduce the amount of animals that are wild caught.

Scorpio maurus

Personality - 4/5 Care - 3/5 Availability - 2/5

In my personal opinion, extremely similar to Hadrurus species but with some more things working in their favor. First off, the drawbacks that are the same. Scorpio maurus is also an obligate burrowing arid species, so is also going to need deep clay based substrate and they are also sensitive about humidity and susceptible to mycosis. They also appear to have a hard time breeding in captivity, and are almost always wild caught. The upsides are they are much, much smaller than Hadrurus species, with adults maxing out at about 2" long. This means they can build a larger burrow relative to their body length in a much smaller enclosure, so they won't take up as much space. They also have personalities rivaled by only Anuroctonus species, they readily threat pose and are super active about taking prey. They also have a shiny carapace, which makes them look very pretty. I still wouldn't expect to see them very often after they burrow, and they can still cause stress to new keepers who are worried their scorpion hasn't eaten or drank in several months, and they still have the same issues with being wild caught, but their smaller size and large personalities help make up for it.

Superstitioniidae

Superstitionia donensis

Personality - 2/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 1/5

I absolutely love this species, but I can recognize they aren't for everyone and require a bit more dedicated niche interest to get into. Their main drawback is their size, adults barely reach an inch long. If that isn't a turn off for you though, you'll be rewarded with a frequently overlooked unique gem of a scorpion. Their carapace is shiny and has bold stripes on it, and they are the only species in their family, making them unlike any other scorpion in the US. They're fairly active for their size, and very good about taking prey, and their care requirements are extremely simple. Found throughout the Southwestern United States at higher elevations, a mostly arid substrate with a corner you spray every few days and a hide is enough to keep them perfectly happy, and their small size means they won't take up much space. They aren't super readily available, and they seem a bit more difficult to find in the wild, but I would recommend giving these little guys a try.

Vaejovidae

Paravaejovis puritanus

Personality - 5/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 1/5

One of the larger Paravaejovis in the US, good for if you want something with easy straightforward care but a bit on the larger side. Adults get just over 2", and have a uniformly caramel brown coloration. Personally a species I really like, but honestly because they're hard to find I would suggest you go with a Paruroctonus silvestrii if you want a scorpion around this size.

Paravaejovis spinigerus

Personality - 5/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 5/5

Slightly smaller than Paravaejovis puritanus, adults are just under 2" long. What they lack in size though they make up for with bold stripes and bolder personalities. My personal go to recommendation for a beginner scorpion, it doesn't get better than this. They'll happily make scrapes under a hide, tolerate anything in the warmer room temperature ranges (>75F), are reliable and active eaters, readily breed in captivity, and are one of the most commonly encountered scorpions in Arizona so are wildly available in the hobby. They're way more tolerant to moister conditions and appreciate an occasional sprayed corner (though should still be kept mostly dry), and their large bulky spikey tails are very impressive for people who want a medically significant scorpion like an Androctonus but are nervous about potent venom. One of my favorite scorpions of all time.

Paruroctonus silvestrii

Personality - 5/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 2/5

For people who want larger, more humid tolerant scorpions, Paruroctonus are one of the largest scorpions in the US. Reaching almost 2.5", these guys are widespread in California and are one of the most commonly encountered scorpions in that state (their common name is the California Common Scorpion). Although they still prefer things slightly on the drier side, and wet substrate isn't a good idea, they don't mind a bit more ambient humidity and a wet corner. They also have bold stripes on their tail and extremely interesting chocolatey brown patterning on their prosoma.

Paruroctonus boreus

Personality - 4/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 2/5

Haven't kept an adult of this species yet, and again the one we have at the PDXinsectarium seems too small to be full grown. From my experience they seem fairly laid back, nothing too particularly notable besides them being the Northernmost species of scorpions in the US, with their range reaching up into Canada.

Pseudouroctonus apacheanus

Personality - 3/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 1/5

A small species, with adults being just over an inch long, Pseudouroctonus are localized in specific mountain ranges in Arizona. The two most common ones are Pseudouroctonus apacheanus and Pseudourcontonus santarita, which for all intents and purposes can be considered essentially identical. Have an interesting response to potential threats in that they freeze and become perfectly still, only to suddenly bolt when they think it's safe, so they definitely require a bit of vigilance. One of the more unique looking species of vaejovidae.

Serraditigus gertschi

Personality - 3/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 2/5

Another small species, fairly nondescript with some light patterning on the body and their signature hooked tips on the fingers of their pedipalps. A relatively active species with basic care requirements, but otherwise isn't too special. They're fairly common in California and can easily be found in that area, but are hard to come by elsewhere. This was also an interesting scorpion for me to keep because the person who sold me them said they were juvenile Paravaejovis puritanus, and once I correctly identified them I realized that not only were both of them adults, they were also both gravid females, so I've produced two broods from this species.

Smeringurus mesaensis

Personality - 5/5 Care - 4/5 Availability - 5/5

Another excellent beginner scorpion that's widely available. These get fairly large, with adults reaching right about 3" in length. Highly active species, they are very fast, bolty, and feisty, and one of the only scorpions I've had that actually attempts to sting. I would recommend larger enclosures for them, as they are very active, will readily climb shorter enclosures, and burrow in the wild. Personally, I also think these guys do great with plenty of hides to build scrapes under, and if you're going with an all sand enclosure to mimic the dunes they live on it's unlikely to hold a stable burrow. If you want to encourage burrowing, a clay/sand mixture is best. Although they are also an arid species that's sensitive to humidity and moisture, their avid feeding response makes these a less stressful animal to keep as far as worrying if your scorpion is getting enough water. Although I don't personally believe in stepping stone species (I think you should get animals because you find them interesting and not just to practice for another animal you want more), if you one day want a medically significant scorpion this is a great species to start out with. Going from a Heterometrus silenus to an Androctonus or Leiurus is not going to carry over, because Heterometrus silenus don't behave like either of those two other scorpions. But Smeringurus mesaensis are fast and not afraid to sting, so practicing good habits when caring for a Smeringurus mesaensis will actually give you applicable good habits when caring for a medically significant species.

Vaejovis carolinianus

Personality - 3/5 Care - 5/5 Availability - 1/5

Also very overlooked, unique in that it doesn't live around any other scorpion. Vaejovis carolinianus are found in the Eastern United States, and they're the only scorpions found from Alabama up into Kentucky and North Carolina. This is a good option for someone who wants a Vaejovidae scorpion but doesn't want to make an arid enclosure or worry about humidity. They also have a very pretty dark mahogany brown coloration with some mottling that makes them very interesting to look at, and they have appreciably bold personalities. Care is similar to Uroctonus mordax, moist substrate with slightly warmer temps, and they're also about 1.5" long as adults. In the wild they seem to prefer hiding under logs and loose bark, but don't burrow too much.

[winkingluna]

pick me

yes, i am a pick me. i did not immediately antagonize sharpay evans and regina george as characters. in fact i found them to be interesting, cool even, in the most feminine way my young brain could collect and name. i don't have externally, anything in common with these women. i am not white, i am not 2000s skinny and i am not wealthy or even close to it. what i do have in common with these archetypes is being insecure and actively going against any situation that would shine even a spot of light towards that. so i mask and project.

my insecurities are not based on how i look, whether, i am going to be rejected because of a lack of assests or likeness. i am shallow because i refuse to go deeper and figure out somehting about myself that others already washed their hands off with and have tolerated. so i view everyone on the surface. i pick it up and make sure that i resemble the foil of their insecurities to make myself feel like i have filled in the gap in myself and in their selves as well. i am perfect. theres nothing to see here besides everything you want to be. but please don't ever call me out on anything you may not like about me. because i am so far gone in my dissection of you, that i don't see you as anything sound at all. you are a sum of imperfections projecting your flaws back at me. i simply cannot hear you.

i thrive off of people i believe are close to 'perfect'. people who effortlessly carry attractive traits. i want to become them or better, to be chosen by them. what they don't like about others, i avoid. because there is nothing worse than being unconsciously repulsive. i study. i learn and i adapt. i become everything you have ever looked for which is now everything i want. all that's left for you is to choose me.

i love the way that i look because you like it when i wear my hair up. you say it shows more of my face. you like how round it is, so i don't worry too much about eating carbs at night anymore. you hate noise, so i learn to walk faster to reach you to avoid filling the unattented space i seek your attention in without beckoning your name. this does not break my bones. its fulfillment. its hedonistic at nature. i want you to want me because there is nobody else that would find you as perfect as i do. i imitate to show my desire. i morph into a picture only i have the capabilty of producing...just for you. a perfect algorithim. watch me, consume, i want to be your sick desgined habit. i know you will always pick me.

at least that is what i think.

[amischiefofmuses]

Morph, you're just a shapeshifter who can't even decide who you want to be. Your ability to mimic others only highlights your lack of originality and your inability to be true to yourself. Maybe if you focused on developing your own identity instead of trying to be like everyone else, you wouldn't be such a forgettable waste of space.

Send anon hate to my muse! :^) || Accepting

Their expression settles on something solemn. These are words they've heard before, words that haunted them in the past - because they were the one aiming at themself. Pointed self hatred, struggling to find who they are while trying to integrate in a world that hates those like them. Exhausting. A delicate tightrope act. But- things are different now. They have the X-Men back in their life, a sense of purpose, and most importantly a sense of BELONGING. No one asks them to be someone else in their day to day, no one asks them to hide to make them more tolerable to be around or pleads for the face of a friend, a lover, someone lost for them to replace. -- ❝You know, if you'd have said that to me a few years ago I might've just agreed with you.❞ There's a hint of a smile there, optimism, all this has done is remind them of how far they've come. ❝But I was wrong back then and you're wrong now. I could look like the Hulk, Black Widow, Spider-man, and it'd still be all me under there. The same ME that the team knows and loves.❞

[cyanocoraxx]

Hello! You have cool snakes and know a lot about them too, could I have some of your advice? I've recently been really into snakes, and seen tiktoks of how happy their owners are with them, it makes me really jealous and wishful for a snake companion of my own.

Except I know NOTHING about them, their care, needs or expenses. My experience with pets is a typical low to average maintenance dog, that's it. Never handled reptiles in my life. BUT SNAKES ARE SO ENTICING, and supremely cute too

I was wondering if you have any advice for a complete beginner on what kind of snake to get that's easy and as I said, for beginners (if it even works that way, I don't know a lot about snakes). If you have any resources and such.

Or even like, a checklist to see if I'm even eligible to own a snake (it could be hard idk). Want to know if it is even within my capabilities, the lifestyle needed and stuff like that.

Could you also give tips on their body language? I remember you mentioning in one of your posts that body language is important, and I wouldn't want to mess up. I want the potential cutie to like me after all.

Thank you anyway for your time! Appreciate it <3

so sorry for the late response i wanted to sit down and give a proper thought out guide and just haven't had time <3

checklist for eligibility:

you will need: a terrarium/vivarium, a heating device (heat mat, ceramic emitter or heat bulb), a thermostat (to control the heating device), a water bowl, a hide, substrate, and enrichment (sticks, leaves, decoration etc). make sure you have all of this on hand before you bring your pet home

you'll need to be comfortable or at least willing to feed your snake frozen prey, which means being able to consistently provide mice or rats (most common). most reptile stores will stock frozen!

depending on the species you want you'll need space for a vivarium. if you want a snake that can grow to be 4ft for example you'll need a space to put a 4ft viv.

you'll need to have time to regularly spot-clean their enclosure, which means binning their waste and removing shed skin. a full clean out once a month if not bioactive.

best "starter" snakes (imo):

rosy boa (2-3ft long, 25 years+)

royal python (3-6ft long, 20-30 years+)

corn snake (4-6ft long, 15-20 years+)

rosy boa - these little noodles don't get enough credit! they stay very small, they're very docile, and easy to care for. due to them being so small they only need small prey items which won't take up a lot of space in your freezer. they're very good eaters. downside is they're less common than royals and corns so depending on where you are you may struggle to find one near you. they can also be more food-motivated than royals and when they have food on their mind they can be a little more bitey - but with their tiny size, i promise you can't even feel it (from experience)

royal/ball python - a very common snake that can be found in most reptile shops. they're well known for being extremely docile and easy to handle as well as being super duper cute. they live longer than corns and rosys. downside to royals is they can be "fussy eaters" which can make new owners nervous - they're known for going off their food for months. they will also need larger prey items as they grow, so if you're not keen on keeping larger mice/rats in your freezer this is a downside. they're also more sensitive to improper temperature and humidity than corns.

corn snake - very common so can be bought easily! they also tend to be some of the cheapest snakes, especially if you want to get a "normal/wild type" morph. due to them having a large range in the wild they can tolerate a wider range of temperatures and humidity levels. corns are much more active than royals and rosys, so if you want a snake you can watch do its thing then a corn is a good shout. with this being said, they can be more "squirmy" when being handled compared to royals and rosys as they kind of struggle to stay still.

however, you're not limited to a choice of just three species. as long as you research your snake thoroughly and make sure you have everything you need, you can keep whichever you prefer. my first snake was a brazilian rainbow boa which is a more "intermediate" species and "not suitable for beginners" but he's been great. with their more extreme humidity requirements, i just made sure to keep a hygrometer on hand (to measure humidity) and provided plenty of moss, a large water bowl, and regular mist spraying. never had an issue <3

basic body language:

it's important to note that when a snake is preparing to shed its skin it will be vulnerable. its eyes will cloud over and its skin will feel irritated. we call this being "in blue" because the snake takes on a milky blue colour. during this time your snake might become defensive and this is normal. you should leave a snake in blue alone.

signs of a calm snake: short tongue flicks, loose and relaxed body, moving slowly, fluidly moving towards stimuli, curiosity, regular breathing. a calm snake may sit in an "S" position but it will not be coiling up or fixating on you.

signs of stress in snakes include: long and slow tongue flicks, tail rattling, tail wagging, hissing, striking, open mouth breathing, regurgitation, body flattening, gliding (moving very quickly away), coiling with the head raised (preparing to strike)

this is a very obvious example of a defensive corn snake: their body is coiled into an "S" shape, the head is raised. it takes this position so that it can 1. have a clear view of you 2. to strike upwards/forwards at you if it feels threatened 3. to look bigger to frighten you off. this is a snake who doesn't want to be touched at ALL

let me know if you need anything else <3

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

the rude roommate

There’s a presence following us everywhere. Insinuating itself into our lives, as we enjoy movies, TV shows and music. This rude roommate not only lives with us, but follows us to school, to work and everywhere else that we go, constantly blathering to wear us down. Posing as an indulgent pal, it offers tasty treats, with “go on, you’re worth it!” encouragements. Then, morphing into the concerned friend, it chides us “you’re getting some love handles there, buddy!” and pushes snake oil for that too. Yes, I’m talking about the shifting personas of ADVERTISING. 

You don’t truly notice the ever-present & manipulative jibber jabber of advertising till it’s not a part of your life. It’s like cigarette smoking in this. I was raised by on-again-off-again smokers, and for many years worked in offices permeated by ever present cigarette smoke. Soaking in it everywhere for my entire life, it was only upon moving to California (where it’d just been banned) that I truly became aware of smoking. After living smoke-free, I couldn’t believe the stench when visiting places that still allowed it in communal spaces. My own hair & clothes reeked of it, even though I didn’t smoke myself. Bleurgh!

Likewise, after soaking in advertising my entire life, I’ve only recently lived in a (relatively) ad-free bubble, enjoying media streaming services at home for the last few years. We just watched a movie in a cinema for the first time since 2019. Tickets were almost 20 dollars each for comfortable reserved seating in a beautiful theatre. Then we had to endure 30 minutes of constant advertising blather before the film. Not movie trailers mind you, but ads for clothes, soft drinks and so on. After living ad-free, this was excruciating, and eye-opening. Absence had not made my heart grow fonder. Quite the opposite.

The deal used to be that we tolerated the buzz of ads - like blowflies at a picnic - in exchange for free movies & music (on radio & TV). Nowadays, I pay extra for the ad-free option with entertainment media. Which is a blackmail shakedown - “Pay us, or you have to watch another incontinence commercial” - but at least I understand the terms of that arrangement. I don’t understand (or accept) any deal where I pay AND get ads too (which is why I didn’t have cable TV for very long). If theatres want us to come back en masse after the stay-at-home-years of covid, then making the experience special is key. For me, paying premium prices to watch Madison Avenue Punch & Judy shows is an absolute no no. 

Advertising is RUDE. The constant interruptions are simply annoying, but the purpose of the messages is insidious. In our real lives we are wary of people who constantly broadcast their own PR, because they’re trying to manipulate our perceptions of them. We must be on extra high alert for those who tell us what we are, because they’re trying to manipulate our own perceptions of ourselves.These are the goals of advertising’s trillion dollar industry. It is a nonstop psyop, fanning our hopes and inflaming our insecurities for profit.

“The spectacle of advertising creates images of false beauty so suave and so impossible to attain that you will hurt inside and never even know where the hurt comes from.” - Robert Montgomery

Ever since humans first gathered around fires and hearths, we’ve related to each other via stories. Stories are ‘lies’, in that many of them are 100% made up, but we know that and sharing them is fun. Besides, there may actually be a truth within the story. A parable. However, the human love of stories makes us vulnerable to manipulation by stories too. This is well known on Madison Avenue. Advertising subverts the parable, where the parable’s ‘moral’ has been substituted with a plug for Brand-X. 

It used to be that everyone was served the exact same ads at the same time, but we now live in the era of micro-targeted advertising. After sneakily looking through our private data, the rude roommate can now identify & hammer on each of our specific ‘problem areas’. Despite my attempts at internet ad-blocking, the rude roommate has a fairly accurate demographic profile of me, and websites I visit now display ads of male middle aged losers, worried about their dicks, bald spots, love handles & baggy eyes. The rude roommate has custom-curated these parables just for moi. If advertising was indeed your roommate, an actual person, they’d be the worst person you know. A passive aggressive, gaslighting master manipulator, and the last person you’d want constantly whispering in your ear. 

“People are taking the piss out of you everyday. They butt into your life, take a cheap shot at you and then disappear. They leer at you from tall buildings and make you feel small. — They have access to the most sophisticated technology the world has ever seen and they bully you with it. They are The Advertisers and they are laughing at you.” - Banksy

 “Narrative” has become a buzz word, and Hollywood folk (including story artists) now give story seminars to big companies. Wall Street, Langley, & Silicon Valley understand the appeal of storytelling, and Washington & Whitehall both use Spin Doctors to “get ahead of the story" and "control the narrative". The NSA & CIA know a little about narrative manipulation too, and even they are wary of internet advertising propaganda, and use ad-blocking software. Takes one to know one, right? Speaking of that, my own growing allergy to advertising is surely punishment for years of participation in the mass hypnosis. Yes, at one time I enabled the rude roommate, by animating parables that enticed kids to eat sugar bombs for breakfast..

Mea culpa!

Given that advertising so often subverts artforms, artists have been known to return the favour.  B.U.G.A.U.P. was a collective of Sydney graffiti artists active in the 1970s/80s who specifically targeted advertising, very active when I lived in that city. Their special brandalism defaced advertising billboards to subvert the intended message of the ad, revealing the hidden truth of the unhealthy product itself. These wittily-defaced billboards on commuter routes in Sydney were talking points at office coffee pots & tea urns each morning.

Their movement spread to other cities in Australia and even to other countries (I often wondered whether Banksy knew about them) and B.U.G.A.U.P. activism ultimately led to a ban on cigarette advertising in Australia in 1994. Advertising’s corrupted parables RE-made into truth telling parables again. Utterly brilliant.

PS: Full BANKSY QUOTE on advertising (as illustrated by Gavin Aung Than).

From www.James-Baker.com

[you-were-burned]

I can't stop thinking about you,

about us

and the spaces inbetween

your fingers and mine

bodies colliding,

breathing in each other's spirit,

inhaling,

breathing, in the spaces inbetween

The bus ride back from the school trip

shared learning,

it snowed a lot that night

you sat beside me on the way back

our fingers intertwined,

hidden

hands sandwiched between your leg and mine,

we hid our selves from the others.

we talked about everything

your dad, my parents

therapy

the concert

that concert, when I saw you

I'd swore to myself I was over you

That you didn't own me anymore

But one look and I crumbled

I needed you, at least, I think I did,

I wanted to need you, to want you

Does that make sense?

I'm in love with being in love

In love with feeling like I need you

In love with being needed, being wanted

I need to be needed,

need to be there with you,

Not in this inbetween, this space

breathing into the silence

I'm in love with the spaces inbetween

The spaces between your face and mine

At that concert, with our bodies squashed together

I really wanted to kiss you, then

I count the space inbetween

breathing in the inbetween

You always smelled nice

I dreamed about kissing you

Running my hand through your soft hair

Slowly counting down the spaces inbetween

Breathing them in, breathing in you

bodies colliding, morphing, merging

becoming one

I miss you

And the spaces inbetween

you don't answer my texts anymore

I hate it

I hate that I need you, or feel like I do

That I'm stuck here, discarded

In the space inbetween

The silence consumes everything

My thoughts echoing

far too loud for someone so quiet.

I get that a lot, actually

I'm quiet, usually

I'm too loud with you

You overwhelm me

And I think I overcomplicate

overcompensate

overthink

For example;

If I text you first, do I come across as too clingy? What constitutes being clingy, and how tolerant are you of me and my possible clinginess? If I use an exclamation mark, am I too forward, too excitable, too childish? If I use undercaps will I come across as noncommittal, nonchalant, uninterested? Will all-caps make you uncomfortable, as though I am yelling? What greeting should I use, and what are the implications of each- 'hey', 'hello', 'hi', 'heya', 'yo', 'wassup', 'sup'; the list goes on endlessly. Should I elongate the greeting, adding extra "i's" into "hi" to draw it out, or is that to childish, does it seem like I'm looking for attention?

On the other hand, if I leave the decision to you, if I wait for you to text first, what will happen? Of course, I will constantly check my phone even when my vibrate is on, looking for the notification that doesn't come, waiting for you to initiate contact so I can close the spaces inbetween us, or suppose you are going through the same thought process as I, and we come to the same conclusion, both waiting for the other to message.

And so it continues, so much consideration put into a singular text, one that I probably won't send, one that I might tap out.

I don't think you actually love me, or ever did,

I guess that's okay

In truth, I probably don't love you either

It's more likely to be the infatuation with the idea of love

I have a chronic addiction to romance

idealising, imagining, dreaming

Stupid fantasies gradually turning into expectations

High standards and expectations

I expected too much of you

Romanticising romance, thinking it would be perfect

I projected that onto you, my idea of a relationship

I think you projected onto me, too

Both of us falling not for each other but for what we perceived as the other person, which was really just a reflection of our insecurities and wishes

falling for ourselves, projected onto others

Twisted self-love for self-hatred

a sickening conundrum

it's almost laughable, don't you think?

Loving to hate ourselves

Hating to love ourselves

I think, somewhere, we got life mixed up with death

Romanticising our flaws which we saw as belonging to someone else

It's stupid, really

They're called flaws for a reason

I think I should let you know, you know

That someone who loves your flaws isn't really someone who loves you

You need someone who loves you despite them

Who sticks with you even when your flaws kick and lash out at them

I can't be that person for you anymore

I'm leaving us

and the spaces inbetween

of course, you've already left

haven't spoken in months

I just stand here in the space inbetween

a coward with too many thoughts and too little courage

All these words rolling around inside of me

I'll let them out eventually

Out into the inbetween, as I start to breathe again, not for you,

for me.

poem title: "Breathing inbetween". written 17 June 2020

[ruchirathor]

The Power of Honest Communication: A Foundational Pillar for Startup Success

Introduction

The startup world pulsates with an electrifying energy. Ideas ignite, prototypes come alive, and the pursuit of innovation never sleeps. But amidst the relentless hustle and late-night brainstorming sessions, a crucial element can sometimes get lost in the shuffle – Honest communication.

Sure, maintaining a positive and motivated team is essential. However, fostering a culture of brutal honesty is equally, if not more, important. This doesn't translate to negativity; instead, it's about cultivating an environment of transparency, trust, and open dialogue. Why? Because honest communication is the cornerstone of a successful startup.

Let's dive into how it paves the way for long-term success.

Honest Communication: A Reality Check for Unchecked Optimism

Startups are breeding grounds for passionate ideas. But let's be honest, not every concept will be a guaranteed winner. Honest communication allows for a critical evaluation of ideas. It's the difference between identifying a potential flaw early on and pouring precious resources into a marketing campaign for a product with an unaddressed bug. Open communication fosters a reality check, ensuring your focus remains on ideas with the highest potential for success.

Building a Team of Truth-Seekers, Not Yes-People

Surrounding yourself with "yes-people" might feel comfortable, but it ultimately hinders progress. Honest communication fosters a team environment where everyone feels empowered to share their perspectives, even if critical. This diverse range of viewpoints leads to more informed decision-making. Imagine the creative solutions that emerge when diverse perspectives are openly discussed and debated!

Preventing Problems in the Bud: Proactive Solutions for Long-Term Success

Challenges are inevitable in the startup world. However, the key lies in addressing them head-on before they morph into insurmountable roadblocks. Honest communication allows for the identification of issues early, enabling proactive discussions about solutions and swift adaptation of strategies. This proactive approach saves precious time, resources, and a whole lot of stress.

Cultivating the Power of Honest Communication in Your Startup

So, how do you actually translate the power of honest communication into action?

Here are some actionable steps:

Normalize Open Feedback: Encourage team members to provide constructive criticism in a respectful manner. Create a safe space for open conversations where honest feedback is not only tolerated but valued.

Embrace Data-Driven Decisions: Numbers don't lie. Utilize data and analytics to support your ideas and foster a culture of fact-based decision-making. Encourage healthy debate based on data, not just personal opinions. When decisions are rooted in truth, the likelihood of success increases significantly.

Celebrate Transparency: Recognize and reward team members who bring up difficult topics or share honest feedback. This reinforces the importance of transparency and motivates others to follow suit.

Conclusion

Honest communication might not always be comfortable, but it's undeniably valuable. It builds trust, fosters innovation, and ultimately propels your startup towards long-term success. Remember, a team that can handle the truth is a team that can handle anything. Building a successful startup takes grit, determination, and a foundation built on honest communication. By fostering an environment of open dialogue, you create a space for trust, innovation, and ultimately, a thriving business. Embrace the power of truth, unleash the potential of your team, and watch your startup soar to new heights!