#and the things that do the most mental damage to him are all scenarios in which his self is attacked.

[naggingatlas]

i looove putting spark over songs about like heroes and saving the world (tom cardy's 'level clear', uncle outrage's 'saved the world' <- nice voice hc for him!. and 'my superhero movie'.) when he like. Did. Not : ) funney.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Maybe a Steve Rogers x Male Reader with a choking kink???🤔

Steve Rogers x Male reader

Headcanons

i miss stevie so much, i still live in denial about endgame to this day.

I’ve had so little free time to write for the past while, and I’ve been living off of energy drinks for the past couple of weeks, but I hope y’all still enjoy this :3c

Now, there’s two scenarios that could be put. Who’s the one with the thing for choking? You or Steve? It would be pretty similar either way, but seeing as Steve is a super soldier can do a bit more than you, or needs a bit more than you.

If you are the one that likes to be choked, Steve is your guy. I mean, have you seen his hands? Big, sturdy and he has super strength, and the training to control said strength.

He would also be all about safety, meaning he looks up different guides and diagrams on how to choke a person correctly, where to put pressure, where not to put pressure, for how long, and so on. There would be no fun times without safety being there.

But when you guys have set everything up, made safewords and safemotions, and have discussed what needs to be done, Steve is all for it, in private of course. He wouldn’t be the type of person to do anything like that in public, since choking can be dangerous if done incorrectly, and since he wants to keep it private.

When you guys are in private though, I could imagine Steve being a bit of a tease. Like when you guys are cuddling on the couch, Steve will hook his arm around your neck in what seems like a casual hold, but you both know if he squeezed a bit, your air would be cut off just enough to leave you lightheaded.

Steve would also be bold enough to grab you by the throat, safely of course, to pull you into a kiss, where he would dig his fingers in just right to make you a bit dizzy. So he would steal the breath right out of your mouth with his kiss, and keep you from taking more in with his grasp.

Steve also gives the best praise, his words almost making you just as dizzy as his hands and arms. You would regularly find yourself in a headlock, your back against Steves sturdy chest as he whispers praise into your ear, his arm releasing just enough for you to gulp down air when you need it, before he cuts it off again.

Afterwards, Steve would make sure you are fine, get you something to drink, and what else you might need for your neck. Being the man he is, Steve would most likely also run a medical check, just to make sure it didn’t cause any lasting damage. He’s not above dragging you to medical, if need be.

If Steve is the one that likes to be choked, there would still be a focus on safety, but you might have to put your foot down and have to enforce it at times since Steve has a habit of pushing himself.

Being a super soldier also means Steve needs more than just your arm or hand around his neck most days, if he really wants his vision swimming. That is, if you don’t have super strength as well, where you could just pull the same moves as if It were Steve doing it to you.

You might have to use some professional assassin moves, if you don’t want to use any equipment. Natasha doesn’t question just why you want to learn how to take down a guy like Steve by choking, but you have a feeling she knows.

You guys would have to tie up his hands and legs as well, since the body tends to react when being choked, and he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you with his flailing, unless you can withstand it. He doesn’t have a preference, sometimes he quite likes his hands being locked together, since it helps him get into whatever mental state he wants to go into.

Steve is as much of a sucker for praise as the next guy, so please praise him and coo at him as you choke him out with whatever you are choking him out with. Be it your arms, your legs, or some kind of collar or even chain.

He doesn’t mind degradation as well, so if you guys are doing some kind of play don’t feel too bad pulling some stuff on him, since it always just helps him give up more of the control he wants you to take.

You always have to keep an eye out when you choke Steve, since like I said earlier, he likes to push his limits. Its nothing against you, he just doesn’t want it to end even when he knows he should safeword or safemotion.

But if he does pass out, you know what to do, just like he would know what to do with you if you passed out. This is where Steves long talks about safety come in handy, since you can get him into the right position and get him comfortable so you can take care of him when he comes too again.

All in all, it can go both ways, and either way, Steve finds safety most important for both of you the entire time, as he should.

[luimagines]

Yess request are open!? I'd wanna request a scenario where Reader gets comforted by Time, Life just has been shitty recently and I crave some comfort

I apologize in advance for how long this would take to come out. I hope things got better for you, my friend. <3

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

You sighed and stared at your reflection in the water below your feet. Your heart felt heavy and your shoulders were slumped. You had stepped away from the group to not ruin their good day with your sour mood.

It's not like they had anything to do with it.

It was just a bunch of little things that kept piling up and you hadn't been able to mentally or emotionally sort through them all until they were all short of crushing you.

You toe the water, watching the ripples move away from your disturbance. A little voice tells you that someone is no doubt to check up on you, but you're not sure if you'll be able t hold yourself back from snapping at them.

Just as soon as you thought it you can hear quiet footsteps come in your general direction. They're deliberate. Smooth but heavy.

It's Time.

You curse internally. He's the last person you want to address this. You don't think he'll take kindly to being snapped at and you respect him too much to want to risk any damage to your small and fragile friendship. You repeatedly chant for him to leave and send someone else in your head.

It can't be him. It can't be him. It can't be him.

"Hey." You greet him before you have the chance to cringe and cry. You're going to try and be normal. You're not going to take out your frustrations at him.

He sits next to you, letting his feet dangle into the water, much like you are. "Hey."

You feel like biting the inside of your cheek. Can't he just go away and let you mope in solitude?

"Do you want to talk about it?" He says softly. It's tender and soft, you would have missed it if there was literally any other noise around you.

Your breath hitches and tear finally pool in your eyes at the thought of release. You shake your head.

Time hums, not liking your answer but accepting it. You honestly thought he'd push more.

"Come here." He says instead, holding out his arm.

You hesitate but finds yourself crawling over and into the side hug. Time wraps his arm around you and holds you firmly into his side. He keeps his other arm behind him, putting most of his weight into that one instead of putting his whole force into crushing you against him.

The thought causes the first tears to escape out of you even as you try to stifle the sound that threatens to leave as well. Time rubs your shoulder in a comforting way, not saying anything as you finally let out all the emotions that you've been holding to yourself.

The Old Man says nothing and lets you cry until there's nothing let for you to shed. You feel raw and tired. You pull away from Time to see the massive wet splotch you've left on his shirt but he doesn't seem the least of bit bother by it.

"I'm sorry." You mutter. Your voice sounds weak even to your own ears. "...I got your shirt dirty."

"Soap and water exist." He mutters just as tenderly as before and brushes your hair out of your face. "Feel better?"

Do you?

You take a moment to take stock of your emotions. And the answer... is a little gray. "No." You answer. "But I'm tired now."

Time hums once more and pulls you back to his side. "We don't have to go back yet."

"Time?" You say, but then think better of it. "Link?"

"Yes?"

"...Thank you." It feels better to say that than to apologize again.

"You're welcome." He looks over to you and kisses your forehead. "Some days are harder than others. It's impressive how long you've been able to keep this to yourself."

"I didn't want to be mean to anyone when it was just a 'me problem'." You admit, feeling emotionally wrung out and ready for a nap. "Did I worry the others?"

"Yes." He doesn't try to sugar coat it. "But they're understanding boys. No one is going to hold it against you."

You nod and let yourself be held by him. "I'll be ok."

You're not sure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.

But he smiles and hugs you a little tighter.

"Yes, you will be."

[grandlinedreams]

Hello, I've been reading Ur fics lately (esp with law) and I love them

I was wondering if you could make angst? Like... Let's say there's this big battle, like the one in wano, where reader and law gets separated, but after the battle Law finds reader unconscious and being treated by chopper who then explains they had severe wounds and might need blood transfusion.

It also just happens that he was gonna confess to them after all of the chaos so that they'd be safe in his arms. And that might not even happen since now they have each foot on both worlds.

I'd imagine Law going along with talking to them even if they're unconscious just to keep them here in the living. (If they're alone ofc)

I hope that's alright

OUGH some angst my beloved,,,i can absolutely do that, I hope I do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: angst, serious injuries, some brief medical talk, hurt/very little comfort, keeping in line w Law literally calling none of the Strawhats by their names, open-ended]

Truth be told, Law doesn't keep much of an eye on you during battles. It's hard enough keeping an eye on what the enemy is doing ㅡ especially if the Strawhats are involved. They ㅡ especially their captain ㅡ have a knack for blowing careful plans out of the water and he's forced to play damage control until it's over.

You're also fully capable of looking after yourself, and he trusts you and your skillset. So when he doesn't immediately find you once things have started settling down, he doesn't think much of it.

When five minutes turns to ten, then to fifteen, then half an hour, however, alarm bells start going off in his head. You've never taken this long to check in with him. Has something happened? Have you beenㅡ

No, he won't let himself think of that option. Not now, not ever. So he keeps as optimistic as reality will allow him ㅡ until he hears his name being called.

"Oi, Law!"

It's Sanji. "What is it, Blackleg?"

The blond's expression is his first warning that whatever it is, it isn't pleasant. "Chopper told me to come get you."

That's his second warning. Eyes narrowing and trying to rifle through potential scenarios from best case to worst, he follows Sanji silently until they reach where Chopper is ㅡ and Law stares at who the little reindeer is desperately trying to patch up.

It's you.

Part of him whispers harshly that this is par for the course, that he's worn out his luck in terms of keeping you safe ㅡ another notes that he's never seen you look more fragile.

"What happened." It's a demand as he takes in the bandages all over you, trying not to think about how most of them are already soaked with blood. Your blood.

He barely hears the explanation above the rising ringing in his ears, but he gathers enough to find it in himself to mentally curse your perchance for heroics. He's told you time and time again that your self-sacrificing attitude will get you into trouble, and now it has. (As if he isn't guilty of it too from time to time, but that's neither here nor there.)

"They need a transfusion," he says, kneels to gather you into his arms, trying not to focus on how limp you are. "I'll take it from here."

If Chopper protests, he doesn't stick around long enough to hear it. From the second he sets foot back on the Polar Tang, it's a blur.

Bandages are stripped from you and replaced, an IV of fluid in one arm, blood in the other. One of the defaults to joining the crew is letting him know blood type so he has it on hand, and he's never been more grateful to have it and less so that he needs to use it.

For the next few hours, Law hardly blinks, barely lets himself breathe ㅡ afraid that somewhere between, you'll slip from him. He can feel the cold circle of death around you, measuring, evaluating. Deciding if you go, or if you stay.

He wants you to stay. If there were ever a way to guarantee that you do, he'd do it now ㅡ but there isn't. So he sits, counts your breath (in, out. Up, down.), and waits.

And he talks.

He tells you that you're a pain, that you need to stop thinking so much of others before yourself, that a quality like that is only admirable until it means a grave instead of life. That you shouldn't be so cavalier with your time, that there are people who care about you, and what are they supposed to do if you die?

He means himself in that too. He's gotten accustomed to your presence, the way you've slotted your way into his routines and habits like you belong, and perhaps, were he a romantic, he'd say you always have. But he hardly has time for that, barely lets himself entertain it ㅡ too soft, too ideal, too good to be true. Always too much of something.

But he wants it, wants you ㅡ wonders if he'll even get the slimmest chance to tell you now. Law could tell you now, but he doesn't. He's afraid if he does, it'll tip the scales further from his favor and he'll undoubtedly lose you.

He can't do that.

It isn't fair ㅡ but when has the world ever felt fit to treat him in a way that could ever be seen as kind enough to be called fair?

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hello, if it's alright, could I request a Toby, Slenderman, EJ, and Jane the Killer x reader (separately) in which the reader (in most cases) doesn't know that they're injured until they look down at the injury? Not exactly to the extent of cipa, but more like they don't feel the pain or even notice it until they look down and see the injury.

If not that's ok too. Either way, have a good day!

Various crps x injured!reader who doesnt realize theyre injured

idk if theres a term for it but this happens to me sometimes </3 the amount of times id randomly find bruises or cuts and start feeling the pain as soon as a acknowledge the injury hisshiss characters: ticci toby, slenderman, jane the killer, eyeless jack notes: reader is gn cws: mentions of injuries

SLENDERMAN

he almost has a sixth sense when it comes to you, so its likely that he knows youre hurt before you do... though to be fair, with how long it takes you to notice that isnt... very impressive/lh

he does not wait for you to actually notice the damage, he goes into caregiver mode- taking you to clean the wound if its open and wrapping it if needed

does not have any answers for why you dont notice the pain at first but thats mostly because hes not skilled or educated in that sort of thing- you can only learn so much by observing others from far away and living in the woods

TICCI TOBY

you both passively lean into one another to keep track of the others wounds; you dont notice yours for a while, and neither does toby- though your scenarios arent exactly the same, you help each other take care of any nasty wounds that could get nastier if left untreated

in a way he finds himself relating to you on some level, because even temporarily you dont feel pain- you both may end up talking about your experiences

that being said, the two of you may not take cuts and bruises as seriously as you should because "well i can still function/i didnt notice the pain before- so its fine!" mentality, its... not the best way to go about things...

EYELESS JACK

headcanon that he was into medical stuff before getting all goopy and cannibalistic, so even if he doesnt immediately know whats going on he can cook up some theories-

that being said hes going to get onto you for leaving wounds uncleaned and uncovered, and will make it a habit to check over you every now and then to make sure youre not hurt... looks in places that are hard to look (back, neck, stuff like that)

always keeps a pack of Band-Aids/bandages on him at all times for general use, keeps other stuff at his place for worse injuries- disinfectants and needles to stich things up- hopefully it wont ever have to come to that, though

JANE THE KILLER

if youre the type to joke about your wounds to make the atmosphere lighter, its not going to work on jane... not because shes worried (okay... she is....) but because shes just.. not amused by that sort of humor

like jack, shes going to be stern and make sure youre taking better care of yourself and taking the time to look over yourself, as well as teaching you basic first aid if you've decided to skip over that

does not try to control you, shes not going to stop you from getting into a fight or doing something a little risky (within reason, if the situation seems too.. intense... itd be different), because even despite your little... situation... she has enough trust in you not to get mortally wounded

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 25 - Consumed

TW: Body horror

The rogue rolls a constitution check.

On AO3.

They walk. And walk. And walk some more. He rather thinks they ought to walk faster. But when he thinks that at her, she tosses back some bizarre mental scenario of a horse frothing at the mouth on a plain and a human walking steadily towards it.

…what in the hells is a “persistence predator?”

The scratch under his arm stings a bit. He’s not surprised; a weapon at the end of what they’ve learned was a total butchery of sentient fungi would have left all kinds of nasty things on that blade. That, however, is a concern for living creatures, who need things like food and air and clean blood. And anyway, he’s a vampire spawn (however leashed by the parasite) with a spawn’s healing. A dirty weapon won’t harm him.

His perplexing leader doesn’t speak much as they slog on and on. Likely saving her breath for all the walking. Even the few exchanges in thought, however, are gruff and muted.

She’s hiding.

It’s familiar.

He’s aware of more of her history now than he was the first time he pillaged her memories. He’s aware of the general shape of her past. But only now, in recent days, is he seeing a shade of his own experiences (watered down and altered form) within what he knows of her.

And finds himself more confused than ever.

He was so certain it was deliberate. A manipulation. A game. One he knew every intricacy of. She was changing the rules, but he still understood the goal.

Except she isn’t playing to that now, is she?

She’s shown helplessness to the others of their party in order to make them care for her. It’s the same thing children and pets do. And it was successful most of the time.

She’d cried out when that drow struck her. Which is perfectly normal. Being struck isn’t pleasant. He hadn’t liked hearing it (that same effect children and pets do, he assumes). But instead of milking it or playing it up, making him feel obliged or needed in a way that has nothing to do with sex (the sheer novelty!), she hid away.

She was ashamed. Deeply so.

And…he knows that. Intimately. Being completely unable to do anything. Kneeling in front of that bastard as he carved and carved and made his revisions, Astarion’s muscles trembling without end after a while as his body tried desperately to undo the damage. All for naught. The lines opened and reopened. The horrid sting as that bastard rubbed the gashes he was satisfied with, forcing something sharp and grainy, something that stung into Astarion’s skin.

He didn’t fight. Couldn’t. Literally.

A thought then occurs that makes him feel both filled with lead, and bubbling beer: what if it’s not a manipulation.

Then…he doesn’t know. He’s never encountered that before. It’s a trap. A trick. Always and forever. Ends with him sobbing and clawing his fingers bloody, begging for the master please, please he’ll be good.

Astarion rotates his left arm to try to dim the ache.

But he’s lashed out at her. Hurt her, even (it had to be manipulation to make him feel…he doesn’t even know). Yet she still hasn’t struck him. Hasn’t beaten him. Starved him. Set herself or another upon him with tools of pain. Hasn’t commanded him (no chains needed when a word will do the same) to the boudoir to entertain guests for days.

She’s guided him. Talked to him. Rescued (ugh) him from torture. And…

“Astarion?”

His name sounds foreign in her accent, though she gets the syllables right. Just twists them slightly. It really is a rather charming sound.

Gods below, that drow must have cut him deeper than he thought. He’s about to wave her off when his left foot suddenly goes weak. He stumbles. Catches himself on her staff.

Her heartbeat jumps. She says something.

He tries to shake it off. Must have been uneven ground. Only his right foot follows suit. He crashes hard to his knees as the pain cracks up his thighs.

“Astarion.”

Her footsteps rush over. The warmth of her hovers nearby, but she doesn’t grab him (hands on him, grabbing and clawing and taking, always taking). Because she’s shy (considerate).

“I…I don’t know what’s come over me, darling,” he says. Though she won’t have understood a word of that, would she?

His legs won’t work. Fear begins to claw low in his belly as he tries anyway and ends up flopping back down like some newborn farm beast.

“Fuck.”

He does recognize that one. Her favorite.

What in the sweet hells is wrong with him? He’d fed and rested. Far more than he’s ever been. He’s felt better the last few days (the confusion around his companion notwithstanding) than ever.

He rolls his aching shoulder again.

And something catches.

Oh.

Right as, in a much quieter yet more dread-filled tone, his leader says, “Fuck.”

She helps him strip off the chest armor. He has to lean in to do it, and she still smells of rich, dark blood, so he has to stop breathing to keep his aching fangs to himself. Then the chest piece slides off and he can lift a hand to touch—

He stills.

There’s something on his arm. Through the fabric of his tunic, he can feel it. It seems to have opened further. The skin is tender, but the closer he gets, the number his touch grows.

Shit. Shit.

It’s formed a deep crack in his flesh. A fissure with crusting edges that feel too large and…fleshy to be dried blood.

“Jesus fuck.” She makes a distressed hum. Says, “This here…”

She reaches across the tadpoles for him. Gives a polite knock (that will always be funny: a living being asking the vampire for permission to enter). So he opens and lets her in.

She’s more contained, this time. He still senses the dark entryway behind her she shields from them all, but she’s focused, now. And an Eleanor with a purpose is an Eleanor at her most dangerous.

He sees an image of the dead drow and riotously-colored pieces of mushrooms. Some of the drow had been slashed or clubbed, and among their wounds were…growths.

She wants to see his arm. And he suddenly very much doesn’t want her to. He doesn’t want to. He would rather force himself up and stagger on and forget about all of this. He’s an immortal vampire, by the hells. Nothing save a stake or a beheading ought to touch him.

But, as ever, he has very little choice in what happens to him. Can only sprawl there as his leader helps him tug his sleeve down and then she crawls partway over his lap (very, very carefully not touching him) to peer into his arm pit.

Now it’s her turn to go very still. She clamps down tightly on her thoughts, but not before a wave of her tight fear washes over to him.

Mushrooms on his flesh. The same odd, colorful growths reaching out, waving tendrils.

Astarion is used to fighting for every, last drop of blood he can. Fighting for any scrap of anything. The first heave of his stomach he instinctively shoves against. He cannot afford to lose blood. Never. And certainly not now. But then his mind comes back to the flash of her sight and her own stomach-churning horror, and he claps a hand to his mouth but the stale fish blood still comes up, still sprays between his fingers. His leader scrambles out of the way, and then he’s folding over, gasping and gagging and still, always, trying to stop, trying to keep his hard-won prize, his only victory.

When it’s done, he sits empty and even more wretched than before. With something growing in the dead flesh of his arm.

Ah. Mushrooms do grow out of death, don’t they. Silly him.

SHADOWHEART.

The thought hits like a shock of thunder, stronger than what he’s even seen from their wizard. It storms across the bond to smash into the erstwhile cleric (so hard the woman stumbles into the gith, too busy hissing and clutching at her own head to snap back).

What in the hells—

Istik fool!

Mystra’s tits—

The images comes fast. As stripped of emotion as they can be. His leader is once again a blade. A sharp one. Lancing across the distances between them all to spear the cleric rather like a suckling pig (the cleric does not appreciate the thought). It isn’t until the gith steps in with a shove of her own that his leader catches herself enough to modulate anything. She still thrums through them all, however.

Collect yourself, the gith thinks (he knew it, knew she was more proficient in this than she ever let on) (and then he gets to feel the twinge of her disdain at that thought).

Mushrooms growing from the dead. Astarion’s arm, the cut in his pale flesh pushing out as things inside reach for the open air (oh, there was more blood in his stomach, a pity). The cleric’s worry flares before she absently smothers it. Slides a coolness over the top. Wonders what potions they have.

His leader dumps her bag at his feet. Bottles and packets spill everywhere. Among them are three lesser healing potions, another invisibility, something he can’t identify, and her language potions.

Slim pickings at the fish camp, then.

The healing potion. It’s designed for the living to close wounds and re-stitch flesh and fill up reserves of vitality. An antidote might work better, but the mushrooms aren’t a poison as much as an…invader.

The thought doesn’t even finish before his leader is wrenching the cork off a bottle and holding it to him. At least the burning flavor masks stale fish blood.

His fingertips start to tingle. He can lift his hand again, and wiggle his toes. His leader bends down again to check…

The potion did stitch his undead flesh back together. And trapped the growths inside.

Astarion is an elf and a vampire spawn. He’s been killed the once, been knocked unconscious and damaged so badly his thoughts scramble. But he doesn’t think he’s ever passed out. He hasn’t the physiology for it, either living or dead. But he thinks he might be near enough just now.

A knife.

Ah. Yes. He’d be rather familiar with that. Cut the things out.

The cleric considers that even more grimly than him. He would have to take more flesh than just the surface. Would have to dig deep, lest he leave any tendrils.

Godey would approve. A month or more from the nautiloid, and he’s still going to be carved up. Corrected. There’s no escaping that, he’ll always be a flawed thing, a mistake—

Fuck that.

The thought steals the air from his lungs. Not from him, not from the cleric or even the gith. It’s not even loud, like when she threw herself at their cleric in her panic.

Eleanor is calm and quiet and very, very certain.

No cutting. No hurting. Not unless it’s the last option. And even then, they do what they can, they find a way to shield him.

He nearly severs the connection then and there. Lest they see the way that thought quakes through him.

Shield him. Try to…try to lessen it. No one, no one has ever spared a thought like that for him. Not in two centuries. Perhaps not even before that.

“Blood?” his razorblade of a leader says in Chondathan.

“Pardon?” he says on reflex. Then registers what she says.

Healing potions work on him now, with the worm in his brain. Before that, they would have liquefied him from the inside out. Before that, the only balm to his hurts was blood.

A strange image flashes through all of them: a hand on a lever, pulling it back. A rumbling change in pitch. Engine. Throttling an engine. That’s what the tadpole is doing to him, yes. He should heal at a much faster rate than he currently does, especially as fed as he’s been.

(And then he wonders, briefly, if the worms are doing the same for their tiefling and what that might mean should their little band succeed in removing said parasites.)

And another image: a button with strange writing above it.

“Nitro,” his leader says aloud like that means anything.

A series of ideas he can’t quite track: a spray of liquid into a confined space, fire burning hotter, gears churning in a blur.

“Blood?” she says.

She means…to speed up his healing. To what it should be. Use blood to do it.

But the fish blood he has left (and that part is her fault, bleeding as she is, he has no choice but to try to drown the maddening scent in bottles and bottles of his provisions) won’t do it. No. The thing that really brings life to his dead flesh—color to his cheeks, warmth to his skin—is that of a warm creature. A thinking creature. Her—

He slams that thought into the ground. But not before she, the perceptive shit, catches it.

“Me,” she says in Chondathan.

And by the hells. He can feel her consider it. Rather like watching an exchange collector weighting what one absolutely knows is a counterfeit gem against magical weights. Only instead of it going badly and having to scarper up to the rooftops (or, disgustingly, the sewers), this time he’ll just…die.

He doesn’t think she hears that? (Feels a twitch from the cleric and of course that little wretch is listening.) But his leader comes to her decision almost immediately after that thought.

“Yes,” she says.

She pauses a moment. And then brings his still functioning arm up to tap his fingers against her neck.

[xjulixred45x]

Platonic Yandere Mephisto Pheles /Platonic Yandere Lucifer x Daughter! Reader: Escape

This was Requested by a very lovely Anonnymous, i hope You like it sweetie ❣️

Request: So about the Yanplatonic Lucifer/Mephisto Headcannons. Like first of all: AMAZING JOB! But second of all what if both readers actually managed to escape somehow? Maybe using inherited powers of their own?

And when they escape they join the others side (eg. Mephisto's daughter joining the illuminati/Lucifer's joining the vatican)

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings:(here we go) YANDERE BEHAVIOR, PLATONIC YANDERE, Escape scenario,persecution, stalking(?) kind of infantilization, MENTAL DAMAGE, ISOLATION, Manipulation, mental issues due all this, Mephisto is a psycho and Lucifer is NOT BETTER, LONG POST, I think is all.

Platonic Yandere Mephisto Pheles

He is the "easiest" to escape from.

Don't get me wrong, it's NOT EASY to escape from this demon-man, but it's definitely much more likely to escape from him than from Lucifer.

more than anything because it does give you reasons to escape.

If you remember the inside part, Mephisto is a very condescending and annoying yandere. Not only that, but in general you and him have TOO different opinions on different things.

ideology for example.

At this point in your life, having suffered so much because of your "father" and only receiving ridicule from him, you began to simply wish that everything he enjoyed would DIE...

that the humans died, that his students died, that everything that "man" could love or want was completely DESTROYED.

but you knew that more than loving something specific, he "loved" the chaos that humanity generated, that was what kept him on the side of the Vatican for so long.

You wanted to get away from him, but above all you wanted to make him SUFFER. It didn't matter anymore if you hurt someone in the process, you just wanted to see him hurt, hopeless, BROKEN like he broke you.

So, with this mentality, you made a plan to escape.

It took a lot of time to have the perfect opportunity for all the conditions for this plan to be met, but fortunately you were able to be patient and, above all, not let your father find out.

Although to be honest, you knew he would probably already have an idea, but he was curious about what you would do.

you used this to your advantage and took advantage of the first opportunity you had to run away.

NOW, what you didn't expect was that apparently Mephisto wasn't after you....it was suspicious to say the least.

So you got to work looking for the ONLY person you knew would be by your side. the person your father tried to hide from you.

Lucifer.

Most likely, he already knew the basics of who you were thanks to Shima, who give some info about your "situation".

(it is likely that you have even allied with Shima to escape and thanks to him you know about the Illuminati's)

but it was kind of surprising when you went to HIM for HELP. You went to look for him precisely because you no longer cared about what would happen to humans, you wanted to believe in the Illuminati's.

even if it was just to hurt Mephisto. But you didn't care about him anymore.

Lucifer was quite intrigued by this, since he knew that you were not a spy, and your possible powers inherited from Samael could be very useful to him.

so he took you under his wing without thinking much about it, in the same way, if you ended up being a spy, it would be better for him to keep you close.

Meanwhile, Mephisto was already worried that he couldn't feel you around for a while, so he went to look for you in the places near the school.

in nearby buildings? nothing.

further into the city? no sign of you.

even the Vatican? without a trace.

He was already getting impatient and seriously worried. What the hell were you doing? Where had you gone?

He reluctantly asked the Vatican for a favor to help him look for you, which they did but it was the same thing, there was nothing.

Mephisto began to Anxiety, and imagined the worst scenarios: maybe you are using your powers and that is why they can't find you? What happens if you end up badly because you don't know how to use them? Or if some demon attacks you?

while Mephisto is distraught and looking like crazy for you, you honestly couldn't be better.

Although Lucifer is someone neutral and very stoic, he at least understands that after being with Samael, he must be cautious with you to gain your trust. so it gives you a lot more freedom than you ever imagined with Mephisto.

Shima would go out with you anywhere you wanted, the Illuminati's gave you what you wanted, but what you appreciated most was being treated (more or less) as an EQUAL, not in a derogatory or condescending way.

Thanks to this you grew quite fond of your "uncle", whom you even saw in a "savior" light for letting you be and keeping you away from your father.

and surprisingly Lucifer started to get attached to you.

He didn't notice it immediately, but it was something quite unusual for him, as he realized that little by little you began to care more about you, your safety, your life in general was precious to him, not only because of his plan.

He found your determination to make your father suffer curious, to say the least, but appropriate, it seems that in general the children of demons are destined to hate their parents. He understands that.

and unlike Mephisto, Lucifer never underestimated you, he could see that you had little experience, yes, but you had a great determination to improve and do things well.

He subtly encouraged you to find out more about your demonic powers, and he definitely felt quite proud when you showed yourself to be quite strong. even by demon standards.

You and he could even have certain hobbies in common, like reading.

Even when he is sick, you treat him with a lot of respect, but above all you have great loyalty towards him, he can recognize it.

If Lucifer becomes a Platonic Yandere in this case, I can see him being much more subtle about his tendencies, mostly because he knows you came to him looking to RUN AWAY from that type of behavior.

He's generally surprisingly soft on you. I mean, as smooth as a demon can be. at least he manipulates you less than the normal Platonic Yandere Lucifer would.

If you are with him by the time Lucifer declares war on the True Cross, rest assured that Mephisto will be at least hurt by the situation.

For once in a long time he feels helpless, because you are within his reach again, you are fine, but he cannot go against Lucifer even in his deteriorated state, it makes him angry but above all it HURTS him to know that you have decided to run away from him and run to him. Lucifer.

Maybe he even jokes through the pain, can you see he's suffering, and honestly? you live for it.

A part of you wants to be able to rub salt in Mephisto's wound, tell him how happy you are and not be tied to him and above all, "How does it feel? Doesn't it feel good to have things out of your control and will, isn't it?" like this? THIS IS HOW YOU FEEL! YOU IDIOT!" But you didn't dare, you simply gave him the most arrogant smile he had ever seen you give him.

which somehow ends up being better.

I can definitely see a considerably depressed Mephisto after this revelation, although he knows that he has a chance to "get you back" for the first time he is not so sure.

Meanwhile, you just plan the next hit with your Uncle Lucifer :)

Platonic Yandere Lucifer

Oh boy, you were SO LUCKY for escape this psycho.

Lucifer is the complete package, Delusional, overprotective, manipulative, etc.

The primary difference it has with Mephisto is the fact that unlike the previous case, you didn't know it was wrong until recently.

Lucifer precisely raised you so that you would normalize his toxic behaviors and not have the need to flee when he saw it as something normal or even good, because he did all this because "he loves you."

but when you awakened your powers, that was when Lucifer entered his most obsessive phase, wanting to make sure nothing happened to you, he made a lot more restrictions.

He even seriously considered taking away your powers in some way, no matter how much you begged him not to, because he knew those powers could help you get away from him.

That's when you noticed the "red flags" more easily.

Lucifer firmly believes that everything he does (lying to you, isolating you, trying to take away your powers to avoid Escape scenarios, etc.) is for YOUR GOOD, he refuses to recognize that he is being selfish or a bad father.

It was a shock, it was sad, it made you feel very lost. but you knew you couldn't stay and let your father take away the little freedom you had acquired.

You generated a massive breach with your powers while your father was away, it was hasty and reckless, but you managed to run as far away as possible.

and you knew perfectly well who you could go with now. Even if you didn't know if it would help you, it's nothing.

Mephisto Pheles, or Samael.

You knew that your father wanted to recruit him for his plan to unite the Assaih and Genema, but it was very unlikely that they would unite, since Mephisto and your father had very different ideologies.

That gave you some hope.

When you arrived at True Cross Academy, simultaneously Lucifer arrived back at the Illuminati base finding the mess you left, WITHOUT YOU THERE.

Lucifer went crazy looking for you in every corner of the base hoping that you would still be there, in vain.

To say that he was worried sick and fear was an understatement.

Immediately he ordered everyone who could still walk to go after you, those who "let you escape" were killed and he himself went to look for you with trusted men.

Meanwhile you were a nervous wreck as you were anxious for your father to appear out of nowhere to drag you back to the Illuminati base.

When you arrived at the True Cross Academy, several high-class teachers and Exorcists came to interrogate you, as it was rare for such a powerful Nephelim to go to the academy.

But as soon as Mephisto appeared he decided that he would take care of the matter from now on. saving your skin.

Although it wasn't greated, he wanted to know what you were doing there or if Lucifer was nearby. When you explained the reason why you were there and he checked that you weren't lying, Mephisto seemed a little calmer.

It turns out that he did know about your existence, but precisely because of Lucifer's overprotective tendencies, he never really got to know you, although he was fine with that because of their already bad relationship.

Mephisto decided that you would stay with him just because you were family, and honestly at first it was strange.

more than anything because he never imposed anything on you like Lucifer, apart from the fact that he VERY OPENLY recognized that he was not a trustworthy subject.

You could do practically whatever you wanted as long as someone else was with you for safety.

things that you had been deprived of because of your father, for example. getting dirty, having access to the internet, wearing more clothes that were not pastel colors, eating things with high sugar, gluten or fat content, EVERYDAY things.

And most importantly, Mephisto was willing to listen to you, kind of.

He treated you like a child, yes, but in a friendly and teasing way rather than a demanding and stoic way.

You grew fond of the man very quickly, not only because he was your uncle and apparently your savior, but because you GENUINELY enjoyed his company.

Mephisto thinks your powers are very interesting, so he may even send you to train with Rin to 1-make more friends and 2-develop your abilities (and maybe be useful against your father).

apart from the fact that he laughs at you affectionately when you fail miserably at a task. Don't worry, he'll eventually give you a hand.

For safety reasons, you don't know many people, so you spend a lot of your time with Mephisto, which is funny because he spends his time making HORRIBLE jokes or puns that make you laugh.

The guy is a walking buffoon, he definitely likes to play with you in his dog form or go for a walk with you talking nonsense.

Mephisto refuses to admit in front of you that he loves you, but as soon as he is with someone else he starts showing off to you as if he were your father xd

If he becomes a platonic yandere for you, I can definitely see him as very infantilizing and very clingy, but not as isolating as he normally would be.

He knows how to play his cards well when it comes to you.

When Lucifer eventually finds out via Shima that you are with Mephisto, the man is breaking things in anger, firmly believing that Mephisto somehow manipulated you into leaving him.

and no one dares to say otherwise.

When he is going to declare war on True Cross Academy, and he sees that you are there, more than anything he feels...sad, because at that moment he really needs you, he hoped that you would be ON HIS SIDE when he did this, but no. He knows he forced your hand.

He knows what he did to you was wrong.

But will he stop trying to get you back? never.

He knows that even if he lost a battle with you, he WILL win the war and take you home with him.

Until then, it's good that you're on Mephisto's side, he doesn't judge you for still loving your father in a certain way. He is his brother after all.

Before returning, Lucifer only gives you a sad look and a "I love you" barely audible to the average human being.

but you did heard it.

Seeing your father again makes you question everything. part because of the real love you have for him as a father, part because of his manipulation for so many years to justify it.

It honestly brings out the softer side of Mephisto.

He decides that he is going to try to comfort you in a "normal" way by his standards, that is, without dog form, without jokes or tricks, just being there for you.

He definitely took a quick liking to you, but hey, that's the charm.

@trancylovecraft

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Thanks for the Request Honey❤️❤️❤️

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Bang

First posted: October 4, 2019

Focuses on: Jason Todd & Damian Wayne

Favorite bookmark: "No spoilers, but if OP doesnt write a sequel I will literally die."

Second favorite bookmark: "The noises that came from me when I reached the end of that countdown were, um, violent. 😭"

Tier: Middle of the pack

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

I am so friggin' proud of this fic, I can't lie. It's such a powerful little one-shot, and I'm pleased with how I did it, and I'm pleased with the reaction it received. Gold star, me.

There was a bomb in the school. And the rec center. The Grove Street bank. The post office on Utica. The Nockaphee Building. The newly opened inner city hospital.

Once again, my dreaded foe, logistics. I knew what I wanted the crux of the story to be with Jason and Damian, so then I had to backtrack and figure out the scenario that best fit. Not one bomb but multiple, to scatter the family around (because there are so dang MANY and they're always RIGHT THERE in the city), and where a villain might be most inclined to stash them. I know where I got the names for the bank and the post office, but no idea for the Nockaphee Building. Google shrugs at me.

Bombs all over Gotham, embedded in the spines of community spaces and corporate structures like ticking tumors.

This inversion still tickles me.

Batman and Black Bat had bypassed evacuation to head straight to the source. Stop the bomber, stop the bomb. The rest of them were merely backup, protection in case the caped pair failed. Their job was evacuation. Get everyone out and keep them away. Every time they were given a new location, a segment of the core broke off until their forces were scattered wide across the city.

Again, friggin logistics. I duck and dodge plot as much as I can, because I don't care, there is so little actual plot to my fics. But I am as careful as I can be about seeding in realistic barriers into my story. I don't want to stop the whole story to say "Well, you see, they couldn't do XYZ because" or handwave away the most obvious solution to the problem at hand. I want it to make sense why each person is doing what they're doing (or not doing.)

Jason wasn’t normally a keep-tabs person, but explosions made him nervous.

Again, weaving plausible explanations and justifications in a way that also tells a little bit more about what relations are like between Jason and the fam right now.

The one moment of potential disaster—the bomb tucked into the belly of the rec center had malfunctioned and gone off on its own—had resulted only in property damage and no loss of life. The bomb maker hadn’t even set them all to run independently but instead had retained control via a mechanism that turned deliberate detonation into an all-or-nothing deal. All Batman had to do was incapacitate the bomb maker and turn off the controls.

Ugh, this bit of seeding was so tricky. A lot of partially started mental dead ends before I figured out these two pieces: setting up the rec center and the all-or-nothing bomb.

Jason wasn’t fluent in all of them—and had done his best to forget most of them—but he knew that a “hrnn,” unlike a “hnn” or a “mm,” was not a good sign.

This was plucked directly from the group chat. Certain members have a habit of reacting with typed out grunts like Bruce, so I've had time to appreciate the nuance.

Normally, it would be Nightwing’s job to nudge Batman into using his big boy words, but Officer Grayson had been on duty when the emergency alarm rang.

More logistical justification loaded and ready to go.

Jason leaped to the next building and ducked down, pressing his back against the low retention wall.

I don't know, I just like this. If this were a visual medium like a movie, you'd be able to see Jason deliberately blocking out the world so he can focus on whatever horrible thing is about to happen.

Okay. Okay. He was expecting worse. Jason scowled.

The double okay is a very me thing. There are two different tones involved but that's hard to invoke in writing.

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. This was why Jason refused to be affiliated with these people. They were all idiots. “I didn’t want Batman to worry.” Yeah, because Batman wasn’t a grown adult who couldn’t handle his own crap. Obviously. So the little gremlin had lied about where he was, concealed an injury, and now was calling Hood like his own personal Uber. And Jason was going to let him, because he was also an idiot, apparently. “You’re a brat, you know that?” Jason growled as he hauled himself to his feet again. “Fine. Fine! Where are you?”

I personally l o v e this because right now Jason doesn't actually know what's going on, he just thinks he does, so you get to see his reaction to the assumed situation of "The baby of the family did something stupid and got hurt so I get to be mad about that but obviously I'm still going to help and then I'm probably going to make his life miserable for worrying me retroactively."

“The shelving units fell on me. I extricated myself, but something is blocking the doors. I can’t—I am—I made it to the supply closet.”

Damian is being amazingly patient through all this, if you think about it. But I guess he doesn't want to have to say it all out loud yet, so maybe he's just procrastinating. Once Jason understands, then it's real.

“I wanted to know if it hurt.”

That was my cornerstone line, right there. That's the whole reason I wrote the fic. I wanted someone to say this to Jason, because they needed to know. Please picture me dabbing.

This wasn’t happening. He’d just seen the kid a couple hours ago. They’d nodded while passing to their own teams. He’d left a movie about a dog on Jason’s windowsill last week.

It's such a little piece, but I wanted to hint at the utter disorientation of traumatic tragedy, how quickly the day can change and the swooping sensation a person might feel amid that change. Also, even as Jason has spent this entire fic being like "We don't talk!" I did want to seed in that they still interact. Damian trades movies he likes with Jason. He knows where Jason's safe house is. Jaosn is upset that he's about to die.

I would go back and change all those contractions, though. And having two different he pronouns back to back without tying them to a proper noun is just bad form.

Jason couldn’t lie, not even to a little kid.

This appears to be a tiny bit of Ronan Lynch seeping into Jason. Huh. @audreycritter are you seeing this

It had hurt to the point beyond pain, like every cell, every molecule, every atom had been lit up like a Christmas tree.

That "like a Christmas tree" is from something and for the life of me I can't remember what.

Don’t say please to me. Don’t say thank you. Don’t say things that you only say because you think you’re about to die.

I write this kind of thought pattern a lot to exemplify stress and grief. I don't know how I feel about this realization.

“No.” No matter how Jason tried, it was impossible to miss the tears in the boy’s voice now. “It would kill him, having to listen. And he’ll be so angry. I cannot—I-I cannot die knowing he’s angry with me. Please don’t call Richard.”

This was where my throat started to hurt. I don't remember where exactly I started to actually cry while writing.

“You understand. You can tell them. Tell them I-I’m sorry. And that I was brave?”

It was definitely by here, though.

Jason cleared the stairwell, slowing only slightly to duck under the sagging ceiling and pick his way through the debris-strewn hallway.

Oh hey. I don't use any details here but rereading reminded me that I based the rec center on parts of a real place so that I could visualize what Jason would have to get through to get to Damian. Totally forgot.

Ten seconds. Jason lunged at the barrier, roaring as he tore aside mountains with his hands. Nine.

I think building in the countdown itself helped with the tension. It definitely helped with the writing. Generally speaking, the length of sentences should match the pacing of the action itself. For tense writing, you really want short, snappy sentences, but I am a wordy bird who loves long multi-part sentences. See: this paragraph. So hacking up the action into short sentences bracketed by a single digit countdown really helped with the vibe.

“Jason?” Damian gasped over the earpiece. “I don’t want it to hurt. I don’t want it to hurt.”

That would be me. Dying is scary, but the pain before it is scarier.

Jason threw himself into the closet and shut the door.

Sometimes a lack of closure is fun, actually.

Funny story: I didn't actually consider that readers would think I set the bomb off and killed them both. I was new, hadn't done any sad-ending fics before, and also it's comics. Even when characters die, they come back in a few months, so it doesn't really count.

So my notifications start blowing up in the middle of a football game and I had to figure out if I wanted to continue the story...

[dg-outlaw]

Emotional Damage. Worse than the Joker?

After sitting with Batman #138, I got to thinking about how much emotional damage Bruce inflicted on Jason with what he did to Jason. Working through some things myself lately, I thought more about fear and how it relates to survival, endurance, and the hang-ups we have that affect our lives. But less about me and more about Jason Todd.

Yes, I know there’s the idea that it’s all Zur-En-Arrh and not really Bruce, but still. If there was something to snap Bruce out of whatever battle is going on in his mind, mentally altering (without consent) and "abusing" his own son in such a deep way, should’ve been it.

I know some have cited how adrenaline kicks in during all sorts of activities and scenarios (and not just in times of violence or aggression), which is true, but what I thought about was how much adrenaline and will has played a part in Jason’s overall survival as a character.

As a boy who grew up in Crime Alley with a drug addicted mother, Catherine, that he cared for often, his childhood was probably filled with fear. But giving into fear is something that likely doesn’t help you survive in Crime Alley, especially when Jason became orphaned. He fended for himself, took care of Catherine until she died, and then took care of himself. He was probably afraid all the time, but he pushed through with adrenaline, cortisol, and whatever else he needed to survive.

Then Bruce happened. As Jason Todd he was given a bit of peace, but then it was back to survival mode as a Robin—though likely a choice he made with Bruce’s approval because what little boy wouldn’t want to be Robin? The role of Robin alone is all about adrenaline, survival, and combatting fear.

Then there was the Joker.

We all know the story, but I think about it again as I see posts about the young actress who played Ahsoka in the live-action series and how it helped some contextualize the idea of child soldiers and just how young Ahsoka was during the Clone Wars. The same can be said for the Robins. So now we can think about a young, scrawny boy, alone in a warehouse getting beaten nearly to death by a psychopath with a crowbar. Again, fear, loneliness, and potential loss of hope. But Jason endured, and even in the end tried to save himself and his mother through use of adrenaline and sheer force of will.

Flash forward and Jason is suddenly alive, still broken and bruised but basically buried alive. More fear and another chance to let it finish him off, but Jason doesn’t give in. He pushes fear aside, breaks through his casket, and crawls out from his grave. Again, still a teenager and still alone as he wandered the streets, confused and hungry. All of this to say that Jason is fucking survivor, probably more so than Bruce (IMO).

Bruce may have harnessed and used his fear, but he suppresses it. Jason owns it, lives it, and has had it looking over his soldier for as long as he can probably remember. It probably whispers in his ear all the time and says, “You’re still just a scared little boy and you’re going to die. Just give up.” But he doesn’t. Yes, he’s easily written off as the angry one or the one always pissing everyone off, but I think that’s just his defense mechanism. It’s the wall that hides his fear, but unlike Bruce he wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t afraid to let his emotions out, even when he tries not to. I want to believe those behaviors are Jason venting his fear and anger so they don’t consume him or so he doesn't get hurt, even if he doesn’t always do it in the most healthy of ways.

So yeah, for Bruce to think that somehow Jason is going to live some happy American Dream in Metropolis (God forbid any aliens or bad guys attack that city, something that never happens), then Bruce still doesn’t know his son.

In way, whether it’s all Zur-En-Arrh’s doing or not, turning Jason’s adrenaline into crippling fear, taking a core part of him that has kept him alive and fighting all these years, is worse than what the Joker did.

So I don’t think any amount of Bat or Big Belly burgers and hugs will fix that. My only hope, based on the description for Red Hood, Issue #2: (JASON TODD PREPARES FOR BATTLE! Batman's plan for Jason Todd backfires…but in a good way? The Red Hood prepares for the final battle of the Gotham War…but what will he have left when the dust settles?!), is that Jason finds a way to overcome Bruce’s programming on his own. I think if Bruce created a failsafe for the failsafe, or if one of the other Batfam members helps him, it’ll cheapen his character. I’m fine if someone is there to support him, but I think if the writers want to respect Jason and show his strength as a character, it’ll be Jason doing the work to prove his will is stronger than Bruce’s when he beats the fear programming. We even see this in a different way in Urban Legends when Jason was able to fight off the Cheer gas to save Bruce.

But for now, when I see this.

I’ll think about this Bruce and Jason instead.

[tuliptiger]

Hello again! House/life update.

I am in a much better place mentally but really rather the same financially. I am currently laid off for a month seasonally since I'm still not a permanent employee. I have something in the works I'm hoping plays out so that I have a permanent position and worst case scenario I go back to work May 6th as a temp for 6 more months. I have side jobs and unemployment lined up in the mean time.

Anyway though! On to the house. Disappointing news but honest news in terms of the first contractor we hired. We still haven't gotten money back from him.

Recap: my mom and I fired him because he lied to us, charged tools on our account we up front said not to do, built a shoddy excuse of a foundation and frame for my house that we eventually had to pay our current contractor to demolish because it was so bad. It was for all definitions a different house the original contractor built. He used the wrong framing type for the blueprint and didn't even use framing nails to the city code. He wasn't even on site for 90% of the build and seemingly subcontracted it out which we didn't know.

In addition my mom is...not the best person to work with and makes a lot of mistakes. She's not a critical thinker on a lot of things. I made the mistake of asking her to help me buy land and build a house in the pursuit of escaping my generational poverty. I made the second mistake of asking her to take on individual responsibilities and not step in when the red flags started coming up.

I left her in charge of getting the money back from the OG contractor since she had all contact with him and she was originally the one who found him. That went as well as anyone could guess and she's, in summary, procrastinated doing any proper paperwork for attorneys or the contract board. I keep pushing her and she always says she'll get to it this day or that day or hits a dead end and then it goes nowhere.

This would not be a big issue but we're talking more than $20,000 he did in damages and $1,000 he directly stole from us like straight up $1,000 we handed him to do work he never did. The donations everyone has been sending in slowly are very much appreciated and remind me to keep fighting for this.

At this point I just want to get the house done so I can be done with the contractors and done with my mother. I don't want to be in this situation anymore and it's been dragged out for 3 years now. I've added pictures of where the house is at now and most of it having been done in January and February.

As the electric was finished and passed inspection I'm waiting in the HVAC and plumbing as the last things professionals must do before I can finish the house. I've started putting in flooring and the wood stove was just delivered so things are still moving.

The donations haven't covered anything large from the build but it has covered smaller things (I've used it for nails, locks for the doors, etc.) and given me strength to continue. Motivation from strangers, acquaintances and friends to not just walk away and to keep my head in the right space. I've emotionally and mentally been in a better place since I initially made the gofundme which has helped.

Anyway I've been meaning to make this for awhile and I'm sorry for the delay. I've been working my full time job before I was laid off, my side gigs, working on the house, still living out of my car and trying to work with my mother. I appreciate everyone who's been invested in this, shared it and donated. More updates will come in the future and thank you all again.

[justrandomthoughs]

Hello, it’s me. Hey, i’m the problem it’s me.- Anyway I just wanted to say I like your thoughts on jace with a dragon reader (I have been working on something similar) And it was really good to think about.

Now think about Yan! Jace finding out that there is another hybrid who wants to claim you for his own, and jace being fucking livid. He’ll kill them if he has to but not before making you his. Fucking you immediately (getting you pregnant if you want it) giving you his clothes, and maybe even locking the guy up and fucking you in front of him. But all I can think about is jace dominating the powerful reader- He’d be pushing you down and fucking your hole at a ungodly speed and he will handcuff you. Yan! Jace is a force you shouldn’t mess with, especially his darling. 

-Hope you have a good rest of your day Hun!

DECEASED! Literally dying. I love this, my brain is on overdrive with it. Okay some things to establish/think about first. 

TW: swearing (by me—sorry), sexual themes, unhealthy relationships, death (maybe)

Yan! Jace X Dragon!Reader — Another Hybrid as Competition

What kind of cultures do hybrid dragons have? It sounds like they are extremely rare, however, surely there are records on them; how they meld with human society, basic characteristics, etc. I’m asking this because I think Jace would not only do research into that (trying to understand you better), but if he learned of another hybrid dragon and that they want to mate with you, he’d want to see what precedents for hybrid x hybrid are—’inevitable’ or up to chance? Either way it's clear that the threat this new hybrid poses to your futures is not acceptable.  

Sadly, I think they would need to be killed because they pose too much of a danger in regards to you, black v greens, and general family security (Don’t dragons always get what they want? I don’t think they are used to being denied so they might lash out). He’d probably interrogate them, or ask for Daemon's help in that regard. Also he’d probably spin the situation as a ‘national security risk’ (lol) since they could try fighting back or simply taking you by force. Who knows what damages that could bring. (While I don’t think Jace would think of you as one of the dragons on the blacks side, he might try to leverage your strength as a reason for the need to have you with the family. I could see Daemon buying it and also looking through to his true motivations, but he’s amused and also you could come in handy. Might as well kill two birds with one stone. He wonders how your offsprings will look with a smirk on his face[lol])

Jace would definitely say, “One dragon was stolen from my family—I won’t allow for another.” Aemond made it clear that unless you stake your claim before anyone else, you’ll be left with nothing but strife. He needs to make his claim known, and display it—explicitly.

Hmmmm, I need to figure out the headcanon of how Dragon! Reader and Jace meet, but I think in this scenario the relationship would be friendly if not a bit bashful. You were maybe already feeling something for him, but I’d imagine that since you are on the younger side (for dragons, might even be the same age of Jacaerys or younger [but not by much]) you don’t understand what the feeling is. You probably also haven’t had a lot of interactions with humans, certainly not to the extent that you are now—constantly crowded by people and especially by Jace. So you're clueless mentally on what is between you two but you feel a draw to him. Jacaerys is obviously fucking rapid for you. Firstly, he can hardly believe that you even exist, so that's mind blowing. Secondly, you are literally the most breathtaking sight he’s ever seen, his eyes are on you constantly—he can’t help himself. Thirdly, he just can’t get enough of your personality. You have such a way of looking at things—whether it be maturity or innocence, grace or brazenness, etc etc. Man lives by your every word every action, so if someone is trying to take that away it's on SIGHT.

Now to set up how the two of you, (or just him), found out about the other hybrid, their intentions for you, and how it ends. 

For this I might see something of a declaration by them being made (lol), I feel like a human dragon would have that bravado, like they basically are the shit. It’s not really clear/fleshed out to me as to whether they’d be stronger than dragons but they sure as hell are stronger than humans so they don’t need to worry about much. I think the other hybrid would come from Essos or Old Valyria or something, but you’d be the Westerosi hybrid (lol). So you got this other hybrid probably fucking rolling up to Dragonstone with SO MUCH DRIP, Jacaerys sweating bullets like ‘Oh fuck so thats my compitition’, you oblivious as hell as to what they want until they say some boisterous shit like how they’ve crossed the narrow sea to claim you as their rightful bride. Shit kinda goes down, Jacaerys almost punching the hybrid but you catch his arm since he would clearly be overpowered. You ask for the night to think about it, but Jace has other plans. He’d probably orchestrate the hybrid catching the two of you having sex for the first time all while you are blissed and fucked out of your mind declaring your love for him again and again. Jace came to you after the hybrids declaration that night. He confessed his feelings and how he can’t live a day of his life without you. If you were to leave him you’ll need to cut out his heart and take it with you—for that’s where it will always remain. (FML I LOVE THIS MUSH). That kinda causes your heart to fucking explode, and you realize you want him as your mate. Jacaerys would have confronted you in a predetermined area and time that which he made sure to mention to the hybrid. He probably said that you wanted to see them at a certain time to give them your answer early. But in reality it’s him fucking the fire out of you basically. Once Jacaerys notices them in the area, he makes sure to get you to say how much you love him, how he is your only mate, how you want to give him babies. All the while, he reaffirms it saying how much he loves you too—only and forever you, how he will be your only mate no matter what, how he will give you babies—and so many of them that you won’t ever not be pregnant (lol he kinda goes overboard but he’s just so fucking excited to be one with you). The following morning when you tell the hybrid your decision—Jacaerys' arm around your waist while doing so, he makes sure to comment that he hopes your opinion has been extremely clear. Jacaerys stays behind but tells you to wait for him at breakfast or something before he goes up to the hybrid saying “And I hope to make it clear what might happen if you continue your pursuit” his hand going to rest on his sword before walking away. If the hybrid does continue, I think he would kill them but I can only really imagine it happening in a super fucking intense battle with Vermax (kinda needed to level the playing field)

For the other scenario I imagine, I think the hybrid would send you letters and gifts after learning about your presence, of which Jace would have been alerted to from a Maester or something. He fucking pours over the letters and glares at the gifts. He had hoped to make his courtship with you slow, as to not scare you off but this would trigger him to go faster. He’ll be more explicit about his like for you, even more attached to your hip, gifts fucking everywhere (sometimes he makes sure to keep them with him for a while so it smells like him). Time is of the essence here. He’ll have bedded you a couple of times before he’d reply back to the hybrid pretending to be you. Luring them into Dragonstone before imprisoning them with the help of Daemon as well (thanks step dad for supporting my bad tendencies). However leading up to the expected date he gets even more possessive and obsessive (I almost feel bad for jace lol, he would be a wreck for a bit), as he is so fucking worried about you leaving him for the hybrid. He gives you a LOT of wearable stuff, things that clearly state his ‘ownership/bond’ with you like Velayron and Targaryen colors and sigils everywhere. During the week leading up to the hybrids visit he lies to you and says there is a threat to Dragonstone and you need to remain in your room until it is contained. You probably try to help out since you're a mf hybrid, but Jace reasons to you that if anything were to happen he wouldn’t be able to live on without you. Immediately when the hybrid is imprisoned he’ll have come to you (maybe bloody—his or the hybrids—but definitely fucking excited) Jace will say that the threat has been caught, and he needs to show you. He all but drags you to the hybrid prison cell, and he shows them to you with the biggest smile on his face. Jace talks about how this was the danger he worried about, he’ll bring up the letters, gifts, and the hybrid's intentions with you. He will cusp your face with his hands and kiss you, saying that now they will never be able to take you away from him. Jace gets excited, kissing you again and again while you take in this new information and a dark idea pops into his head—why doesn’t he show the hybrid how you belong to him? As Jace overwhelms you with more kisses and groping, he makes sure to angle the two of you so that everything is visible to the hybrid. Maybe a lil’ manic in how he fucks his dick into you, like it’s too much you can’t even think. He’s fucking rabid. With how much you’ve been crying from pleasure and arousal dripping from your pussy it's really a wonder how you haven’t shriveled from water loss. In your fucked out state you won’t even notice the collar he puts and locks onto your neck, however your sensitive ears picks up the clang of chains. Ya, I definitely think that Jace would have like a chained collar for you to wear for a long while (until he is finally secure again that you won’t leave him), He’ll always be holding onto the end of it, it’s like a little cute reminder that you will always belong to him and now everyone can see that too (fucking morbid mate, but hot, I give it a thumbs up)

Finally, just something that I’m thinking about now is how Jace manages to keep the reader and not get killed. Like do you love him (maybe even find his possessiveness hot and mate worthy? Or don’t even notice/realize it's not really healthy?), is he constantly putting that dick power on you and your like Jace sex obsessed? Is he placating you with gold and gifts? Are you bonded to him like an actual dragon? Can/were you able to control who you bonded with? Was it forced by him, was it random, do you like it? What are the bonding ramifications, like can you disobey him at times like actual dragons? How does it compel you to obey him? That sort of thing. Hmmmm…. It keeps me thinking…

@ms-fade

Love you dearie!!! Glad that you're checking up on your decrepit ol' grandma, hahaha (picture that laugh but like really haggard and old sounding, that's what I'm going for lmfao)

[yantalia545]

This is really random, but Yandere Axis with fae/fairy reader😅

I'm so sorry this took so long. Had to take a mental break from life.

Japan:

It may have only been an accident that he saw you, but it felt like a dream to him.

Just a few months before finding you, Japan had begun to notice small things going on within his house once he was asleep. Things like tiny dips appearing on the tops of his loosened ingredients or little things turning up in places he didn't leave them. It was strange. Did he have mice? Japan left traps out and took extra care of cleaning and making sure that no extra things were lying around, but his traps always remained empty, and the odd events were still occurring.

One night, Japan was up late again working on his latest manga when he heard the smallest rustling and an ink pallet falling to the floor. You must have been trying to sneak by with the coverage of the many art supplies on his shelf because there you were, exposed and very frightened. Japan had heard legends of tiny people from England and even believed a few of them himself, but this was still a surprise that there really was something living within his household.

You didn't stay long though. Before he could even get a word out you quickly flew past him in a trail of glittering dust and out his opened window.

From there he was memorized. Japan wanted to desperately see you again.

For weeks Japan stayed up late into the night in hopes of catching another glance at you, but no signs occurred. You were crafty. You still left the small indications that you were still present within his home; To Japan's relief. He was worried that he may have scared you off for good at first.see you most of the

As a way to show that he meant no harm, Japan would begin to leave out various items that he thought you might find useful. He even managed to find some small doll clothes! Just in case you might like them.

It took some time, and a lot of courage on your end, but eventually, he woke up to see you sitting on his chest. Too nervous to scare you off again, Japan can only manage to stare at you in astonishment. You came back. You're actually real! And you were so beautiful. You were even wearing one of the outfits he bought for you.

Before he could get a word out about how adorable you were, you sped off again.

To be honest, I see Japan as being one of the tamer yandere in this scenario. He'd feel content knowing that he had a tiny person like you mysteriously living inside his home. Even though he couldn't see you most of the time, he did find comfort in knowing that you would always be around in some corner of his home.

Just as long as you never leave though. If it seems like you've been gone for far too long, or lessening the signs that you were still around, then he may just begin to construct a little house for you to reside in.

Germany:

Germany was just minding his own business tending to his garden on a fine day when his dogs started going crazy over something. He would have brushed it off as just a bug they were chasing when he heard a small yelp and too heavy of movement within his bushes to be a bug.

He was in for quite the surprise when he saw a tiny person with wings rather than a small animal and they were quite injured. You were too tied and damaged to even try to run and hide.

Germany had no idea how to handle this situation but he still felt some sort of responsibility over you. After all, it was his dogs that did this to you. And to be honest he was also very curious of you and wanted an excuse to learn more about you.

The best thing he could think to do at the moment was to gently pick up your injured and terrified form and take you into the house. He could feel you shake in his hands the whole way in and it only made him feel more nervous and unsure.

Germany is naturally a protective person. While your wings are still healing he'll take to carrying you around everywhere. Reminding himself to remain gentle in fear of crushing or dropping you.

As time went on, Germany did his best to patch you up any way he could, but you still needed time to rest and heal your broken wings. Germany is a very busy man who always has a mountain of paperwork to complete. Not wanting to risk leaving you open to his dogs, or god forbid, having you discovered by yet another human, Germany took to keeping you secured in his chest pocket.

It was strange at first he will admit, but as the week went by, Germany really took a liking to having you nussled in his pocket. You two would talk for hours and exchange small details about your lives. Your interactions made Germany's workdays seem a little less daunting. Now he had a peaceful companion to keep him company all day.

When the time does come with you finally fully heal and you have to leave, Germany is reluctant to let you go. He knows he should, but something inside him just couldn't let go of his little companion. So what is a man to do when his tiny addition?

Just before you're about to take off out the open window, he'll shut it. Locking it with a bolt that's way too heavy for you to lift on your own and he'll take out a bird cage that hell pulled out of storage one day when you were napping peacefully.

There was a sting of guilt that riddled Germany's heart as he saw a look of utter terror upon your sweet face, but his desire outweighed his empathy at the moment.

You would be well taken care of in your imprisonment. He will provide little things for you to make you as comfortable as possible in your gilded world, while you will continue to provide comfort and entertainment within the confines of his office.

Italy:

It was just another day of harsh training with Germany and Japan when Italy found you unexpectedly.

He had sped off from the track after not wanting to run around for another 10 miles, (Much to Germnay's dismay), and found a hiding spot within the woods nearby.

You were just trying to count sprouting seedlings when you were interrupted by the sounds of a mysterious wailing. Being the sympathetic creature you are, you decide to investigate and soothe the disturbed being by doing what you do best. You flew right over and sprinkled Italy in a little flower petal. When he looked up from he folded knees he was shocked as a little butterfly-like person kissed him on his cheek. The warm tingling sensation reverberated throughout his entire body and a warm feeling took over him.

He'd never seen anything like you before, and you were so pretty as you sat yourself upon his knee.

You guys talked for hours. You loved hearing about his friends and the human troubles that followed. You have helped some humans in the past, but never a government official. His life was so complicated.

After your first meeting, Italy made sure to visit you every time he was training at Germany's place. You both would have such a wonderful time talking about your lives. As time went on, however, Italy began to talk more and more about his homeland. Even lightly ushering you to come along with him back to his home. Every time he would offer to take you to his lands you'd politely refuse. Your role was to tend to the land here. Other farries were in charge there and could be very territorial.

Italy didn't like that. He wanted to be around you always. You were his little friend that was always so comforting and nice to him. So one day, he arrived to visit you with everything in order.

Like usual, he approached his new secret hiding spot with a smile plastered onto his face. However this time, his interaction with you seemed a little uneasy. You felt a bit unnerved the whole time but tried to push it down in hopes that your dear friend was just frustrated with his daily human life. It wasn't until he quickly slammed a glass jar around you and slid you out from the top of your knee did he finally revealed his intentions. He was going to take you back to Italy whether you wanted to or not.

The way over was a little choppy. Being stuffed in a little glass jar with some poked holes at the top for hours on end would irritate anyone. You could hardly even stand. On top of that, Italy was jabbering the whole time about all the fun things he had planned out for the two of you.

There's no escape either. Italy may seem clueless but he can be very sneaky and sharp when pushed. He had spent weeks fairy-proofing the house to ensure that he could be with you always.

[macravishedbymactavish]

Riptide (TF141 x M!Reader)

TW: Angst, terrified thoughts about the future following traumatic events

| Blog HQ | Riptide Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter |

Chapter 05

You were pacing back and forth in the hallway; everything from the waist down becoming numb from sitting on the floor for so long.

"You're going to need a new pair of shoes right soon if you keep that up" Price commented, leaning against the wall. True to his word, he stayed with you this entire time. Not leaving to use the washroom, to eat, or even have a smoke.

I'm not going anywhere until I know our boy is okay.

"It's been hours without anything. Can you blame me?" You sighed, walking to stand directly beside him. Mind racing with all sorts of worst case scenarios. Readying yourself for bad news.

"Perfection takes time, he deserves no less" you nodded, fighting the urge to spiral deeper into your head. Knowing you needed to be as strong as you could for your son. Repairing the physical damage was the easy part, mending the mental and emotional wounds would be an uphill battle for you both.

You heard your name get called, eyes shooting up to the surgeon walking out toward you.

"Normally we meet families in the waiting room" she smiled warmly, before explaining that everything went off without a hitch and what to expect during his recovery.

He'd be admitted for a few nights for observation with a splint. They'll swap this out for a cast before he gets discharged, once some of the swelling from the operation comes down. Then some information about follow up after that you didn't catch. Hell, you didn't catch much more after she told you he was okay.

"If you'd like to see him, we can bring you in" you eagerly nodded, fighting back tears. "Would you want to come too?" She asked, gesturing to where Price stood beside you.

Would he want me there? Do you want me there? His gaze implied.

"Come on Gramps. Let's go see our boy" you chuckled softly, waving him to follow along. Feeling yourself start to shake the closer you got to the room.

"Here he is, you did amazing buddy" the surgeon greeted your son, who gave her a sleepy smile in return. "He'll likely be drowsy well into the night, but should be back to his normal self tomorrow"

You were at his side in a minute, stroking some hair out of his face as you felt tears fall. I haven't cried this much since the day you were born.

"Hi daddy. Hi gundpa" he mumbled sleepily, gazing up at you happily, before reaching his arm out in Price's direction. Who slowly walked over from his spot at the wall.

"Hi Bug" you whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair before wiping tears out of your eyes. "How you feeling?"

"Tired" he rubbed at his face, grimacing when the splint rubbed his cheek the wrong way. "Don't like it"

"It's only until your arm heals up, mate" Price commented in a soft voice, clearly shocked and honored that your son was automatically trusting of him. Something neither of you expected. "It'll be off before you know it"

"Hope so" the boy whispered, blinking hard as he fought to stay awake. "When can we go home?"

"In a few days. They want to make sure you're all better, and put a cast on your arm before we go" You explained, watching his nose scrunch up in confusion. "It's like what you have now, but harder and makes sure the bone heals straight" you clarified.

"Do they make them look cool?" Your son mumbled, slowly drifting into sleep.

"No, not really. But we can make it look really cool with markers and stuff" you smiled, watching as sleep finally overtook your son. Pressing another loving kiss to his hair, you whispered how you loved him and would be here when he woke up. While Price opted for a soft squeeze of his shoulder.

"Go home, grab some things and have a shower while he sleeps" you froze, everything inside of you arguing that you would not be leaving him alone ever again.

"You'll be gone an hour at most. I'll be here, Kate is on her way. He won't be alone" The tone left no room for ifs, ands or buts. You were going to have a shower and collect some things. "Get one of the guys to drive you, then they'll know where to go so we can watch your house"

Nodding slowly, you glanced down at your sleeping son's figure one more time. Heart aching at the thought of leaving him, despite knowing he was in hands you trusted with your own life.

"He's back now, you can breathe again" You nodded, feeling a soft shove as Price urged you out of the room.

--

As much as you hated to admit it, the feeling of the shower was almost intoxicating. The warm water beating down, working to relax the once stiff muscles. Wash the dirt, sorrow and grime off.

Hands pressed against the tile in front of you, you let your head hang forward as the water came down. Letting every emotion go, feeling your fingers curl into fists against the cool tile. You mourned the loss of his innocence. Damned every higher power and fate for letting something so horrendous happen to such a kind little boy; but thanked them for bringing him home safe in the same breath.

You began thinking of the future, the hospital would surely connect him with a therapist. Someone to help him work through the scars you wouldn't be able to see.

How long until he would feel comfortable going to the shops with you again?

When would he be comfortable with visitors in the house? Not that this particularly mattered. You would wait forever if that's what he needed.

Would he be able to attend a normal school one day?

What would you do for childcare.....would you stay in the force after this? After what happened when you weren't around to protect him?

The sound of the bathroom door closing caused you to shoot up out of the water. Now on high alert. Peeking out past the shower curtain you noticed a towel and a change of clothes (sweatpants and a plain tshirt) on the counter. Necessities you forgot to bring in with you.

Shutting the water off, you began to dry yourself. Smiling at the added warmth of the towel, wondering if they threw this in the dryer before giving it to you.

First time in my house and they all made themselves very at home. You laughed softly to yourself.

--

"Do the stars even glow anymore?" Johnny wondered out loud, leaning against the doorway to your sons room. Staring up at the stick on stars across his ceiling; making a point not to pass the threshold.

"I don't think so. Proves me right for buying the cheap ones" you laughed, explaining how from infancy your son seemed to sleep better under a sky of stars. Especially loving the nights when you sat out on the deck, him curled into your chest at night. Listening to you promise every star in the sky if that's what he wanted.

"Need to invest in more then" Kyle chuckled, walking up behind you. "So what do we need to check on while you and mini you are at the hospital?" You quickly ran through the basics of your home, before packing 2 bags. One for yourself, and the other for your son.

While you were busy packing, you missed the look your two teammates shared with smiles on their faces.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja @thatonesimpyknow @reiya-djarin

[zykamiliah]

Shen Qingqiu, who’d always been so good at mental gymnastics, reached a new high in his number of mental roasts, madly smashing through his old records—yet he still couldn’t put himself at ease, and instead he only grew more tired and worn out. He relentlessly told himself to the point of auto-brainwashing: the suffering and torment Luo Binghe endured now was all necessary in order for him to stand above the masses in the future. Without enduring the bone-chilling cold / How could fragrant plum blossoms hope to bloom / Without three years’ training in realms below / How could a demon king over worlds loom? Xin Mo in hand, he would possess everything beneath the heavens / With a harem innumerable, he need not be an incel… But it was useless. It was completely useless. Nothing could lift his spirits. (Chapter 4: Conference)

take a shot every time in vol. 1 sqq talks about brainwashing himself. from the skinner demon incident, and after the demon invasion, when it comes to what he has to do in the Immortal Alliance Conference, over and over, the man keeps trying to convince himself that it's fine, this is how things are supposed to go. the disciples dying. him having to reject and push luo binghe into the abyss. the mental stress this situation most have put in himself, that's something i can't comprehend at all.

He selfishly hoped that Luo Binghe would go of his own volition. In this kind of scenario, characters who chose to jump from cliffs were always caught on something—then Shen Qingqiu could go on believing his own lies that this scene would have a happy end.

pushing lbh into the endless abyss was so fucking traumatizing. like this is one of the reasons he can't talk about it when lbh asks him. he has trauma, and doesn't speak about it, avoids thinking about it, similar to the way yqy can't talk about his own trauma. the guilt, the fact that he, in his owns eyes, killed the person he adores so much.

Only Shen Qingqiu knew that the one he was mourning was in truth within that sword mound, buried underneath and never to return: that youth as warm as the sun.

and not only that, but their relationship. god sqq had come to genuinely love living with luo binghe, just being around him and depending on him.

Clearly Shen Qingqiu was the one who’d raised that little lamb of a protagonist, so why did it seem like the protagonist had been the one looking after him? He was scaring his disciples, putting on the act of a grieving widow whose husband had just died. Hadn’t it been only a couple of days since he’d last seen that child?

^this is what I mean when I said sqq also got psychological damage from their separation.

But, perhaps because Luo Binghe had left, he really was a bit lonely. Especially when he thought about how five years from now, when they reunited, a relationship that had once been that of a compassionate teacher and filial disciple (or something) would become defined by veiled murderous intent and daggers hidden within smiles. (Chapter 4: Conference)

and the nail on the coffin is the notification system. honestly im still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that lbh hold on hope for 15+ days that his shizun would go back for him.

What truly broke him and caused him to weep at the heavens was that, after several days of silence, the System sent him a message truly devoid of all humanity.

【 Congratulations! You have successfully completed the key quest, “The Legend Begins: Luo Binghe’s Fall and Rebirth.” Reward: Protagonist satisfaction points +10,000. 】

now this "weeping to the heaven", is it an hyperbole or is it literal? I'm going with the latter, because sqq loves to make fun about his own feelings. and when distracting himself and humor don't suffice, he has to go take his anger on something or someone

Being so unhappy, naturally Shen Qingqiu had to go take it out on someone else. So, he had Ming Fan deliver a message inviting Shang Qinghua to the Bamboo House.

a coping mechanism similar to bingge's, talk about parallels, toxic masculinity etc

[amysubmits]

Tacos, Lasagna or Coffee?

If my Dom tells me to make tacos for dinner tonight, I have no problem submitting to that even if I had thought about having something else. I like tacos. Maybe I was craving tortellini instead, but I can eat tacos without it having a meaningful impact on me. 

If my Dom told me we were having lasagna for dinner and I wasn’t allowed to eat anything else...that would be a problem for me. I don’t like lasagna. Would eating it kill me? No. If he asked me to try a bite of lasagna, I would. But forcing myself to eat a whole meal’s worth of something I really dislike or go hungry would be a really negative experience for me emotionally.  

I’ve never been a coffee drinker and I have ADHD so stimulants impact me differently than most. But I’ve seen other subs talk about having rules like “no coffee after 3pm”. The goal being to make sure their caffeine intake doesn’t impact their ability to fall asleep at night. For some subs having rules that require them to prioritize their health makes them feel super subby and warm & fuzzy - even though it means less coffee and they love coffee. Some days may be harder than others, where they really are craving another coffee - but they get enough positive feelings from the rule that it is a net-positive experience overall. 

Some people frame submission as being about ignoring all of your preferences, and even your needs. A “whatever my dom wants, they get, what I want doesn’t matter, I’m a sub!” type of mentality. This suggests that a dom could make a coffee-loving sub never have coffee ever again, and a lasagna-hating sub only ever eat lasagna, and the sub should happily go along with this agreement because they are a sub. 

My personal belief is that ignoring your own preferences only works to a certain extent. 

If we tried to make a D/s dynamic where he regularly made lasagna-like decisions for me, that would do emotional damage. I would become resentful. I’d probably twist that resentment into criticizing myself for not being a better sub, a more natural sub who is happy to eat things they hate? It would eat me alive first, but eventually it would impact CD as well. My growing self-loathing would eventually impact him as I’d be less confident and he’d feel the impact of that. My pain and resentment might bubble out directly at him at times, too. Negative emotions can’t just be swallowed or bottled up and forgotten about. They come out in some way or another eventually. That’s my belief, anyway. 

I think sometimes subs post about being “forced” to do things because framing it that way makes it feel hot for them. Or maybe it’s not a sexual thing but it just makes them feel good about their submission to post about how they ‘had to’ do something as it makes their submission more recognized. I might post about how CD “made me” cook tacos and how I wanted tortellini instead. Or the sub with the coffee rule might post about how desperately they want another coffee but how they “have to” only drink water for the rest of the day. 

In the taco and coffee scenarios, the subs primarily enjoy what they are being “forced” to do. There is some self-control and maybe even some struggle involved with submitting to this some days, but there is no resentment. They like the rule, or protocol, or expectation that they’ve consented to. Nothing eats at them at the end of the day. It’s very different from the lasagna scenario, but all three could be posted online and discussed as the sub being “forced” to comply with. 

In cases where people might be trying to submit to things that actually do eat at them? I think that will cause problems long-term. But my larger point I wanted to make is...when reading other people’s D/s anecdotes, if you find yourself thinking someone else submits to a lot of “lasagna” stuff? Ask yourself if it could be more taco-like or coffee-like for them, even if it would be lasagna-like for you. We’re all different, of course. If you take any two subs and compare them you’ll almost certainly find areas that are easier and harder for each to submit. It doesn’t make one a better or deeper sub than the other. 

Or even if they are submitting to lasagna-stuff? Meaning, they are submitting in ways that feel more negative than positive? I don’t think it’s good to use examples of other people submitting to lasagna-stuff to make yourself feel bad about your own submission. Maybe they are submitting “more” than you, but maybe it’s eating at them so it really shouldn’t be something you set as a goal for yourself. I think we should aim to be healthy subs first and foremost. 

@sccwriting

[moosemonstrous]

Not me idly wondering what are the jaegers made of, checking out the wiki and once again going mad with crumbs:

a) I reject Mark 1s being made out of iron bc that's just. Not a thing. This sentiment started the mess below.

b) Gottlieb's dad started The Jaeger Program! Tony Stark had a dad! It's all according to plan.

c) The PR lore is insane and I love it.

"I reject that thesis and raise you this," Stark spins his chair around to point his pen at Amadeus's face. "My suits are just that good."

Amadeus raises an eyebrow. "All the seals melted," he says. "We had to cut Robbie out of it. He should've cooked, even if the flame retardant held up. You know there's more to it, and if you backed me up--"

"Oh, there sure is more to it. More body horror I want nowhere near my lab." Stark shudders. "Let's just be glad he made it and leave it at that, huh?"

It takes every ounce of Amadeus's professionalism not to say 'nuh-huh'. He's already laid out his theory. As tempting as it is to go around in circles until he wears Stark down, they have other work to do. It's just--it's so bloody frustrating! He joined the jaeger program specifically to study demon biology and its influence to exposed humans, and he's been stuck mid-maxing the rangers' reaction times like some run of the mill engineer.

He's seen what happens to people who trade in demon remains without protective equipment. The initial increase in strength and agility gives way to organ failure as soon as the corruption reaches the bloodstream. The longest documented survival rate was less than seventy-two hours from exposure and judging by the case footage still replaying occasionally in Amadeus's nightmares, the poor woman wasn't holding scholarly conversations in the last twenty-four.

Now, the exposure must be physical - drifting with the lesser categories haven't shown to cause the same rapid tissue degradation. The beastie riders down in the Bone Slums reported occasional headaches and weird dreams, but it's impossible to verify without independent study, and, well. Then there's Robbie.

Robbie has never drifted, period, before the accident with The Charger. His sudden physical improvements could be easily explained away by access to regular meals and a brutal training regime, and he passed medical before even approaching a jaeger. There is nothing about him - nothing that Amadeus has found so far, at least - that differs from any of the other rangers, other than, oh, being able to drift solo with the most haunted piece of technology ever allowed into military use. And now, apparently, withstanding an over twelve hundred degrees Celcius firestorm.

The media nicknamed the demon Inferno - there wasn't time for anything more creative. The whole Cam Ranh Bay turned to glass, eleven thousand dead, two whole jaegers reduced to slag. The only reason there is any Vietnam left to mourn the losses is still cooling in the sea outside the Shatterdome. The Charger isn't made of anything special, it's the same steel alloys as all the other Mark-2s. When Inferno threw up it's fiery guts all over it, Amadeus started mentally composing a way to break the news to Gabe - like hell he was going to let Ivanov field that one - and he's still not entirely convinced he hasn't hit his head and imagined the way the black jaeger's chains flew out of the fire to wrap around the demon's neck.

It's still black, although no longer from paint. The techs are already busy scrubbing it down and replacing the fried electronics, because at least something got damaged to prove Robbie didn't just teleport his mech in and out of the battle. At this point, there is no discounting any possible scenario. Maybe if he ran a Pons simulation with the Icebox protocol...

Stark sighs. "Kid, let me give you some sage advice," he says. His tone is suddenly very serious - enough to get Amadeus's attention. "Do you know what the military does with weird shit they can't explain?"

"What are you--?"

"One of two things," Stark slaps a finger to his open palm. "Either they pretend everything is hunky-dory as long as the weird shit does what they want, or," he adds a second finger, "someone complains about the weird shit enough that they lock it up, out of sight. So they can speed-run their tests. Are you picking up? What I'm putting down, here?"

Amadeus swallows past the lump in his throat. "You own the Jaeger Program."

Stark rolls his eyes. "You're confusing me with my father again. Keep up." His expression softens somewhat. "Look, I don't like it either."

"Save it," Amadeus pulls on his coat. "I'm going out."

"Cho, don't be--"

"See you at the debrief."