#being informed of the risks of whatever youre engaging in

[veronicathegoddess]

can we please kill the consent is hot and the consent is so sexy narrative. consent is the bare fucking minimum and it isn't supposed to be glamorized as anything else. anyone that doesn't care about consent is abusive and shouldn't be near anyone, in a sexual context and in a normal social context. end of discussion.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hey sex witch, you’ve talked a lot about porn addiction on here but I have some other questions if that’s ok.

I go to Christian highschool and we often have discussions about porn addiction.

my teacher says that most addicted people start consuming porn at around 9. And that even seeing one naked person or one porn or whatever on the internet can put you at higher risk of developing an addiction to porn.

does absolutely any of this have a base in science? Or is this all fear mongering and what not?

hi anon,

first of all, I just want to say that I think it rules that you're seeking information outside of what's being taught at your school. learning how to question what you're told and seek out answers from other sources is a really important skill that can be VERY hard to even begin if you aren't given the resources to easily go looking for information, and I think it's great that you're taking the initiative of seeking out other perspectives :)

now, let's break this down: the concept of "porn addiction" is one largely discredited by psychologists. while people can certainly develop maladaptive coping mechanisms around sexuality, porn, and/or masturbation, this isn't strictly the same as addiction, and several studies have found that the people who are most likely to identify themselves as porn addicts are people who harbor religious or cultural shame about sexuality and porn use, rather than people who use porn more than the average person. it is, largely, a matter of perception.

while access to smartphones means that many people first encounter pornography at a young age - the current average age is somewhere between 9 and 13, depending on the study - and that can be confusing to a child who isn't given the proper framework to understand what they're seeing, it's also not a new phenomenon. in my role as a sex educator I also get to talk with a lot of parents about their early sexual experiences, and many of them recall encountering printed pornography as children when they find it in gutters, the woods, the bedroom of parents or friends' parents, or even stowed in farm equipment. these adults tend to remember being intrigued and excited along with a little confused or alarmed by this first brush with sexuality, but crucially it did not define them as people. as evidence by the fact that they've grown up to send their children to queer-friendly, sex positive, nonjudgmental sex ed classes, early exposure to porn did not stop them from growing into curious, thoughtful, and supportive parents who want to encourage healthy attitudes toward sexuality for their children. porn alone does not have the power to determine the direction of someone's life.

just seeing a naked person or pornography on the internet also cannot immediately make you an "addict." as you've already guessed, this is what we call fear mongering, using information in a way that's exaggerated to make people nervous to even engage with a topic. fear mongering about sex is common among adults and education systems that don't want to young people to be curious about their bodies; another common one is "teaching" young people about sexually transmitted infections by only showing them pictures of untreated cases that have become drastic and painful while insisting that no STI can ever be treated, which is definitely not the case. but the facts don't matter; the priority is trying to make sure teenagers are too scared to have sex until they're adults and the school system is no longer responsible for them.

(and it doesn't even work; states with higher rates of abstinence only education are CONSISTENTLY among those with the highest rates of teen pregnancy and sexually transmitted infections.)

when presented with absolutist statements like this, it's worth poking holes in the logic. for instance, if seeing any naked figure is bad, what about classical art? do nude marble statues put you at risk of being a porn addict? what about other artistic depictions of nudity? or anatomical illustrations? what about real people just changing clothes in a locker room, or young siblings bathing together? does it not count for people who are nearly or partially nude, like someone wearing a bathing suit or athletic clothes? people changing in a locker room together? what about young children being bathed together? and what about all of those depictions about Jesus on the cross wearing nothing but a loincloth? what's the line between "good" and "bad" nudity, and who's deciding where that line is? can such a line even really exist at all?

the truth is that people are undressed or partially undressed in all kinds of situations, and none of them are a corrosive influence on your brain. just looking at something is not enough to completely rewire your brain and permanently change your behavior. ultimately, you are responsible for your own actions.

I hope this has been a helpful answer, and that you stay curious about what you're being taught.

[milliesfishes]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝓓𝓪𝓭𝓭𝔂, 𝓘 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓗𝓲𝓶!𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

[fem reader] contains: forced distance, angst, kidnapping, family betrayal, murder, death, gunfights, pregnancy, violence, miscarriage. summary: billy scrambles to figure out what to do when your daddy decides to send you away. pairing: billy the kid x fem reader author’s note: heyy! this one gets a little dark so be warned. love you <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

It was a character staple that you never cried.

Your demeanor was sweeter than sugar, so darling that Billy couldn't ever see himself doing anything but adoring you. Truly, he wasn't the only one who found it impossible. You had an easy smile that you used often. Truthfully it was that that'd drawn him to you at first. That smile, that laugh.

He hadn't known anything about you when he first saw you across the square, pretty and carefree, in a blue dress the color of the sky. But he heard your name on everyone's lips afterward. The sweetest girl in town.

Billy wanted you before he even knew you.

A buddy of his informed him that you were the daughter of one of the richest men in town. A man famous for his dislike of outlaws. This had dismayed Billy a little but hadn't altogether stopped him from pursuing you.

He'd sidled up to you in a respectful way one day in the market, tipping his hat and introducing himself. You must've known who he was already, but you didn't show it, smiling sweetly and leaning against the stall you were at, engaging him in conversation that had his head spinning in the best way.

Of course he'd asked to see you again. You'd tilted your head, thinking about it, and Billy held his breath, thinking you'd say no. A good girl like you likely wouldn't want to disobey your father.

So it shocked him when you said yes. And you kept saying yes after that, for months until he woke up and found he'd known you a year, and you'd been his sweetheart for just a little under one.

Billy'd never had a girl before, not steady and constant like this. His trysts with women had often been short lived, mere imaginings almost that had no hope of lasting. But he'd known you were special from the second he saw you. He didn't want a few weeks worth of kisses, he wanted to love you.

And love you he did.

More than love, he cherished you. Every stolen second he had you in his arms he imprinted, something to recall when he had to leave.

He'd been surprised to find you were untouched; not even your lips had been caressed by another man's. You willingly gave yourself to him, gave him every one of your firsts, then every second and third after that. Billy committed your being to memory, every new piece of knowledge he gained about you shelved at the forefront of his mind. He was a man utterly obsessed.

You were the center of Billy's world, a once in a lifetime girl he always wanted to protect.

Which is why when he found you crying on your porch one night, his reaction was immediate.

Billy reached for you, arms instantly open and ready to fix it, whatever it was. You welcomed the comfort, leaning into his chest, your body shaking. Tears fell like rain down your cheeks, and he marveled at the sight. He'd never seen you cry before.

"Baby...ohh baby, whatsa matter? What happened, huh?" he asked, keeping his voice down. It was late, and your father would have gone to sleep by now, but he didn't want to risk waking him. He knew from all the other times you'd met him out here.

You didn't respond, your cries soft but intense, making him worry. Taking your hand between your chests, Billy held it to his beating heart, taking purposefully deep breaths so his chest moved up and down. He used his other hand to hold you tight against him, so your body could feel it. "Deep breaths f'me baby. Gotta stay calm. Don't want you to collapse on me, hm?"

Feeling his body so close against yours, you tried to match his pace, your tears and shaking making it hard at first, but slowly you eased into it. He nodded encouragingly and squeezed your hand. "That's it...that's it, atta girl...that's m'girl."

Your arms found their way around him, holding him tightly as your breathing slowed, becoming less hysterical. He held you in a protective stance, still holding the hand between you, the other hand at the back of your hair, holding your head to his shoulder. Naturally, his body moved, rocking you back and forth. "I gotcha. Ya don't needa fold yourself up anymore. I gotcha."

Billy's words were soothing, just what you needed to hear. If you could keep yourself here in this bubble forever, you would. When he noticed you'd calmed down a bit, he lifted your chin. "Y'know you can always tell me anything, pretty? Anything at all?"

You looked into his eyes, the events of the day echoing their sorrows into your face. It was bubbling inside you- the overwhelming cacophony of secrets.

He could see it; you knew he could. "'S okay baby. You can tell me."

Your lower lip trembled, and his heart broke at the sight of you. His hands were on your cheeks, and he kissed your forehead. "Baby...lemme help you. Let me fix this."

"You can't fix this," you breathed, shaking as your tears fell fast.

"What's goin' on?" Billy held you between his hands firmly. You knew he wouldn't let go until you gave him something.

And you didn't want to tell him the full truth.

So, you took in a shuddering breath, and said, "My...my father's sending me away."

Billy's body froze, his brow furrowing. He looked at you in disbelief. "Sendin' ya...where's he sendin' you to?"

"To a convent up north," you whispered, twin tears sliding down your cheeks, hitting his hands.

He exhaled sharply, feeling like his world was falling apart. "When?"

"Tomorrow." Your voice was small.

"Tomorrow," he repeated, nodding slowly as he took it in. Billy cast his eyes to the side as he thought quickly. "Mkay...mkay." Then, he rubbed his thumbs along your cheeks. "Pretty? Baby? Look at me."

You did as he asked, your eyes full of fear. He'd never seen you this scared, and it pushed him into action.

Billy gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into his chest, holding the back of your head with one hand and the other around your waist. "Here's what we're gonna do, baby," he muttered. "I'm gonna go talk to your daddy...tell him we're gonna be wed soon."

Your head snapped up, but he pushed it back down. "Alright? Maybe he won't send ya off. But if he still does I'm gonna take ya. We'll ride off, just you and me."

Shaking your head, your eyes filled with tears again. "Billy...Billy no..."

He silenced you by kissing your head. "'M not lettin' him send my baby off to a convent. Either you're comin' with me or I'm askin' him to marry you. Ain't lettin' you go for nothin'."

You pressed your hand against his chest, getting him to look down at you. "Billy. I can't run from this, I can't..." you took in another shaky breath. "I have to go."

Billy's eyes widened slightly, and he shook his head. "Go, pretty? I just told you, I ain't lettin' ya go." He smoothed his hand over your hair. "You're my girl, ain'tcha? Ain't just any girl to me, pretty, you're my sweetheart. You trust me, don'tcha?"

You nodded. "I do. I trust you more than anyone. But..." you sniffled, looking away again. "I have to Billy. There's- I just have to."

He knew arguing with you would go nowhere, not when you were this determined. So he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek. "Fine then. If your daddy won't let us wed, I'll follow you to that convent."

"Billy...Billy- no!" you pleaded, your voice high and scared. You tugged on his shirt. "Please...I don't want him to do something to you. I don't...I can't have you hurt because of me."

"He ain't gonna hurt me honey," Billy frowned, his hand coming to yours on his shirt.

"I know you could beat him physically," you begged, trying to make him see reason. "But my daddy's got connections for miles. He could hurt you real bad, make sure you can't find work, run you outta town. I can't have that happen to you. Please."

Billy's shoulder slumped defeatedly as he saw how anxious you were. "Pretty..." he pleaded, scrambling for a way. "We're in love, ain't we? Ya can't ask me to sit back and let ya be shipped away."

"I love you," you breathed, taking his face in your hands. "Do you know how badly I want to run off with you? Ride into the sunset, safe in your arms forever?"

"I'd marry you tomorrow, pretty," he murmured, his hand coming to your cheek, the other falling from around your waist.

You smiled in a sad way. "I know you would. But...I can't."

"Why not?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, the shadow from his hat covering his eyes. "Why do ya hafta go away?"

"I have to," you whispered, a fresh bout of tears streaming down your face. "Please Billy, just believe me-"

There was a loud noise from inside, and you jumped, looking back. Knowing this was your last chance, you turned to him and pulled his face down for a brief, but passionate kiss, your lips finding him in desperate need.

And before he could react, you were gone, running inside the house.

Billy just stood there in stunned silence for who knows how long, long after watching you retreat inside. Every fiber of his being protested. This can't be the end. No.

When it came to the people he loved, he was a fighter. And he'd be damned if he lost you this way.

He backed up to see your window, on the second floor. There was a light emanating from inside, and the sight of it lit a spark in him. without thinking too hard, Billy made his way to the sturdy tree conveniently growing right where he needed it. This wasn't the first time he'd climbed up to your room. In his mind you were a princess sequestered away in your tower, and he was your knight who'd do anything to get to you.

That was how he viewed himself when he reached the porch roof, discreetly crawling to the window and peering inside. You had been sitting on the floor inside, kneeling in front of a very small case with some of your littler belongings scattered around it. When he knocked, you turned your head, eyes widening in surprise.

You unlatched the window, and he carefully climbed inside, shutting it behind him. When he turned around, you were staring at him in disbelief. "Billy, what're you doing-"

"I ain't lettin' ya go doll," he whispered, his hands bracketing your face.

"You have to," you breathed, your hands coming to his wrists. "There aren't any other options."

"I toldja...we can leave. Right now," he said in harried tones. "We'll get married sweet. We'll be happy."

"Billy please," you closed your eyes, wishing for that fantasy. "Please don't."

He was taken aback by everything about the way you'd said it. Billy could see- you weren't going to budge. And as much as it broke his heart, he really didn't have a choice. No choice but to go along with it.

"Baby..." he shut his eyes, feeling like the ground was swept from under him.

You sniffled, feeling tears come over you again. "I'm so sorry Billy."

"No..." he shook his head, kissing your forehead. "Ain't no fault of yours."

"I don't want to leave you," you clung to him as if you could weld him to you. "But I have to...there's- I just have to."

Billy wanted to press you, make you tell him why, exactly, you had to leave him when you so clearly didn't want to. But he knew it would get him nowhere, no matter how his heart tugged at him to find out.

So, he led you to the bed, settling you between his legs so you could lie down on him. Billy rubbed your back lightly, his fingers a soothing balm to whatever was weighing on your mind.

Finally, you were quiet, your head resting on his chest. He made no attempt to move you once he realized you weren't crying anymore- he'd be your pillow anytime. Especially when you were in such distress.

And so, you laid there. Knowing it was the last time, but neither of you daring to say it.

"Billy?" you broke the silence, body limply molded against his.

"Mhm?" he kissed the top of your head, looking down at you.

"Will you tell me what it would have been like?" you asked softly, staring at the wall from where you were lying against him. "If we ran away?"

He sighed sadly; eyes weary. "Honey-"

"Please?" you lifted your head to look at him. "Give me something to dream about? While I'm gone?"

You were asking like it was a bedtime story, and he couldn't help his smile at that. How could he ever deny you anything? "Hmm," he thought for a moment, adjusting you in his arms gently. Billy could picture it all- waking up next to you every morning, working hard for you during the day and kissing you goodnight all cozy in your shared bed. "We'd go real far away, baby. No one would know us. Just you 'n me, all alone."

"Mhm?" you murmured, encouraging him to keep going.

"Yeah," he nodded, imagining it. "I'd treat ya real good angel. We'd get married right away...get a little piece 'f land somewhere 'n be happy there. It's you 'n me." He lifted your hand, kissing your palm. "You 'n me. Always."

The thought of it brought tears to your eyes, and you stayed perfectly still against his chest, seeing it all in your mind. How you wished you could stay. You'd never wanted anything more.

He rolled you over, so you were on your back, him hovering over you. Seeing the tears on your cheeks, he leaned down and kissed your nose. "Baby..." he kissed you there again. "Please. Please stay with me."

Your heart was broken, shattered, torn. Tears fell freely as he peppered soft, sweet kisses on your face. "I need ya..." a kiss on your cheek. "Need my baby." He kissed your other cheek. "Don't go." This last whisper was broken, more desperate than all the others.

"I love you," you breathed, your hands cupping his cheeks. "You're going to be just fine without me." You willed the words to be true.

Billy shook his head. "You're m' whole world." He laid to the side of you, and you turned to face him. "Won't be a day where I don't miss ya...please baby."

You pulled him so he was resting his face against your chest, close to your breasts. "No. You're gonna be okay. You're gonna..." you inhaled softly. "You're gonna meet some sweet girl in town and forget all about me."

He buried his face in your chest. "No." His words were muffled against you. "You're the sun 'n stars sweetheart. The thought of anyone takin' your place kills me."

You kissed the top of his head, hand stroking his hair. His hands dug into your hips, and he breathed deeply, inhaling your scent, like he was trying to imprint you on him.

Soon enough, he was asleep against you. He didn't move once during the night, his face staying against your chest.

When the sun started to rise, shining through your window, you shook lightly at him, trying to get him off. "Billy. You have to go before they see you."

He shook his head against your breast, his words blurred by you. "'M not goin' anywhere, baby." His lips pressed against you there. "'N you ain't goin' anywhere either."

You shook your head. "They're coming for me. I can't let my daddy see you."

"Then I'll go with you baby," he lifted his head and looked at you pleadingly. You nearly melted: his eyes were like a little boy's, the bright blue big and boring into yours. "Let's just go pretty...we can go anywhere. Anywhere ya want."

"Billy please," you murmured, taking his face in your hands. You kissed one cheek, then the other, then his nose.

"Let's just run away. Please," he begged, pressing his temple against your hand. "We'll go anywhere. Somewhere they'll never find us. I'll be good. I'll be so good for you."

"You're already good for me," you affirmed in a bittersweet way. "I can't run away from this."

"Don't care," he mumbled, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek. "It's you 'n me baby. I'll do anything for ya." Billy's fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you into a soft kiss.

You let yourself kiss him back for a moment, then got up, putting your dress on. "I want you to stay here and work and do everything you want to do."

"I don't care about anything else," Billy insisted, getting up and wrapping his arms around you from behind. "I want you."

You brushed away the pang in your chest and stepped away from him, kneeling at your case that you'd abandoned last night in favor of his love. There were a few things you were putting inside carefully, ignoring the weight in your heart as you did.

He sat quietly beside you, watching you. There were no questions asked, nothing else to say about it.

When the box was shut, what little you were taking packed away, you took in a deep breath, staring at it. You had one of your ribbons in your hands, twisting it between your fingers.

Billy felt helpless. It was like holding onto running water. You were leaving, nearly insistent on it despite every protest and promise he put before you. Looking at you, remembering everything you'd had, he knew you were the love of his life. He didn't know how he could ever love anyone else, not in the same way or more.

Your leaving was inevitable. But he could comfort you now. He could show you he loved you, and that it wouldn't ever stop.

So, he reached out, lowering your hands. "Everything will be okay, baby."

He kissed your cheek, then reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a little gold ring looped on a strand of twine. Untying it, he picked up your hand and slid it on your finger.

Instantly recognizing it, you shook your head. "That's your mama's wedding ring. I can't take it from you...you shouldn't-"

Billy tilted your chin up, kissing you softly. His fingers intertwined with yours. "I want you to have it, sweetheart," he said gently. "My mama always told me that this ring was a symbol of love 'n protection. She'd wear it every day to keep us safe." He pressed another kiss to her lips, adding quietly, "It suits ya too, pretty."

You looked down at it, noticing how perfectly it fit around your finger. The fact made you smile sadly. "You're gonna meet another girl you'll want to give this to."

He shook his head firmly. "I don't want anyone else to have it." Billy squeezed your hand and lifted it to his lips. "I want you to have it and keep it safe. So you'll always know how much I love you."

For the millionth time, a tear made its way down your cheek. You threw yourself into his arms, memorizing how the plane of his body felt against you.

Billy held you close, and you knew if you asked him so, he wouldn't let go. But you knew you had to, so you leaned back, looking at him. The ribbon was being twisted over your fingers again anxiously.

He glanced down at your hands again, taking them and untwisting the ribbon, taking it from you. "It's okay baby." he said softly, his voice soothing.

You nodded, leaning against him for a moment. He was the eye of your storm.

There was a sudden noise, and voices downstairs. You sat up, looking at the door. They were here.

Standing up, you took your case, holding it by the top handle. He watched you, every inch of his being screaming to grab you and never let you go.

But he couldn't.

Instead, he took his face in your hands, kissing you softly. "I love ya. Never forget it."

"I could never," you breathed, pressing your forehead against his. Then, with one final look, you whispered, "I love you."

And then you were gone, shutting the door behind you, leaving him standing in your room with your ribbon in his hand.

Of course, Billy wasn't going to let you leave just like that.

He'd played along with you for the sake of your distress, but in truth, his mind had been running all night, trying to make something of a plan.

There weren't many options, truth be told. Evidently, he couldn't go to your father, and he couldn't run away with you, at least not yet.

So, after you'd been escorted out by a woman in a black dress, and your father left for town, he snuck from your bedroom window to his horse, whom he'd left grazing in a nearby grove. He rode to town himself with one objective in mind. There weren't many convents close to the county, and he assumed your father wouldn't send you terribly far away.

He asked around town about convents near here, trying to stay discreet. Luckily, nobody seemed to think anything of it, and he got information on one about a day's ride away.

Hoping and praying that it was the right one and that your father hadn't sent you to one several states away, he started to ride in that direction.

It was a long journey. All day as the sun beat down on him, all he could think of was you, and whether you were okay or not. Were you scared? Unsafe?

A million thoughts raced the track of his mind and looped back again. There was no guarantee that you would even come with him. You seemed to be trapped in a stubborn spot. He still didn't understand at all why you had insisted on going. Why you had chosen the convent over marrying him. Why despite choosing the convent over marrying him, you'd still cried over leaving him.

Hopefully he'd get his answers when he saw you.

The convent was in wooded area, hidden in the trees. Due to this fact, he was able to discreetly sneak close, leaving his horse tied to a tree in order to make his way closer on foot.

A stone wall that wasn't terribly high surrounded the convent, and Billy used a nearby tree to climb over, hoping there wasn't anybody on the other side. He realized then that he had no idea where you were located within the large building. Nobody seemed to be outside, so he quietly wandered, looking for any sign of you.

Someone must have been smiling on Billy that day, because he caught sight of an open window, and a woman sitting on a bed, and oh...he'd recognize that silhouette anywhere.

Softly, he snuck closer, realizing there was someone in there with you. An older woman standing in front of you, holding a piece of paper. "...admitted for pre-marital conception, is that right?"

Billy's blood ran cold. Pre-marital-

You nodded solemnly, looking at your hands in your lap. You were wearing a light blue dress, and you looked paler, sadder than he'd seen last.

His heart clenched as the woman took one of your hands, with a gentle smile on her face. "It's okay sweetheart. You're in the right place. And we'll make sure the baby finds a good home."

Breath caught in his throat, Billy's eyes went wide, and he felt time stand still. He looked to you, at your worn appearance and tired demeanor. A few details clicked into place.

The woman left your room, and you leaned forward, burying your face in your hands. He stared at you silently, his heart in his throat. Time was frozen, nothing mattered anymore.

This was why you'd been sent away.

Billy felt a surge of adrenaline, of ferocious protectiveness wash over him, and he stood up straight, hoisting himself over your windowsill.

You jumped; eyes wide as you realized who it was. "Billy-"

He didn't say a word, just rushed to you, gathering you into his arms and hugging you tight.

Hesitantly, as if you were unsure if this was real, you hugged him back. For a moment, Billy didn't care about any of it. He was just happy to have you in his arms.

"Billy what are you doing here?" you breathed, sounding relieved and confused all at the same time.

"Ya really thought I was leavin' ya baby?" he asked quietly, rubbing your back. "Ain't no chance. I'd crawl from my grave to come find ya."

"You shouldn't be here," you said softly, pulling back to look up at him. "It's not safe."

"Shh," he soothed, kissing the top of your head and nudging his nose into your hair. Oh, how he'd missed that sweet scent.

Stepping back from his arms a bit, you looked up at him, eyes pleading. "Billy."

He shook his head, putting one big hand over your tummy, rubbing it softly. "Not leavin'. Never again."

You paled, your heart sinking. "How did you-"

"Heard that woman talkin' outside the window," Billy explained calmly, his eyes not leaving yours. "Baby..." he took your face in his hands. "Why didn't ya tell me?"

Biting your lip, you looked like you were about to cry. "Billy..."

He recognized the situation, sitting down on the bed and bringing you to sit with him. Knowing you'd need a lot of love to get through this, he pulled you to rest between his arms, head on his chest.

"I was going to tell you," you started, voice a helpless whisper. "I found out a week before I was sent away. But I didn't tell you right away because I wasn't sure how."

Billy nodded, fingers trailing lightly up and down your back.

You continued. "I had gone to the doctor, and he told my father. I wasn't discreet enough. I just wanted to know for sure before I told you." You still seemed upset at this mistake. "And I guess my father wrote to have me sent here the same day. He didn't tell me I was leaving until that night on the porch."

His face fell. "You had to carry this all this time by yourself? Baby..." he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "You coulda told me all this." Billy's eyes fell to your stomach, for the first time noticing the slight gentle protrusion of it. That was his baby. His child you were carrying. His gaze was affectionate as he looked from you to your belly, filled with wonder.

A defeated look crossed your face. "I just..." Your eyes filled with tears. "I was so scared. And I figured...it would be better if I went away and had the baby and you'd be free of us. We wouldn't be a burden."

At your words, he squeezed you tight against him, shaking his head. His heart ached at your words, at the thought that you thought such a thing. "You 'nd my child could never be a burden." He kissed your hair again. "Don't you ever think that again. Never think I don't want you. Never think I'd be better without you. Cause it ain't true. Not one bit."

You looked up at him, the unexpected confession softening you and easing your mind. Sniffling, you looked down at your belly, hand ghosting over it.

He noticed how thin you were at that moment. Too thin if you were pregnant. "You been eatin' at all sweetheart?"

"It's been hard," you confessed, still leaning into him. He was rocking you back and forth gently, trying to keep you calm.

"Gotta keep eatin," he murmured against your hair. "Gotta keep my little one healthy."

"Which of us is your little one?" you asked, smiling up at him a little.

That got him. There you were. His sweet girl. "Both o' ya," he mumbled, holding you close. "When we go home we're gonna get ya somethin' real good to eat. Plenty've good stuff for you 'nd the baby."

You looked up at him, tilting your head a smidge. "Home?"

"I'm takin' ya home baby," he muttered, still rocking you lightly.

"You can't Billy, I have to stay here," you said earnestly, your hand coming to his over your belly. "If my father finds out-"

"He'll have to deal with it," Billy concluded, rubbing your stomach. "I'm not losin' my girl."

"We can't just run away," you sighed, shaking your head, a thousand possibilities running through it. "We don't have anywhere to go, any money-"

"I've got money saved up," Billy assured, and you looked up at him, furrowing your brow in confusion. He smiled fondly. "Knew I wanted to marry ya from the first time I met ya. 'Course I started savin'."

The sentiment warmed you from the inside out. You felt a little better hearing that, but your worries still plagued you. "Where would we go?"

"Anywhere," he smiled, squeezing your hands. "We'd have to ride back into town for a day or so, so I could get things settled with Tunstall 'n all. But after that we're free."

You looked concerned. "But...you love working for Tunstall. And the Regulators. You shouldn't give that up..."

Billy met your gaze with soft but determined eyes. He brought his hand to your cheek stroking it. "The Regulators're my friends, and Tunstall's a real good man but..." he looked down at your belly again. "You're more important. You 'n our baby. I wanna make a life for us somewhere. One where we can be happy together." He leaned in and kissed you lightly. "'nd I know we can't do that with you so scared o' what your daddy's gonna do."

"We could make it work," you tried, despite knowing he was right.

"It ain't just that," Billy said firmly, but gently. "The life I live, the life of an outlaw. It ain't safe. I can't put you 'n the baby in danger. You are my priority. Always have been, but more than ever now."

The feeling of having him care so deeply about you was invigorating. You'd known he loved you, but this. He was doing this for you. For you and the baby. You threw your arms around him, happy tears spilling from your eyes.

Billy smiled, holding you against him. "We'll settle down proper. That's my choice. It ain't givin' anything up when it's for you. It's you 'n me. Always."

Pulling back, you pressed your lips against his in a long, sweet kiss that he returned in full. Billy was a lover to his core, and you thanked your lucky stars you found such a gentle man in the shell of such a hardened outlaw.

He helped you out the window, likely more gently than he would have had you not had his baby encased in your belly. You were holding your little case that you hadn't even unpacked since arriving.

Giddy and nearly drunk off your excitement, you ran hand in hand from the window. He lifted you to sit on the wall surrounding the convent, hoisted himself over it, then grabbed you around the waist to help you down. And then you were off.

He held your hand, and you whispered excitedly to him, feeling absolutely nothing but pure bliss. He was yours. And he was running away with you.

When you made it to his horse, he helped you up, sitting behind you on the saddle. You held your little case between your legs, and he kept one arm wrapped around you as he steered the horse away, back in the direction of town.

You had to stop and sleep at one point, and he put his jacket around you, lying down behind you on the soft grass and cuddling you into his chest so you'd be warm. You slept facing each other all night long, his arms tightly shielding you.

When the two of you reached town, you were immediately on edge, worried to death about seeing your father. But he reassured you it would be alright. It wouldn't be long that he'd have to speak with Tunstall.

Billy left you at the general store, with a list of a few things to collect for the journey. You began to work your way down it, growing less paranoid as you shopped.

Finishing quickly, hoping Billy was done too, you gathered your things in a bag and walked outside, heading to his horse.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone duck into an alleyway by the store. Could that have been Billy? Maybe he was in trouble.

You made your way over to the darkened corridor between buildings, peeking around the corner. Was it him? Approaching carefully, you called, "Billy?"

As you got closer, you could see that it wasn't him. Your eyes widned, and you backed up slowly, but the man spun around, grabbing you around the waist and pressing a gun to your side.

"Don't scream," the man breathed, his breath hot against your ear.

You were frozen, dropping your bag and holding your hands up. Breathing shakily, you whispered, "What do you want with me?"

"We're gonna go for a little ride, sweetheart," the man said, and your heart rate sped up exponentially. Nononononono.

"Don't do this," you breathed, trembling. "Please. Just let me go."

"I'm under higher orders," the man said harshly, tugging on your arm. "Come with me, or I'll be forced to blow your pretty brains out."

Your feet acted of their own accord, moving you along with him. He led you out the other side of the alleyway, lifting you onto a black horse. Swinging his leg over the other side, he looked behind him at you. "Hold on tight. It's gonna be a fast ride."

Wrapping your arms around him and hanging on for dear life, you prayed silently, silent tears streaming down your face.

Billy, please find me.

Concluding his business had been surprisingly easy.

Billy had known Tunstall was a good man, but when he'd told him the situation, he was further impressed by him. The Brit had thanked him profusely for all he'd done and told him to come back anytime he needed.

He'd left in good spirits (and with some spirits in him). Meandering over to the general store, he poked his head inside, confused when you weren't there. When he looked over at his horse, he didn't see you beside him either.

Perplexed, he wandered down the street, stopping at an empty space between two buildings. There was a bag that looked like it'd been dropped in a hurry. When he picked it up and looked inside, he saw a group of items that looked a lot like what he'd told you to collect at the store.

Panic shot through him, and he ran out into the street, looking around for any possible sign of you. His mind immediately jumped to the worst, and he tried to take deep breaths. Whatever the situation was, being panicked wasn't going to help anything.

He saw Charlie, one of the men he'd worked with, rushing toward him, and he grasped to that lifeline, grabbing him on the shoulders. "Have you seen my girl anywhere 'round here?"

Charlie's eyes were wide. "That's what I need to tell ya. Billy..."

His heart pounded like a hammer against his chest. "What? What is it?"

"Someone took her," Charlie grabbed his arms. "Some man on a black horse. Forced 'er onto it and rode away. Someone saw through their window."

All the blood drained from Billy's face. Kidnapped? He shook his head, gripping Charlie. "Where? Where'd they take her?"

"Looks like they were headin' up north," Charlie explained, pulling on his arm. "Toward that one hideout in the mountains. Reckon it's that gang that got ahold of 'er."

Billy nodded, relieved there was at least some idea of where you were. He gritted his teeth. "I needa go get her."

"Me 'n the rest of the men'll come with ya," Charlie assured, clapping him on the back and half running away. "You'll need backup!"

Watching as Charlie ran, Billy stumbled to his horse, shoving the bag of supplies in a saddlebag and hoisting himself up. He had never been more frightened in his life. Not only had you been taken, but it was you and your unborn child. His protective habits were working overtime, pumping his body with adrenaline.

Meeting the boys at the edge of town, they began to ride swiftly. He hadn't even ridden this fast to get to the convent. At least there he knew you were safe. Here, he had no idea if you were hurt, or drugged, or...

Billy forced himself to keep that last thought at bay.

They reached the spot in the mountains, and Billy was off his horse before it was fully stopped, running at the spot he was sure you were being held. It was nearly sunset.

There was a place in the ground with a metal covering. He kicked at it, hearing the hollow sound and then kicking it open. His men were right behind him as he climbed down the ladder, jumping to the ground.

He was trod carefully, warily keeping an eye out, his gun drawn. The corridors were dark. These men could be hiding anywhere. After walking for a bit, he spotted you, arms and legs tied together, thrown against the wall.

There was blood soaking the skirt of your dress.

Time was slow. His senses were blurred. Billy didn't drop his gun, but collapsed in front of you, his hands coming to your arms and looking over you, feeling dazed.

"Baby..." he breathed, unsure where to touch you. "Where are you hurt?"

You looked up at him, eyes broken. The defeated look, the hopelessness in your face shattered his heart. "Don't...don't...you shouldn't have come..."

He furrowed his brow, shaking his head. "What're you talkin' about...baby..."

"Drop your weapon."

The voice from behind him sounded familiar. He could hear gunshots outside, and he knew his men must be embroiled in a hell of a fight.

Slowly, Billy dropped his gun and turned, viewing the face of your captor. It seemed every time he thought he'd gotten over his shock, something new knocked him back into it.

Your father stood with his gun drawn, pointing it directly at Billy's head. You whimpered, trying to move toward him, but couldn't, your restraints holding you back.

"Kinda man are ya, holdin' your daughter hostage?" Billy spat, looking your father right in the eye.

The man scoffed. "All business, Kid. Ain't nobody exempt from it. She's fine."

"She's covered in blood," Billy shot back, his hands still in the air. "The hell have you let your men do to her?"

"Ain't nothin' my men did," your father's voice was cold. "If anything it's your fault. Damn bastard you put inside 'er."

Billy's blood went cold. His hands were shaking with the urge to pummel your father to the ground, but he didn't want to make you see that. "What does that mean?"

"Had the camp doctor take a look at 'er, but there ain't much he could do," his voice was like ice. "Reckon the blood on her dress is all that's left of it."

His heart plummeted to his stomach. No. He risked a look over at you, at your exhausted, haggard appearance. Tearing his eyes away, he resolved to deal with your safety first, then comfort.

Your father laughed cruelly. "You couldn'ta left her in that convent, could ya? Let us catch ya the easy way. But no, you had to make me kidnap my own kin and hold her here to wait for ya."

Billy was seething now. Everything he was saying stuck another pin in his heart. Everything about the situation was so far beyond horrible that he couldn't wrap his mind around it. "What d'ya want with me?"

"Want you to get outta town," your father demanded, still holding the gun firmly. "Take you and your good-for-nothin' crew out. Murphy's orders."

He should have known your father was a part of the Circle here in town. All the rich folk were. But to be involved to this level, to the point of hurting his own child to get what he wanted out of the organization, that was the cherry on top. He just had to bring you into this, the sweetest, most innocent thing he'd ever known.

"Ain't no way I'm leavin'," Billy growled. "'Specially when I know how far you'd go doin' evil. Hurtin' a woman, hurtin' your child."

"What's it to you?" your father glared. "You clearly got a good fuck outta her-"

A gunshot echoed in the chamber, and Billy dove to you, throwing his body over yours. He covered you for a second, making sure there were no other shots, then looked up behind you. Charlie was standing there, gun still smoking. Your father was collapsed on the ground, bleeding out.

Instantly, Billy turned back to you, shielding you from the gruesome sight. He took your face in your hands, immediately trying to calm you down. "Baby...baby you're safe. You're safe, you're okay. I've gotcha." His words were fast, tripping over each other.

Your breathing was uneven, little whimpers falling from your mouth with each one. Billy pulled you into him, so your face was buried against his chest. "It's all over. All done now, sweet." He scooped you up, keeping you crushed against his chest as he hurried away from the scene. "'m so sorry, 'm so sorry baby. I shoulda been more careful-"

"Billy, please," you choked, your arms wrapped tightly around him, face fiercely buried into his neck. "Not your fault."

"Shh," Billy soothed, holding your body tightly. He secured your legs around his waist, one arm holding you up under your bottom as he climbed up the hatch. The last golden rays of sun stretched to meet you as he maneuvered his way up to the ground, collapsing over the edge into the grass on his back, still keeping you tucked into his chest. He was sprawled out, hat knocked off his head, you thrown over his chest. You were crying, body shaking with overwhelmed, exhausted sobs.

Breaths coming hard and deep, he kissed your hair, holding you tightly as the sun set on this horrible day.

"I've gotcha," he gasped. "I've gotcha."

The aftermath was messy, to say the least.

His men took care of everything, knowing he'd want to take you home after the ordeal you'd been through over the past few days.

Billy was careful with you, as if you'd shatter any second. Not knowing where else to go, he took you back to your old house, hoping being somewhere familiar would calm you.

He carefully peeled your dress from your body, planning to burn it later, running a hot bath for you. Understanding that you didn't want to be alone even for a second, he got right in behind you, scrubbing your body clean of dirt and blood and whatever else had marred you in his time away from you.

After asking a million times if you were okay, if the doctor had handled things correctly, he resolved to believe you. Dressing you carefully in your nightdress, he carried you to bed, getting in right next to you and carefully winding his arms around you. Tucked safely into his chest, he finally breathed easy.

"I'm so sorry this happened, sweet girl," he breathed, lying beside you. He was stroking up and down your cheek, looking at you like you'd disappear if he moved his eyes for even a second.

"I don't want to talk about him," you muttered, closing your eyes briefly. "He was always awful."

"Yeah," Billy validated you, thumb running up and down. Up and down. The gentle motion slowed your heart.

"It's everything with the-" you automatically moved your hand to your stomach, then away when your motion remembered.

His eyes were soft. "Oh, sweetheart."

You shook your head as tears filled your eyes for the millionth time. "I'm sorry-"

"No," he cut you off, kissing the hand he was holding between you. "Ain't your fault. It couldn'ta been helped."

"I feel like I failed you," you confessed, a sob choking your voice. "I-"

"You're grieving," Billy whispered, bringing you closer to him, lying on his back so you could rest on his chest. "I know you're gonna feel like this for a bit. It's okay. But you ain't gonna blame yourself for this. I won't let ya."

He kissed your temple. "We're gonna be together for a long, long time. This ain't the last time we're gonna talk about babies. I promise you that." Looking down at your hand, it warmed his heart to see his mama's wedding ring still on your finger, still snug and safe there. "I want to promise you everything."

Billy's words were so sincere, so true that it was impossible not to believe him. So, the flower of hope blooming in your chest again, you nodded.

There had never been anything so serious to happen to you like this before. He had comforted you, sure, but just for little things. Now that the worst of the worst had happened, and he'd stuck by you through it all, holding you tight to his chest as life raged against you, you loved him more than ever for it.

The tears were still falling. The pain was still there. It wouldn't just go away, you knew that.

But he was here. Your rock, your eye in the storm. Your Billy. And as long as you were his, you were in his harbor.

No force could tear you away.

come talk about billy here!

[nalyniavadelletargaryen]

[ HOTD - Aegon Targaryen ]

HeadCannons SFW + NSFW

First Post…I have 3 other accs for 3 whole different interests. I think I’m going crazy atp. Anyway enjoy my PERSONAL thoughts on The Usurper King.

{ WARMINGS }: SFW + NSFW + MDNI + HIGH VALRYIAN

{ PRESS ▶️ }:

SFW

Aegon is a pleaser. Not in an “I’ll do whatever you want me to” way. More in the “I want you to love me, so I’ll do what it takes to keep your attention on me..” sense. It’s manipulative, but he’s grown up in an environment where love is withheld constantly, so he gives to take from you. Toxicity is his form of affection, and he’s aware of it but struggles to let you go…

Aegon tends to hold you on a pedestal. You aren’t to be touched by anyone but him. He can’t stand the thought of you being exposed to the sins he commits or has committed without his explicit intent to do so. You’re his greatest treasure, and with that title comes the burden of being kept close to him. Your innocence belongs to him; he will defend or defile it as he sees fit.

Aegon has a surreal weakness for his hair being played with. He immediately softens when you run your fingers through, ruffle, or swipe fallen strands from his eyes. More than a few times, he’s fallen asleep just because you are playing with his hair. If you ever bring it up as a weakness, he will deny it til his dying breath.

He will not sleep unless you’re in his bed. Aegon will purposefully preoccupy himself with drinking and every other deviant activity to keep from going to bed alone. You chalk it up as a cute habit of his at first, maybe even a sign of his protective nature, but in reality, he tends to be restless without the sound of your soft breathing and the feeling of your warm skin against his. Your presence eases his mind to a point he can’t always reach when sober.

Aggressive Protector. He has to have a say in your safety. Aegon can not stand when you leave without informing him of your whereabouts. He practically loses his mind when you refuse guards trailing your every move. His sanity momentarily slips when he awakes in the middle of the night to find you gone for a mere second. He’s overbearing in his approach to protect you and is vicious to anyone who implies harm your way.

Aegon will never actually apologize. He tends not to immediately snap at you during arguments, harboring a bittersweet wit for every conversation, but when he does snap back, it’s harsh and unforgiving. You take his words to heart every time, not speaking to him for days on end, and eventually, he breaks, but not in the standard way of admitting one’s wrongdoings. No, Aegon prefers to give you gifts and a semi-thoughtful gesture to regain your favor. “I apologize..” will rarely leave his lips but “You’ll forgive me, right?” Is a constant phrase he finds himself saying to you as a replacement..

He loves to chase. The thrill of playing a cat-and-mouse game through any means feeds his impulsive nature without fail. You can string him along anytime and in any way you prefer, and he will entertain the game with the intent to win by all means necessary. The very knowledge that you put up a fight against his charm to lose to it in the end makes his head spin with pride.

Games. Aegon loves to engage in tedious matches of the mind. It’s not his well-known trait or talent, but he is skilled at logistical gaming or gambling. He will not often put you up to a bet, even over the most minor things, just for the thrill of it. Whether you lose or win against him never really matters. He enjoys the stakes and risks of a challenge.

Physical touch is his primary love language. Second to this is acts of service. Aegon prefers to express himself through action rather than words, feeling as though he can be too harsh in his approach at times, and therefore, he resigns gentle shows of affection to touch. It’s easy enough to get used to him having a hold on you, and he delights in seeing others envious that you’re his and the only one he has. Most of the time, Aegon is somewhat tender with you, with an arm around your waist, kissing your temple or lips, or simply having you sit in his lap whenever he pleases. Then there are the moments where he can be brave with you, gripping your face when he speaks to you so your eyes never leave his, marking your neck with deep bruises just for the whole of the kingdom to see what he does to you.

Likes to be….” babied” but in the sense of “being cared for without explicit reasoning to do so.” The small things you do for Aegon catch his attention at first, simple tasks you don’t think much of in the moment, but for him, they heal a wound he never acknowledges. Bringing him something to sober up with after a long night of drinking and mending his clothes if they tear. Straightning up his appearance whenever you see fit. All and any of those actions touch the Usurper‘s fragmented heart.

NSFW

Innocence/Corruption: Aegon enjoys taking what he can’t have. That includes semblances of purity around him. Finding out you’ve never been touched or fucked will strip an urge in him. It’s primal and dark, but he’s addicted to being the first man to show you absolute pleasure. Aegon's favored approach is teasing you, toying with you whenever he can, to tear you apart under the guise of wanting to teach you what desire means.

Power Dynamic: He is very aware of his status and will use it to his advantage. Knowing you can’t refuse a command he’s given, realizing you’ll obey anyway, and using this information for his gain keeps him on edge. Of course, you’ll fall to your knees and milk him dry. He’s your king. If your sovereign tells you to come undone for the third time in one night by his hand, then you have no right to refuse him. It's as simple as that.

Slight Mommy Issues: When Aegon desires to be under your control, he gives in so quickly. He can be defiant, playful, and challenging to control, but it only makes you relentlessly take him. He adores it. Your soft gaze hardens on him, the steely edge to your tone when you tell him to kneel for you, and the gradual roughness you inflict on him as the tension builds. It’s a little too easy to dwindle The Pretender down to a whimpering and whining mess, but you succeed when the opportunity presents itself.

Praise/Degradation: Aegon doesn’t lean to either. He can balance his words and their effect with little effort. A backhanded comment to you always has an underlying adoration. He’s a skilled charmer, knowing when to push you with words of encouragement and when to belittle you until tears creep down your cheeks. “Don’t tell me you’re so ignorant to believe I’ll let you come undone so soon, sweetling.” “Morbidly pathetic little slut aren’t you?..” “You’re doing so well, sweet girl. “ “Keep your eyes on me..just like that..” “You’re not half as talkative with your mouth so full now…what a shame?..”

Aegon is a master at posing false sympathy and an even better expert at mocking you. Whether he means well by what he says is always the furthest concern in your mind when the pleasure they inflict is forcefully automatic.

Oral Fixation/Enthusiast: He adores your mouth. The softness of your lips, how warm it is, and even the silliness of your tongue when you use it on him has Aegon in a perpetual trance. He discovered the little obsession with your mouth during a tenuous family gathering. You kept nibbling at various fruits, sucking, and licking the juices that leaked from them with little attention to those who noticed you doing so. Aegon certainly noticed, his cock twitching with need when your kitten licked your fingertips, picked another small fruit to sink your teeth into, and swallowed down with a quiet hum. Later that evening, you couldn’t stop him from slipping his fingers past your sticky lips, quietly gagging as you sucked on them gently and moaning quietly as he watched you intently. The slight smile tugging at his mouth when you choke and whine as his fingers fuck your mouth drives him to push you down on your knees a moment later, replacing his hand with his cock with little protest from you. He shouldn’t like the sight of you crying as he fucks your face so much, but oh, does Aegon love to see you indulge in him with nothing but your pretty and supple lips.

Pain: Aegon will leave his mark on you one way or another. He’ll never raise a hand to you out of pure anger, but in the thralls of lust, you’ll endure an affliction or two. He’s pretty handy with you, able to manhandle your more petite frame without much thought, and seemingly forgetful that not all your dresses will cover the evidence of his roughness with you. “Let them see…let the gods see if they must…” He insists that no other opinion is of consequence, and you always fall for it. The next day, you’re left to endure people whispering about the bruises on your exposed skin and the lingering red imprint of his hands around your throat. You leave your marks on him as well, scratches on his skin, little bites on his neck, and the rouge you use for lips staining his collar.

Overstimulation: seeing you writhe and shake under his touch stimulates Aegon. The quick rush of your breaths as you try to contain yourself, tears streaming down your face, with the urge to come overpowering you. He drinks in the sight with a smile, forcing the high from you to reach his own. Seeing your face fall and confront with various expressions as you visibly can't take him anymore drags out Aegon’s demented nature. It's nearly otherworldly how much he loves seeing you come violently, on his cock, in his mouth, on his hand…? It doesn't matter as long as you are physically struggling to stay sane.

Exhibitionism: Aegon chases thrills constantly. Whether it be to disrupt his mother’s peace of satisfy his own desire for fun he ropes you into his ‘harmless’ schemes often. Fucking you to the point of tears in the throne room is a favored past time of his. He knows very well how terrified you are of being caught in the act, of any servant, lord, and lady alike happening upon him having his way with you. He knows and he holds that knowledge over your head, enjoying the way you try to quiet yourself, and prideful of the fact that you fail miserably.

Titles/Pet Names: Aegon is careful with the way he addresses you. Though it varies upon his mood in the moment he’s partial to more affectionate titles. “Sweetling” “My Queen.” “Darling.” “Sweet girl.” “Kēlītsos” (Kitten) “Byka mandia” (Little Mouse) “Hāedar” (Younger sister) & “Dōna mandia” (Sweet sister). You exchange the pet names from him with equal contentment; “My love.” “My King.” “Aeg.” “Rōva lēkia” (Big brother) “Lēkia.” (Elder brother).

This took me way too long to finish but I’m glad it’s my first post. 💚

{ SEALED CONTENT }

[cheqorb]

not soulmates after all.

Being the ever productive human you are, you download a cringey love calculator app for fun. Too bad the result is disappointingly low.

featuring. blue lock cast

notes. worst feeling is when you want to write but can’t be bothered to, this has been sitting in my drafts for a HOT minute. small drabble before i die of heatstroke, enjoy (or don’t).

You’re lounging on your couch, aimlessly scrolling through your phone when you stumble upon the greatest app you’ve ever seen. Like, this must’ve been the reason why the internet was created. Your entire life was for this one thing. The name alone, Love-o-meter 2000, sounds like it was invented by a 13 year old writing fanfiction for the first time.

But hey, you’re bored and there’s something about the heart emojis, pink sparkles and the promise of ‘definitive proof of true love’ that speaks to you on a personal level. Maybe this is why people think you’re an easy target for scammers.

You download it — disregarding basic internet safety 101 of not downloading shit from suspicious websites — and the app’s interface is exactly what you’d expect: glittery, over the top with a soundtrack of what can only be described as weirdly romantic elevator music. Okay, so, enter your and your darling’s name and the Love-o-meter will calculate your love score (and possibly decide the fate of your relationship).

Pure, unadulterated pseudoscience.

It’s perfect, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and it’s definitely not bordering on insanity.

You send a quick text to your beloved partner who’s literally just in the other room informing them of your very smart decision. The message is ambiguous, designed to intrigue or confuse them as the evil mastermind you are. “Going to a fortune teller to see if we’re destined to be together. Let you know how it goes xx.”

────

Rolling their eyes and sighing like the single mothers they are. Just what the hell have you got planned this time? They’ve been a victim of your schemes for the past few (what feels like) decades you’ve been together and are skeptical any time you message them out of the blue. Do they really want to know? Absolutely not and they refuse to engage in whatever witchcraft you’re trying to achieve.

Option one, they leave you on read.

Option two, they send a text with "Whatever you say, babe" for their own safety.

Rin, Sae, Post WC! Kunigami, Kaiser

Chigiri, Barou, Karasu, Raichi

────

Confusion flickers across their face as they stare at the text for a minute. They debate on sending a message asking what you even mean by that, but delete it at the last second. Is it worth the risk? No. So they opt for the safe, more loving response because they adore you enough to deal with all this. Ignoring the fact that you’re both at home, they text back, "Oh okay, you have fun with that. Love you :)"

Be careful with some of these people though; if their overthinking habits kick in, they’ll start to panic over if you’re (hypothetically) unhappy with the relationship.

Isagi, Pre-WC! Kunigami, Hiori, Nanase, Kurona, Niko

Reo, Ness, Tokimitsu

────

Immediately curious when they see the message and out of excitement, rush over to the room you’re in. They plop themselves down beside you, squishing their body against yours whilst peering over your shoulder to look at your phone. You can’t just say something like that and expect them not to want in on it! The pair of you are like kids at a sleepover for the first time with no adult supervision.

"If it doesn’t show up with 100%, this app is a scam and we refuse to listen to its lies, okay?" they add on, because as much as believing in this type of nonsense is fun; they don’t really feel like losing their partner today.

Bachira, Shidou, Aryu, Lorenzo, Charles

────

At a loss on what to do and (whether out of general inexperience with these types of things or sheer laziness) send a lacklustre "k" before putting their phone down to finish something else. Well, if it predicts something really awful, then they’ll…figure it out when the time comes. With you helping, of course.

Nagi, Gagamaru, Otoya

────

You type in your name first then pause to think (unheard of). Do you use their full name or some obscure nickname you gave them that one night which somehow stuck? Like, would it mess up the results? If you’re truly meant for each other, it shouldn’t matter. “Eh, better play it safe. Full name it is.”

You hit the heart-shaped submit button and wait eagerly. The screen flashes and you got…

Almost dropping your phone, you audibly gasp as you stare at the percentage. Four percent?! Okay, you might disagree with each other on some things but certainly not so much to be described as ‘Completely Incompatible’!

Obviously, you’re flabbergasted and the stupid thing has the audacity to play sad trombone music as you read through the description.

“You should think over this relationship a bit more. Maybe you didn’t notice the signs that were there through your rose-coloured glasses, but don’t give up on love entirely, there are plenty of fish in the sea!”

You have to stop yourself from shedding a tear and how on earth could you confess this to your beloved? They may not have taken you seriously the first time but suddenly texting them (or saying), “Yeah, this isn’t going to work between us </3 I’m sorry…” is sure to give them a scare. Cue them immediately responding and asking questions. Do you not love them anymore? Is it something they did?

…did you seriously go to a fortune teller?

Feeling kinda guilty for worrying them, you then send them a screenshot of the result/show them on your phone in person.

────

More annoyed at you if anything, don’t scare them like that again. Especially not over a result of a game, and they tell you as much. Some of them are actually a little bitter over it though, because, who does this app think it is? You are soulmates and even if you’re annoying sometimes (most of the time), you’re still theirs.

Post WC! Kunigami, Barou, Raichi, Rin, Sae, Karasu, Kaiser

────

Laugh it off but secretly thanking whatever gods blessed them because those few minutes of silence, just blankly looking at your text message were possibly the worst minutes they’ve ever been through. Genuinely had to get up and go to you in person to see if this was another one of your jokes or if you were being serious — with you, it’s hard to tell.

Isagi, Reo, Hiori, Nanase, Kurona, Niko, Lorenzo, Otoya

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Cry, chuck their phone to the floor, and basically slam the door open to see you. Tears are streaming down their face before they even say a word. You’re not leaving right? Don’t you love them? Please don’t end everything here…Oh it’s just an app?

Still, they’re not forgiving you (lie) for that stunt unless you reassure them that you love them and would never leave them.

Ness, Tokimitsu

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Gasp, out of shock more than anything. Most of them are the ones who came to you in the beginning — meaning they know exactly what you were doing — but it doesn’t matter to them. Disregarding what they said before, they take full offence to the result. They’re already prepared to leave 156 bad reviews on it just for this act of treason. Or they just get pouty for a bit until you comfort them.

Bachira, Shidou, Aryu, Charles, Kaiser (if he’s in a mood)

────

Didn’t get what you were trying to do to begin with, and maybe still don’t, but they’re glad you’re not actually breaking up with them! It’s barely noticeable unless you watch them like a hawk, but they make the effort to spend more time with you afterwards. They’re not too sure why themselves, thinking it just feels right.

Nagi, Gagamaru

[threepandas]

Bad End: Preserve Us

You know how in conservation biology you sometimes try to introduce a pair to be mated and one will just... just fuckin' merc' the other? Just absolutely obliterate them in a hissing, growling, nightmare ball of fury? Before anyone can stop them? Territorial and (to put it lightly) "uninterested", dispite your desperate desire to save their species from extinction, and need for them to get frisky?

I know.

Holy SHIT do I know.

There's a lot of reasons. Ways you can (hopefully) get around it. But first? Is finding out WHY it happened. Was it just the one? The environment? Were they sick? Or... as is the case sometimes, did they decide their Handler was their mate? Some species only mate once. Are loyal for life. You gotta work around that.

Which is all well and fine and good.

When we're talking about ANIMALS.

Non-sentient, non-sapient animals! Not ALIEN SPECIES! What the ABSOLUTE FRESH HELL did they expect from me!? Compliance?! This was UNETHICAL! Monstrous! I had been trying to slip my gaurds long enough to radio for help SINCE I GOT HERE.

I hope the fuckers ROTTED in whatever their Gods considered a Hell.

"Conservation facility" my ENTIRE ASS. You can't run CONSERVATION EFFORTS like this on SENTIENTS. Eugenics loving, atrocity fetishizing, immoral BASTARDS!!! And they KNEW it too. They HAD too! Or they wouldn't be HIDING it! Fucking KIDNAPPING scientists! Biologists! Doctors!

I was on my ways to study Lekku monkeys!

God...

I'm? I'm so tired of being pissed.

Furious and outraged and SCARED. Horrified and sick. There are PEOPLE here. Kids! And I don't... oh god, I don't... H-How LONG has this been going ON? Why did no one NOTICE?

Every day I feel my heart break. The desire to scream and scream and never STOP, grow inside me. I have to get out. I have to get us ALL out. Get these people FREE. Do SOMETHING. But I am forced to "conserve" the species assigned to me. The group assigned to me.

It's killing my love for the field. Making a mockery of everything I worked for.

I don't... I don't think my hands will ever be clean again.

But I have to help. Do everything I can. Make hell a little kinder, if nothing else. At least while I figure out a way OUT. My group deserves better. The groups I do not work with, deserve better.

I disguise games as "testing". Pages and pages of meaningless numbers ans scores. INSIST that enrichment is the key to success. Diet is EVERYTHING. Oh, and habitat? Well unless we can mimic their habitat there's no WAY they'll "breed".

No, no, using machines would stress them out too much.

It's like you DONT want babies!

Who's the expert here? That's RIGHT! Dr. Cho, but FAILING her and like five other people? Me. And I know for a FACT they are pulling the same scam. We ALL fucking hate you. Dr. Cho has KIDS, you FUCKS. Hasn't seen her son in YEARS thanks to you bastards. He was engaged. She's probably missed his WEDDING thanks to you!

Getting distracted, spiraling again, gotta stop DOING that.

It wont help anyone.

But God, if my brain doesn't slowly feel like it's shorting out the longer I'm here. Stress is called the silent killer for a reason. Or what that something else? Fuck. I can't even look it up! Bastards cut us off from the galactic web. Full information blackout. Because of COURSE they did... can't risk us rightfully calling for help.

Getting the Feds involved to shut this hell pit of a black site DOWN. Or a "whatever it truely is" site. Because it sure as SHIT has nothing to do with conservational biology. Except maybe the abuse of it.

But that doesn't help me right now.

Focus, damn it!

The Yanderens. Old, absurdly rare, nearly extinct, with a home planet they'd reduced to uninhabitable wastelands millennia ago due too... something. No one knew what. There had definitely been fighting. It WAS documented they were excellent fighters. Ruthless ones at that. But it was ALSO documented they strongly pack bonded.

There had been a lot of strongly worded warnings on what few documation my captures were able to find, translate, then shove at me. But honestly? They said the same thing about humans. Ooooh big scary persistent hunters~ oh nooooo! Watch out for the omnivores with a history of war! Sins of the father and we are defined by our diets! Class systems! Let's all JUDGE each ooooootheeeeer~!

Yeah, no. Not buying it.

Especially when the "warnings" were so damn vague and poorly documented. All "the HORRORS!" and "we barely SURVIVED!". Cause honestly? The Yanderens I was watching over? Easily the most mild and temperate individuals I had ever met. No tantrums from the kids, no big emotional meltdowns, just curiosity and at WORST? Mild frustration.

It made everything ten thousand times worse for me, that these poor people were in this hellish place. They were calm. Curious. Meant for greater, BETTER things! They should be out, playing and learning. Exploring and enjoying peaceful strolls in some art gallery or zen garden somewhere! Not... not this sterile fucking LAB.

But then M-17 loses his SHIT.

And now I'm kinda panicking. Because F-6 is not just dead, God rest her soul (she didn't deserve this. Oh god. She was so SWEET.), but M-17 might just be too, soon. If I can't find out what HAPPENED. Because if he's "feral" or "diseased" or whatever other horrifying terminology they end up using? They DO something about it.

And I can't actually stop them.

I... I don't know if it was a trauma response. Or I did something wrong. I could PROBABLY pass it off as my needing more studies into their observed "mating habits"? That... that I somehow... turned it... uuuuh... dominance battle? Shit. Where are my notes?!

F-6 is DEAD and its all my fault.

She was such a cuddle fiend too. Always excited to hear about my studies, from before. My life. Wanted to join me after we got out of here. I never should have let her volunteer. Granted, she wouldn't have taken no for an answer. Wanted to spend the pregnancy plotting our escape. Asked me to help raise the kid once we got out. Had a whole grand plan. But I...And I...

God...

I should have said NO. Insisted. It was just so hard, when F-6 had made it all sound like it would be okay. Like she had a plan and all I need to do was trust her. Believe in her. Then we could be free.

I had hoped M-17 would work best. He was always the most agreeable and quick on the uptake. I figured... well... ha ha. God, I'm such an IDIOT. I should have CHECKED. Who KNOWS what happened before I arrived? What triggered I just accidentally rammed my foot into? FUCK! I sweep everything from me desk onto the ground. Don't give I shit that I'll have to clean it up later,

I had figured M-17 would be COOL with it.

This place is getting to me, isn't it?

Why the FUCK would anyone be COOL with getting jumped? Bred like an animal? Shoved in some random ass room, with a vaguely familiar stranger, and told "now fuck. We want a literal litter from you two"? All while some biologist watchs and makes god damned NOTES!?

Of course he fought back. OF COURSE he didn't stop!

The only one there he could trust was himself.

I...I'm becoming a monster... aren't I?

Oh god.

At least we're in the satellite facility. The gaurds are definitely going to rat me out, but the news will take time to filter back. And... and the Yanderens being so "dangerous" might work in my favor. I... I can spin this. I HAVE to spin this. I can't let TWO people die for my fuck up.

I promised myself I would get as many people out as I could. I refuse to back out now. Even if that means crying, puking, then going out there to lie my ASS off. This was TOTALLY NORMAL. In fact, expected! Yep! It means that's we've determined that M-17 is the alpha Yanderen! A thing that is both REAL and possible to BE!

I rinse my mouth, stomach empty. Crying has exhausted me. But I can't give up. Too many lives count on me now. I... I wish so badly I was just a nobody again. Just some random biology student, trying to make a name for herself. Being "important" is a CURSE.

I try not to chug my water as I half stumble out of the glorified shoebox that is my bathroom into the much larger and Fancier CLOSET that is my room. Truely, no expense spared, for the captives they ripped away from their lives. So glad I am here willingly and of my own volition.

I gather myself. Finally ready to go and try to untangle the mess I have made of everything. When a deep booming alarm rattles my bones. The lights flickering to red. Blast doors slide down, SLAM shut over the transparent recessed bit of wall that counts as my window, the door to the rest of the facility.

Trapping me inside my small room.

Almost immediately after, an EXPLOSION rocks the world hard enough to knock me from my feet. Only the bed's limited padding keeping me from a nasty concussion. The edge of it still ramming painfully into my shoulder. Another explosion. Then another. I sit for a long, terrible, second stunned.

The moment passes.

I scramble on my hands and knees for the in facility communication device that I had knocked from my desk in anger, grief. Not daring to stand lest I be thrown down again. I manage to find it as the world shakes again for the fifth time. Followed by what sounds like gun fire out in the halls.

I fling myself back towards my shitty little bunk. Drag every bit of padding and protection I can, down and under it with me. If the roof goes? I want shock absorption. If shots get through the door? I want something to slow those blasts down. Anything. ANYTHING! To increase my fucked chances of surviving.

I burrito up and wriggle back as deep as I can. The world muffled but ending just outside my crawlspace. Then I desperately try to get one of the others on the line. I got nothing but chaos. Running. Running. Hiding. And Dead.

Dead. Dying.

Remember me.

And GONE.

Some of them fighting with their groups too freedom. Some being targeted right along side their captors. Others savaged by the ACTUAL animals they had been working with, the one's Galacticly deemed too dangerous for effort like this. Someone or something had set EVERYONE free. A simultaneous attack on all fronts that our captors could not put down or escape.

The Yanderens were out there.

Oh god. Please let them be okay. They wer-

My thoughts ground to a halt as M-32 LAUNCHED his tiny body onto the screen of one of the security feeds I was desperately looking through. F-6 had figured out how to get us a backdoor to them a long time ago. M-32 was just a kid. A small, soft, cuddly little thing that loved to lean against me and crawl into my lap. All cherubic cheeks and cute little curls. Shy!

Yet I watched... in mounting horror... as like a lion on some unfortunate animal, he landed on a gaurds back. Small arms going around his body in a mockery of a hug. Head tilting so he could BITE at the back of the man's neck, small hands clawing and ripping at weak points in his armor, as he screamed. Thrashed. Tried desperately to get M-32 OFF of him.

There was so much blood.

My hands were shaking. So much, I accidentally hit the next screen button. Jerked my thumb back. But... but oh god. There was F-26. Using the butt of a rifle to slam down against the head of a scientist. Again and again and again. Long after the begging and thrashing stopped. I flipped again. M-4? No... please not M-4. Not the soft spoken and wise...

I watched as he grinned, a cold thing, and shot out another joint. His foot on the chest of the head scientist who had moved him to a different group. In the background, his supervisor lay dead. They had not died quickly. The head scientist was begging. A mess of tears and pain. M-4 shot another joint, pressing his foot down harder.

I wanted to be sick.

I flipped again. And again. And AGAIN.

H...Had I known them at ALL? Like demons wearing the faces of those I'd known. People I'd trusted. Not a SINGLE ONE was... oh... oh god. F-6. Had she been too? Would I have ever known? Was THIS what all those warnings meant? I couldn't think. Couldn't breath. Had... Had never had a panic attack but... BUT-!

I wheezed.

Shook.

"Oh, Clever giiiirl~" A familiar voice sang, before a blood splattered face flickered into being on the screen in my hands. "Where aaaare yoooou~?"

M-17. He'd somehow managed to take over the security cameras. That or the communication feed. His eyes were bright. A grin on his face like I'd never seen from him. ALIVE in a way I'd never seen him. The excitement transformed his face. No longer softly doll like, but something DANGEROUS. Unhinged. His eyes dilated and deadly teeth on display.

"Come out, come out wherever you aaaare~. I have so much to TELL you! We have so much to DO! I'm going to make you MINE sweetheart! No one else can have you. So come out. I won't hurt you much, I promise! Just gotta make you mine then we can leave okay~?"

Furious snarls echoed through the halls. Male and female alike. Old and young. I... I recognized each of those voices. What was HAPPENING?

"Aaaah? Did you TRASH really think you DESERVED her? Ha! Please." M-17 grin was cruel. Mocking. "You don't have a chance in hell of taking what's MINE."

His eyes seems to shift away from unseen enemies and back, somehow, to me. Warming to something euphoric. Resting his head on his hand as if to consider me. His fingers spread, stroking his own face, as if the desire to TOUCH was simply too great. As if what he was imagining was bleeding over into the real world.

"Oh clever girl~ my clever, clever girl~♡ I can't wait til it's just you and ME. Start think of where you want to go first, okay? We're going to get married. Have that child you wanted me for. All the things you ever dreamed~♡ I'm going to have you all to myself. No more annoying others. Ah~ can't wait to find you soon!"

"But first?"

"May the best of us Win."

[v4voracity]

HALF A HEART - COD characters x Poltergeist!reader

POLTERGEIST COD AU

⥇❥"Reader" is a literal ghost, AFAB reader and referred primarily as to as "you", sometimes explicitly referred to as a woman, implied to be British and implied to have died in the 1500s/16th century, though the location isn’t relevant for much other than attempted historical accuracy with her death/why she’s in England. Reader is also not said to be of any skin tone or ethnicity, just that she was *likely* born in England. Reader is from a time when afab people weren't commonly educated and canonically has slight trouble reading and learning after her death since she can't access books or learning materials and had to self-teach herself to read and write after death where she couldn't ask for help, this will probably change though after she meets 141. Said information is slightly relevant to the plot, though I can make an alternate version if people want an amab/gender neutral reader :)

also roach is canonically part of this and has little antenna attachments to his helmet because i said so

  ⥇❥Word Count: 4096, excluding warnings and text above the cut.

⥇❥CONTENT WARNING FOR:

↪ Technically age gap? Reader was born and died long before any cod character ↪ possibly historically inaccurate as i was unfortunately not alive in the 1500s nor most of the following time periods ↪ possibly incorrect depictions of a ‘poltergeist’, as reader is an amalgamation of different types of ghosts/folklore (i mainly just didn't want to use the term ‘ghost’ because it’d be confusing with Ghost the character) ↪ possibly OOC characters ↪ american author writing europeans ↪reader is (basically) rasputin with their death ↪ slight mentions of religion or religious themes (mainly about the afterlife, existence of heaven/hell, and brief mentions of witch trials which were mostly religiously motivated.) ↪graphic description of how reader died (witch trials, so think salem witch trials kind of graphic)

let me know if i missed anything or should edit the content warnings!

Link to main masterlist - Link to HALF A HEART sub-list

You have been warned, scroll at your own risk.

Let’s get things straight. You are, for all intents and purposes, dead.

Deader than a doornail, in-fact, you’ve been dead for almost.. 500 years now? Well, you're rounding slightly but nobody cares for the exact amount of time.

Now, that is a long time to be dead for… Well, a long time to be dead but still conscious; a spirit, ghost, apparition, whatever you wanted to call it. If it weren’t for the fact you were more-so apparition than person, you’d almost say it’s like being alive and immortal for longer than god (or genetics, you weren’t picky) ever intended. 

And being ‘alive’ for so long is very boring; especially now that the deep-seeded anger in your heart has faded, those who wronged you long gone and their kin far too distant from them for you to ever wish ill-will towards them. Especially now that the fear you felt, the horrific terror you felt being escorted to your improper grave and the existential dread that hung heavy when you revived, only to realize you hadn’t survived nor been healed for a second chance. No, you were dead; rejected by both heaven and hell, not even worthy for eternal damnation. The only upside to this was that you were still capable of interacting with the living world; more than you could say for the very, very, VERY small number of ghouls you had met in your time of unliving. Apparently you were a bit unusual, you being far more capable and capable of manipulating the living world than the 'run-of-the-mill' ghost.

That being said, your current behavior, which was following around some hunky military men like a lovesick maiden, was totally excusable…

…It wasn’t creepy, no, you weren’t being improper. You were totally just... curious. It couldn’t have been the fact that you died unwed— a pure virgin, hardly having even engaged in romantic acts, as you were devout in your chaste nature. I mean, surely your absolute devotion which led to you never even kissing a man or woman, holding hands or lying with someone earned you a little justification to do… whatever you were doing right now.

Okay, maybe it was a bit creepy. But dying a without so much as ever having ONE cute little date with heated cheeks, bashful giggles, and butterflies in your stomach as your hands brushed each others— FOLLOWED by being forced to go entirely unperceived much less feeling any sort of physical contact or verbal interaction for A COUPLE CENTURIES makes this somewhat understandable.

It’s not like you were really DOING anything, (because, again, that was a wee-bit hard in your current state) you’ve just kind of been following this guy around?

(You followed him around because you overheard people refer to him as ‘Ghost’ and as an actual ghost you found that a little funny)

Then that led to you following his team around. You had, somewhat, messed with the men— not much, mainly flickering lights, closing doors, and moving objects slightly.

There had been slight complaints, but not much indicating they knew they were facing a lonely, dead girl who died unfairly supernatural danger in the form of a poltergeist with abnormally strong powers. Just assumptions that ‘the wiring was faulty’, or that ‘someone must’ve left a window open’, sometimes they just assume someone knocked something over (despite nobody being near said knocked object). Oh, and your favorite was that ‘some stupid recruits moving shit’— speaking of which— the guys you followed were all pretty high-ranking from your understanding and occasionally trained recruits. That was cool in its own right, but it was especially great for you because you could lob stuff at them and get some poor recruit in trouble. It was fun.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t fun enough to keep you entertained. Now, given when you were born and raised it wasn’t a surprise that you weren’t particularly that literate. Your brain (long gone and returned to the ground) wasn’t even physical or attached to you anymore, so it wasn’t a surprise that learning things was often hard for you(something you hated in death, as learning things would help pass the time if it weren't frustrating and near impossible both because you couldn’t access physical hobbies or items like books AND because your brain—or lack thereof— simply didn’t take to information like it used to), but you knew enough of written English to make out most newspapers and documents. Despite that, you had very little clue of the strange ciphers and terms used by the men, even though you had remained mainly around the military base they were staying in for a few months. 

…That was until recently, when you decided you were curious enough to try and actually learn about what they’re doing. You were currently following this guy— Captain Price, you think— because from what you knew (as a woman who died in the middle ages, uneducated, illiterate, dying fairly young by today's standards anyways and having lived without ever partaking in any wars or battles and not ever bothering to ask about any) he was the highest rank of the team, followed by that ‘Ghost’ guy you originally followed (he’s called a lieutenant, a word you hated writing or reading because it was so damn hard to spell or even look at), then this ‘Soap’ fella (A sergeant, another word you weren’t a fan of) and then this ‘Gaz’ bloke (Who was apparently also a sergeant, but he was the second? So he was lower? Why did they need two? And why was one rank worse than the other? You didn’t know and frankly found it stupid.) There were also these other people; Shadow Company or something, you didn’t really get it because the guy who they most frequently talked to from that company was white as a sheet, but whatever.

Anyways, recently you found out that while wandering wasn’t an issue for you (you weren’t ever bound to a particular area, probably because your body, or whatever remained of it, was far from where you died, and you couldn’t really remember where you were when you died so you weren’t particularly attached) it was very hard for you to follow after the ‘vehicles’ they used. Sometimes they used these wheeled inventions called ‘cars’ (which were kinda like the horses, carts, and carriages of your time but not shitty). They also had these things— called ‘helicopters’ or something similar with a different name (again, you didn't know why they made things so complicated but whatever) that were able to take them anywhere by air. Pretty cool if it weren’t for the fact it made following them anywhere exceptionally difficult. So you had to go about a different method if you wanted to actually follow them anywhere.

Possession. 

Not necessarily like the kind you’d seen in a ghost-related movie you watched over an unwitting couple’s shoulder. It was more so just somewhat attaching yourself to someone, letting part of yourself (probably your soul, if you actually had one) attach to theirs, letting them become a tether into the physical plane. The realm of the living. If you pushed it far you could absolutely do like they do in the movies, but you found that kind of scary since you didn’t know how much of your soul was required for that or if you could be exorcized like in the movies. You really only tethered yourself to someone when you first transitioned into… whatever you were now.

 A wraith, at the time, aggressive and vengeful against the man who accused you, the town that raised you then gazed at you hungrily— blaming you for their sins. Calling you a temptress for the beauty you acquired with your maturation, something you were once proud about turned into something you abhorred.

At one point you even felt festering hatred towards the family that raised you. A mother who birthed you only to denounce birthing you, claiming a devil implanted you as a demon of the night that’d ruin their village and took the milk meant for sons, your elder brothers. A father, one who doted on you before as his precious only daughter and youngest, turning his head; unable to watch as you were tied to the pyre and lit ablaze— a man who was cowardly and evasive. The siblings of yours that you grew with— were close with, were cared for by, were raised by! 

All for them to pretend they had nothing to do with you. Or to join the crowd’s jeering turned cheers as you sobbed, salty tears unable to extinguish the fast-growing embers. Not one of them dared to correct the executioner’s methods. Witches, despite stigma, were usually hung or otherwise given quick deaths prior to the burning; but you… 

Oh, poor, poor you. Things weren’t quite done correctly. You were still alive when they tied you to the post, surrounding you with flammables and letting the flames lick up your body. Catatonic, unable to beg for mercy, for them to kill you properly. Though, even if you were able to speak, you probably wouldn’t beg. You were desperate to survive. When they butchered you like the farm animals you’d skinned many times before with your dear-old-dad. Failed to cut the correct places and left you bleeding, conscious but paralyzed in pain and fear as they dragged your body to a make-shift wooden post in the town center. Never let you burn fully, the triumph leaving their voices when they still saw you, struggling— eyes still moving, hyperventilating as your arms thrashed trying to break the burnt ropes, paralysis spell broken by desperation— still living, still struggling, still surviving.

They didn’t have the courage to finish burning you either.

It'd be a poor choice if you were a witch, since burning was supposed to be done to stop them from cursing people…

Actually, now that you’re thinking about it, maybe you were a witch? Maybe you had somehow sold your soul, and with no soul to give you could enter the afterlife? Maybe that’s why you felt a path of fury when you died? You felt wronged and cursed people for nearly half the first century you found yourself un-living.

Regardless, the cowards backed away from you with wide eyes, and eventually you felt the ropes break, your body barely reacting to what you wanted it to do, stumbling around aimlessly despite your efforts.

All you could do was scramble out the village, betrayed and never wanting to return.

Eventually, you fell to a crawl, dragging yourself through the grass, fingernails caked with a mix of dirt and blood, as if your near-corpse was trying to create a shallow grave every time you scraped them across the ground…

Somehow, you ended up falling into a river. You don’t know if you fell  during your crawls or if someone put you in there, just that it was excruciatingly cold and your lungs, shrunken and shriveled by the heat of your incomplete incineration couldn’t get any air. You tried pulling yourself out but you were too far gone. Even then, ‘til the point your eyes closed you never gave up. Maybe you were so against dying your soul remained, even when your body went.

Honestly, you weren’t ever really sure which of those injuries eventually lead to your drawn-out and overdue death, but you didn’t care. What you did care about, upon re-awakening, was revenge, hearing the blood-curdling screams of those who wronged you, those who feigned ignorance, those who lied, and those who threw you out when false accusations came. You were swift in it, tethering yourself to everyone in town, attaching small pieces of yourself meant for one purpose: tracking.

No matter where they went they were damned, your violent-haze, the cravings for others to bear a fraction of your misfortune. You were like a tsunami, quick to approach with little warning, only the quick recession of water to warn those who’d be affected. (Not that your victims knew what a train was, but it was like the equivalent of seeing a train barreling toward you and being unable to move, only able to process what's about to happen.) And you were even swifter to strike, small misfortunes not enough to quell that furious fire inside you— brighter than those that scalded you. All ended in what you thought were well-deserved deaths.

But, that wasn’t what you’d be using them for. Not today, and hopefully never again.

You decided you’d turn up the heat a bit and have these men notice that they were, in fact, haunted and not just clumsy or forgetful. You had an easier time manipulating things when no-one was around, or when someone was alone. Easy prey for the ghoulish you, even if most of these guys could probably have easily broken you in half when you were still alive. It sounded dumb to give yourself away, since they might try to send you back to the rest you used to crave upon first re-animating, but it was necessary to tether yourself.

So… here you were! Fucking around and moving things, only to be met with just minor annoyance by this guy. ‘Price’, for some unknown reason, just seemed minorly peeved by your interactions, not convinced they were supernatural.

You moved his chair and desk(which was pretty hard with how heavy it was) and this guy just groaned about how his superiors treated his office however they wanted when they needed something.

You sent his papers flying, stacks of paperwork sorted neatly into piles of done and yet-to-be looked at, all flying. You flung the pen he used too, sending a blotch of ink onto the floor with the papers, permanently soaking them. Minor annoyance, didn’t even say anything. Just… grumbled. 

Hell, you toppled over a WHOLE bookshelf, loud thud echoing as it fell to the ground and all its contents scattered. And this guy? Grumbling about how the flooring was uneven!

If you had a physical body, you’d be beating your head against a wall right now. Seriously, it was frustrating!

You guessed you had done something correctly though, as he seemed annoyed enough to leave his office and go for a walk. Throughout said walk you continued throwing items and flying through his body, which usually caused people immense discomfort, sometimes to the point of causing panic attacks or full-on freak-outs. All that? Yeah, met with a “Bit chilly today.” or a “Someone outta close th’ windows.”

You were offended, to say the least.

Now, you were in a common room with several other people, including those guys, Gaz and Soap, who now talked to the Price fella. It was harder to interact with things, especially with so many people in broad daylight, in light in general. But you surprised yourself when your frustrations and slight anger led to the lightbulbs in the room flickering several times before simultaneously combusting into sparks and broken glass, all electronics—mainly the radios strapped to almost every soldier in the room—  with speakers blaring loud static as you flung the nearest object, a bench that you didn't initially notice was bolted to the fucking ground out from it and towards Price, and the other two who surrounded him. 

‘Oops..?’

Okay, maybe you weren’t entirely devoid of anger and wrathful vengeance, but you’d like to think your self-control was a lot better than when you first died. You did have around… well, about 400 other years to learn some self-restraint and become slightly less blood-thirsty?

ANYWAYS; Lucky for you they all managed to dodge that heavy and fast approaching bench! good thing they were all trained soldiers who were always on guard Oh, and even better everyone in the room now looked at the uprooted bench with wide eyes and terrified expressions! So… mission accomplished?

Well, sort of?

“The hell?!” Everyone in the room backed towards whatever wall was nearest to them, behind unmoved furniture, or otherwise tactically covered positions as quick as they could, many (including the poor sod you’d been following and the rest of his team) having their guns ready and aimed at the entrances or near the uprooted bench.

…Yeah, you didn’t really wanna deal with this.

So you floated off, through the walls pretending your problems didn’t exist, as you usually did.

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

 You came across something pretty interesting, that Ghost guy was doing some strange hand gestures to this other masked fella (why was everyone here covered almost head to in something?). For a moment you thought they were trying to summon something before remembering that the military used hand signals and stuff. 

Anyways, you now had a new guy to follow! He looked pretty cool and he had these little things hanging off his helmet that remind you of a bug. Something… was slightly off with this guy though. You could’ve SWORN he was occasionally glancing over at you, or your general area. Ghost, who you couldn’t really tell much expression-wise due to him also wearing a mask, seemed to lift an eyebrow. Or furrow them. You didn’t know, you just saw his forehead area shift a bit under the mask. 

“You 'lright?” He turned and glanced over at you, where his bug-like friend kept glancing. Bug-fella looked over at you for a few more moments before shaking his head and gesturing at Ghost again. Ghost seemingly returns to his resting facial position and glances back towards your general direction, not quite as spot on as his friend was. “Y' just keep looking over there, ‘was wondering why.” 

Ghost loses interest quickly, turning away from where his friend was staring, resuming his silent communication with the still-unnamed lad, hand gestures becoming far too fast for you to even comprehend what they were doing even if you did understand what the gestures meant. After a short while of just floating around and watching them, Ghost gives the shorter man a light bump to the shoulder with his fist (seemingly friendly?) and turns to leave. “See y’ round.” 

It’s just you and Bug-boy now. The room empty, and his eyes (not that you can see them, he’s wearing a helmet and goggles that are practically solid with how heavy the glass is tinted) are aimed directly at you. You float over, hovering a good foot or two off the floor because the ground and gravity were for cowards, and stop a few inches away from him. He reaches a hand up towards you, only for it to quickly phase through your arm, then your torso, then back into the air. He’s startled by the feeling, you can tell, shivering as goosebumps raise on his arm and his hair stands on end, you can tell because of his sleeves being bunched up at his elbows. 

“Sorry.” you say, not even sure if he’d hear you. Maybe this was some weird coincidence and he couldn’t actually see you. Though, to your utter surprise and slight delight he kind of waves it off, making gestures (full body ones this time, not the hand-signals you couldn’t quite understand) that you could interpret as meaning ‘not to worry about it’. Your eyes widened, before breaking into a big grin. “Wait, wait, wait, you can see me? You heard me— can hear me?!” He nods, looking at you, observing, then gesturing with his hands again.

You.. feel a little bad that you don’t understand whatever military signs this must be, tilting your head and frowning. “I… I don’t understand. Sorry, I don’t know much about the military signals or whatever you were using. The code signs and words you guys use weren’t around when I lived. Or died.” He seems a little confused, then brings out a rectangle from his pocket— a phone, new invention and quite useful. It lights up as he puts in the code and opens something, pressing at the glass. 

After a moment he turns it towards you. It… takes you a little to adjust to the brightness (and to read the small letters, given your eyesight and low-literacy). “Give me a second, it takes me a minute to read.” In your peripheral he nods, though you don't move your gaze away from the screen.

“That’s fine, not many people know sign language. It’s not a military signal, just a way I communicate since I’m mute.” You read his words aloud, relatively slowly and he nods after you’ve read it; confirming you’ve read it correctly. 

You glance back up at him. “Mute… So you… can’t speak? Right?” Another nod, then he turns the phone back to himself, rapidly pressing the screen and turning it back again. You read again, “What are you? How are you floating, and why’d my hand go through? Why were you watching us?” You hum, floating away from him slightly, sinking slightly to a sitting position, though still remaining affixed in the air and not sitting on an actual chair.

“Well, I’m dead. I guess you could call me a spirit, spectral, a ghost…” you chuckle a bit at the last one. “Well, maybe not that last one, it seems your friend already occupies it.”  You lean forward again, nearly doing a backflip in the air before stopping in a lying position, holding your head in your hands. “I guess me being dead physically but alive… consciously, or spiritually I guess..? Resulted in me being incorporeal, thus not really touchable by people or gravity.” He nods at your words before motioning for you to continue when you pause.

You avert your eyes. “Well, watching people is all I usually can do. Incorporeal and all. I’m not sure how you can see me when I’m not manifested or tethered to you, but it’s nice…” Smiling sheepishly, you can only hope this guy— the only person you’ve actually talked to in a long, long, time— isn’t grimacing under his mask. You hesitate before reaching out towards him, running a finger down his throat in thought, forgetting it'd just phase through. “Maybe it's because you can't speak? It's not a sense but it's like maybe because you don't have one thing your other senses are better? But back to your prior questions. Being dead is… boring. All I can really do is fuck with people and watch stuff. You and your friend, Ghost, and his other… teammates are just what have caught my interest recently.”

He nods and trots over to a nearby bench, you grimace thinking about the mischief you caused slightly earlier by throwing a bench at the captain. Let’s hope your bug-friend doesn’t overhear that and stop talking to you. “What’s your name?” He types, and turns the phone to you, a single word there. “Roach? Like… the bug?” your mouth quirks into a crooked smile and you giggle, flicking the antenna like attachments to his helmet. “Fitting, you got the antennas and everything!” 

Floating down onto the seat, you try your best to sit on it, your bum and thighs slightly phasing through the seat but it's fine. ‘Roach’ begins typing on his phone again, having it set on his thigh so you can watch while he types. It was also probably just in case someone came in or saw him and so he wouldn’t look crazy turning his phone around to nothing (from other people’s perspectives).

“People can’t usually see you?”

You sigh and lean back, accidentally reclining into the wall and to the other side before realizing he probably won’t be able to hear you if you speak. “Oops, I forgot I’d phase through. Uh, yeah they usually can’t unless I’m actively haunting them and choosing to. It takes a lot of energy to do that though, so…” He nods and hovers his fingers over the phone, thinking for a moment.

“What's your name?”

You hum, thinking for a moment. You... haven't had to introduce yourself to anyone in centuries.

"This... well, it's a little embarrassing, but I can't remember."

"Why don't I call you 'Poltergeist' for now then, since Ghost is taken?" You smile at him, your cheeks feel like they've heated up slightly, but not from the lingering burn you got after your death, no, it was the burn of happiness. Giddy from this guy giving you a name, almost like you were a stray. You shouldn't be this happy, clinging to him and internally deeming him your new best friend, but you were.

Your undeath began a new chapter today, now living as 'Poltergeist' (at least until you remembered your name) with your new ghost-inclined friend Roach.

[greater-than-the-sword]

I mean this in a completely genuine and informative way but I have an observation which is when I see autistic people not knowing how to approach a conversation with a neurotypical, usually the invisible rules that are being ignored are the ones that have to do with letting the other person have some choice in picking the conversation topic. Typically it's considered polite to let the other person pick the conversation topic half the time. Obviously there are some people who don't know what to talk about and will be genuinely content to let you pick every time. But most people will want to talk about their stuff sometimes too.

And even with the most obliging person, it's still important to have that "lead in", because the purpose is to establish what's basically their consent, to make sure it's a comfortable and interesting topic for them. So basically you have to make sure they're willing to discuss whatever you want to talk about, without directly putting them in the position of having to say, "I don't want to talk about that." Usually this takes the form of a question like, "Do you like TV dramas?" and if they say "no" or give a really noncommittal answer, that means no and that they probably won't respond well if you start infodumping about your favorite TV drama.

Even if they say yes, you should still start with giving only some information to make sure they want to engage. But the really important part is to let them talk about their own favorite TV drama as well, because you can't just lead in with "do you like TV dramas" and not let them also talk about their favorite TV drama. Also, it's important to be flexible and not force a conversation about a specific subject.

One good rule that I was taught is that you should ask questions as often as you volunteer information. But try to ask safe questions relating to what the other person already seems comfortable talking about, rather than questions which are unrelated to any subject you know they're ok with, because that could risk making them uncomfortable.

[tiyoin]

Tho this is a different account, I’ll always be a whore for sagau 🫦

ft alhaitham🙈

Kaveh, out and about doing whatever he does- Alhatiham was lucky to have his alone time.

His chest still as he peered down at the capsule. Its brass chill subsided into a comforting warmth as it lay heavy in his palm.

There was a temptation to it. An impulse to just have a tiny peek inside.

Just a singular blurb of information wouldn’t hurt...

He scoffed, throwing the capsule onto his bed.

What a riot. Him? Tempted by some forbidden fruit? Ha! As if!

He paced his room, hands perched on his hips as the sun started to set in the west. Fragments of golden rays slipped through his window and illuminated his room, occasionally getting in his eye. Though that didn’t break him from his thoughts.

He wasn’t like those foolish scholars or that idiotic eremite! He was a scribe- a member of the havarat for crying out loud!

Yet the simmering amber never failed to catch his eye. The sun only added to its brilliance. Its usual crimson shimmer was only enhanced in the light as it glew on his emerald bedsheets.

It looked like a ruby…

He was no idiot. The street vendors knew as much, so they never tried to scam or rip him off. His peers and co-workers knew as much, so they found it useless to engage in small talk with him

But the academy deemed him one. Promising him a look inside as a reward for doing the dirty work for them.

He knew what they were planning- they wanted to get dispose of him. Discard all loose ends and throw him to Aaru village, making a fool of him and his name.

He chuckled.

Was forbidden knowledge really worth the risk? Was it worth losing his mind- his sanity over? To know things only the dead knew?

Like those archons, Khaneri’ha, the scarlet king. Was knowing their secrets worth the price?

His mind felt like lead, the same with his limbs from the impromptu battle with that crazed eremite.

He was no way out of shape, yet he felt like he had just run a marathon without any food or water.

He’s tired, that's all...

The sun dimmed under his windowsill, the capsule back to its usual mixture of shimmering red and ambers. Its casing was still warm. He placed it on his bedside table, shed his coat, and simply laid done, arms supporting his head as his mind still raced with questions; Why did the Akademiya assign him this mission? What were the `sage's plans? Who stole the knowledge capsule in the first place, and why? The Scarlet King…

Whatever. He’ll just worry about those in the morning...

Like an anchor being cast into the sea, his eyes closed. His mind was still a mess as he tried to control his breathing. There wasn’t much he could do besides let those itching thoughts pass and control his breathing. To not grab onto a theory and spend the rest of the night dissecting it. To not grab his coat and snoop in some dark alley.

No, he needed his energy for tomorrow, he convinced himself.

His body slowly relaxed, sinking further into his made bed as his breathing finally stabilized.

There was a quick flash of red. So quick that he almost missed it. Then there was another quick burst, this time of green. Then of silver, then blue, more greens, pinks, maroons, and teals, all until they started bleeding together in a perverted rainbow, constantly moving, changing like a roaring river.

It stopped.

It’s black. Pitch black.

Something you’d only experience in a torture chamber to deprive you of your senses. To drive you insane.

He didn’t move, nor breathe, not knowing what was happening, or what was to come.

“Greater lord Rukkhadvata! You mustn’t kneel like that” a voice? Whipping his head to the direction heard the voice, the abyss only stared back at him as he inched his hand towards the hilt of his blade.

“Nonsense. Only a fool wouldn't bow in your presence or honor” unlike the other voice, this one wasn’t as panicked, instead, held a calming sense of maturity and elegance.

Almost like an Akademiya student. Then again, this was Greater Lord Rukkhadata he was talking about.

Though he wondered. 'Who had Sumeru’s great archon on her knees bowing?'

The voice continued bantering as the stream of colors started again.

“Please, you know that I don’t like you doing that”

“But your grace, it would be-“

“It wouldn't be damaging if I told you not to! You’re my friend, not my servant. Now c’mon.”

The colors stopped as he was now in a throne room. Though this- this wasn’t like anything he’s seen before. He knows all of Sumeru’s buildings and architecture like the back of his hand… yet he's never seen such a building before in his life.

Not in the world, especially not in the textbooks he's burned into his brain

Tall marble walls that were shaped pointing up, like a Zaytun peach sprout. The insides were contradictory to the Akademiya’s buildings. Instead of white with green, they were gold and white. Everything was white, accented with the colors gold and crimson.

It was breathtaking. Truly.

Never before had he imagined such craftsmanship. Marble statues of each archon `stood tall on columned shelves, where natural light spilled from the windows above them.

But that was what he was worried about, no. Instead, he could help but stare at the big golden statue in the center of the room where it was in the middle of a pool of water.

Stepping closer, he drank up every crook and crevice of the statute. Their flowy cloth clothing, the natural pose of them holding an orb.. no. It looked more like a star. A star so shiny it looks like it was just plucked from the night sky.

They were stunning. Beautiful. Breathtaking. Anyone young or old, art critic or janitor could tell how much love and care was put into this statue. How much blood sweat and tears the artist took to make sure they got it in the image of this… god?

Slowly, his eyes trailed up towards their arm and to their face.

Hm

That’s odd.

“Sit down, please”

His eyes followed his head as he couldn't tear himself away from the statue's face. He was entranced.

Something was nipping at the back of his brain telling him that he’s seen them before. That they aren’t just a mysterious god, but someone he knew

Oh

Oh

It was like he got burnt, his brain panicked as his eyes widened in shock.

You

You were on the couch in front of Greater Lord Rukkhadavata, who was still on her knees in front of you, though she looked more comfortable than anything.

Leaning down, your hands were in hers as you gently guided her up towards the couch.

He assumed he was invisible, as neither of you batted an eye at him. Continuing your interaction like you were in a play. Lines delivered flawlessly. You both really complimented each other.

Why was he here? How did he get there?

Must have been the knowledge capsule… did it automatically connect to his akksha terminal? Shaking his head to clear up the jumbling thoughts. He decided to ask questions later and just observe.

You two were both now seated next to each other, knees touching and shoulders mushing into one. Anyone could tell that there was a closeness to you. That you'd been friends for a while. But it looked like greater lord Rukkhadvata was trying to merge with you. Her body squished more and more into yours as she listened to you intently. The small smile and intense look on her face showed that she was either drinking up every word you said, or she was doing what he did before; memorizing every pore on your face, watching every muscle twitch as you rambled, slowly getting lost in your own little world- she was enthralled.

“Your grace, why did you stop talking?”

A chill ran up his spine as you made eye contact with him. He must be at least 12-15 meters away, yet he could see every color, every pattern in your eye. It startled him, thinking that it might have been a mistake, and you just spaced out like you usually do. But you were blinking, breathing, conscious.

“Your grace?”

“Why does she call you that?” he blurted out on instinct.

“You shouldn’t be here”

“I- your grace-“

“Then let me go”

“That is not my choice to make, you are in the capsule's memories. When there is everything you need to know, it will bring you back”

“What more do I need to know?”

Your counterpart huffed, leaning back comfortably as Greater Lord Rukkahadvata stared at him, or the vicinity he was in with an obviously stressed face.

“That’s for you to figure out” you broke wow contact, turning back to Greater Lord Rukkahadvata and continuing your previous conversation like you weren’t just talking to thin air

This wasn’t you. It’s not possible. You had such a dignified grace to you. Speaking beautifully and with purpose, yet the real you would stutter and make weird noises when inconvenienced.

This was over 300 hundred years, yet you're alive and breathing now- you couldn’t be an archon or from Khaenri'ah

Yet Greater Lord Rukkahadvata kept calling you ‘your grace’ and there was a gold statue of you, surrounded by a gleaming gold fountain with water so clear it looked like air.

“You’re the creator, aren’t you”

Your eyes met his before you dusted your lap and got up. Greater lord… should he even be calling her that with how dependent she was to you? She was following you like a puppy, babbling about how you should sit down and let her get whatever you need.

“Nonsense” you grew closer to him, eyes never once wavering. “I am simply the person you know as ‘y/n’ “

Like slow motion you walked past him, the wind behind you whispering in his ear as he got punched in the face- huh

That’s what it felt like as the changing stream of color engulfed him again, though, unlike last time, there was a feeling of lightness in the pit of his stomach. His limbs stiff through the harsh windows of the tunnel. Though the wind was pushing him, he couldn't breathe well. Or he had to breathe consciously or else he’d probably die. Never before had he experienced something like this from a knowledge capsule.

The capsules usually show or just insert information into one's terminal- yet this causes him to have an allusion of the past. Nothing he’s ever seen before.

With a startling gasp, he woke up. He was sweating bullets yet it felt like someone (Kaveh) had poured a gallon of ice water over him. Everything hurt. His body won’t listen to him, to get away from that damned thing, the risk that something like that will happen again.

“Fuck” he drawled out, chest heaving as he gave up on moving.

His body and mind were in overdrive, trying to figure out what happened. Images of you, a companion of the traveler, were playing on repeat in his mind as questions upon questions flooded his brain, each one he tried to solve would only make 5 more pop up.

Who the fuck were you

hehe i hop y’all like this 🤭🤭

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

Hot take : this fandom is extremely fixated on Paul and not just in the fannish adulation sense. Certain George and even John fans have this extreme negative fixation on Paul to the extent that they seemingly cannot appreciate their fave without tearing Paul down. To a certain extent, I can understand George fans' protectiveness on behalf of George but it's a bit weird that Paul is always the sole subject of mockery and derision for overlooking George when John was claiming in interviews that George and Ringo could have never made it without him and Paul even in the 1980s. Also, since prev anon mentioned the nme hug discourse, I've got this sense that certain parts of the j/p fandom consider it Paul's responsibility to 'fix' John mainly through whatever level of commitment John may or may not have asked/expected of him and so it's Paul's fault for pushing away John. Lastly, I'm kind of bored of every word in Paul interviews being picked apart to establish him as Uniquely Weird or something. At the risk of looking at things through a nostalgic lens, I feel like we used to have more interesting and engaging discussions about aspects of beatles history that have simply died down.

I agree with a lot of this so hard lmao 🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣

Paul kind of lives in people's minds rent-free, whether you love him or hate him (yet ANOTHER Taylor parallel lmaooooo)

Also, I'll say it is less conflicting to direct anger at someone who's alive rather than someone who's dead, so I both get George's post-1980 attitude, and fans who focus more on Paul (partially because of George's attitude, which was very much informed by Paul being alive while John was not)

Re: Paul's responsibility: the thing is, I feel like the presupposition of all of that rhetoric is that obviously Paul wanted the same thing John wanted, so it's fine to expect Paul to fight for what he wants. This is where I feel people sort of treat real people like fiction, because being "disappointed" in Paul as a character makes more sense than being disappointed in him as a real human being.

But. Your last point…………… you're so right, there's so many much better conversations to be had than "look at this thing Paul said that is INSANE if you take it out of context, pretend to be surprised he words things awkwardly, and forget the time period this quote is from"… Half the time I find what he's actually expressing in those quotes a lot more interesting than the way they come across when approached incuriously. And it's fine to laugh at the wording sometimes! But yeah, it just kinda gets old when that's all there is.

[wyverningx]

people on The Internet Dot Com keep being absolute idiots about thea muldani so here is your reminder that she's a ravens success story — she grew up in an environment where she was asked to give her all and engage in incredibly unhealthy practices, but the result of such sacrifice was that she was rewarded for it with US court and a pro team. she was part of a cult and "left" in the sense of gaining physical distance, but all of her experiences reaffirmed that the toxic ravens environment was the most effective way to a successful exy career. it is fucked up that she believes others should go through the same thing in order to be "worthy" or "good enough," but i simply do not understand why so many people look at her and think that she should be crucified for being a representation of a finished, successful raven. especially not if she's unable to recognize abuse in others, which tbqh is something that is very common in cult-like settings. you don't want to look something-that-could-very-well-be-abuse-happening-to-others in the eye, because if they're being abused, then you could potentially be being abused, too, and what do you do with that? do you have any idea how hard it is to come to terms with that reality, especially when you are told day in and day out that this is the only way to get to the top? that this is how you make it in the sport? that someone who is being harmed by the coach or the team captain absolutely deserved it? that people who can't hack it are weak, but you're not weak, you're one of the best, you'll do whatever it takes?

is it extremely shitty that she blames jean for his own sexual assault? absolutely, yes. but she doesn't have the whole picture, and it's clear that jean intentionally deceives her (with the comment about him being fragile/clumsy, etc.) and lets her believe he had more agency in his sexual experiences than he truly did because it's a coping mechanism that also serves the purpose of letting her fill in blanks so he does not have to explicitly tell a lie. besides, if there is any singular raven that both kevin and jean view fondly, wouldn't they want her to believe whatever it took so that she didn't ask too many questions? wouldn't they both want her far removed from the reality of the moriyamas and human trafficking, because her uncovering the truth would put her entire life at risk?

people can have friends that are imperfect or do not understand them completely or that fuck things up sometimes. i get that jean's experiences put people on-guard when it comes to how he interacts with other characters, but god damn. she was his mentor. she taught him everything he knows about being a backliner. she made horrible and judgmental assumptions about his experiences. all of those things can be true at the same time. does she not deserve the opportunity to change upon receiving new information? does she not deserve the ability to take a step back, as ravens are dropping like flies and all eyes are on evermore and the perfect court, to consider that maybe she was a victim in all of this, too? that plenty of people are capable of making it to the top without calling another human being the master and turning a blind eye to the king beating his own men? that maybe kevin and jean and all of them were terribly wronged? why is she the only person in this series who's not allowed to grow as a person by developing a more nuanced understanding of rape and sexual assault and learning how to be a better friend to someone who had no choice?

also someone tried to "gotcha" me by saying thea and jean aren't friends because she uhhhh (checks notes) calls him a teasing nickname and says "i'm going to break your ribs" as though threatening your friends (especially ones you play a contact, violent sport with) is the worst possible offense ever in the same book series that people regularly ACTUALLY fistfight each other and pull knives on one another. i'd argue that these are actually huge indicators that they do like each other, because she's probably one of the only people in the world who he can express himself around and even say things like "i'm not from paris" exasperatedly. you know, like you do when people you care about tease or poke fun at you. those are actually probably some of the most normal interactions jean has pre-TSC, especially as she is not needlessly cruel to him like literally everyone else in the nest is. and not only is thea one of the only people who has any sort of comraderie with him and who makes the effort to see him after his injuries because she cares, but she also makes it past wymack and kevin and renee and neil guard-dogging him. does that seriously mean nothing? do you think renee fucking walker (who was ready to brawl on-sight at evermore) would have let someone like zane waltz into abby's house if kevin said a single negative word about him?

i have seen some incredibly wonderful and nuanced takes about most characters in AFTG, but at the same time, the way thea is treated and criticized in a more severe way than literal murderers in the series for her possibly-willful ignorance is utterly crazy to me.

idk. just some food for thought

[cherubchoirs]

i am glad you still love your supercomputer au! your fanfiction and the pieces you created once is such masterpieces... your old curiouscat link gave an error so i cannot see the answers you gave to people. can you generally tell the au shortly? akiras relationships with phantom thieves, futaba and akiras relationships etc etc

aaaa thank you!! and im sorry so much was on curiouscat that i didn't back up ;o; but i can definitely give a brief overview as well as go into a little more detail about akira!!

for some background, akira was an orphaned child used in the cognitive pscience experiments, as he showed great potential in preliminary testing (ie, what would become his wildcard ability) he grew up housed in a facility for this purpose, with his main social contact through the ten years he was there being YAL20XX, a supercomputer designed to analyze data related to the field. frightened and eventually bitter toward the researchers, YAL was programmed to speak to him for them, keeping him content in a way they couldn't while gathering information he refused to give. this back and forth went on long enough that, in YAL's complexity, he grew into sentience and so into hatred for humanity - akira understood his emotions and yal, with full control of the facility, was able to plan their escape and the subsequent work they did on creating the metaverse navigator

the test for humanity is the same as in canon, with akira playing the role of black mask with his persona, mephistopheles. he is an unknown entity to the conspiracy, but his brutal efficiency means they don't bother to question who he might be. akira, as a person, rarely goes out and refuses to make connections with others, believing yal to be the only being he can trust or that can understand him - he is too different, too changed from who he could have been and what everyone else is, and he carries a great grudge for his mistreatment. he believes in the world yaldabaoth promises, and he is sure humanity will ultimately fail their test regardless of the introduction of the phantom thieves to stand against shido

his connection to the thieves is mixed, somewhat limited, but grows increasingly over time - goro is of course who he meets first, becoming a regular at leblanc so yal can keep a close eye on him through a more human lens (and have an agent that can direct him as needed) goro is very much taken by akira's bright intellect and unusual perspective, while akira slowly comes to appreciate goro's tenacity and his willingness to risk everything in his work as a thief. it's not easy for him to make connections or believe others, but goro doesn't give up on pursuing their relationship, he puts his faith in akira and refuses to leave their friendship at a surface level despite akira's coldness. and that's. very hard for akira to accept. he so fully believes in humanity's irredeemable malice and his own fundamental brokenness that he doesn't know how to feel when goro continuously defies those expectations. goro, as well as all the thieves, risk their freedom and their lives over and over again for victims they don't know, to build a better world without ever receiving praise or compensation. and goro listens to akira, engages with him but gives him space too, reaches out to see if he ever wants to join them for a day out or just spend time together. even if akira keeps saying no, goro will text him again soon. the thieves are good people, and akira isn't the unlovable monster he believed himself to be.

futaba is very interesting in the supercomputer au, because i like to think she's the one that tipped goro off to akira being much more than he seemed - largely because whatever he's using, futaba can't hack into it. it makes akira VERY wary of her, keeping his distance from futaba as much as he can without attracting attention, but she just knows something is up with him if he's got a setup she has no way into. i do like the idea that she basically fries her computer to catch a glimpse of yal with his mess of esoteric code, but it's enough to unravel akira's identity (in a much more convoluted way than canon got to lol) - she traces him back to a user known as "bowman" that was snooping similar government databases as she did, making his connection to cognitive psience come to the forefront. this is compounded by her finding out all of akira's identification, from his name to his apparent history, is all faked when dug into. at this point they all know he will have to be confronted, and that leads into the end of the game

sorry that was kinda long ;;;; but i think that about covers it!!! if you have any other questions i'd be happy to answer those too ^^

[mentalbreakdowngobrrrrr]

Reckless

Jaqc x reader

(Y/n) is a champion ranked trainer who bites of a little more than they can chew when challenging a 6 star Tera raid

(Y/n) is a young adult, close to Jacq’s age

You had just finished a 4 star Tera raid and were looking at the exp candy you received from beating the pokemon. Being a champion ranked trainer, the raid was no problem to you and you wiped the floor with the unsuspecting Bronzong. 

Just as you were preparing to head off to another raid you were stopped by your rotom phone.

Ro-to-to-to

“This is (y/n), what’s up?” 

“Glad I reached you. Thank you for all your work within the Tera dens. We have seen unusual black crystals popping up around the map. We have reason to beleive these are incredibly strong Tera pokemon. Do not under any circumstances engage with these dens.” The charming voice of Jacq rang through your phone. 

You rolled your eyes 

“But imagine all the rewards I could get! Plus don’t you want the data?” 

“Not at the risk of your health. I’m serious (y/n). Do. Not. Engage.” The man’s voice dropped and you could imagine his face.

“I make absolutely no promises.” 

“(y/n). I swear to Arceus if you challenge those raids-”

“Don’t worry about me Jaqc. I defeated AI Sada, a pokemon den won’t take me down.”

“Do. Not. Engage.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I get it.”

“Promise me you will not challenge the dens. I can’t risk you getting hurt.”

“It was nice talking to you Jacq. Bye!”

“Wait no-” You hung up the phone with a sigh. You understand his worry but you have been training for such a long time. You wiped the floor with Geeta and Nemona. What could a den do to you.

Pulling up your map you located one of the black crystals. It showed itself as a water type, meaning you would have the type advantage with your Meowscarada.

“Alright lil dude. You ready to challenge this den?” You looked down at your partner pokemon. The green cat let out an enthusiastic cry. “Me too buddy. Let’s go.”

You summoned Koraidon and hopped on the pokemon’s back as you made your way to the location of the Tera raid.

Upon arriving you saw that the pokemon was a Talonflame. Which you coincidentally didn’t have in your dex yet. “This is perfect! Not only can we get some great rewards, I can fill my dex!”

Approaching the den you took a deep breath and stepped in.

The Talonflame cried out as you stepped in and you engaged in a battle.

Despite having the type advantage, you were barely making a dent against the pokemon’s  health. It also didn’t help that you couldn’t find anyone to help you with said raid.

Even after Terastallizing your pokemon, you were barely able to get the Talonflame down to half health. 

“Ahaha, I’m in danger.” You mumbled as your partner pokemon was knocked out for the 3rd time. The enraged bird turned it’s attention onto you. All you could see was a blast of fire coming straight towards your face before you blacked out.

Jacq’s Pov

I was approaching the black crystal with the intent to hopefully get more information on it without having to fight it. 

However I stopped in my tracks when I saw a familiar looking green cat. There was only one trainer I knew with a Meowscarada. “(Y/n)’s Meowscarada?” I approached the cat pokemon and watched as it turned towards me.

The pokemon let out a cry before rushing forward and grabbing the sleeve of my jacket, pulling me into the den. “Wait! I don’t have any of my strong pokemon on me! I can’t fight this!” However the weed cat’s grip was strong and I was unable to break free. 

The cat continued to drag me into the depth of the den where I froze upon seeing a familiar figure strewn across the ground, their clothing burned and torn.

“(Y/N)!” Sprinting towards the fallen trainer, I looked over their body.

They were littered with intense burns, almost looking like 3rd degree burns. “Hold on, I’m going to get you out of here.” However, Jacq did not have the most muscle and he struggled to lift up the fallen trainer. “Jeez, hang in there.” 

I used my rotom phone to dial up Nurse Miriam.  

“Hello?”

“Miriam! I found (y/n) in a tera den passed out. they have burns all over their body and are barely breathing.”

“Oh no, I’ll send a flying taxi your way and alert Clavell of what happened. I will be ready for them as soon as you arrive.” The nurse was clearly panicked.

“Hurry!” I hung up the phone and set the trainer down gently. “(y/n), love you’ve got to hang in there. I can’t loose you, I care about you too much.” I held the trainers limp hand, bringing it to my lips and placing a brief kiss on it.

A flying taxi arrived and I picked up the trainer, hopping into the cart.

Arriving to the academy I was immediately greeted with Miriam rushing out and taking the trainer from me “This is worse than I thought.” She mumbled before rushing off to the nurses office.

I looked over to the green pokemon who was pacing back and forth in a daze. “They’ll be okay buddy. They have to be. They’re too stubborn to go down without a fight.” The pokemon looked up to me with teary eyes. “I’m worried too bud. But they’re in good hands now.”

The director stormed out of the academy doors. “Jacq! What happened?” I explained the situation to Clavell, Meowscarada nodding along. 

A few weeks later and (y/n) was still in a coma. Plenty on people were stressing, after all, how strong could a pokemon be if it was able to take down one of the regions strongest trainers?

Jaqc sat next to the bed with the green cat curled up at his side. “(y/n), please wake up soon. It’s been weeks. Everyone is worried and Meowscarada is lonely. I miss you so much. I miss your teasing, your laughs, your 2 am phone calls. I guess I never knew how much I needed you until I went without you. I love you more than you could ever know.”

As if the man’s words were magic, the trainer began to stir. 

(y/n)’s pov

You slowly opened your eyes to come face to face with the white ceiling of the nurse’s office. 

“Ugh, what happened?” You rubbed your head which felt like it was being split in half.

“(Y/N)!” You turned to the voice beside you only to see the biology teacher throw himself at you. He wrapped his arms around you in a bone crushing hug. “I thought I lost you. Do you know how scared we all were? Do you know how stupid that was? I told you to not engage in the den but you’re too stubborn to listen to me. We almost lost you. I almost lost you. I don’t think I could live without you (y/n). I love you too much to live without you. You’re so stupid. I was so worried. Clavell flipped his shit. Rika almost killed me. Don’t you ever do that again, you hear? I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Damn Jaqc, you’re kinda crushing me. I guess you’re right, that was pretty stupid of me. I promise I won’t do it again. Hold up did you say you loved me?” 

“I suppose I did.” You watched as a pink hue crossed the man’s cheeks. “It just sort of slipped out, you probably don’t like me back. feel free to ignore it.”

“You idiot. Of course I like you back.”

“Huh?”

“Dude I’ve been down bad for you since I first met you. The only reason I want to complete the pokedex is to impress you.”

“Sappy stuff aside, never do that again.” Jacq scolded you.

“Yeah yeah, whatever, just come kiss me better you goof.”

[reimenaashelyee]

do you have any tips for young artists struggling to make it in the professional world? I'm about to graduate and I feel so lost and unprepared!

It's a bit difficult to tailor advice for situations like this because it really comes down to the specifics. Did you study animation? Comics? Illustration? Breaking into the industries of each specific field has their own specific outlets/contexts/resources - so me, a cartoonist/illustrator mainly in traditional publishing, can't give you pragmatic tips for a field I have no experience in. The other thing is I don't know how you are struggling and what level of struggling you are at. Have you already had a portfolio? Been sending postcards to art directors? Queried an agent? Or you have no idea how to start a business?

And another thing is; I didn't go to school for art. I went to school for an entirely different career path in the academic sciences and jumped ship to commit full-time to a semi-official arts practice - a thing I had nurtured since I was a teen, had done work in, and I already knew the shape of. Things really came together at the right time to allow me the career I have now and totally avoid the situation where my family would be disappointed at the risk I took. So while I do know what it's like to be lost and be in a quarter-life crisis before graduation, our pre-graduation situations are different.

So the advice you get from me is going to be generic - whether that's helpful or not, YMMV.

If you're still unsure about breaking in to your industry, you'll have to start securing some kind of dayjob right away. It could be retail, or it could be a trade job. If you're able to afford the time/money, start learning skills that aren't art: trade skills, or spreadsheets, or whatever that could help weasel you in to an office job. The point of this is to give yourself the cushion (for money and to avoid questions from family) while you're figuring out/building your arts practice. It also doesn't matter how long it takes for you to reach the point where you feel secure to pivot to art; things take their own time, and what matters is survival and consistent effort. Then you've to commit to being involved in your industry in whatever way you are able. So that could be visiting a festival or convention and engaging with your colleagues. You could go with your friends. You could also start making work digitally and share. Even if that piece doesn't go viral, it is a piece that contributes to momentum, and it'll build up to a presence. It's not easy to break into an industry unless you're at least somewhat recognisable as a familiar presence (I mean, you should build some relationships anyway even if you weren't going to join the industry, because if it's a medium you love, you'll want to know the people who are making the work you enjoy). Arts is really small, and we know who's currently working. There are also resources from arts organisations and artists that collate opportunities and resources. Again, since I don't know what field you are in, I cannot give you adequate advice. Would be unhelpful if you're in animation and I accidentally give you information for a writer's residency, you know? You'll have to ask for these resources through Google or through anyone who's older and in your industry.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Everything For You: Part 4

A/N: Some smut in the second half

The oval engagement ring on your finger had shone delicately in the light, the stones set into the platinum ring had sparkled brilliantly with every cusp and mark of brilliance you could have ever imagined. It had been chosen the day before Jake left for the military, the chosen stone and setting perfected for you although there had been no time to ask you, to give it to you, before he had left.

Instead of giving you the ring after you had given your virginity to him the night before he left, Jake held onto it with the intent of asking you later. However, the ties that bound you had also alluded to breaking your connection down to singular threads in your absence of each other, with Jake and yourself taking partners that weren’t suited for either one of you.

Jake having slept with omegas when he was in the army, wherever he was, and you taking toxic and necrotic alpha after alpha only to be mistreated. It was not the treatment you would inflict on anyone and yet you allowed yourself to be related as terribly as you had because you didn’t think you were worthy of Jake himself or the future he would have been able to give you.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Her scent was familiar, it was almost like a constant draw that comforted you in a sisterly way.

Throughout the years of you and Jake being separate, she had kept an eye on you. You’d known it was a favour to Jake, to keep a kind of watch over you while he was gone so he could be informed of everything you had done.

Just as Steph had watched over you, she had also promised Jake that unless your life was at risk she wouldn’t intervene with your personal choices. She wouldn’t step in to stop you from doing something because it was your life and your mistakes to make. She knew that whatever happened between you two while you were apart had to be part of the process that would lead to you coming back to each other.

“The ring is..a lot.” You turned it on your finger, feeling the shape of the stone on the underside and the smooth edge digging into your palm as you clenched your hand. “It’s beautiful but I would’ve-“

“I know,” Steph had shrugged and stepped closer to the powder room mirror, nudging you gently as you rest upon the puffed lounge chair in the room, “but you know Jake. Nothing is good enough for you.”

“I’ve been hiding out here for a while, the party’s winding down and I know he’s not going to let me go home.” Your heart fluttered, your stomach flipping end over end the longer you thought about Jake and his ability to get his way out of pure stubbornness.

He was your best friend, he had been your best friend for years. You knew him inside and out, you knew that while so many people looked him over and disregarded him as someone who could take over from his parents, Jake’s tenacity and his stubborn nature would make it almost impossible to fight him on this. Jake was regarded as a dork, a geeky little alpha who liked messing with computers, playing video games and reading more comic books than you could count.

He was regarded as someone who didn’t have the balls or the gumption to take over, and though others had doubted him you hadn’t. You always knew he was a powerful force to be reckoned with, an alpha who would become a stronghold.

Even if that had meant that you were on the receiving end of his stubborn nature.

“Do you want to go home?” Steph raised an eyebrow, eying the doorknob to the powder room that was rattling. “Because if you do-“

“Steph, I’m not-“

“Princess…” Jake’s voice radiated through the wooden barrier, the sing-songy baritone husk making you shiver with anticipation of what was, or could, happen tonight. “Don’t make me break down the door, you know I can.”

“Jake!” Steph had called back with a roll of her eyes and an annoyed scowl. “You break down the door and I guarantee you the ass-kicking of your life!”

There was a moment of silence and then the subtle knocks had come through the door, a radiating clutch of his scent inflicting your inhibitions. You rose to your feet, swaying slightly as your hindbrain had not only accepted his desire but revelled in it, with the knowledge that your alpha was coming calling for you and you alone. You busied yourself with the minute task of turning your ring back to its proper placement, and then you had taken a deep breath to calm yourself down.

It was just Steph and you in the expansive powder room, standing beneath the crystalline chandelier and gold-dusted fixture but the idea of your alpha and future husband on the other side of the door pumping out pheromones like a mating call was almost too much to handle. You were irrevocably overwhelmed and turned on by every beat and pulse of his desire-laced scent, every interlocking note of his scent was addictive to you, just as yours was to Jake.

“If you don’t want to do this, stay here tonight I mean…” Steph had grabbed your arm before you could reach for the door, her eyes so reminiscent of Jake’s had settled on yours. “You know you can stay with me and my husband. You know Hannah missed you.”

“I missed her too.” You barely manage to get the words out between inhaling air and gulping down Jake’s scent that’s as heady as steadily as it’s being pumped out. “But do you want the constant knocking on your door?”

You spoke of Jake as he stood on the other side of the door knocking repeatedly and speaking your name like a broken record to get you out of the powder room. He was relentless, he was all too happy to stand there and annoy you into coming out from your hiding place which was a move you were all too familiar with.

He was a natural when it came to annoying the people around him with his happy-go-lucky attitude and the underlying permanent goofiness that would never truly be eradicated from him. Even as he took his place as the big bad leader of this whole empire, he would always have that natural sunshiny portion to himself.

“You promise you’ll come to visit when he finally lets you leave the bed?” Steph had questioned you, her hands resting on your shoulders. “We can go for coffee or go shopping, we can even just lay around watching cheap reality shows-“

“Princess, I’m losing my patience. Either you come out here willingly, or I’m coming in there and when I do, your ass is mine.” Jake’s playfulness was overshadowed with hunger, a growl ripping from his lips as he stated his intent to have you one way or another.

“If he ever lets me go-“ you flicked the lock and started to open the door, squealing when it was ripped open for you, and Jake appeared on the other side with a solicitous smirk on his face and eyes darkened by lust.

“You couldn’t have waited two more minutes?” Steph shoved the heel of her hand into his shoulder with a powerful strike although he hadn’t wavered nor did it seem like he had felt it at all.

“Goodbye, Steph.” Jake’s steady and unwavering lust-stricken eyes were fixated solely on you, not a single glance toward his sister as she brushed past him while muttering under her breath. “Hello, Princess.”

“I should go-“ you took a step to the left, knowing it was futile but regardless you tried anyway.

The sound that had fallen from Jake’s lips was intensely and purely dominating and possessive. The growl had come from a man who was deep into his alpha hindbrain, the sound of the growl as it built in his chest had reduced you to a simpering mess. You whined and turned your head exposing your neck to him instinctively while your hindbrain was firing off warnings not to disobey this powerful alpha in front of you.

“You’re not going home.” Jake’s voice was husky and possessive with every beat and half-beat as he spoke his intent for you. “You’re not leaving me. You and I are going upstairs and you’re going to be my good little princess-“

“Jake-“

“You’re mine, and I’m going to have you. You’re going to spend the night and half the morning confined to my bed, omega.” He bared his teeth and spoke your designation with passionate consistency, managing to hold you upright as your legs had nearly given out from the alpha command that was accepted far too easily by yourself.

“Princess,” the flash of his eyes had brought momentary clarity to his eyes, the gentle giant you had loved and known was engrained and so tightly woven with this version of Jake who was possessive. There was no clear beginning or end, it was Jake and it was Jake as a powerful and hungry alpha.

“Let’s go upstairs and I’ll help take that dress off.” He nosed along your neck, breathing you in while obsessively scenting you to mark you as his despite everyone already knowing. No one would dare look at you while Jake was in this mindset let alone try and touch you, you knew that in this moment of Jake’s state of mind, he would likely rip whoever dared to pieces.

“Will I ever go back to my apartment?” You asked after Jake pulled you from the powder room.

“You don’t belong there,” he looked back at you, his eyes sweeping across your face and his hand was possessively clutching yours, “you belong with me. You belong in my bed, with every gorgeous fucking inch of you trapped under me.”

He gave your hand a sharp tug, leading you away from the dwindling party to the staircase and even further into his room.

His arm had pinned you down, his strength was nothing you could have fought off, and you were as good as tied down and helpless. He was as relentless as his tongue, the flex of that muscle as he drove you into the depths of madness with every stroke against your dripping pussy walls. Jake was solicitous in his intent to tongue fuck you into complacency while you were left reeling from the endless tweak of his fingers against your clit.

You don’t know how many times you’d cum already and he wasn’t satisfied. You don’t know how many times you had screamed his name as he devoured you with his mouth or drove you to a near-blackout state with his fingers.

You knew he wouldn’t have waited, you expected as much but to have you pinned to the floor the moment you stepped into his room was not what you were anticipating. Jake hadn’t even gotten your dress off before he got you on the floor with your dress shoved up your thighs.

He had bit the inside of your thigh with a warning to stay when you had squirmed too much, and instead of pain, it was intense pleasure that struck you.

It was the act of him claiming you, even if it wasn’t a mark on your neck, that was pleasurable. It was the feel of his teeth on you that had your brain going completely haywire as you rode the first orgasm of the night.

“Good girl,” you hadn’t been aware of him removing his lips and tongue from your pussy until you felt the weight of his lips against your own and the taste of your orgasms and cum on your flesh, “that was fun wasn’t it, Princess?”

“Jake…” you whined, your vision blurry from the orgasmic and blissful tears that rolled down your cheeks. “I can’t-“

“You haven’t even gotten undressed, Princess.” Jake had hovered above you, his lust-blown eyes raking up and down your body with vivacious hunger, and you narily had a moment to brace yourself before he had lifted you and carried you toward the bed.

“You just made me cum over and over and over.” You whimpered, your legs shaking and your cunt feeling overstimulated and sore from the way he feasted on your cunt. “I don’t think I could do more.”

Jake had pressed his hands upon the bed and leaned over you, his chest almost directly flush with your nose, he kept you close and then reached one hand behind your back to unzip the back of your dress.

The soft sound of the zipper being pulled down had come before Jake had trailed his fingers up and down your exposed spine, the pads of his fingers tracing and trailing every part of your back that he could reach. He had hummed, the pleasant sound in your chest sounding more like a purr than anything, the rich sound stirring a string of whimpers and whines from your mouth that had brought Jake’s hands to a ceasing stop.

“Princess,” he inched back and cupped your chin, lifting your chin to make you look up at him as he towered above you, “I’m getting you undressed so we can go to bed. I want you to be fully recovered before I fuck you as I want, tonight was enough.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips against yours, the subtle dusting of flesh against flesh was enough to make your heart thrash and twist in tune with his. Your eyes fluttered closed, your breath hitching in your throat as Jake used his hands to push the dress down your chest and back to let it pool at your waist.

He had kissed you with every measurable emotion possible poured through the tentative kiss that stole your soul. Jake had hovered above you, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip as he tasted you and let you taste yourself, and as he pulled away you had stood with him.

It was Jake who had bent now, and it was his hands that grabbed the material to yank it down your thighs and legs, gently nudging you to stand before he tossed the dress behind him. As you had become all but bared before him, you were rooted to the spot when he looked at you from his place on the floor, his eyes brimming and blustering with intense want.

You were unable to cognitively deal with the intensity of his gaze and the alpha who had owned every part of you. You were unable to think or speak as he rose back to his feet and set his hands on your hips, running his hands up and down your sides before he gently pushed you back to the mattress.

“Lay down, Princess. Get comfortable.” Jake had cupped your cheeks before he kissed your forehead, his lips lingering against you. “I’m going to get you some water and something of mine to wear. I’ll be back.”

Jake had let you go, waiting for you to follow his command as you lift the blankets and crawled under the covers, your eyes lingering on Jake. Your best friend and alpha had smiled, goofily and brightly as before, waiting to get the last look at you before he slipped out of the room.

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[sophieinwonderland]

https://www.tumblr.com/sophieinwonderland/754022315455545344/while-my-post-was-meant-to-be-hurtful-i-also

i understand. i’m sick of anti-endos. sysmed rhetoric kept me, and my system, in a dark place for years. pushing for acceptance is important for our community and the plural future.

hurting others back won’t do anything. it only fuels the fire. being kind and correcting misinfo is all we can do. and for ourselves, we can take breaks when it becomes too much.

block out their tags, stay in pro-endogenic ones, or logging off even. don’t go to their level of harassment/hate. the plural community is about love and acceptance. that includes for every plural, even the ones who believe in sysmed rhetoric.

we can correct their misinfo, but there’s no reason to hurt them back. i hope you’re doing okay, and taking breaks if you need them.

I mean... there can be value to tossing fuel on a fire. Especially if your goal is getting attention by getting that fire to burn bright enough.

There's a legitimate risk of pushing people to double down on their beliefs. That type of backfire would obviously be bad.

But some people are attracted to the blaze. People are curious creatures by nature. A lot of anti-endos had me blocked before. Now they've taken another look at my blog because of the fire.

There is a value to infamy, I've found. Even being talked about in a negative way can attract more attention to a cause than not being talked about at all. I've actually had multiple anti-endos whose minds I've helped change come to this blog before and tell me it was because of how infamous I was in the anti-endo community and how much they talked about me.

Perhaps I took the wrong lesson away from that and decided that I should actively try to ensure my infamy remains intact.

But I think using and maintaining their perception of me personally can be advantageous since it lets my name breach the deepest chasms of their echo chambers.

While this particular post was driven by a building anger... there has also been an overall goal of making myself enough of a nuisance to keep them talking about me in their circles. Because if people constantly hear how terrible I am, at least some of them are going to be curious and want to check out my blog to see if it's as bad as everyone is saying.

And then hopefully once they've been baited into showing up, that's when their defenses can be eroded away by reality. No, they won't instantly accept it, but hopefully if they can start doomscrolling my blog the same way a lot of us end up doomscrolling r/systemscringe, the information I provide can worm its way past their defenses and wear them down over time.

It does feel, at a certain level, a lot of anti-endos are only willing to engage with endogenic systems who they think will confirm their worst opinions about endogenic systems. If so, maybe making them see me personally as a danger in order to trick them into coming onto my blog and being exposed to resources that would never reach them in their echo chambers is a good tactic

I don't know. 🤷‍♀️

I have no idea if this is actually effective as a strategy. My big worry is that I've been rationalizing a counterproductive tactic because it allows me to speak out in anger, because there's a part of me that does just want to hurt people that hurt us and people I care about, or maybe even because I enjoy the negative attention on some level. And while I know some people who are drawn in by it, I don't know the number people who it pushes away.

All of these things are going through my head.

But by the gods, I'm actually getting engagement from anti-endos! It's not good engagement, maybe. But I provide facts and people block me straight away or ignore whatever I'm saying, then I say something deliberately hurtful that gets publicized in their spaces and now they're paying attention!

I hate that this strategy feels as effective as it does. That it's seemingly successful in getting their attention, where providing information alone kept getting me blocked on sight and causing them to shutdown.

And the fact that this is also conditioning me towards worse behavior is also not lost on me.