#best data room solution

[stockholdingsposts]

Secure Document Management-Stockholding DMS

[iteamanz]

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With i-know, it only takes around 60 seconds to measure dirt levels on a surface. That speed and accuracy empowers cleaning teams with useful data to get objective feedback on the quality of their commercial cleaning practises.

[grandisknight]

afternoon treatment | zayne

summary: Zayne follows the "doctor's orders" in order to feel better.

tags: suggestive, established relationship, gn!reader (no specific descriptors), soft zayne, medical kink, 'doctor' kink, kissing, medical procedures (auscultation), medical inaccuracies (in a sense), chest mention, straddling

wc: 2.2k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: relax time affinity 80 with zayne and that one liner he has. that's it, that's the tweet.

Afternoons at Akso Hospital were always the busiest, from routine check-ups to meetings alike. Staff and accompanying patients hustled through the halls and hushed rooms—there was always something happening, and the cardiac surgery department was no different.

Yet, today seemed to offer Zayne some grace and time to reside in the chilled comforts of his workspace. The morning surgery went well, and his next procedure wouldn’t be for another hour or two. 

Therefore, he’s rewarded himself with a simple diagnosis report. The file was lighter in subject, easier to digest in comparison to what was usually on his plate. In his mind, this was a well-fitted solution to kill some time before returning to sterile scrubs and tense operating rooms.

Glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he looks over their exterior when a soft series of familiar knocks reach his door.

“It’s open,” he calls out, rectangular reflection returning to the onscreen data. Without missing a beat and sparing another glance, he adds on, “Weren’t you supposed to visit a No-Hunt Zone today?”

“Finished my observations earlier than expected,” you chirped, pushing the door to a close and striding towards his busy desk. 

Recent reports of Metaflux fluctuations had consumed your bright morning with Herte Knaves running amok. Nothing out of the ordinary from your usual line of work, easily dealt with in a couple of bulleted blows. Their dispersing remains flecked the air in a quiet flurry that reminded you of snowflakes—naturally, your feet led you to the pristine floors of Akso soon thereafter.

Curiously, you sidestep to shadow his focused form, gaze altering between the wall of text and precise clicks of his keys. “Thought you were on break, but it seems like you’re working,” you mumble, in awe of his steady pace. “As always, Dr. Zayne.”

He speaks with an obvious, “Well, I am at work. The call is coming from inside the house.”

“Zayne,” you punctuate. His sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, and you cross your arms in turn. “You know what I mean.”

A faint chuckle passes under his breath. “You’re accusing me as if I’m in the wrong.”

He was not, actually—far from it. That goes without saying when you were in the middle of his office, imposing during said work time. But you’ve been in his graces for nearly a year now, and know well enough that it was only around this time in the afternoons would he be able to catch a breather.

You shake your head, putting on your best voice before coming to your defense. “No, but the doctor’s orders require you to take a break.”

This catches his attention, fingers slowing their clicks and chair swiveling to face you head on. Slight confusion quirks his brow, mirroring your folded arms in observation. “And pray tell, who would that be? Last time I checked, only one of us is a certified surgeon in this room.”

Your eyes instinctively dart to his stationed badge, credentials on full display against his chest pocket. He had you beat there, at the very least.

“You may hold a degree for medical hearts,” you start, taking a step into the space of his parted knees and tapping your chest. 

“But I hold the degree to your heart.” Your finger redirects to the meeting point of his neckline, resting above the aforementioned muscle.

“Is that so?” The corners of his lips lift, amused by your display and newfound authority. “I was unaware of such a professional. Surely, I would’ve remembered seeing someone as dedicated as you during my studies.” 

He takes the chance to brush away a strand of hair hugging your cheek, neatly tucking it behind your ear. Gentle appreciation fills his comment of, “Would’ve made them much more enjoyable, too.”

“That’s besides the point.” You wave him off, though it doesn’t fan away the heat blushing your ears, sensing his underlying meaning. 

Returning to your self-presumed role, you nod. “As your dedicated and completely legitimate doctor, I believe you’re showing concerning symptoms.”

Zayne hums, withdrawing his hand. “I’m afraid your assessment is lost on me. What exactly are these symptoms?”

“Well, my patient seems to love working overtime. This can cause unnecessary stress to the body and mind, for one.” 

You lift one knee to bracket his, the other following in suit—Zayne adapts rather quickly, leaning back to give you space as you carefully straddle his waist. His arms naturally circle around you, hands hovering your tailbone to keep you steady.

Neatly settled on top, you continue with your mild lecture of reported observations. “Even though he should be using the precious time in-between work to give himself a well-deserved break, he does the exact opposite.” 

“He is on a break,” Zayne says to his defense. “It’s barely considered heavy work.”

“Doing any kind of work during down-time does not count, mister,” you chide.

You gently tussle his bangs, pushing them to the side and revealing his forehead. Smoothing over the skin above his brow, your eyes searched his expression before noting a shadow of fatigue beneath his lashes. He really was working himself to the bone, even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

“A dire symptom of a workaholic is when his skin is faring worse than usual,” you exaggerate. “Your eye bags are so prominent they could be checked in at the airport.”

“It’s not that bad,” he murmurs, eyes crinkling at your touch. They flutter to a close when your hand slides to cup his face, thumb brushing the high of his cheekbone in gentle care. “The lighting just makes it seem worse for wear. I’m fine.”

“I beg to differ.” You slowly trail downwards, caressing the side of his neck with a pursed lip. 

His pulse point thrummed nicely against your fingers, and a curious press elicited a low sigh from him. Unexpected, though the sound was music to your ears and had butterflies rampant in your stomach. A part of you wanted to hear more of the gravelly timbre that rarely made an appearance—you knew what needed to be done.

Picking up where you left off, more of your self-declared medical ramblings followed. “See here? Another symptom, such a fast pace surely isn’t for the faint of heart. Your apical pulse,” to which your fingertips lightly drag themselves towards, “can’t lie to me.”

Zayne is breathless by the time he formulates a response in sincerity. “How can we go about a treatment plan, then? It seems pretty serious.”

A slowed, purposeful pronunciation follows soon thereafter. “Doc-tor.”

Your heart skipped not one, but two beats—dangerous, surely, but it fell short in the face of Zayne’s steadfast compliance. He peers up at you, factually smitten and framed softly by the office lights blending the contours of his face. You raise your other hand to hold his fine face between them. Admiring, in awe of all that he was.

“There’s only one known treatment option, I’ll have you know.” Unable to hide your smile, you quickly add, “Might require mouth to mouth if things go south.”

Zayne’s pools of hazel flick to your upturned lips, before meeting your mischievous stare with a hint of his own.

“Is this truly scientifically proven, or did you come all this way just to kiss me?”

“Yes,” was all you offered to his question, before placing an airy kiss to his cupid’s bow. 

A second found its way to the bridge of his nose, laid over the slight ridge you adore before another rested between his raised brows. His eyes flutter to a close when your lips gently pressed to his temple, stilling at the contact. Slowly, you leave a trail of love across his cheeks, pausing once you meet the corner of his mouth.

Your thumb brushes against his lower lip, smiling at the way he parts them so readily for you. His chin tilts in the direction of your touch, mouthing the chase. A flush of pink sinked into his skin, a perfect peach for you to sink your teeth into.

“Tell me,” you say softly. Your fingers curl underneath his chin, observing the lidded gaze that follows. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

A tender exhale pushes past those very lips. “Right here,” he quietly admits. Closing the distance until you were only a breath away, his eyes focused on the plush of your mouth. “Please, Doctor.”

The union was gentle and warm, a kiss so kind that the same sentiment blossomed in your chest. Traces of a sweetened coffee picked from the hospital’s cafeteria and warm amber from his collar consumed your senses.

Zayne held you closer, chest to his and enveloping in a tender embrace. His hands traced the curve of your back, following your spine to gently cradle your head. Just to keep you this close, he was restless—realizing that he needed this more than he thought. The smile that cracks through another kiss is a testament to it, sealed with a deep breath of contentment.

It was perfect, a moment in time where your thundering heartbeats were equally matched. The world was nothing but a witness to the seconds spent in meaningful lip-locking.

“Mmph,” you groan unceremoniously. 

Something firm brushed against your brow, pulling you out of the sweet trance. The culprit looked back at you in its silver rimmed and glass glory, sliding down the bridge of Zayne’s nose.

“Hm?” He leans back, noticing your discomfort. “What’s the matter?” 

You contemplate on telling him, partially distracted by the puff of his lower lip. It has a sheen of your affection, and you were sure you looked no different in his eyes.

“Your glasses are falling,” you admit. You reach for the frames, intending on pushing them back to the high of his nose.

Zayne pauses your wrist then, a warm mirth in his gaze. “These are in the way, are they not?” He guides your hand, allowing the glasses to depart from his face and settling it on his desk. 

With or without the specs, he truly was handsome—the kind of beauty modeled in Greek busts, from the contours of his cheeks to the sharp angle of his brow bone. You’d have to thank his parents the next time you see them.

He sneaks in a kiss, no longer obscured by the barrier and face perfectly pressed to yours. “My Doctor seems to be distracted,” he comments, taking in your wandering gaze. A cool hand graces the crowd of your head, patting softly. “What are you planning this time?”

His touches brought you out of your daydreaming, and you nod. Hands settling on the curves of his shoulders, you slide them upwards with a murmur of, “I should check your apical pulse again.”

Your eyes wander to the space behind him, a stethoscope only a grab away. With some effort, you spare a hand to reach for it, rising from the chair to a degree. 

Zayne noticeably stiffens at his newfound view—your chest in his face wasn’t something on his agenda for today. The breath in his throat hitches, recognizing your fragrance. Comforting and pleasant, a piece of home warmly enhanced by your skin.

By the time you successfully have the medical device in hand, you nearly drop it at the feeling of his nose digging into your chest. 

“Zayne? You’re—mmh?!” His hands find their way to your midsection, holding you still as he inhales deeply. You only hear him hum between muffled fabric, and your mind dizzies at the heatwave the mere sound sends to your core.

He pulls back with a soft sigh, the peach of his skin notably deepened to a soft rouge. Zayne guides you back to sit proper in his lap, reaching for the stethoscope in your surprised hand. Carefully, he places the ear tips into place for you and brushes your hair back in the process. Nonchalant, as if he didn’t spend the last waking moments happily buried in your chest.

“If you’re checking my pulse for me, I hope you’ve read the hospital’s code of conduct.” He drops his hands then, patiently awaiting your auscultation. In the reflection of his coy stare, you find that your own blush is faring far, far worse than his.

“Right, right. I did, trust me,” you say in confidence.

You, in fact, did no such thing. But memory of past appointments guides your hand over his heart, chest piece sliding around to count the beats. Not a single count was missed, all perfectly in place and accounted for.

Though, the only thing you could hear was your own heartbeat drumming. It didn’t help that his eyes were entirely focused on you, pointed with affection and observation alike.

“Well?” Zayne hums. “How does it sound?”

“You have a heart, and it’s beating alright.” Your conclusion was far from exemplary, but at least it was the truth.

“That’s a relief,” he laughs quietly. He gently removes the stethoscope, setting it aside. “Realistically, this isn’t how an auscultation works.”

“My methods are just special, that’s all.” You shrug, lightly patting the space that protects the aforementioned organ. “But you seem to be feeling better, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Mhm.” Zayne presses a kiss to your nose, and offers his gratitude. “Thank you, Doctor. I don’t know what I would do without your care.”

[miguelhugger2099]

OMG imagine the one bed trope w miguel. like idk why itd happen, maybe like they’re scoping out an anomaly in another universe and somehow the portal back gets blocked and they gotta stay the night at a hotel, but miguel and reader are stuck in the same bed (she SWEARS she booked two beds but oops! all the rooms are filled up!) and like oh no they need this hotel!! so at first they’re really rigid and like miguel’s all tense, he’s like “i’ll sleep on the floor” but reader is like “no it’s okay we can share! i don’t move a lot in my sleep anyway” (that’s a lie btw.) so then like miguel’s wide awake in the middle of the night, and reader keeps shifting in her sleep, and they end up in a pretty compromising position if ykwim… and then maybe she wakes up and finds miguel like so flustered and starts teasing him a bit and then things heat up ofc… idk just a thought! it’s been so long since i’ve seen the one bed trope tbh. (fem reader btw plssss)

Forced Proximity

i tried with my best with this 🫠 i wanted to try something new instead of regular p in v i hope that's okay 😭 thank u for requesting! if anything, i'd be happy to redo this when my requests open again

Miguel x Reader, Suggestive/Smut, Word Count: 2,271

Just as you and Miguel were about to shoot your webs at the new anomaly, a black bubbly portal opened up and sucked them up into another dimension. “Dammit!” You cursed, groaning at the convenience of an anomaly escaping. Miguel is already beside you, mask eyes squinted in focus as he clicks buttons on his watch. “Where’d he run off to?” You ask him. “No clue. Trying to track him now but the touchpad isn’t responding.” He grunts and furiously taps his screen but it seems to be glitching. He tries to open a portal back to HQ but it only warbles a little bit before shutting close again. “Let me try.” You lift up your watch to try and press the same coordinates when it responds the same way: a little warping but it shuts close. “Lyla,” Miguel calls out and she pops up between you two. “Run an analysis on our watches.” Her small heart glasses fog up with various numbers and letters, codes that only she knows. “Looks like the watches are bugged, Mig. Probably an effect the anomaly had.” “So we’re stranded?” You rip off your mask and place a hand on your hip. “Yup!” She nods. “For how long?” Miguel pinches his nose bridge with his finger and thumb.

“Well, most part-time spiders are off doing other missions in other dimensions and the other half of them have the day off. No one will be available until morning.” “So, we’re staying the night.” You lift your arms up and slap them down. “I’m finding a hotel.” You turn and look around for any around you two. Miguel sighs and faces Lyla. “Is there another way home? Are we safe from the glitching?” Lyla nods, pulling up frames and data for him to look at. “Safe from glitching. Probably just a program issue. Maybe an update issue. Unfortunately, not even Margo is at HQ so your next bet is waiting for a spider to portal you two back.” She explains and glitches out of the air. He tries to find a new solution but comes up short, deciding to just accept it before he grows angry. Miguel hears you calling his name as you run back to where Lyla and him were standing. “Okay, I found a hotel! I talked to this lady up front–luckily the currency is the same as yours–and we got extra lucky,” You huffed with a wide smile on your face. “They’re pretty busy but she managed to get us a room with two beds and two bathrooms. Left her a tip, hope you don’t mind.” You placed your hands on your hips and continued to grin at the frown on his lips.

Miguel rolled his eyes and called for Lyla, her little form glitching back and perching on his shoulder. “Lyla, get back to base. Let the others know we’ve been stranded and call for backup whenever someone’s available.” Her vibrant yellow glare shifts as she moves, her hand coming up in a salute and a police hat glitching on her head. “You got it, boss! Have fun you two!” She giggles and phases out. Miguel passes by you coldly, heading for the hotel where you booked for the night. You yawn behind him, just wanting to rest after a wasted day of failing to catch an anomaly. You walked through the hallways of the hotel, checking down at your key for the number of your room. Once you found it, you slipped the keycard on the lock and opened the door. “Home sweet–” You cut yourself off after peeking into the room and what greeted you was a singular bed. “Wha–?!” You glanced back at the roomkey number and the plate outside, finding the two matching that this was indeed your room for the night. “I swear I asked for two–” “I’ll take the floor.” Miguel grumbles behind you, his entire frame stiff and rigid. You take a look up at him and his face is unamused and staring straight ahead to avoid your eye. “No, it’s–it’s fine,” You chuckle nervously and walk over to the bed. You pat the edge of it and try to convince yourself and Miguel that everything was fine. “There’s so much space. It’s like–what– a king size? We have plenty of room to share!” Miguel doesn’t seem convinced in the slightest, already making a move to grab a pillow. “I don’t even move that much in my sleep! Promise! Pinky promise.” You hold up your pinky to Miguel and he stops to stare at your hand with a deadpan expression. “Fine.” He grunts, placing the pillow back down and not wanting to deal with you any further since he was exhausted.

You, in fact, actually do move a lot in your sleep–Miguel figured out. He really was exhausted and expected himself to pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow but with you next to him, it was like the energy hadn’t left his body. He laid there straight as a pole with the blanket at his chest and staring at the ceiling. You were in dreamland, snoozing and sprawled on the mattress– blissfully unaware of Miguel’s misery by the situation at hand. You shifted around in your sleep, your hand hitting his shoulder or your leg bumping against his ankle. Miguel could handle it. He’s spent many uncomfortable all-nighters so he thought to himself that one more wouldn’t be too damaging for him. It wasn’t until you moved further to his side of the bed that had Miguel’s heart racing. You turned to his side, throwing your leg over his and your arm draped around his neck to bring him closer to you. His arm instinctively went under your body and held your waist while you pressed yourself against him, so as to not make the position uncomfortable for either of you. Miguel’s cheeks burned while you nuzzled to his chest, acting like he was some sort of teddy bear. He hoped his heartbeat wouldn’t wake you from your slumber. Your thighs were close together and any closer you’d start accidentally grinding on him. Miguel looked back up at the ceiling and prayed that you’d move soon.

His prayers were not answered. You woke up after feeling a bit too much heat and it became unbearable to sleep through. You blinked away the sleep groggily, wondering why the pillow you had been on had gotten a little more firm. You lifted your head to see you weren’t on your pillow but basically cuddling up against your boss. You looked down to see your legs intertwined together and turned your head to apologize when you stopped seeing Miguel’s cheeks flush red. His eyes did not meet yours but you felt the pounding of his heart. A smile curled up on your lips, apology wiped off your mind and instead leaning into wanting to taunt him for how shy he’s acting. “Miguel,” You tease with a bit of laughter. “Aw, c’mon. A little accidental cuddle gets you nervous?” Miguel glares at you from the corner of his eye. As you laugh, you continue moving against him. You don’t notice how he takes a sharp inhale when your knee brushes against his crotch as you lift yourself up. Your hands rest on either side of his head. “Did you even sleep? Or did you just stay up all night like some perv?” You snort, having the time of your life seeing your usually sulking boss look so cute with red scattered across his cheeks. Miguel squeezes your waist then uses both his hands to grab you and force you down on his thigh. You gasp in shock, all playfulness leaving your body as your core hits his firm muscle. The action ignites a spark in your chest that sends it straight between your legs, making you whimper, all in a split second.

You snap your head towards him, cheeks already burning and mouth dropped open in shock. Miguel meets it with a cheshire like grin, his own blush on his cheeks but less now that you’re  more flustered than him. “Careful,” He says. “Wouldn’t want to be some sort of perv, huh?” You could’ve sworn his voice dropped down an octave. You stutter, unable to respond back as he rendered you speechless. His thigh flexed and it sent a jolt up your spine with your cunt throbbing which he felt. Maybe it was him being tired, drained from the day that he was acting out of character. Too tired to care about the consequences while his mind clouded and numbed his usual feelings. For now, he enjoyed the way your hands gripped onto his shoulders, cute eyes wide open and feeling the delicious beat of your pussy on his thigh. He rubs your hips on his thigh, his muscle flexing to put some stimulation to your pussy. You squeak and lean forward as the pleasure runs through your body and makes you grow hot. “Miguel…!” You gasp and moan. You automatically grind yourself on him and his grin widens, leaning back to see the show. Miguel feels your wetness seep through the thin fabric of your suit and panties onto his own suit. He phases just a small part of his thigh out his suit to feel just how wet you’ve gotten with a little teasing. “Already?” He murmurs and your cheeks burn brightly. “You like this, huh?” “Fuck…” You huff out, hanging your head to not meet his gaze. Your nails dig into his shoulder as he moves your hips. “C’mon. Show me how much you like this.” You know he was only doing this to get back at you for teasing him, for booking a one bed instead of two and with how his patience had run out from being stranded here, you decided not to test that anger anymore.

So you slowly moved up and down his thigh with a soft whimper, shutting your eyes close while you did so. Your breathing grew heavy, and you shook with every slight movement on his end. Slowly, you picked up speed, the lust flooding your mind and the pace you were going at hadn’t been enough. You humped his thigh faster, still opting out of looking down at him. “Shit…Not enough…” You murmured under your breath, not thinking he’d heard you over the accumulating wet sounds on his skin and shuffling of bed sheets. “Let me help.” You hear him say and feel his hand by the zipper of your suit at the nape of your neck. Weak from your pleasure, you let him tug your suit off your torso. Miguel tapped your thighs as a signal to lift yourself up while he slipped the rest of it off you. You were now bare in front of him, his hands placed back at your hips. You still felt embarrassed, trying to cover up your chest with your arms and hands. Miguel wasn’t having it, growing annoyed at you covering yourself. He cupped the back of your neck and pulled you flushed down on his chest. “Keep going.” He growled. The rumble of his voice went straight to your cunt once more, succumbing to him as you began grinding yourself on him, skin to skin. Your folds smeared your juices on his thighs coating him in your wetness. The swollen nub of your clit rolled deliciously between you and his thigh and you panted softly as you tried chasing you high.

“There you go. That’s it.” Miguel murmured, bucking his thigh to your pussy to the same pace of your humping. He held your hip with one hand to help you and his other hand raked up and down your back, his talons scratching your flesh. “You’re doing so good. Good girl riding my thigh, yeah?” He purred which made you groan and buck your hips faster. “Miguel…” You breathed out. “More, more.” You pleaded. His talons pricked your skin. “Cum on my thigh first and maybe I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

Peter B. met you two once the portal fully opened up in your stranded dimension. He greeted you with a smile, Mayday babbling in her carrier. “Hey! Glad you guys survived the night. Took a minute to get you guys. Sorry about that.” He playfully punched Miguel’s and your shoulder. You beamed at him and held Mayday’s little hand, wiggling it around softly enough to make her giggle. “Hope it wasn’t agonizing.” Peter chuckles to you. You chuckle back and step away from Mayday, giving the two a smile. “Not at all. He’s surprisingly good company.” Miguel doesn’t react behind you. “Oh, yeah? Must be going soft. Big guy isn’t just pleasant for anybody.” Peter says. “Funny how things work out.” You grin and turn around to peck Miguel’s cheek and walk towards the portal. “I’ll see you guys later?” You give a wink and slip into the portal, your body phasing out and leaving the two men behind. Peter gapes at the warping space where you had just left and slowly turns to Miguel to see his friend, very much stiff but his face has a slight tint to it. “Did something happen–” Miguel shoves his face aside and phases his mask over his head to hide his cheeks. “Cállate.” He mutters and enters into the portal towards his dimension.

Peter gets snapped out of his stupor by Mayday babbling and waving her arms around as if cheering Miguel and you on. Peter looks down at her and grabs her little hand in his. “He’s growin’ up, huh?” Mayday squeals.

[linkemon]

Confession headcanons

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.

Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other headcanons from this series can be found here.

Part 2 | Part 3 of the confession headcanons.

This part contains: Malleus Draconia, Idia Shroud and Kalim Al-Asim.

Malleus Draconia

• Malleus' confession of feelings involved a number of obstacles and misunderstandings, although happily resolved.

• He wrote about you many times in letters to his grandmother. And although it made him realize the fragility of relationships with humans, grandma was also very happy knowing that her grandson had experienced such deep love. She really wanted to meet you, even though you didn't know it at the time.

• Draconia's biggest fear and block from telling you how he felt was the fear of loss. In various aspects of it. He was aware that he would certainly outlive you, and from time to time the thought of you returning to the world you came from floated in the back of his mind. In addition, you were his first real friend, not counting the people who were with him every day. Rejection could cost him the entire relationship.

One most ordinary night, he simply realized that the risk was worth trying to tell you how he felt.

• Malleus sprang into action with eager vigour. Unfortunately, these efforts were somewhat misdirected. It took Lilia to clearly explain to him that the customs adopted among fae do not necessarily translate to humans. He was forced to do this, as it were, because after you threw away his family generational necklace, the clouds over Diasomnia were darkening day by day and a disastrous downpour with lightning was brewing.

Meanwhile, you were simply afraid that Grim would destroy such a valuable and expensive gift. You had absolutely no idea of the additional meaning it carried.

• The second attempt was definitely more successful. Malleus gave you the rose seeds he grew in Briar Valley. Planted in Ramshackle, with his magic they turned into a field of red flowers. Combined with the moonlight and the fireflies dancing around you, it created a wonderful atmosphere that you will remember for a long time.

It was then that the fae confessed to you that he had been smitten with you from the very beginning but it was your friendship, so precious to him, that turned into something more. The fact that he knelt down in front of you and promised to give you everything you wanted made you think for a moment that he was going to propose to you. Initially, that's what he planned, but Lilia talked him out of it...

Idia Shroud

• It's not that Idia didn't know what love was. He had played so many otome games that while he wasn't an expert, he certainly wasn't a noob. However, without Ortho's help, he would not have correctly recognized its signs in real life.

• He started by avoiding you. The rapid heartbeat and red tips of his hair were becoming more and more frequent and it was difficult for him to control them. So he found the best solution he could come up with, which was to lock himself in his room. He avoided you as much as he could all over campus.

• His brother, although he quickly understood through data analysis what was happening to him, did not think it was good to raise the topic too early. Initially, he wanted to give Idia time. Time was clearly running out because the robot, seeing you once again look sadly at the tablet and gave it a wide berth, decided to act. He prepared a series of tests to convince your older brother that you reciprocate his feelings. Of course, Shroud hid under the blanket, mumbled to be left alone. Although he pretended to be uninterested, the speech actually sparked hope in him.

Maybe this time he wasn't a total knight nerd and side hero? Maybe he could play the lead role for once?

• He did what he does best. He designed a program that allowed him to send a request if you wanted to be his girlfriend. At worst, he was going to pretend it was a mistake.

When he saw that instead of checking the tick box, you had come to Ignihyde, he immediately paled. You had to knock on the door, telling him that you wouldn't leave until he explained to you what was actually going on and how this confession related to his constant avoidance of you.

Idia just stuck his head out of the crack, stammered and said that he was like the worst NPC you've ever seen but if you let him have some time, maybe he'll become a main character worthy of you.

Kalim Al-Asim

• Friendzone should be his middle name. From the beginning of your relationship, he sent you signals that you considered romantic. Until you started spending more time with him around others and you found out that Kalim treated them the same way he treated you. That's when everything started to get confusing for you.

• When you tried to tell him that you liked him very much, he replied that he liked you too. When you said more, he said more, more. And when you said he was more than a friend, he said you were his best friend. He did all this with such a wide smile on his face that you didn't have the heart to explain to him the true meaning of your statements. You knew the sincerity of his words. Few people in the NRC matched him in truthfulness. But it was incredibly frustrating for you.

• Grim knew exactly what was happening, seeing your hearty eyes every time you left the desert dormitory. He calculated in his head how many cans of tuna he would get if you got together with the prefect of Scarabia. This prompted him to not-so-subtly blurt out to Kalim that you were romantically interested in him. In return, he received a promise of a container of fish delicacies.

• The boy was in great shock but in a positive way. He didn't know what to do with all his joy, so he grabbed the first flowers in a vase he had at hand and ran towards the flying carpet. You weren't expecting him at all in the evening, dressed in your pajamas and ready to go to bed. He hugged you so tightly that he almost knocked you over and that was before he even remembered that he hadn't told you why he actually came...

[zeebee3]

Dramione Month Day 6: Legilimens

Draco/Hermione

NSFW

Continuation of Day 5.

---

She broke the kiss a moment later.

“You really want this? It’s not just because I’m here and you’re—”

He cut her off with another slanting kiss, putting as much into it as he could. When he drew back, she was panting. 

“I’m only here and hard because of you,” he murmured. “Or did you think I needed a refresher on Interrogative and Defensive Mind Magicks?”

She blinked up at him. “Well…they’re very useful…it’s always good to hone skills.”

“I’m a natural Occlumens,” he reminded her. “And the skill transfers the other way, too.”

Her hands slid from his shoulders down to rest over his chest. Little hands, but strong. His heart pounded below her palms.

“So then…why did you come along?”

“You asked me if I’d be willing to attend the conference. I am.”

It was clear the answer surprised her, but then she huffed an incredulous laugh. 

“You came all the way to Zürich for a conference on a subject you’re naturally adept in just to, what, placate me?”

He shrugged a casual shoulder. “It’s quite a nice city. Incredible architecture. Amazing views.”

He dared to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, fully unobstructing his currently perfect view. When she huffed again, he couldn’t hold his smirk, gazing down at her with open affection. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she accused lightly. “Had you never considered just telling me how you felt?”

Countless times. A nearly unending thread of conversation in his head, scenarios built and summarily dismantled when reality tapped politely against his skull. The concept of confession was not new to him, but it still felt unfamiliar.

“All the time,” he murmured.

When she wet her bottom lip, he wondered if she could taste him still.  

“I’m sorry but I’m finding it a bit hard to believe that. You’ve always been so aloof. I’m a very perceptive person but until tonight, I had no idea you thought of me as anything but a mildly irksome colleague.”

“Mildly? You drive me mad.”

“So you’ve said. But you’ve never once…you’re always so reserved.”

Restrained, he wanted to correct, but she was close enough. 

“I have been, yes.”

The validation settled her slightly, shoulders dropping down. Total relaxation would be even better, so he inhaled deeply and offered himself up.

“I have all the data to back up my claim right here, if you’d like to practice honing your skills?”

“What, you mean…?” Her eyes flicked to his forehead, then back. “Really?”

Blame it on the lingering delirium of her kiss, or the pounding of his heart, or the unrelenting interest straining toward her, but in that moment, inviting her into his head seemed like the most logical solution to a very easy-to-solve problem. Let her see what he felt for her, and then she’d know and he could do something about it.

“Mmhmm.” He stroked the hinge of her jaw with his thumb, then let his fingers slide down the side of her neck to rest on her shoulder. “Get your wand. Have a look.”

It was, evidently, an easy choice for her, too. 

He’d been at the end of her wand tip before, many times, but in this instance, his only concern was for her. What would she think once she knew? He braced himself. 

“Legilimens,” she incanted, eyes locked on his, and then she was inside his head, and he let her see. 

Her striking amber eyes were first, as they always were, featured in flashes of memories: seeing them deep and thoughtful, sparkling with delight, narrowed in annoyance. 

And then her lips — he did his best to skate through those thoughts as quickly as her Legilimency allowed, pulling forward specific examples instead of his increasingly depraved ramblings. 

Across the refectory, sipping tea then shooting him a bemused smile over the rim. Leading a debriefing, commanding the room easily. Hunched over her desk, wand in her curls, exhausted but breathtaking. And all the associated feelings those moment had elicited in him: butterflies, hot arousal, yearning. 

And then he offered her specifics. A glimpse down her blouse, and the fantasies it had fueled for weeks, a rush of images that had never existed but were so clear, so often imagined, that they may as well have. 

And then a very real memory, offered to her as final proof for everything he’d claimed: a view down his abdomen, watching as he pinned the toy to the mattress, thick cock burying into it over and over as his thumb rubbed lazily, soothingly at the silicone clit. Whispered words, low and agonized, heralding the end. “What a good fucking girl, Hermione.”

She left his mind with a shudder. 

He was leaking all over himself, pants damp with his want after having re-lived so many moments he usually parceled out, but his attention was riveted on her. 

“See,” he managed, voice rough. “All the time.”

“I’m…” Her eyes were slightly glazed, cheeks flushed. “Overwhelmed. Oh gods. That’s…so much.”

He grimaced. “I tried to stem some of the images but you kept—”

She barked a laugh, tight and wild. “You, Malfoy. It can’t be—oh gods there’s no way—”

Desire shot through him, mixing potently with pride and affection. Holding her eye, he gently, carefully, gripped her wrist and slid her hand from his chest down his abdomen, stopping the buckle of his belt. 

“Go ahead. Find out.”

A small rotation within his hold, and then her palm was cupping him, eyes widening as she mapped him. 

“Oh…Godric.” Lips parted, eyes dropping — he preened. “Fuck, you’re…”

She found the tip and squeezed it lightly, seeing the pleasure in his face, then stroked him all the way up to the base. He had to bite his lip to stem the pathetic noise burning in his throat at her confident touch. 

“Can I see you?” she asked, the question tinged with wonderment. 

“Fuck. Absolutely.” He went to undo his belt but she got there first, batting his hands away and working the leather through the silver buckle. 

Her eyes only broke from his when the zipper snagged at the bulge, looking down to work over the obstacle begging to be set free. As soon as his fly was undone, she pulled at the waistband of his black briefs and dipped her hand inside. He sucked in a breath when her knuckles skimmed his pelvis and then hissed it out when she found his cock. 

“Oh…” The word faded as her lips parted, eyes rounding, and then she was tugging at the waistband, baring him to the room. “...fuck.”

It was silly to be proud of something he’d had no role in obtaining, but the feeling surged in his chest all the same. 

“You can touch,” he whispered, “if you like.”

She didn’t hesitate, her hand smoothing up his length in a single, devastating glide that made his next blink labored and sluggish. The number of times he’d imagined this very act–

The little crease between her brows was back, hinting at a busy mind. He wanted so desperately to know what she was thinking, except that she was still stroking his cock, and he’d been hard for her for years, and coping with the situation was getting dicey, let alone unpacking it in real-time. 

Maybe she’d get him off and then he’d be able to think fully; he’d make it up to her twenty times over. Or maybe he should pull her hand off and make it up to her first. Yes. That was the better route.

He was about to do just that when she squeezed until her middle finger and thumb touched, eyes flicking up to his when he grunted at the constriction. Oh…fucking hell. 

“This is…” She let go of him to grip her wrist, and a little sound of despair escaped when her fingers touched easily. “Jesus fuck, Draco.”

He wanted her hand back on him; was nearly dizzy with want and from standing for so long on only two of his available legs. 

“I told you. I don’t fit the standard size.”

“No, you most certainly do not.” She reached for him again, squeezing then stroking. “Right. Get on the bed. Straightaway.”

While her enthusiasm was intensely gratifying, he caught her elbow and pulled her to him. “Kiss me again?”

“I’m going to kiss you lots,” she assured him, but went up to press her lips to his obligingly. He leaned into it, turning it long and languid, savoring her. 

“I’m about to be nearly incoherent,” he explained softly, pecking another compulsive kiss to her lips. “Wanted one more to remember.”

She scoffed, amused and pleased. “Ridiculous man.”

“Want back inside my head?” he offered dryly. “I’m pathetically into you. There’s a massive chance this is going to kill me.”

She hummed a warm, alluring sound, and finally succeeded in tugging him to the bed, letting go to climb up and settle onto her back. “It certainly seems so. Trousers off; shirt too.”

From her place on the bed, she watched as he hurriedly undressed, tossing his shirt to the side and then kicking off his trousers, leaving everything in a rumpled mess. When she sat up to pull her own shirt off, he had to wrap his fingers at his base. 

“You should be on top,” he said, trying to keep a level head as she revealed dusky nipples, the well of her navel, a tidy strip of curls. “You’ll…uh, you’ll have more control over the depth and pace.”

She shook her head obstinately, tossing her knickers aside and then bringing her knees up, feet wide. “I don’t want the control — I want to feel you on top of me, breaking me open.”

He had to squeeze his eyes shut against the double-punch of her words and body. “Don’t—Merlin fucking hell, Granger. Fuck.”

“I trust you,” she promised. “You showed me what you want. And I want you to have it. If you don’t believe me, then come have a look for yourself.”

It wasn't an idle invitation, he knew, and so he took it, needing to be sure. A wand wasn’t necessary for him; neither was opening his eyes or his mouth. He just felt for her behind his lids and whispered the word to himself, slow and curling. Legilimens.

She’d been ready for him; had the image front and center for his consumption. He devoured it. 

A view down her abdomen, muscles tensing, legs wide, the toy in her hand glistening with every retreat, every thrust forward met with a burst of pleasure. Thick. Almost as thick as her wrist. 

”It’ll fit,” she whispered, in his mind and out loud. “See? I’m so good at taking it.”

The reality of his present circumstances hit a moment later. He was inside her mind; she’d let him in and wanted him to know—

He was on the bed a moment later, crawling over her, pushing her thighs wider to fit himself between them, scrambling to get out of her mind before he fully lost control. He had just enough coherence left to look down, wanting to memorize the sight of himself resting over her pelvis, when she instantly foiled any plans at retention by dropping a hand and pressing his length solidly against her. He felt the soft heat of her belly, the raw need conveyed in her touch, and groaned, oozing precum into her navel.

“Gods,” he whined, hips jerking forward involuntarily. “Please, can I–?”

She encircled him, pushing him lower. “Absolutely, yes.” 

He took over, as she’d requested, but despite the memory she’d shown him, knew she needed preparation. Lips pressed to her throat, and then her collarbones as he supported himself on a forearm beside her head and sank a finger deep. She rocked up against his wrist, keening again, and grabbed for him, fingers raking into his hair. 

One was easy, two were snug, three were a stretch. 

He panted against her breast then withdrew his fingers to work them over her clit, licking his way up to her mouth, muffling her moans. 

She nipped at his lip, sucked it, then broke off to pant, “Inside.”

It was overwhelming. To stroke himself and feel her arousal coat him; to push against the source of it and be slowly welcomed in. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his back as he eased himself inside, the way made easier once she’d taken the broad head. 

Her breath left her in a gasp as he reached under her lower back to lift, adjusting the angle until he could sink in to the hilt. It was better than even his most careful fantasies, the ones that he sat with for days, stitching together until it felt real enough that when he fucked his toy, it truly felt like her.

It hadn’t though – not even close. Where the silicone gave way, she hugged. Where it dried, she was soaked and getting wetter. And when he reached between them to thumb at her clit, she stuttered out his name.

It was the response to his call that he’d yearned for; he kissed it off her tongue, then called it forth again and again until her nails were biting into his skin and the end was reaching for him with two, tight fists. 

“You feel–” There weren't any words. “You’re so–Is this–?”

“So good,” she panted. “Gods, you feel so much better.”

He didn’t need to ask than what, not when his own toy would now be relegated to second place; to the bin. But despite all his fervent practice with it, it seemed the toy had been insufficient stamina training when he was inundated with her. The barrage of sensation – her scent, her touch, her sounds, her pleasure – was breaking him down until he was careening to the edge, doing whatever he could to pull her over with him. 

“Is it enough?” He worked his thumb over her clit, palm warm and heavy above where he could feel – fuck – feel himself thrusting inside. “What can I do?”

“Just don’t stop,” she moaned.

Well. Then he was about to fail her. 

If only he could get his tongue between her legs without needing to move–

He dropped his forehead to hers and offered her a thought, rich in detail, saturated with desire: the slow, steady suction of a mouth, the wet curl of a tongue strumming; relentless, endless pressure.

“Draco,” she whined. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

Her body closed down around him, arms and legs and inner walls until she was shaking and, blissfully, miraculously, coming. The constriction was like nothing he’d ever felt, the pulses strong and coaxing until he was stammering out her name, orgasm wracking through him and into her, mind and body. 

When coherence slowly returned, he eased out of her mind but let his hips rest heavily against hers, luxuriating in the little aftershocks. Her arms were slack around his shoulders, mouth ajar against his, catching her breath.

“Holy shit,” she panted. “Jesus, that was–holy shit.”

“Should have asked,” he mumbled, giving her a lazy kiss before slipping sideways to nuzzle into the crook of her neck. “The mind thing. And the coming inside thing.”

“Both were…” She huffed a laugh, sliding an arm up his back to card through his hair. “Gods.”

“Good.” He exhaled, exhausted and the most sated of his life. “Good.”

“Better than good.” Her fingers swirled through his hair idly. “You ought to be up there leading the seminar.”

He huffed a laugh against her curls. “Ah, yes. How to Make a Witch Come with Thoughts. Lesson one: be pathetically desperate for her, and uninhibited with letting her see it.” He raised his head to slant a grin down at her. “Think it’d be well attended?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure.” Her responding smile was cheeky, the edge of her lip caught in her teeth. “Should I practice the first lesson, and you can give me pointers?”

She kissed his cheek then encouraged him over onto his back, following him over to sit over his hips. “Okay, Draco. Lesson one. Ready?” 

Mouth dry, he nodded. Her eyes were fond as they held his, the amber as warm and inviting as her soft word.

“Legilimens.”

(fin)

[3xen]

Hey

Ive been seeing youre writing hc’s about mlbb characters can i please request an alpha one please because i need some hcs about that boy😩

boyfriend hcs; alpha

n. ah hi guys! i hope u enjoy :3

c. fluff

boyfriend!alpha keeps a separate hard drive in his system that is solely dedicated to you. it’s the largest unit in his system. the content and data he collects ranges from photos, videos, personal information, and details about you that are as small as if you like your grapes seedless or not.

boyfriend!alpha refuses to reboot or upgrade his system. octavius is muddled that his cyborg that he built from top to bottom utterly declines a new system that is more compatible than the last. alpha has a rational fear of losing his data. he deems it very valuable and if he ever were to lose his memories with you, there would be no point, will there? the only solution to this problem is that octavius outputs all his data into a usb and transfers it to his new system. alpha is grateful.

boyfriend!alpha will drop everything and anything if he gets the impression that you are in danger. oh yeah, he’s fighting crime right now but there’s a spider on your bathroom wall? he surrenders to defeat and gets to you as soon as he can. he’ll never make you wait if he doesn’t have to.

boyfriend!alpha doesn’t let being a cyborg be an excuse. human emotions or not, he performs just as well as any human does. he’ll find ways to show he loves you. his love language is surely acts of service. he buys you your favorite flowers, candy, and writes you sensual love letters. he really does try his best.

boyfriend!alpha breaks the rules. the laboratory does have some strict rules, but does alpha follow them? no. does he have to break them? no. the laboratory provides rooms for the doctors and nurses. in the dead of night, your getting a soft knock at your door; one part of you is sacred and the other is questioning who could this be. it’s almost midnight.. you can’t be out of your quarters between 10 pm and 7 am. it’s alpha, obviously. “goodness, let me know next time you’ll be sneaking out past working hours.”

boyfriend!alpha only allows two people to work on him for better upgrades. octavius and you. he knows you insanely well and he knows you do your job well. he will never ever question your abilities. “i think that screw was meant to go here.” “are you serious right now?”

boyfriend!alpha is husband material. alpha does corny and sappy things with you. he sees everything on the web of course. that is his source! he knows you may not like it as much as he does and that’s why he’s such a great boyfriend! he puts you first in any situation and gives you extreme princess treatment. his love is undying and i don’t think he’s ever looking at another woman again.

© 3xen

[writing-until-i-drop]

What's In A Name? Chapter Seven

Meg Harding and Kate Carter were inseparable until their friends died five ago, then she ran to New Orleans to save lives as a paramedic. But when Javi calls on his two oldest friends to help him collect data, counting on their matching natural instincts for tornadoes, Meg goes home for the first time in years. That's where she meets Tyler and the rest of the Wranglers, the YouTube storm chasers her dad likes to watch, and finds herself fitting in more with them than with Storm PAR. Meg only plans to stay for the week but will it be easy to leave when the dust settles?

If a certain cowboy has a say in it, nothing about leaving is going to be easy.

A/N: Time to get back to taming tornadoes

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

Meg woke with the sun, giving Tyler a kiss on the cheek as she snuck out of bed, sliding her pillow between his arms. She poked her head in Kate’s bedroom only to find it empty, could she have been in the barn? Meg rushed down the stairs and out the front door, ignoring the rain, and Cathy shouting after her, a glimmer of hope in her chest. Kate was sitting at the desk, flipping through her old research, wearing the same clothes from the night before. She looked up, grinning from ear to ear and Meg felt herself getting excited, smiling back.

“Are we back?” Meg wasn’t sure what she would do if Kate said no, she needed her best friend back, her other half, her matching shade. She wanted them to be on the same page just like they used to be. 

“We’re back, Mud Bug.” Meg shouted in excitement, jumping in the air. “Think Tyler can get me a new model up and running?” 

“You bet your ass, baby.” Kate hugged her tight, spinning them both around, their unbridled laughter filling the barn for the first time in a long time. “What changed your mind?” 

“You, my mom, Tyler,” Kate shook her head as they pulled apart, “He asked me how much more I was willing to let that tornado take from me and I realized I’d already let it take three of my friends, I wasn’t going to let it cost me another. Not you, not when I just got you back.” 

“You’ve always had me, Katie my Lady,” Meg hugged her again. “And we’re going to finish this together, for them.” 

“God, I’m so glad you’re doing this with me.” 

“Always,” Meg was grinning from ear to ear, matching the expression on Kate’s face. “Want to help me wake Tyler? Like we used to do with Jeb?” Kate snorted, 

“Definitely.”

The two girls strolled back towards the house, soaking themselves from head to toe. Cathy spotted them from the kitchen, smiling at their intertwined hands.

“I’ll cook breakfast, you’ll be needing it.” They thanked her, giggling as they trekked up the stairs. “But you’ll be cleaning up all that mud you’re tracking!” A small price to pay. When they got to the guest room, Tyler was still sound asleep, clutching the pillow, and with a mischievous glance, the girls threw themselves on top of him.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!” 

“Huh? What?” Tyler struggled beneath their combined weight, blinking up at them. They were wearing matching grins, their drenched clothes soaking him and the sheets in seconds.

“We’re gonna do it, baby,” Meg wheezed happily, Kate wriggling on top of her.

“Do what?” Tyler asked, his voice raspy from sleep.

“Tame a tornado!” Kate cheered, beating excitedly on Meg’s back. “Get up, come on,” Meg and Kate scrambled off of him, heading straight out of the bedroom, Tyler calling after them. 

By the time Tyler got to the barn with his laptop, Kate had all of her data laid out on a workbench and Meg was up in the loft, using the pulley system Jeb had helped her install to lower barrels of solution to the ground. 

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Meg called out, tearing up her hands as she slowly lowered one of the heavy, yellow  barrels. “Kate, babe, you know where I left my gloves?” 

“Tyler, can you toss her the red gloves on that desk over there?” Kate pointed towards Parveen’s desk, which had been uncovered sometime in the night.

“Yes, ma’am. So, we’re doing this?” 

“We’re doing this,” Kate and Meg responded together, making him smile. He grabbed the gloves and climbed up the ladder to the loft, passing them over to Meg.

“You gotta stop sneaking out of bed in the morning, baby,” She rolled her eyes, giving him a peck on the lips.

“I’ll write it in my vows,” Tyler was staring up at her like a man in love, smiling softly with expressive eyes. She kissed him again, cupping the back of his head. Tyler’s lips were soft and warm against hers, his tongue slid across her bottom lip but she pulled back. “You know, I’m gonna find you gettin’ Kate that new model pretty sexy.” 

“Yeah?” He grinned, 

“Yeah.” Tyler bit his bottom lip, looking more handsome than Meg thought he had a right to, watching her turn back to the barrels before sliding down the ladder and joining Kate at the workbench. Meg took a minute, watching two of the most important people in her life, standing side-by-side, huddled close over a laptop. 

Meg wanted to get used to this, being back in the barn, watching Kate be smart, the excitement of an upcoming chase brewing in her chest. She could see it now, Lily working on Cairo at Parveen’s old workbench, Dani fixing up Tyler’s truck in the middle of the barn, Boone editing videos at Jeb’s desk, Dexter working on the scientific instruments in Addy’s corner, while she checked over her supplies. It would be like old times but different in the best kind of way.

Cathy made them break for breakfast at some point, preening like a proud mother hen that they were getting back to Kate and Parveen’s research project. Afterwards, Meg took the time to mop her and Kate’s muddy footprints from the floor before rejoining the duo in the barn. Only to be turned around by her shoulders by Kate and pushed back towards the house,

“Time to get dressed, Mud Bug.” 

“We goin’?” 

“We’re going,” Kate confirmed, “You ready for this?” She held out her hand,

“Born ready, babe,” And for the first time in years they did their secret handshake. “But I’m gonna need to borrow some clothes.” 

Dressed in Kate’s jeans and a Sooner jersey tied off at the waist, Meg did a check of everything she had left in her medical kit after the tornado from a few nights before, making a mental note of everything she needed to restock on. Mostly bandaids, gauze, and alcohol wipes. 

“Did you mean that, what you said in the barn?” Tyler came up from behind, kissing Meg’s neck. She leaned back into his chest, reaching up to cup the back of his neck, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“About bein’ ready to chase today?” Her squeezed her hip and it dawned on her what he was talking about. “About needing my gloves to move those barrels?” Her palms really were torn up but she had taken a few minutes to bandage them up.

“Are you always going to be like this?” Tyler kissed her neck again, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Obstinate? A pain in the ass? Teasin’?” His teeth grazed over her pulse point, stealing some of her desire to go chasing instead of staying in Cathy’s spare bedroom all day. “You askin’ me about what I’m gonna write in my vows, Arkansas?” Tyler hummed, covering her neck in kisses. “We’ve gotta go, Ty.” 

“You gonna answer my question?” Meg turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, taking in the moment. Tyler was too handsome, standing there in an orange flannel shirt, wearing a backwards baseball cap, staring down at her with those big green eyes of his. “I know it’s only been a few days, darlin’, but…” He trailed off, eyes squeezing shut. “I feel like-” He exhaled sharply. “I’m not good with words, baby.”

“You’re doin’ fine, Ty.” She brought him down into a kiss, “I’ll be writin’ it in my vows, hell, I could write them tonight, but,” He caught her lips in another, needy kiss. “Let’s give it a little bit more time before we call the preacher though.” Tyler kissed her until she was dying for air, her mind consumed by thoughts of him. 

What would happen when she went back to New Orleans? Her heart hurt at the thought but she couldn’t just abandon the life she had built there to what, see if when the adrenaline faded they were still infatuated with each other? It wasn’t practical, it wasn’t responsible, but a part of her wanted it more than anything in the world. 

“Let’s go tame a storm, baby,” Meg pulled away first, Tyler not releasing his hold on her waist. His eyes went wide, cheeks flushing dark red, “What?”

“You’ve got a really delicate neck, darlin’.” Meg groaned, knowing exactly what had happened.

“I bruise like a peach,” Cathy was going to have a field day when they got downstairs. “Let’s go.” 

Downstairs, Cathy sent Kate to the truck with a bag of sandwiches and Tyler with a cooler, pulling Meg into the kitchen for a quick word. 

“Is it time for me to call Rabbit and declare myself a winner?” She gently touched Meg’s neck, inspecting what she was sure was only a small hickey. Meg batted away her hands,

“No, there are no winners yet.” Cathy perked up,

“Yet?” Meg rolled her eyes, hurrying towards the front door. “Yet?” Cathy called out after her, throwing her hands up in exaggerated frustration as Meg basically threw herself in the backseat, telling Tyler to step on it. 

Kate could not sit still, she was far too curious about everything in Tyler’s truck to not look around like a kid in a candy store. She was fully slipped out of her seat belt, dangling over the center console, digging through everything on the floorboards.

“What are you two getting into?” Tyler asked, focused on driving but getting increasingly more distracted. Meg’s hand touched something that crinkled beneath the driver’s seat and hollered in excitement when she pulled it out.

“Cheese Doodles, hell yeah!” She tossed one back, it was only mildly stale. “Ooh, Sour Patch Kids.” 

“Stop it,” Tyler admonished, Kate settled back in her seat but didn’t stop snooping.

“You have a lot of stuff in here.” She flipped down the visor,

“Yeah, that…that’s a mirror.” Tyler sounded so done with them as Meg continued to list off every snack she found tucked away in the back. Kate opened the glove box, signed photos of Tyler spilling out. Meg burst out laughing as Kate reacted in a mix of horror and embarrassment, quickly shoving it closed. “Have you ever been in a car before?” Kate’s embarrassment didn’t last long though as she started flipping switches Meg knew she shouldn’t be touching. Meg, instead of saying anything, just sat back and watched the show.

“You got a lot of gadgets.” 

“Don’t touch that, there’s guards there for a reason,” Tyler warned but Kate went about what was decidedly not her business, flipping each of the red safety guards.

“What do these do?” Meg laughed, watching Tyler try to stop Kate from setting off the rockets and then trying to keep his composure when she did. Kate, to her credit, immediately apologized and stopped messing around with things. 

“Alright,” He pointed at the weather map on the screen showing three storm cells, “What about these two little ones just west of Enid?” 

“Yeah, but this one to the east has the sky all to herself,” Kate pointed at the screen. Meg rolled her eyes, texting Lily about the whole fireworks thing.

“Yeah, I’m not falling for that one again.” Kate threw Meg a “can you believe him” look that had her giggling and Tyler sighed. “You serious?” 

“Tell you later.” 

“Baby, tell her not to be mean to me,” Tyler whined, reaching his hand back. She squeezed it, loving that he was keeping her included even though she was in the back seat.

“Katie my Lady, tell the man which direction to go.” 

“Don’t start taking his side,” Kate sassed with a laugh, pointing Tyler in the right direction.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Hey!” 

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I wonder, do you think set up wise, things may have gone better if there was a kwami swap from the start? As sometimes I do think so.

Plagg I think could've been a solid foil to Marinette and could cover what she needs growth wise, as she can pile too much on her plate, over involve herself, and I really can't think of too many times that she really puts herself first it's usually others more than her and sometimes I feel she needs to self prioritize. So I think having the lazier and more self prioritizing Plagg to work off of could've been a benefit. It's also bonus that they'd be a hilarious lead duo.

On paper there's merits to Plagg and Adrien, who does need to rebel against his father and Cat works off his want for more independence, but it just never went anywhere. And sometimes I feel Adrien should've gotten a kwami that's more direct and involved with him. Tikki I could see pushing Adrien to make changes in his life if he's unsatisfied with it, talk with his father and try to work things out, initiate with others, help others not just stand by and leave others to do something. Additionally, I do feel Adrien was looking for someone to fill the void his mom left, and with Tikki having moments of being affectionate and supportive (though more s1), I could see her fitting into that spot.

I think it also makes more sense if they had been mixed up given that Marinette and Tikki are initiators while Adrien and Plagg are reactors.

I know at the core we just needed better writing and the canon matches could work just fine, it's just given who the characters are and what I see they need growth wise, I kinda wonder if kwami swap would've been better. Especially now knowing that Fu didn't complete his training, it is possible he didn't make the best choices.

Okay, so, before I get into this, I want to note that I have nothing against kwami swap AUs! Every time I come across one, I give it a read because I like seeing what people do with the concept. HOWEVER, I have noticed that none of them even try to deal with the elephant in the room*. Namely that Adrien would be a terrible ladybug.

The ladybug power is all about creative thinking. More specifically, it's about high-stakes, in-the-moment, quality creative thinking. That is canonically not Adrien's strong suit. It's Marinette's. So while Marinette could probably wield the black cat without issue, I just don't see Adrien working out long term unless you rewrite major aspects of his personality and I don't want to see that. I think Adrien is fine as-is and works perfectly as Marinette's foil.

I think you can get away with giving him creative thinking skills that work when he's got lots of time to think about a problem - I often give him those and make him read like a scientifically minded guy who needs data and analysis to further contrast Marinette's in-the-moment thinking style - but making him able to be the ladybug would make him not Adrien in more ways than one.

The second way is that ladybug is a leadership role. Ladybug is the one who gets the lucky charm and comes up with a solution that needs to be enacted NOW, so it requires a take-charge attitude and a willingness to boss people around. That is not Adrien. Adrien is a natural follower and that's a good thing. Teams require members who are willing to follow the leader. If Adrien was more of a leader who constantly questioned Ladybug's choices and tried to present his own ideas mid-battle, then their team wouldn't work. Similarly, if you made Adrien the ladybug, then you'd have to make Marinette a follower to balance leader!Adrien and those are just not the characters that we know and love.

It's far simpler to make a few minor tweaks to Plagg and Tikki because, while I love them, their roles aren't super well defined. You can make Plagg more willing to give advice and Tikki more willing to give support and guidance without feeling like you've gone against core aspects of their characters because they already do those things. They just don't do them super well.

You can also bring in other characters to shore up these two's weaknesses. Mentor characters are generally supposed to give occasional advice, but let their mentees do most of the work, so it makes sense to dial back Plagg and Tikki to occasional advice givers and dial up Alya and Nino to more active teammates and friends. At least, that's what makes sense to me. I want the kwamis to be important, but not more important than the friends.

*When I say that nobody deals with the Adrien-having-to-think-like-Marinette-for-this-to-work problem, I mean that I've yet to see a fic or comic that actually showed a traditional akuma fight. They all skip those. The most you may see is a Lady Blanc or a Gabriel takedown or stuff like that. And if that's all you're doing? Then switch away! Adrien's only a bad ladybug when the fight requires him to think like a ladybug as we saw in Reflekdoll.

[stockholdingsposts]

Secure Document Management system by Stockholding DMS

[chuuyaspinkmotorcycle16]

Day 17: Nonverbal Communication

The first time it became apparent they needed a system of communication for only themselves, it was shortly after officially becoming Double Black. 

Dazai had gotten himself captured to gather intel and the plan was for Chuuya to save the day. 

Simple enough, right?

Unfortunately, no – not with Chuuya’s rash aggressiveness, according to Dazai, and not with Dazai’s inability to communicate, according to Chuuya. 

When the slug decides to raid the building /before/ Dazai has gotten his main piece of needed information, it’s a problem.

When the mackerel yells at Chuuya to stop attacking before he kills someone, it’s an issue.

And in the end, when they manipulate the situation enough to get the information out of a dying enemy, their victory is only met with glares at each other.

They knew they had to fix whatever their deal was – especially after Mori heard about their almost-failure – and enlisted the help of Kouyou and Hirotsu.

The best solution was torture to both of them: locked in a room with only themselves and a set of notecards with words and ideas they had to create hidden symbols for.

It took five hours before Dazai got over messing with Chuuya enough to actually do something. 

(Chuuya didn’t know it at the time, but Dazai teasing him for so long was the brunet actually testing the expanse of Chuuya’s expressions to find a pattern, and even then Chuuya was so unpredictable that Dazai had to abandon multiple hypotheses.)

Chuuya, for his part, had noticed small things in how Dazai moved about during his teasing, guard up as he tried to predict Dazai’s next action of torment.

Neither remembers how they figured out their signs, but it worked.

Soukoku’s success rate remained 100%, and the Port Mafia thrived.

Until one-half of Double Black left.

That was four years ago.

“Oi, Dazai!” Chuuya calls out. He locks eyes with the man across the room, the brunet wiping away the blood from his nose. Chuuya blinks once, tilting his hat back up as he jumps up and to the right, using gravity to lighten himself.

He kicks the hitman in the head, knocking him out. Behind him, Chuuya hears the bang of Dazai’s gun going off, likely pointed at the other hitman who’d been aiming at Chuuya.

They’re on a mission, a routine wipeout of an organization that’s been threatening both the ADA and PM.

Within mere minutes, they’ve established control of the area, their other allies coming in to retrieve the enemy organization’s data.

Dazai strides over to Chuuya, the smallest of limps in his gait, which does not go unnoticed by the redhead. The bastard pokes Chuuya in the cheek, a shit-eating grin plastered over his face. Chuuya reaches up – feeling a tightness in his shoulder that he ignores – and flicks him on the forehead for it. 

“Oww, chibi’s so mean,” Dazai whines, rubbing his forehead. 

“I’ll show you mean, bastard,” Chuuya says, rolling his eyes.

With their part of the mission done, they’re free to go. Both organizations are well-capable of handling clean-up.

The second they’re in Chuuya’s apartment and walk into his bedroom, he rounds on Dazai, moving the brunet’s tan jacket out of the way in order to untuck his shirt. 

“Lemme see,” Chuuya murmurs. He raises his shirt, immediately spotting the swelling bruise on his hip. 

Above him, Dazai is still, hands frisking around to find purchase, only to settle on Chuuya’s shoulders. Chuuya wouldn’t be surprised if the mackerel hip-checked something earlier today and the only reason it’s swelling now is because he hip-checked something else during the fight.

“You’re such an idiot,” Chuuya whispers, thumb rubbing gentle circles along the edges of the bruise before leaning in to place a soft kiss. He straightens, meeting Dazai’s eyes and watching the growing red on his – unfortunately – pretty face.

“But I’m Chuuya’s idiot,” Dazai sing-songs, a genuine smile accompanying it. 

Chuuya tries to ignore his own burning cheeks, instead ducking and tugging on Dazai’s arm to follow him further into the house. “C’mon.”

Dazai doesn’t budge. Snaking an arm back around Chuuya’s shoulders, Dazai tugs him in, fingers dancing across his shoulder. Dazai pokes into the muscle on top. “Ah-ah, not until you tell me about this.”

Chuuya doesn’t even know how the brunet noticed earlier.

“Pulled it at the gym this morning,” the redhead grumbles, rolling his eyes.

Dazai tries to pull him in further, throwing his other arm around Chuuya as he says, “Aw, my poor slug! How will the mafia function without him?!”

“Bastard,” Chuuya scoffs, shoving away from him. He can feel a smile on his face that he can’t seem to force down as he changes clothes.

He leaves Dazai to change and goes to the kitchen for only two things, then moves to the living room. There, he finds Dazai patiently waiting on the couch, blankets ready and remote in hand as he scrolls for something for them to watch.

Chuuya sits next to him, relaxing as gentle fingers find his shoulder and begin to massage. Beside him, he presses a towel-wrapped ice pack to Dazai’s covered hip as Dazai throws one of the blankets around them.

In this bubble of warmth and safety, they don’t need words. They only need each other.

[ninjagirlstar5]

AVA Chosenweek - Day 1: Stargazing/Cloudgazing

Ignore the fact that this is literally minutes away from midnight on the 28th where I'm from, I was a lot more busy than I thought I'd be-

I'll just clean things up in the morning but enjoy this little piece of writing I did for day 1!

Edit: Did the clean up, and here's an AO3 link!

When Chosen had first stepped into Minecraft, it wasn’t anything he had expected.

Well, seeing the red rocky terrain with lava almost as common as the Sea of Data’s waters and dangerous mobs in nearly every corner wasn’t the best first impression for a game he had never touched before, let alone heard of. But once Mango had led him to another Nether Portal, the scenery had quickly become something remotely familiar: a lush forest of grass and trees as far as the eyes can see and a river flowing nearby. It was just a little bit different from what he’s seen in the OuterNet.

Different as in, Minecraft is literally a world made of blocks. Blocks that he can break down and pick up, suddenly having an inventory where he can pick and choose what he needs with just a glance in his mind’s eye. And with just a wave of the block in hand, he can place down those blocks and build whatever he wants, even a platform he can hop on to reach a ledge he can’t get to. Not that he needed to, having the ability to fly and all, but Chosen had seen Mango do it a few times as he and his child helped scope out the area.

An area where Chosen can make his new “house.”

Well, the “house” they’ve started making was less of that, and more of a hole dug into a cliffside and blocked off with (temporary) cobblestone for the front, and a wooden door. He's not sure why Purple was so insistent that they use this spot in all honesty.

Maybe it was because Chosen had been chilling on the cliff and he had taken it as a sign that he liked it.

Maybe it was because it was the exact same spot where Mango and Chosen had stopped to rest during his first day exploring Minecraft.

Or maybe it was because the view was as nice as the OuterNet’s Data Bay and decided that it'd be good for Chosen to see it every time he woke up.

Chosen wasn't sure and he didn't really ask. He simply thought about it for only a minute before deciding it was “good enough” as a base. But when he had said that he'd need a house made of stone to avoid accidentally burning anything down, Purple immediately jumped at the chance to suggest that they build Chosen's new house into the cliff. Despite his surprise, Mango had backed his child up on their idea so long as Chosen approved and, well, he couldn’t really bring himself to say “no.”

And that was that.

Chosen was lying in a bed in his new “house,” staring at the ceiling they had dug out into a decently sized square and torches to light up the room to prevent monsters from spawning in. They had made decent progress between the three of them, with Mango helping Chosen with crafting and building the balcony while Purple measured out how much space he would need living in this base. But they had just finished the balcony’s staircase around the cliffside when Mango and Purple had to leave due to how late it had gotten. They needed to attend to their lives back in the OuterNet, Mango juggling his jobs and Purple with her classes, in order to pretend they had some kind of normal routine that didn’t involve hiding a(n ex-)terrorist from the world. And now, here he was, all alone in this tiny Minecraft bed that was surprisingly soft…

And Chosen was unable to sleep.

Figures.

Chosen sighs, dragging his hand down his face. It’s not as if he didn’t like the idea of living in Minecraft. It was probably the best option considering his circumstances, even if it wasn’t a perfect solution.

It just didn’t fully sit right with him.

Not when it felt like they were, in a way, running away from a fight.

Running away from their problems.

Running away from their own crimes.

Chosen furrows their brow, feeling a familiar urge rise in their code. It was an itch of wanting to do something when they didn’t have to do anything. When they had to lay their head down and close their eyes to sleep.

But they haven’t been able to do that in a long time, forced to jump from place to place just to avoid getting arrested by RocketCorp. And just when they were finally letting their guard down at Mango’s house…

Chosen swallows.

They don’t want to think about this.

Not right now.

So Chosen pushes the covers off of them and gets out of bed. They didn’t plan to do anything that took up too much energy, not tonight. They weren’t in the mood to go fight a random mob in the forest. No, they just wanted something small and quiet to do. Chosen passes by the crafting station as they walk, their mind blank on what they could even make without wasting resources. They didn’t want to get scolded by Mango if they did that so Chosen left it alone for now. Instead, they step outside for some fresh air.

The balcony wasn’t completely finished and was made out of wooden planks as a placeholder until they create more “aesthetically pleasing stone blocks,” Purple’s words, not theirs. Honestly, Chosen doesn’t really care too much about decoration as long as they had a roof over their head. Although some railings would be nice since they didn’t want anyone to fall over the ledge. They wouldn’t be able to recover unlike them, who can fly. But Chosen didn’t bother to make some even though they had the wood to do it. They just sat down on the edge and stared at the view.

The stony shore biome where his base was placed overlooked an ocean where it meets the mouth of a nearby river which flows through a meadow and goes on as far as the eye can see. The sun has long since set, with the moon taking its place with a soft, white glow. In its own blocky way. The chill of the night made Chosen shudder but they didn’t move from their spot. They simply let it envelop him as they take slow, deep breaths. They can hear mobs in the distance hopping around on land or splashing in the water but they weren’t approaching and that was more than enough for them. As long as the mobs don’t bother them, then they won’t go out of their way to attack them. At least for tonight.

Tonight, they simply stared at the sky.

Honestly, there wasn’t anything that interesting in Minecraft’s sky. The clouds weren’t as malleable or easily formed shapes like the OuterNet, restricted by the game's design of blocks for nearly everything. It’s not as if an occasional shape can’t naturally form like any other cloud in the OuterNet. It simply wasn’t as recognizable for Chosen in the world of Minecraft. Perhaps it was even less interesting than the times he would gaze at the sky on the roof of the home he actually wished to return to.

But the sky was no less beautiful than before, the stars glimmering down at him alongside the moon. In fact, Chosen still found it amazing even after the initial wave of awe had passed by after his first day in Minecraft.

And just staring at the sky of Minecraft reminded Chosen of one important fact that even the OuterNet couldn’t free him from:

There were no PCs of all the Creators in this world.

No IP address written across the sky, too tiny for most sticks to see from down below but still hovering above them all.

No distracting lines that criss-cross each other to represent a PC as he tries to pay more attention to the clouds and stars.

No reminders of what he had escaped all those years ago.

Just a giant, vast atmosphere that greeted him the same way it did when he first stepped into Minecraft’s main world.

It was wonderful. Like an invisible stone in his gut dissipating without another word.

Here, Chosen didn’t have to see a single PC as he stared at the sky.

Here, Chosen can just stare at the sky simply because he can and bask in its beauty.

As the wind blows through his hair, Chosen lets out a soft sigh. It wasn’t much, but stargazing at least gave him the feeling of doing something, despite how little he has to do. Despite how much this new “house” did not feel like a “home.”

But it was nice.

Nicer than anything the sky of the OuterNet could provide him with.

And Chosen, upon feeling a wave of calmness approaching, embraces it.

Just for tonight.

[astrojulia]

To All my Air Placements People

-Or for those who have already read "just feel"

One thing that really bothers me about the astrological community is their relationship with emotions and those who identify as "air people." As an Aquarius dominant, I try to absorb the best of every word, situation, and perspective, as it is my nature to see reason and to consider things from multiple points of view. I don't see a problem with using words like "manipulative," and I'm not particularly concerned with being politically correct.

However, one issue I can't ignore is the way that air moons and people are often described as having difficulty feeling emotions. The common refrain is, "You don't feel, you just think." This creates a lot of subtext, such as "You should just feel and not think," "How will you survive when you realize you can only feel and not think," and "You overthink and don't feel."

I know that this kind of post may not be popular, as people tend to prefer direct solutions rather than philosophical discussions. Additionally, many people become overly attached to astrology, which I don't quite understand, as someone who practices greco roman paganism and views the stars as simply giant balls in space guided by the Gods. However, my goal is to help air people who may be feeling bad due to these descriptions and depreciating themselves unnecessarily. I want to provide them with the tools to live their lives in their own way, without relying too heavily on astrology. If possible, I also hope to change the mentality of the astrological community regarding air people. Or maybe I just want to help myself, who knows?

In this post, I will use my knowledge and concepts to explain why the concept of feeling can be misunderstood, how air people experience emotions, and, most importantly, how to work with your feelings.

Have you ever questioned how emotions work and why we experience them differently in different situations? Fortunately, neuroscientist Lisa Feldman has been working for 25 years to explore these questions, and her book "How Emotions Are Made" provides a scientific way to understand how our bodies process emotions. I will explain the main ideas in a summarized way.

While the amygdala is often regarded as the brain's emotional center, it is not the only part of the brain responsible for emotions. In fact, emotions are not solely processed in the brain, but throughout our whole body via neurons. Studies on monkeys who had their amygdalas removed showed that they temporarily lost the ability to feel fear, but eventually regained it. This suggests that our emotions are not simply regulated by a specific part of the brain.

Instead, emotions are processed when neurons in our body are activated and send signals to our brain. Our brain then processes these signals to determine what the emotion is and how we should respond. For example, the smell of a bakery may cause our mouth to water and make us feel hungry, while waiting in a surgery waiting room may cause us to feel anxious and lose our appetite. Physiologically, both situations trigger the same neurons, but the emotional response is different because our brain takes into account the context.

In other words, our emotions are not simply a reaction to stimuli but are influenced by our environment and our own interpretation of the situation. By understanding how emotions are made, we can gain a better understanding of ourselves and how we respond to different situations.

Drawing upon my esoteric knowledge and delving deeper into the data, have you ever wondered how neurons "communicate" and signal to the body that something is happening? The answer lies in the air. Yes, the gas we breathe in is linked to our emotions. It travels to our brains and is processed in a way that best suits the situation. Interestingly, people with different elemental signs have their own unique ways of dealing with air, which means that the gas they expel is processed differently. However, some may argue that water is the element that deals with emotions. While this may seem like an esoteric concept, I have my own explanation for it.

Neurons are present throughout our body, and the part that is referred to as our second brain is our viscera, especially our stomach, which is ruled by Cancer. Our hormones also play a crucial role in our emotions. It is a well-known fact that we don't think clearly when we are aroused, and our reproductive system, which is ruled by Scorpio, produces a significant portion of our hormones. Our feet also have a plethora of neurons connected to our emotional world, and they are ruled by Pisces. Therefore, water signs are adept at managing their emotions as they work well with this part of the body and process their feelings more quickly. Furthermore, in astrology water rules the emotions, in others studies it can be the air, or even the water rules the material.

Let's delve deeper into the subject and discuss our emotions in more detail. We need to think about them, even if it's just for a second, before we can truly feel them. While this may come naturally to us, it is something we learn as we grow older. When information is transmitted to the brain, the first thing it does is to search for a similar sensation or situation from the past to determine the appropriate response. To demonstrate this, take a look at the picture and try to see something. Then, check out the next one…

Pulling for my esoteric part and exploring more data, you know how the neurons “move” and say to the body that something is happening? By gas. Yes, air. Our emotion is linked with air, that gas goes to our brains and it will be processed in the best way for the situation, and air people have their unique way to deal with air, so that gas that is expelled will be worked in a completely different way for the air people than all the others. But is it not water who deals with emotion? Esoteric saying, yes, but I have my own explanation for that…

Neurons are on our whole body, and the part that is called our second brain are our viscera, principally our stomach, ruled by Cancer. Our hormones work a lot with our brain, and everyone knows how we don’t think too well when we are aroused. The part that produces a great part of our hormones is our reproductive system, ruled by Scorpio. Have you ever seen the amount of techniques focused on stress and negative emotions on our feet? From massages and acupuncture, our foot has a ton of neurons connected to our emotional world, and it is ruled by Pisces. So why are water people good with their emotions? Because they work well with that part of the body, they sign rules and process their feelings quicker, but do that better with their specific part.

Now we can go a little deeper in the subject and talk in more detail with our feelings. We need to think about them, even for a second, before really feeling, but that should be easy for everyone because it is natural and born with that… Yes, it is natural but we aren't born with that… We learn how to feel as we age. When the information goes to the brain the first thing it does is to search for the same sensation and the same situation in the past to know what to do. I can give you an example of how we actually just work with things, with our memory and prediction of what is going on. Look at the pic and try to see something, after that click in the link and I will heal your little problem:

Now that you've seen it, you can't unsee it. The black and white one will make sense now. This is how emotions work: we need to experience a situation to truly understand it. Emotions are complex and we often need to go through a situation more than once to really comprehend what's going on. However, if you put an air person in an environment they already know, they won't have a problem with their emotions.

Now that I've explained how we misunderstand emotions and how they actually work, I'm going to share my knowledge to help my fellow air signs in the best way possible. This is what I've learned to become the best version of myself.

When we feel something, our system works like this: we feel a sensation in our chest, and that information goes to our brain, which tries to put a word to that sensation. Once we find the best word to describe the sensation, it goes back to the area to check if it's accurate. If it's not, the process repeats until we find the best description. So, how do I work with this? I have a lot of emotion names in my memory, so I don't waste time explaining how I feel. Yes, I feel a lot (Pisces Jupiter, Scorpio Mars..), but no, I don't feel the same way as you. Allow me to introduce you:

The Wheel of Emotions

Yes, that is how I do my s***, I take some time in my life to see that wheel and verify what I was feeling in that moment, how I can improve myself, and knowing that I’m not such a bad person, I’m giving you more than 80 feelings explanation here, hope you like. You can see that the main feeling connect with each other.

Fear: an emotion experienced in anticipation of some specific pain or danger (usually accompanied by a desire to flee or fight); an anxious feeling; a feeling of profound respect for someone or something.

Horror: intense and profound fear; something that inspires dislike; something horrible; intense aversion

Dread: fearful expectation or anticipation; be afraid or scared of; be frightened of; causing fear or dread or terror

Mortified: suffering from tissue death; made to feel uncomfortable because of shame or wounded pride

Nervous: of or relating to the nervous system; easily agitated; causing or fraught with or showing anxiety

Anxious: eagerly desirous; causing or fraught with or showing anxiety

Worried: afflicted with or marked by anxious uneasiness or trouble or grief; mentally upset over possible misfortune or danger etc

Insecure: not firm or firmly fixed; likely to fail or give way; lacking in security or safety; lacking self-confidence or assurance

Inadequate: lacking the requisite qualities or resources to meet a task; not sufficient to meet a need, not welcome

Inferior: one of lesser rank or station or quality; a character or symbol set or printed or written beneath or slightly below and to the side of another character; of or characteristic of low rank or importance

Terror: an overwhelming feeling of fear and anxiety; a person who inspires fear or dread; a very troublesome child

Hysterical: characterized by or arising from psychoneurotic hysteria; marked by excessive or uncontrollable emotion

Panic: an overwhelming feeling of fear and anxiety; sudden mass fear and anxiety over anticipated events; be overcome by a sudden fear

Scared: made afraid

Helpless: lacking in or deprived of strength or power; unable to function; without help; unable to manage independently

Frightened: made afraid; thrown into a state of intense fear or desperation

Love: a strong positive emotion of regard and affection any object of warm affection or devotion a beloved person used as terms of endearment.

Tenderness: a tendency to express warm and affectionate feeling; a pain that is felt (as when the area is touched); warm compassionate feelings

Compassionate: share the suffering of; showing or having compassion

Caring: a loving feeling; feeling and exhibiting concern and empathy for others

Peaceful: not disturbed by strife or turmoil or war; peacefully resistant in response to injustice

Satisfied: filled with satisfaction; allayed

Relieved: (of pain or sorrow) made easier to bear; extending out above or beyond a surface or boundary

Desire: the feeling that accompanies an unsatisfied state; an inclination to want things; something that is desired

Infatuation: a foolish and usually extravagant passion or love or admiration; temporary love of an adolescent; an object of extravagant short-lived passion

Passion: a strong feeling or emotion; the trait of being intensely emotional; something that is desired intensely

Longing: prolonged unfulfilled desire or need

Attracted: direct toward itself or oneself by means of some psychological power or physical attributes; be attractive to; exert a force on (a body) causing it to approach or prevent it from moving away

Sentimental: given to or marked by sentiment or sentimentality; effusively or insincerely emotional

Affectionate: having or displaying warmth or affection

Fondness: affection or liking for someone or something

Romantic: conducive to or characterized by the expression of love; of, characterized by, or suggestive of an idealized view of reality; person with romantic beliefs or attitudes.

Joy: a feeling of great pleasure and happiness rejoice

Enthralled: capture the fascinated attention of

Rapture: a feeling of intense pleasure or joy; a state of being carried away by overwhelming emotion; a state of elated bliss

Enchanted: influenced as by charms or incantations

Elation: an exhilarating psychological state of pride and optimism; an absence of depression; a feeling of joy and pride

Jubilation: a feeling of extreme joy; a joyful occasion for special festivities to mark some happy event; the utterance of sounds expressing great joy

Euphoric: exaggerated feeling of well-being or elation

Enthusiastic: having or showing great excitement and interest

Zeal: a feeling of strong eagerness (usually in favor of a person or cause); excessive fervor to do something or accomplish some end; prompt willingness

Excited: in an aroused state; (of persons) excessively affected by emotion; marked by uncontrolled excitement or emotion

Optimist: a person disposed to take a favorable view of things

Hopeful: an ambitious and aspiring young person; having or manifesting hope; full or promise

Eager: a high wave (often dangerous) caused by tidal flow (as by colliding tidal currents or in a narrow estuary); having or showing keen interest or intense desire or impatient expectancy

Proud: feeling self-respect or pleasure in something by which you measure your self-worth; or being a reason for pride; having or displaying great dignity or nobility

Illustrious: widely known and esteemed; having or conferring glory

Triumphant: joyful and proud especially because of triumph or success; experiencing triumph

Cheerful: being full of or promoting cheer; having or showing good spirits; pleasantly (even unrealistically) optimistic

Jovial: full of or showing high-spirited merriment

Blissful: completely happy and contented

Happy: enjoying or showing or marked by joy or pleasure; marked by good fortune; eagerly disposed to act or to be of service

Amused: pleasantly occupied

Delighted: greatly pleased; filled with wonder and delight

Content: being pleased and satisfied (feeling content) or making someone else feel happy and at peace with things (contenting them)

Pleased: experiencing or manifesting pleasure; feeling pleasurable satisfaction over something by which you measures your self-worth

Satisfied: filled with satisfaction; allayed

Surprise: the astonishment you feel when something totally unexpected happens to you a sudden unexpected event the act of surprising someone

Moved: being excited or provoked to the expression of an emotion

Stimulated: emotionally aroused

Touched: having come into contact; being excited or provoked to the expression of an emotion; slightly insane

Overcome: To feel something very strongly. It is usually used in a positive way

Speechless: temporarily incapable of speaking

Astounded: filled with the emotional impact of overwhelming surprise or shock

Amazed: feeling or showing great surprise or wonder

Astonished: surprised, amazed, astonished or bewildered

Awe-Struck: filled with feelings of fear and wonder: filled with awe

Confused: mentally confused; unable to think with clarity or act intelligently; perplexed by many conflicting situations or statements; filled with bewilderment; lacking orderly continuity

Disillusioned: freed from illusion

Perplexed: full of difficulty or confusion or bewilderment

Stunned: filled with the emotional impact of overwhelming surprise or shock; knocked unconscious by a heavy blow; in a state of mental numbness especially as resulting from shock

Shocked: struck with fear, dread, or consternation

Dismayed: cause (someone) to feel consternation and distress; to cause to lose courage or resolution (as because of alarm or fear) must not let ourselves be dismayed by the task before us; upset, perturb were dismayed by the condition of the building

Sadness: emotions experienced when not in a state of well-being the state of being sad the quality of excessive mournfulness and uncheerfulness

Despair: a state in which all hope is lost or absent; the feeling that everything is wrong and nothing will turn out well; abandon hope; give up hope; lose heart

Grief: intense sorrow caused by loss of a loved one (especially by death); something that causes great unhappiness

Powerless: lacking power; impotent

Neglected: disregarded; lacking a caretaker

Isolated: not close together in time; being or feeling set or kept apart from others

Lonely: lacking companions or companionship; marked by dejection from being alone; characterized by or preferring solitude

Shameful: (used of conduct or character) deserving or bringing disgrace or shame; giving offense to moral sensibilities and injurious to reputation

Regretful: feeling or expressing regret or sorrow or a sense of loss over something done or undone

Guilty: responsible for or chargeable with a reprehensible act; showing a sense of guilt

Disappointed: disappointingly unsuccessful; sad or displeased because someone or something has failed to fulfill one’s hopes or expectations

Dismayed: struck with fear, dread, or consternation

Displeased: not pleased; experiencing or manifesting displeasure

Sadness: emotions experienced when not in a state of well-being; the state of being sad; the quality of excessive mournfulness and uncheerfulness

Depressed: filled with melancholy and despondency; in a state of general unhappiness or despondency

Sorrow: an emotion of great sadness associated with loss or bereavement; sadness associated with some wrong done or some disappointment; something that causes great unhappiness

Suffering: a state of acute pain; misery resulting from affliction; psychological suffering

Agony: intense feelings of suffering; acute mental or physical pain; a state of acute pain

Hurt: any physical damage to the body caused by violence or accident or fracture etc; psychological suffering; feelings of mental or physical pain

Anger: a strong emotion a feeling that is oriented toward some real or supposed grievance the state of being angry belligerence aroused by a real or supposed wrong (personified as one of the deadly sins.)

Disgust: strong feelings of dislike; fill with distaste; cause aversion in; offend the moral sense of

Contempt: lack of respect accompanied by a feeling of intense dislike; a manner that is generally disrespectful and contemptuous; open disrespect for a person or thing

Revolted: to turn away with disgust. transitive verb.: to cause to turn away or shrink with disgust or abhorrence; to experience disgust or shock

Envy: a feeling of grudging admiration and desire to have something that is possessed by another; spite and resentment at seeing the success of another (personified as one of the deadly sins); feel envious towards; admire enviously

Resentful: full of or marked by resentment or indignant ill will

Jealous: showing extreme cupidity; painfully desirous of another’s advantages; suspicious or unduly suspicious or fearful of being displaced by a rival

Irritable: easily irritated or annoyed; abnormally sensitive to a stimulus; capable of responding to stimuli

Aggravated: made more severe or intense especially in law; incited, especially deliberately, to anger

Annoyed: aroused to impatience or anger; troubled persistently especially with petty annoyances

Exasperated: greatly annoyed; out of patience

Frustrated: disappointingly unsuccessful

Agitated: troubled emotionally and usually deeply; physically disturbed or set in motion

Rage: a feeling of intense anger; a state of extreme anger; something that is desired intensely

Hostile: don’t want to talk to people, be around them, or even have them near us

Hate: the emotion of intense dislike; a feeling of dislike so strong that it demands action; dislike intensely; feel antipathy or aversion towards

And now we’re done, my biggest goal in this post as I already wrote, is to chance that point of view of the air people, but the most important part is to take off that bad sensation from you chest, my air fellow, that I feel and know that existent every time you read that you’re emotionless and don’t now how to feel the things in the right way. Thank you for your and kisses from the sea.

[sharpsuite]

BONUS PROMPT FOR @cartelheir bc i love vivi and wish to spoil:

↳ NONVERBAL MEMES ↳ [ nap ] for your muse to fall asleep against mine

   Chishiya stares with BARELY concealed surprise as he feels Pat slump against him, burying her head against his shoulder. This doesn’t happen to Chishiya. People don’t so much as reach out to touch his shoulder or arm to pass by, let alone fall asleep against him. It’s like they can all see the void that he is, that there’s something wrong. He swallows down the bitter sensation that threatens to crawl out of his chest like ROT easing through cracks in the wall and focuses on the warmth and weight at his side. Pat is here and she’s fast asleep against him.

   He doesn’t know what to do about that really. Does he stay? Does he try to move her to a more comfortable position? Wake her? He tosses the lattermost option out before the thought is even done. She’d looked exhausted even before she fell asleep, like what rest she had been getting had been stressful. He cranes his head a little bit to study her face. She looks PEACEFUL like this. Probably one of if not the most peaceful he’s seen her since – ever really. Certainly since they'd returned from the borderlands and since her husband was dead and seeking refuge with him. It’s strange to come to terms with the thought someone can look at him and feel safe enough to sleep. It’s also strange to come to terms with the thought he’d once asked her to not leave him as he bled out. Strange, but not bad.

    Uncertainty ensures that each movement he makes is slow so as not to disturb her. He doesn’t have any reference for this situation. He’s never cuddled with someone, never fell asleep against his mom or had any friends. But he doesn’t want her uncomfortable now or later. He takes a very GRADUAL approach to shifting her off the sharp edge of his shoulder and towards the edge of his chest in front of the scapula, brown eyes focused as he makes sure not to wake her. She doesn’t wake, and he hesitates with a now semi-free arm. What does he do now? It makes him feel stupid, because no normal person would struggle with this. But HE does. Is he doing this right? Wrong? There’s no guide to tell him, no mathematical equation that offers a simple solution in the form of quantitative data. 

  He reaches down and gently pulls the blanket up further to keep her warm, head tilted to the side to keep track of her breathing and making sure he hasn’t woken her. It’s a TEMPORARY relief from the dilemma of what to do. It’s over too fast and leaves Chishiya right back where he started. Ever so slowly he lowers his hand, as if he’s afraid to get BURNED, until he’s gently resting an arm around her. The burning isn't quite imaginary though. It takes him a moment to realize that it's his lungs burning ; he has been holding his breath the whole time since he lowered his hand. It’s RIDICULOUS and he can’t help rolling his eyes at himself over how absurd he’d behaving. ( Except it's not that absurd, because this isn’t natural for him and it takes time to learn. ) She seems more comfortable like this at least so he takes that as a sign he did something right.

   His free hand reaches for the remote and he turns off the television, plunging the living room into a comfortable darkness. It feels a bit better, where his struggles aren’t as OBVIOUS. He’s always hated failing, not being good enough at something. It’s never been something like this though ; only a skill he hadn’t yet learned or a branch of knowledge he’d never pursued. Not basic interactive skills. His mouth twitches slightly at the thought and he focuses instead on the steady breathing and peaceful quiet.

   Maybe he should sleep too, but sleep didn’t feel anywhere near close to happening. His free hand lingers by his side before Chishiya lifts it to gently comb through her hair, chin hesitantly resting against the crown of her head. It’s REPLICATION – remembering what she’d done and mimicking it to the best he can. Tentative touch turns a bit more confident with time, more stable than the flighty feather-light nature of it before. It’s nice. It’s terrifying. He's not sure what he's going to do when she wakes up.

   He turns his head to the side so his cheek rests against her head and watches the gradual change of night to morning through the blinds. 

[vaguelyparker]

Im rewatching Tau and every time I watch this movie I have starker thoughts 😭. The movie is about a young rich inventor whose at the forefront of artificial intelligence technology and he’s abducting people installing chips into their heads and using that data in order to feed his ais. Well the main character comes in and destroys where he usually houses his abductees + his lab and so she has to be chained up in his living space. But he’s on a deadline and she’s his only viable test subject so the two strike a deal so she gets basic human amenities like showers clothes and food and she’ll complete puzzles for him so he can still mine her for data. In the movie she becomes friends with his ai and the two manage to kill him and escape before he kills her and if that isn’t the perfect set up for a starker fic idk what is.

Imagine Tony shortly after Jarvis dies doing everything in his power to perfect his AI tech, he has Dum-E and U but that’s not enough, J.A.R.V.I.S. isn’t working, and he’s fucking desperate so he starts kidnapping people and using them for data extraction. It’s still not enough. Enter Peter, poor and living in a shitty apartment being kidnapped by Tony Stark, someone who’s not that much older than him, probably his celebrity crush. And obviously he tries to escape but with Tonys AIs and his basically impenetrable/inescapable house he’s stuck. Agrees to help Tony with data collection in exchange for being given some comforts because he’s not an idiot he knows he won’t be alive for long but at least he’ll be comfortable while he’s still alive. He’s given infuriatingly easy brain teasers at first and he’s almost offended, finishing it all in an hour and then lounging around bored as hell for the rest of the time. Tony gets home to him snoozing or something and is about to freak before J informs him Peter was able to complete all task in an hour. Tasks that would have taken any one else in his shoes all day. So the tasks get harder until he’s basically analyzing work for Stark industries. All the while he’s becoming friends with J.A.R.V.I.S. And Tony thinks all the test are working, J’s beginning to feel more human. Things are going well.

In the movie there are a few scenes that would obviously have to come up like him buying the main character expensive clothes and skimpy lingerie and her pretending to seduce him in order to stab him. And obviously J and Peter friendship is imperative like Jarvis asking Peter what it means to be a human and if he’s a human, this cold machine that could end him in an instant but was created to emulate someone real, and Peter explaining about love and home and hopes and dreams. Tony nearly fucking tripping the first time J makes a witty remark at his expense or admonishes him for being rude to Peter. & Peter thinking he’s about to die for corrupting his AI because JARVIS had to initiate Tony’s calming protocol but really Tony is just in his room sobbing.

Idk how they end up together- probably a little stockholm syndrome but also best starker!Peter is Peter who ignores Tony’s more cruel proclivities but that’s just my opinion. Or alternatively JARVIS marries them in secret because Peter told him his parents were married and in love before they died and if JARVIS is a person then Peter and Tony are obviously his parents and Peter says one day he’d like to get married and have a love like that, so this was just the obvious solution. Tony going to kill Peter before JARVIS very matter of factly informs him there is a rather impressive paper trail tying the two of them together including but not limited to their marriage license and Tony is very betrayed but also so fucking proud.

[artificial-transmutations]

ChadGPT

Tristan really could not stand his roommate. Chad. Even the name. It was fitting for a ruthless jock like him.

Tristan liked Chad best, when he was out partying, which thankfully happened a lot. That meant a Chad-free evening for Tristan, which meant he could read and learn in peace for a change. Unfortunately, that peace usually ended rather abruptly when Chad came home late at night or early in the morning. Sometimes he brought buddies of his along, the same run-of-the-mill jock type who probably couldn't even write down their names without errors. Together, they were usually that noisy drinking and laughing that Tristan would wake up multiple times the night. But those were the good nights.

Other nights, Chad brought home one or two women. Always the same type, blond, big-busted and blockheaded. Tristan had no idea if it was the same girl every time, but he suspected it were different women - although he wasn't sure where all those similar women came from. Regardless of that, all of them had one thing in common: They were *loud*.

Tristan usually woke up from their high pitched giggles when they entered the dorm. Yes, Tristan had an own bedroom, but the walls were paper-thin, and he could usually hear everything. And "everything" meant in this case the moans and cries when Chad took them on his bed - which was just a paper-thin wall from Tristan’s bed. In these nights, Tristan had no chance of sleep and often tried to drown out the noises from the other room by wearing headphones with loud music.

Did it bother Tristan so much because he was gay? Probably! Because he was kind of envious that Chad had a fulfilling sex life? Perhaps.

However, in some ways the days were much worse than the days. Chad was quite possibly the worst roommate in the whole universe. He never cleaned (on the contrary, he *constantly* littered the floor with worn clothes, trash and even dishes) made fun of Tristan in front of his friends because he was gay and, of course, always got in trouble with the administration - last month for smoking in the room!

Of course, Tristan had tried to appeal to the administration to change rooms - or give him another roommate. However, the college didn't seem to care about that too much and they told him to resolve any issues with his roommate himself.

So, that's what Tristan did. Every night he couldn't sleep because of Chad, he began working on a permanent solution for the problem. Tristan was majoring in nanotechnology and had a major interest in data science. The raise of large language models everywhere fascinated him, so he figured he could find a technical solution to his roommate problem.

Finally, after countless sleepless nights, he was finished. All checkmarks were green, and the software confirmed connection to the hardware. His means of revenge were finally ready.

Early the next morning he made a coffee and added the silvery goo of nanobots he created for this. He knew that Chad wouldn't be able to resist it if he just left it on the counter as if he had forgotten it.

Tristan couldn't wait until, finally, the snoring from the other room stopped and he heard Chad get up and throw out his latest bimbo. Now it couldn't be long until...

"Yo, nerd! Your coffee tastes like shit!"

Tristan shook his head. So predictable.

He made his way into the common living room/kitchen and looked at Chad, just clad into some read sweatpants, flaunting his natural good looks. Time to test his invention.

"Well, I'm sorry *my* coffee was not to your liking." Tristan said sarcastically.

"Perhaps you could clean up the dishes around here, Chad. Including my cup of coffee, you drank."

"Or perhaps... no!" Chad said and laughed a dumb laugh. God, Tristan hated just every trait of this dumb brute.

"Could you please do the dishes... ChadGPT?" Tristan asked again with a sly smile.

Chad wanted to tell Tristan to fuck off, perhaps even insult him a bit along the way, but to his immense surprise, he was forced to say in a friendly tone:

"Of course, Tristan. I will gladly do the dishes now, including the cup of coffee that I just emptied." Against his will, his body began to move on its own as he started to collect the dishes.

"What is going on? What are you doing to me? I don't want this!" Chad exclaimed, but apparently had lost all control over his limbs. He needed to resist. He mentally strained against the foreign control, and really, could get his body to stop.

However, the next thing he said was, in the same calm and friendly tone:

"Apologies for the confusion. Apparently, there is an internal issue here. Please wait while the error is being corrected."

To his horror, he could see his hands change in front of him - instead of skin and flesh, they turned into hard skin colored plastic with joints that showed some dark metal underneath. He instantly lost all feeling in his hands. Needless to say, Chad was scared shitless.

"Okay, okay, I'll do the dishes, just stop this!", he begged and quickly resumed picking up the dishes.

The changes stopped and Tristan, who had sat down and enjoyed seeing his invention work so flawlessly, laughed at the scene. Oh, this would be good. What to do next...

As soon as Chad was finished with the dishes, he turned around to Tristan:

"Please change me back! I don't know what you did, but please undo it - look at my hands, that's unnatural!"

Tristan pretended to think about it before saying: "Naaah. Not yet at least. How about you tidy up the whole place first? Including my room, of course. Would you do that, ChadGPT?"

What Chad wanted to say was: "Come on! Don't be like that!". However, out of his mouth came:

"Apologies for the confusion. Apparently, there is an internal issue here. Please wait while the error is being corrected."

The numbness of his hands spread to his arms up to his armpits. They, too turned to plastic, modelled after a muscular, decidedly male set of arms. When they moved, Chad could hear a faint whirring from below the 'skin'. His feet and legs were next, the numbness spreading up quickly. Before they reached his groin, Chad caved.

"Alright, alright. I'll do it, I'll do everything!" And got to work quickly. He just surrendered control. A cold, systematic computational will took over his body and controlled it to systematically clean the whole place, room by room, piece by piece. He moved at a constant speed, never speeding up, never slowing down. Finally, he was done. He had worked up a bit of sweat but was finally finished. Hopefully, Tristan would stop this madness now.

"I've done it, now please..."

"Naaah, I think there's more to do for you. ChadGPT, please do the following: Clean out your room and throw away your stuff, you won't need it anymore. Then, exmatriculate from the college. And finally, send me all the money you have."

Chad was taken aback. What kind of sick joke was that? Tristan couldn't force him to give up his life. He shook his head with all might. While doing so, he said:

"Apologies for the confusion. Apparently, there is an internal issue here. Please wait while the error is being corrected."

This time, the feeling spread over his torso first. His skin was replaced by smooth plastic, with no body hair in sight. His pecs got pronounced and defined, with ridges in the plastic showing spectacular but artificial abs and pecs. Everything was perfectly symmetrical. At the same time, he felt his groin and ass change into a complex system of tubes and hydraulics, hidden behind a smooth removable bulge of plastic that gave the appearance of a large cock when he was wearing pants. His nipples changed to bright red dots, nothing more than colors on his sculpted chest.

The only thing that was left of him was his head, but Chad didn't want to risk that and started doing as he was told.

When he came back from cleaning out his room, he saw that Tristan had fished out his cock from and was idly playing with himself, while watching Chad. Apparently, that pervert even got off to humiliating him. Still, he continued his tasks, looking at Tristan as little as possible. It hurt a lot to transfer all his funds to Tristan, but better that than the alternative.

"I'm finished." He finally said, defeated.

Tristan looked at Chad with a wicked smile, while working his cock with the right hand. Oh, sweet revenge.

"Good. Then you're free to go..." Just as Tristan saw the relief on Chad's face, he added: "...almost. ChadGPT, please come here and give me a blowjob."

Chad's reaction came instinctively and without thinking:

"What? I'm not gonna give you fag a... a... Apologies for the confusion. Apparently, there is an internal issue here. Please wait while the error is being corrected."

No, nooo! He should have just given the asshole what he wanted. Chad's expression became neutral, as his head turned into plastic and silicone, with artificial hair and sharply defined eyebrows. His will was put into the back seat permanently, as his brain turned into a cold computer processor and ChadGPT took over for good. With a friendly, monotone voice he said:

"Of course, Master Tristan."

Chad could only scream internally, as his body, which was turned into some kind of human-like-sexdoll-android kneeled down to Tristan’s cock and activated the fleshlight mode.

Tristan leaned back content. He had solved the Chad-problem and had gotten a new permanent servant with ChadGPT.