#don't be afraid to ask for help if you need it

[mwphisto]

So.

Lads reaction to mc being in such a position that their ass is stuck up in the air

LaDs: You did this on purpose, right?

~ All Contain Smut, the consent is dubious for these - never explicitly asked for or stated & they are all in pre-established relationships.

~ All love interests x Female Reader

A note from Soul: Thank you for this idea! Sorry it's taken so unbelievably long to get around to it! I hope it was somewhat worth the wait ;-; I also hope I took your prompt the right way lmao if not... I can always try again!

Xavier can’t help the low chuckle that slips past his lips when he sees you stuck between the tv stand and bookshelf. You’re whining, wiggling your ass as if that will do anything other than tempt him. “How did you manage this, my star?”

The second you slump in defeat, his laughter grows a little stronger. “I was trying to fix all the cables you have back here and I got stuck! If I move too fast the tv will fall. Can you just hold the tv for me so it’s stable?” Reasonable enough, but you’d be a fool to think Xavier would ever let this perfect opportunity pass him.

You expect to hear him shuffle closer, to see his hand from your peripheral vision perhaps. Instead, you feel his hands encompassing your ass. “…Xavier?” The tv teeters as you try and turn your body around, effectively keeping you in place.

“C’mon, tell me this isn’t the perfect opportunity.” You feel it then, his fingers hooking in your sleep pants and tugging them down alongside your panties in one go. “My star, why are you already wet?” How on earth does he expect you to answer that?

“Xavier! Quit playing!”

“Playing? I’m not playing.” His fingers are spreading you apart, watching the arousal ooze from your entrance. "If anything, my star, it seems you're the one playing around." A small smirk is pulling at his lips as he watches your cunt clench around nothing.

"J-just..." But you had nothing proper to say, fingers clenching around the bunch of wires you had foolishly tried to organize. "Don't knock your tv over in the process..."

And you swore he moaned, the warmth of it spreading over your exposed cunt as he placed a wet kiss to your dripping center.

"I'll make it worth your while, my sweet star."

Zayne has seen you in quite compromising positions before, but this one? Oh this one takes the cake. "Z, is that you? Can you help!" You had lost hope in your quiet escape a while ago, accepting your fate of being ass up with your head down in the washing machine.

"My love, how did you even manage this?" Though, it's quite muffled from where your head is at. "I was trying to get the last sock stuck to the bottom, I reached too far and lost my balance and... yeah." Your feet were barely touching the ground, not enough leverage to push yourself back and get stead on the ground.

Zayne suppressed his laugh, eyes dragging over your pitiful stance. All the while, he was making a mental note to buy a washing machine that opened from the side rather than the top.

"I'm afraid my services require a fee." And your bewildered squeal was enough for him to tug at the sleep shorts that had been riding up your ass with each struggled wiggle. "One that needs to be paid before the services can be done, of course."

"No way! Get me out of here first and then I'll pay you!" But slender fingers were already squishing and squeezing your bottom, a pleased hum slipping past your lover's lips. "My love, you know this opportunity is too good." The stain that appeared as Zayne pressed two fingers over your covered center only proved him right.

"Z, please! I swear all the blood is rushing to my head!" But he only laughed, hooking his fingers under the thin strip of fabric covering your center. Pulling it away from your heated sex to see the arousal clinging to the fabric, keeping it connected to you. "I beg to differ, it seems you certainly have enough circulation to..."

But you kicked your legs with a squeal, embarrassed and aroused at the same time. "Just get me out of here!"

"In due time, my love."

Rafayel was nearly doubled over laughing when he found you. "Cutie, how did you accomplish this feat?" You couldn't see him, of course, but oh could you hear the amusement in his voice as he spoke. "You should be thanking me, Raf! I saved your sculpture!"

But, in the process, you knocked over several canvases... and perhaps his beloved ladder he always sat upon. Which didn't hurt when it landed on you. It actually was cushioned by the fallen art pieces on top of you. But, now? You're stuck.

"Cutie, I'm pretty sure you can wiggle your way free." Though, he certainly doesn't mind the view you are presenting him with. Your ass is wiggling a bit but you can't shimmy free with the wet sculpture in your hands. "If I do, it'll ruin the sculpture! It's still wet!" Even now, you could see your fingers creating indents where you held.

"That's... fine." Though, Rafayel would be lying if he said that didn't give him several inappropriate ideas.

How ruined would his newest sculpture be if it was the only thing you had to hold onto while he fucked you stupid? Oh, now he really had to find out. "Let's make it a different sort of art piece, yeah?

Before you could question him, you felt his hands circling your thighs, spreading you apart as he tugged your bottoms to the side. "Rafayel, what are you- shit!" He was nudging your entrance, the dull head of his cock collecting your arousal and smearing it around.

"You sure this wasn't on purpose? You're already so wet..." You felt the urge to question how he was already hard. But you knew your lover well, this position wasn't all that innocent either. On your knees, back arched, ass up? It was like dangling a treat in his face.

"Don't be ridiculous, just get me out of this mess please!" A last ditch effort as you felt him center himself at your entrance. "Oh I will, after I've had my fun..." and he's pushing in, reveling in your desperate whine as he pictured your fingers digging into the clay.

Sylus can't quite believe his eyes when he enters one of his many armories. "This is... an interesting tactic to get my attention, kitten." He had merely gone to investigate the crashing sound he heard, assuming it was one of the twins and not... you.

"Sy! T-this wasn't an attempt to get your attention! I'm genuinely stuck!" A case of weapons had fallen on top of you when you bent down to look at a particular gun he had hanging low on the wall.

Now, you're quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. "Ah, well... you've certainly garnered my attention regardless, Kitten."

Your dress was bunched around your waist, revealing your cotton panties to his hungry stare. Mentally, Sylus was thankful neither twin went running at the sound of your chaos. Or else, they would have gotten a view meant for him and him alone.

"I take it you are needing my help." But his tone is a bit far away, as if he is too dazed to really put effort into his words. It's totally not due to the wet patch on the center of your panties, no not at all. Definitely not due to your wiggling hips, or your plump ass begging to be smacked. No, not even your thighs pressing together as you squirm.

No, Sylus was much... stronger than that. (wrong)

"Yes! Yes please! I really can't find a way to free my-Sylus?" Your entire body stiffens, not out of distain but out of surprise. His nose is warm as it trails over your lower back, his hands hot as they still your wiggly hips. "Remember that time you couldn't help yourself while I was on my back under my motorcycle?"

Oh. Oh no... you remembered very well. You couldn't have helped yourself then even if you wanted too. The way his shirt had ridden up his stomach? His arms bare and muscles flexing as he worked on the underside of his bike? Yeah, no. You had straddled him so fast it nearly gave you whiplash. Sylus hadn't even flinched...

"I think..." and something hard and bulging is pressed directly over your covered center "...it's time I returned the favor, no?"

Caleb was convinced he had seen too much porn. No, his mind was utterly tainted, ruined, a wasteland ruined by consumption of the adult video industry. Because there was no way this was happening to him... to you... and he was getting hard.

"Caleb? Is that you?" You want to turn back and look, but you are unironically stuck under the kitchen sink. Somehow, you wedged yourself too deep, stuck between the wooden base and the piping of his sink. "Got a little carried away while cleaning... I'm stuck."

Clad in one of his shorts and a pair of his boxers, Caleb felt like a kid on Christmas morning. His sweet pipsqueak, his perfect princess, he could slap a bow on your ass and he'd consider you the best gift he had ever received. "Yeah, yeah I can see that."

"I just need you to guide me a bit, I think I can get out if you do that- what the hell?" You had attempted to move back but you could feel his evol cling to your skin. "Caleb! Now isn't the t-time!" But his nose was nuzzling your center, and every complaint fizzled out.

"Oh, c'mon. I can't give up this opportunity, pips. You looked too cute with your ass in the air like that..." He can feel you shudder, feel you still feebly attempt to push back but for a different reason.

"Caleb... my back is starting to hurt..." but you were already going slack-jawed. His tongue licking over your covered cunt before his fingers yanked his boxers down of your hips. "All the more reason I should make this pretty pussy feel good, no? You made a mess of my boxers, pips. Your pussy leaked all over them..."

Your cheeks burn as you hear him inhale, sniffing in the heady scent of your musk. You have a funny feeling he won't be washing them before he wears them himself... "Such a pervert, Caleb..."

"Yeah, yeah. But I'm your pervert."

[zablife]

Made for Me

Harry Da Souza x petite reader

Summary: Harry's afraid of hurting his partner bc of the size diff, but little does he realize it's about to unlock a new kink.

A/N: Requested by a lovely anon.

Warnings: 🔞, size kink

The first thing you noticed about Harry was his hulking frame, broad shoulders parting the crowd as he stalked toward you. You'd be lying if you said you weren't intimidated by his first impression, even though you had a nagging curiosity about him.

He could sense your hesitancy when he introduced himself, deliberately softening his expression and voice so you wouldn't reject him. From that moment on you realized Harry was nothing more than a large teddy bear. When you learned about his dangerous work, you didn't need convincing that it was merely a job he could leave outside the door. You knew without a doubt he'd never lay a finger on you.

However, there were times when you wanted him to break that careful facade and show you just how rough he could be. Your curiosity reached its peak the first evening you pulled Harry into your bedroom. With lidded eyes, you told him everything he needed to know about your intentions.

As you undressed one another, your suspicions about his size were confirmed, his impressive cock springing free from its confines in all its glory. You couldn't help but gulp at the sight of him, hard and throbbing for you. And though you were far from a virgin, you found yourself inhaling slow, deep breaths as you considered taking Harry inside you.

After half an hour of his tongue against your clit and two thick fingers scissoring your pussy, you still weren't sure you could take him. As he lay hot and heavy against your thigh, you couldn't help but whimper at the thought of the painful stretch awaiting you.

But Harry had already guessed your concern, hushing your fearful cries with his plump lips. "Going to be a good girl and take it all, aren't you?" he coached, nuzzling his nose against yours.

Despite the desire to please him, you shook your head slowly, whispering, "You're so big, I don't know if I can."

Harry's hand slid between your bodies, grasping himself at the base and slapping his length along your toned abdomen until the tip came to rest at your belly button. "You see that?" he asked, cupping the back of your head with his opposite hand until you were staring at your navel. "That's how far I'll be inside you." Then with a tender kiss to your temple he added, "Take it like a good little slut."

You nodded pathetically, lip trembling at the thought of disappointing him.

"S'okay," he soothed, pushing the hair from your eyes as he assured you, "Your pussy was made for me so I know you can take it."

He wasn't sure though, he'd never seen such a tiny cunt, your hole barely able to take two fingers. How would he ever breach you? But a primal desire stirred within him as he thought of it, eager to see you split wide around him and he felt a rush of adrenaline the moment your chin bobbed in quiet agreement.

He held your chin as he stared into your wide eyes, needing reassurance you truly wanted him to ruin you this way. There was no part of him that wanted to inflict pain. "This what you want?" he asked, tapping the head of his dick against your clit until you were moaning for him, pussy leaking onto the bedsheets with obvious desire.

"Yes, yes, yes...I want it," you chanted, despite the fear of him tearing you in two with his massive girth. You found yourself holding your breath as he complied, guiding his huge tip into your entrance and stopping the moment you began to pant and claw at his forearms for respite.

"I-I didn't expect it to feel like this," you admitted as his eyes searched yours for approval. "Feel like a fucking virgin," you grunted as he pushed the first inch inside you, causing a slight burning sensation as well as incredible fullness. You couldn't imagine taking him further.

Luckily, Harry stopped to lean into you, his skilled fingers pushing up the hood of your clit to reveal the swollen bud underneath. His thumb caressed the sensitive nub, drawing tantalizing circles over it until your hips began to jerk. As the slick between your legs grew, he praised, "That's it, sweetheart. You're getting nice and wet for me. Gonna take me so well."

Something in the deep rumble of his voice, telling you how well you were doing made you want to take even more and you soon found yourself bearing down hard to take a few more inches at once. And though your breathing grew erratic with the sensation of the biggest stretch of your life, you were quickly rewarded with a shuddered sigh from Harry's lips, proof he was enjoying this new adventure as much as you were.

"Good fucking girl," he moaned, remaining still though he was only halfway inside. Leaning over to place a kiss to your lips, his eager tongue explored your hot mouth, distracting you from thinking about the remaining length you'd yet to take. He allowed you a few more moments to adjust before sinking in further and your cries of ecstasy reverberated over him, making him throb inside your tender walls.

The sensation was tantalizing and you keened at the way he pulsed inside you. Back arching off the bed, you urged, "M-more."

"Such a slag, begging for it," Harry urged you on, sinking himself deeper into the velvet clutch of your cunt as his large palm pressed down against your lower abdomen to feel himself beneath you. "F-fuck, you feel so good!" he hissed, unable to believe the sensation of his presence inside and outside you at once. Looking down to watch himself disappear between your glistening lips, his hips finally met yours with a groan of satisfaction.

Your eyes squeezed shut at that moment, a strangled scream escaping your lips as you he pushed so deeply you could feel him in your stomach. The feeling of fullness was overwhelming.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, breath ghosting over your neck hot and insistent.

"Mmmm, just give me a minute," you gulped, hoping he would be gentle when he began thrusting.

After what seemed hours, you finally gave a subtle nod and Harry rocked into you slowly. The discomfort faded with every brush against your g-spot. In fact, you found yourself digging your heels into his lower back for more.

"Taking me so well," Harry praised you as he thrust in slow, even strokes.

You hadn't realized your eyes still remained shut to him until he urged, "Open your eyes, baby. Want you to watch.”

Your eyelids flew open at his insistence, instantly zeroing in on the way your lower abdomen swelled with his thrusts. You entered a hypnotic trance watching your belly rise and fall with his movements, heart hammering against your ribs as you realized how deep he was inside you.

Tossing your head back against the pillows, you felt nothing but sheer pleasure as he ruined you. Harry couldn't help but chuckle at your elated response, happy to know you felt as good as he did.

"You were made for me," he grunted as he continued to fill and empty you at a dizzying pace.

"Mmmm," you agreed, mind turning to mush as your body began to tingle with an impending orgasm.

"Say it," he demanded, fingers clutching at your hips until his nails dug into your hard enough to leave bruises.

"I-I was..." you struggled, breath coming hard and fast as your orgasm crested.

"Can't hear you," Harry stressed, a large hand squeezing your neck until you began to see stars. "Try again," he goaded you.

"M-my cunt was made for you!" you squealed, pleasure overwhelming you until you cried from the force.

Harry came with a low groan moments later, struggling to hold his weight off you as he released ropes of hot cum deep within your body. He eventually collapsed by your side as he regained his breath, rolling onto his back so as not to crush your small form beneath his. He scooped you up with his left arm, bringing you to rest over his heaving chest as he asked, "Anyone ever made you feel that good?"

"Fuck no," you answered without hesitation. One thing was certain, once you'd taken Harry's cock, no one else would do. Luckily, you didn't have to worry about that because you married him six weeks later, ensuring you'd have him anytime you wanted.

[peasack]

hi, i love your writing!!! can i be the owl anon? these anon things (idk how to explain this lol) are so cute! and also could i request reader being the host of a powerful entity? (like a god, an angel, a demon...) like bob with sentry/void but a little different

-🦉

Ooooooo I love this. Your bond with Bob would be so complicated yet so understanding.

AND YESYESYES YESY3S I ALSO LOVE THE ANON THINGY AAAA OFC YOU CAN BE OWL ANON LOVE THATTTTT

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦Thunderbolts With a Reader as The Host of an Angelic Entity Headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

You’re the reluctant vessel for an ancient, banished celestial being, a seraph-like force known only as Vetrael. Not good. Not evil. Just power beyond comprehension and too big to fit inside a human body without consequences. Wings you don’t control. Voices that speak through you in sleep. Light bleeding from your skin when your emotions get too high. And sometimes... the feeling that you’re not alone in your own skull.

Valentina? She knows. That’s why she’s keeping you close.

The Thunderbolts? They don’t, not at first. But they find out. They have to.

✦ Bucky Barnes

Eyes go cold the moment he sees the entity take over for the first time.

Doesn’t flinch when you light up like a sunspot or float off the floor, he’s seen worse, but later? He quietly asks you how it feels. How much it hurts.

“I know what it’s like to be used by something bigger than you. To not know where you end and it begins.”

You don't talk much after that. But he starts standing closer to you in briefings. Like a shield.

✦ John Walker

At first? Suspicious as hell. The moment the angel takes over, he grabs for his weapon.

But when he sees you collapse afterward, gasping like your ribs are too small for your own breath, his jaw clenches.

He’s angry, but not at you. At the thing inside you.

“You're not it. Whatever that is, you’re still just a kid. And no kid should be carrying a god on their back.”

Offers to spar. Train. Help you contain it. Pretends it’s just tactical, but you can tell he cares.

✦ Yelena Belova

Stares at your wings when they first appear and mutters, “Cool. Creepy. You’d make a great Halloween costume.”

Doesn’t treat you any different. If anything, she starts trusting you more, “If you're carrying something that dangerous and still choose not to use it, you're stronger than most people I know.”

Teaches you breathing tricks to stop from burning things accidentally. Also makes fun of your glow like it’s a flashlight.

“You ever think about charging people to see the apocalypse? We could make some serious cash.”

✦ Alexei Shostakov

Is convinced you’re a chosen one. Loves it.

“You are like baby Jesus if baby Jesus could explode a building by blinking!”

You’re pretty sure he’s joking... mostly.

Brags to strangers like, “This one? This is our divine child. Don’t anger them unless you want to be smote.”

Doesn’t understand the fear under your skin until you break down one night. Then he holds you tight and says, “You are more than what lives inside you. You are not just a weapon.”

✦ Ava Starr

Cold, sharp, and practical. “What does it want? Can it take over? How do we kill it if we have to?”

It hurts to hear, but she doesn’t mean it cruelly. She needs to understand how to keep you safe.

You think she’s afraid of you, until you wake up one night mid-possession and find her sitting beside you, holding your hand through it.

She tells you later: “Power doesn’t scare me. Not knowing what it’s doing to you? That does.”

✦ Bob Reynolds

Stops breathing when he feels Vetrael stir inside you.

The Void screams at it. Vetrael hums back like an old song, it's like the entities know each other.

He avoids you for days afterward, scared of what it means, then one day, you find him sitting outside your room, head in his hands.

“You ever feel like you’re not real when they take over?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Me too.”

The bond that forms between you after that is quiet, gentle, and unbreakable.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

KWKWJSNDNWJJANANA

Hope yall enjoyed!!!

[pedroscurls]

saved by you (pt. 2)

summary: after a failed attempt at saving his marriage, frankie takes the next plane back home to florida. deep in his thoughts and finding himself slowly falling deeper and deeper into the darkness, he meets you.

pairing: frankie morales x fem!reader content warning(s): mentions of a failed marriage, divorce, frankie has low self-esteem, playful flirting, frankie reassures reader!, frankie's POV, no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: onto chapter 2 and we've got frankie's POV! some background info on frankie and his life in this story and some interactions with reader! i know it's a slow build, but want to establish both frankie and reader and where their minds are at! don't worry though, the triple frontier boys will make an appearance soon ;) hope y'al enjoy! <3 part 1. - part 3. | series masterlist.

He shouldn’t have come to California. 

His marriage was over long before she decided to serve him divorce papers and yet, he still decided to go after her—plead with her that things would be better, to give him another chance. 

He planned to tell her that he was doing better, that he had his pilot’s license reinstated, that he was sober. He had this entire speech planned, and had imagined this weekend to go differently than the way it ended. 

Instead, she had been crying, saying that she just couldn’t handle it anymore—couldn’t handle him anymore. It felt final, especially when she removed her wedding ring and placed it on top of the divorce papers. Frankie had stared at her, brows furrowed, and his own tears trickling down his cheeks. 

He felt like a failure. She needed him and he wasn’t there for her. It also didn’t help when she confessed that she had already found someone else. It dug the knife deeper into his heart, reminding him that he was never worth it—that Frankie was destined to be alone. 

She asked him to leave, gently rested her hand on his chest and apologized. Frankie wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her that it wasn’t her fault—it was his. Instead, he nodded and gave her what he wanted. He had come here to fight for her, to fight for their relationship because he thought it was what she wanted. He didn’t expect her to have already given up. 

But he couldn’t blame her either. 

Now, he’s making his way to his flight back home. He scoffs at the word—home. It hadn’t ever felt like it, not even with her, but he tried. Frankie tried. He boards the plane, but one of the flight attendants pulls him aside, tells him that there’s someone whose nerves might ease if he sits next to her. He didn’t want to say yes because he’s already in his own pit of sorrow, but as a pilot, he felt the responsibility to ensure everyone on board was okay—even if he wasn’t piloting the plane directly. 

So he agrees with a silent nod and follows her to the seat. Frankie couldn’t help but allow his eyes to immediately soften at the sight of you. To anyone else, you appear to be extremely anxious and afraid of the plane, but for some reason, he can see something else. Something deeper. Something that lingers—like a dark cloud above you. 

Frankie sits next to you, sets his bag down and whispers that you should do the same. He glances at you when he sees your hands grip the armrests and he doesn’t hesitate to rest one of his hands over yours. He usually isn’t this forward with strangers, but he feels unusually protective over you. 

And he couldn’t help the smile that lines his lips when you ask him if he can hold your hand because when you slide your hand into his, Frankie relaxes. When the plane takes off, he feels your hand squeezing his own and he looks at you. You look scared and he wants nothing more to shield you away from all the fear and terrible things that this world can throw at you. 

“I’ve got you. You’re okay,” he says reassuringly. 

Frankie has to force himself to look away from you, but the feeling of your hand still in his provides a level of comfort that he’s been seeking for so long. He has to tell himself that you’re a complete stranger, bonding only for a brief plane ride and likely never going to see each other once you both land. 

“Thank you,” you finally exhale, but make no move to remove your hand from his or unfasten your seatbelt when the light above you turns off. Frankie sees you gaze at him from the corner of his eye and he undoes his seatbelt with his free hand. 

“You want something to drink? To eat? It’s about a five hour flight,” he tells you. 

You shake your head and instead just grips his hand tighter. He turns his head to look at you and it’s then that he realizes you just want him next to you. He nods once and keeps a tight hold on your hand. Maybe he can distract you, get your mind off the fact that you’re in a plane and any unsettling fears that you might be thinking of. 

“So, you know my name,” Frankie begins. “Is it fair to ask you for yours? You know, considering that we’re holding hands and all,” he smiles. 

There’s an innocence that he notices in your features, but he also sees your hesitation. He watches you open your mouth only to close it before finally whispering your name. He catches it briefly before your eyes move back to the window. Frankie reaches over with his free hand and gently shuts it from your view. 

“You’re going to make yourself more nervous looking outside,” Frankie reasons with you and he sees you nod before he settles back into his own seat. 

A comfortable silence fills the space between the both of you, but Frankie makes no movement to release his hand from your own. He can tell from the tight grip you have on him that you’re not ready to let go and he certainly doesn’t mind. 

“Going to Florida for vacation?” He asks. 

You shake your head. “Moving there,” you answer simply. 

He nods in response, waits for you to continue—to elaborate—but it never comes. Frankie then says, “Well maybe we’ll bump into each other.” He offers a smile and you return one of your own. It makes his heart jump at the sight. 

“I don’t know,” you reply. “Florida’s a big place.” 

Frankie chuckles. You’re teasing him and it gives him a bit of confidence knowing that you feel just a bit safer with him. “Yeah,” he smiles at you. “Well, if you ever need someone to show you around—”

His gaze never leaves you. Frankie notices the deep breath you let out and the way your features relax just a bit. He knows you’re still anxious, but he feels you slowly becoming a little less scared. Your hand slightly loosens its grip, but you make no movement to release his hand. He smiles at that. It’s been a very long time since he felt like he could make someone feel this safe. 

It isn’t until one of the flight attendants comes by to ask you both if you either wanted a drink or some snacks that you're both pulled away from each other's gaze. You shake your head and move your eyes back to your lap. The grip tightens just slightly and Frankie returns it with a gentle squeeze of his own. 

“Just two waters,” he answers. “Thank you.” 

“I can’t believe I’m holding onto your hand,” you say first, causing him to glance over at you. “I’m sure you’re used to kids being this scared of flying, not some adult…” 

Frankie squeezes your hand again, urging you to look at him. When you do, his eyes soften and he leans down just enough to get into your personal space without crossing any boundaries. “We’re all a little bit afraid of something. Yours just happens to be flying.” 

“Oh yeah? You’re telling me that you have fears?” 

Frankie chuckles, watching the smile slowly line your lips. “I do. I’m afraid of spiders. I just can’t do it.” 

Your smile gets larger until you’re letting out a quiet laugh. The dark cloud he noticed earlier still lingers, but there's a ray of sunshine peeking through—almost like it wants to shine through but you’re not letting it. “Spiders?” 

“Oh, don’t judge me,” he laughs. “When I served in the military, there was one night where I had woken up and there was a huge ass spider just dangling above me.” Frankie shakes his head, his entire body shivering at the thought. “Jumped up so fast and let out a scream, almost had my entire team thinking we were under attack.” 

“Well,” you smile. “You technically were. By a spider. That you could have easily killed, probably.” 

He rolls his eyes, but the smile remains. “Point is,” he answers. “You’re not the only one who has fears. We all do. Yours is flying. Mine is spiders.” 

“So if a spider was crawling at your feet right now—”

Frankie widens his eyes and moves his gaze immediately to his feet. “Not funny. Here I am, making sure you’re comfortable and here you are, teasing the shit out of me.”

You giggle and it makes him smile. Your hand squeezes his in response and he shakes his head, amused and enjoying every bit of your presence. “Okay, okay. You’re right. I’m sorry,” you answer. “Thank you for making me feel a little less alone.” 

Frankie just stares at you. He had felt like a failure when he stepped onto this plane, but being seated next to you was a blessing in disguise. At first, he was just doing his duty to ensure you felt safe, but there had been something about you that made him want to ask more, learn more about you. He can still sense your hesitation, but he hopes that he at least helped ease some of your nerves. 

When the pilot announces that they are about to land, Frankie notices you stir awake and immediately squeeze his hand. If he’s being honest, he hadn’t felt this comfortable in a long time. He let you sleep, somehow knowing you needed it. Your eyes open and move to gaze at him—he offers a reassuring smile. 

“We made it,” he whispers. 

“Well, we have to land safely first then you can say we’ve made it,” you quip back. 

Frankie chuckles and nods in agreement. Within minutes, the plane touches down and you grip his hand even tighter—almost like you’re bracing for impact. He squeezes your hand in return and when the plane comes to a stop, he smiles. “See? We made it,” he repeats. 

Frankie sees you smile and slowly feels your hand loosen its grip. When he feels you pull your hand from his, the smile on his face drops slightly. He helps you to your feet and stands from his seat to let you out first. You pull on your backpack and begin walking out of the plane and into the airport with Frankie trailing behind you. 

He takes a deep breath and catches up to you. “Wait, hey…” 

You stop to look up at him. Frankie notices a glimmer of fear in your eyes and he isn’t sure why. “Thanks for helping me through that flight. I’m not sure I would’ve been that calm if it weren’t for you. I’m certain that I wouldn’t have been able to take a nap either.” 

Frankie nods and pushes one of his hands into the pocket of his jeans. “It’s no problem. Happy to help. I was—Um, I was wondering if I could get your number. Maybe I can show you around Florida?” 

Your eyes widen slightly and you take a step back. The fear now on full display in your features. “I—I don’t have a phone. I’m sorry.” You’re glancing over your shoulder and Frankie tightens his jaw—he crossed a line. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he apologizes, eyes soft as he stares at you. He takes a step back to give you enough space and Frankie isn’t sure why he wants to pull you into his arms instead. You look lost, fragile—almost about to break and he’s not sure if it’s because of him or because of something else. He feels protective over you, but he knows he shouldn’t. The likelihood of seeing you again is unlikely. “Forget I even asked, okay? I’m sorry. I crossed a line.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t be,” you reassure him. “I just—I don’t have a phone at the moment. Therefore, no phone number to give.”

Frankie thinks you’re lying, but he just shrugs. “I get it,” he says. “I hope we bump into each other again.” 

You nod and smile. “I don’t know. Florida’s a big place,” you repeat. 

Frankie chuckles. “Well, if we see each other again, then I guess we can call it fate.” 

“Fate?” 

He nods. “Yeah, like we’re meant to be in each other’s lives. So until then,” Frankie smiles. “I’ll see you next time.” Carefully, Frankie reaches for your hand and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Take care.” 

As he turns to walk away, you call his name and he glances over his shoulder. 

“Do you really believe in that? In fate?” You ask. 

Frankie shrugs a shoulder and smiles in your direction. “I don’t know, but if we somehow see each other again in this big place of Florida, I might just start believing in it.”

You nod, biting back a smile as you grip the handle of your backpack. “I guess only time will tell,” you answer. “Bye, Frankie.”

taglist: @picketniffler @southernbe @christinamadsen @brittmb115 @sunnytuliptime @ashleyfilm @copperhalfcent

[shedelulululu]

“why is he needing to get sympathetic and generous and soft spirit at work.” hmmm. love thinking about the ways mel’s naked earnestness and sincere enthusiasm are things frank didn’t know he desperately needed in his life. say more (if you please)

oh if i please? me to psychoanalyze frank langdon and his relationship based on limited information? always.

First thing to establish, either directly or implied or both, in that breakroom scene, Frank explains that he is ALSO a sensitive person, and we definitely get glimpses of his sensitivity but it's not something he's trying to put forward with people, it's trying to stay hidden really.

So, I think for one it's evident to me that Robby has molded him into what he think the Ideal resident is, and we see how he's still trying to correct other residents (Samira, Heather, even Cassie) when their approach goes up against what he thinks the ideal is (not even what he does himself!). Remember Robby giving a talk that and afterwards Dana is like rlly you don't know why they don't wanna talk when you just gave bury your feelings the lecture? so sympathetic and soft he is not! and it's not something he's teaching and encouraging !

Now as far as the relationships we see with the other people at work, people like him, people are entertained by him, people respect him deeply as a doctor, but they aren't checking in on him emotionally. The most sensitive person to him before Mel is probably Dana, and even then it's a tough love, wanting him to be better, kind of thing. She actually is trying to get a sympathetic side out of him (understanding for why Robby is taking extra long time with patients) but she's reasoning with him and lecturing him, so it's really not the same as a soft, generous spirit, even if it's still loving in its own way. Honestly I just don't think Frank learns well this way, I think he's a little defiant so telling him to do something just falls on deaf ears.

So here comes in Mel who isn't asking him to be anything, she's focused on absorbing learning from him! She doesn't lecture him about where things went wrong with Terrance, she leads with example and he sees its successful and that's what helps him understand her when she says it takes a different approach, and that the patient is more than their present concern.

I wouldn't say Mel isn't afraid to be vulnerable or acknowledge her insecurities, I think it is actually very difficult for her, but there's this part of her that just has to acknowledge what is happening because she thinks it's worse if she doesn't (emotional response to death, frustrated when she doesn't get something right away, emotional over her reuniting patients). I think it's probably freeing in a way for him to hear someone else verbalize feelings he's had, now he knows he isn't alone, that someone can be a brilliant doctor and still have all these feelings, that maybe there's a disconnect with how Robby has taught him and what is needed in the ED.

Now we can only infer about his home life, but I don't think it's crazy to say he and Abby probably have fairly traditional gender roles in their marriage. She's the primary caretaker, he's the one with the Job/breadwinner, etc. So assuming certain gendered standards permeate other parts of their relationship, he might be expected to be the Man of the House, it's possible that those expectations plus the severing of emotional vulnerability at work (where he spends most of his time!) has made it so his emotional needs really aren't being met or addressed (and depending on your chosen perspective on addiction in general, and his substance abuse issues specifically, we can see these unmet needs as being supplanted by drugs).

And like I said, Frank learns by being led, and here's this person who is leading with her vulnerability and emotions, and he doesn't want her to change at all.

[yuzukatanki]

Dad Sylus (Baby Years) || SFW long ramble

I like to think Sylus becomes ridiculously soft once he has a kid. Honestly, I'll admit this time that I might be making him a lil ooc for these dad!Sy headcanons, but I adore the idea of Sylus becoming softer as you both finally get your "happy life", and his walls come down, especially for his kids. Cus he wants you two to be like the parents he wanted, he wants to build a life with you that's love filled.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵٩(ˊ〇ˋ*)و︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Sylus, as a dad, is the softest thing ever. I'm talking no spine, you are scolding one of the most powerful men in the N109 Zone because he's giving your kid their second cookie, even though you said only one. And fuck his status/reputation, his kid wants to do his makeup or paint his nails? How does he look? His phone is full of pictures, really bad ones, honestly, because he takes so many. Blurry shots of your baby sleeping, most too close or from bad angles. Honestly, his protective instincts seem to fucking flare up now, too. Only you and he can hold the baby, sorry Luke and Kieran. As cringeworthy as it is, I can see Sylus as the "Kdrama rich mom" who threatens any partner your kid brings home with a ridiculous amount of money, too. lol.

And I mean it when I say he's a softie. Holding the baby for the first time? Tears are dripping down his face as he silently, and oh so tenderly, holds his new little one. You might even see him shaking a little, because his mind is just filled with thoughts about whether it's safe for him to hold such an innocent little thing with his "dirty" hands. He's panicking a little, for once in his life (well, not exactly if you know the lore but still!!!).

You... You had a baby with him?? And this tiny little thing was that? Oh god, it's so small. Is he controlling his strength properly? Is this how they're supposed to be held? He glances towards you, then the baby, and back to you, and you have to tiredly groan (Giving birth is not easy, okay!) and chide him. "It's fine, it's your kid. I'm more worried about others' safety once we have something with your genes running around," you mutter, closing your eyes for some much-needed rest.

And Sylus feels a little awe... You're just gonna close your eyes and trust this little thing completely to him? Of course, you did have a baby with him, but you really do trust him that much? Finally, it's like all the pieces he's been desperately searching for are falling into place. And if you weren't so dead tired, you might've pondered over how the old you would've never expected Sylus to look so afraid, or even cry, holding a baby. But then again, the old you didn't think they'd have a baby with their supposed "enemy", so all bets are off now, I guess.

And God, the first time his baby talks? He's done. Even if it's just babbling, the moment Sylus hears it? His head snaps over to where your baby is babbling, lying down on a playmat. "What... What did it say?" Sylus asks you, his eyes wide and you have to just really stare at him. "Um... I don't know? Something like "abababawababa"?" You say, trying to be funny. Sylus, however, is still transfixed on the baby, scooching over so he can hover over them, waiting for them to speak again. Honestly, you wonder if he's going to reach out and poke it, all while saying something like "Do that again."

And well, heavens help you when the baby says actual words. Sylus's little baby reaching out with a "Dada"? He's done. The terrifying leader of Onychinus is gone. He's shocked into silence before he swoops down to grab the little thing, peppering kisses on that chubby face. And before you know it, he's in front of you, holding your baby out towards you with a goofy grin and a "Say it again. Tell Mommy who I am." And by God, will he hold your baby up until they say it again, What's the use of all that boxing if not to build strength for this moment? He won't get tired for hours if need be, holding the baby up, even at Luke and Kieran, because everyone has to hear this.

And in my opinion? Sylus would go all soft when the baby says "Mama", too. The first time the baby says it? He's scooping you up in his arms, pointing at you with a "That's right. That's your Mama." And Sylus holds the baby every day, pointing at you and going "Do you remember who that is? Can you say it? Who is that?". And if you're not home? He'll pull up pictures of you to point at instead. It makes you laugh about how he seems more excited about it than you are.

I like to think Sylus would want to feed the baby. Not minding how gross it gets with spit up/drool/that weird way babies eat (especially baby food), where they just get it everywhere somehow. A visual of Sylus trying to feed a baby and doing a really forced "Here, come on, open up for the choochoo train?/"Here comes the airplane!" and groaning when it doesn't work? Hilariously cute.

And holy shit, does this man spend money. He wants to spoil you all the time, so your baby? You have to exasperatedly sigh and tell him to stop buying so many damn clothes, babies outgrow them in like a month! And for Gods sake, what could you possibly need 3 strollers for? And NO Sylus, you don't need this ridiculous baby gadget sold on a weird website you've never heard of that started from a scammy kickstarter type thing, but thank you for the thought darling. But you have to admit, the clothes Sylus picks out are adorable. And you do enjoy that he loves dressing up the baby himself. You like seeing Sylus's large hands so delicately try to pull the baby's leg through the tiny pants and groan when they kick his hand away/or kick their pants off. But he never gets angry with either that or struggling with itty bitty buttons, and it makes you soft. In fact, Sylus would be a sweetheart who does even the gross stuff, like changing diapers or cleaning up all the other gross things babies do way too often. He's an involved dad, that's for sure.

Sylus is a bit bad at calming his anxiety, though. He's the type to take the baby night shift, perfect for his sleep schedule. And the entire time, a part of him never fully relaxes. Even when the baby sleeps so peacefully, Sylus will put his hand on the baby's small body to feel that heartbeat and the little chest rising up and down with each small breath. Sometimes when you're awake and he's supposed to be asleep, you see him standing next to the crib, even though, shocker, your baby's crib is in your room. He could at least lie down. But he's the type to just "stand guard". It takes a lot of convincing, and finally, you insist that there's just no way Sylus would sleep through your baby's cries since they're literally right there, that he goes to bed. You think Sylus would never sleep if the baby were in their own room, so this is a good compromise, I guess?

Talking of sleeping, ummm, imagine Sylus sprawled on the couch with your tiny baby on his chest. Yeah. You're welcome. I'll end with that amazing visual.

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵٩(ˊ〇ˋ*)و︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

My masterlist~!

A/N: So originally, this was part of the baby fever series, where Sylus has to help Reader babysit somehow. And I gave up precisely cus I realized I couldn't think of how the hell that would work, unless I made up a friend or smth that has a kid? But like, then it got too "Sylus is dad mode" over "I want a baby so fucking bad" mode. So here it is, I changed some stuff up. It's kinda rambly, for the same reasons I said in the Caleb Baby fever fic. Moving to another country this summer, sigh, so much to do.

[motzglorp]

Just a little smoke - Part 3

Part 2

CW: Drug use, smoking weed, talking about effects of drugs, not much smut in this one, mdni, nsfw, 18+

"Hey, always wondered... Do you taste different, when you're high?" Soap was currently sprawled on your swing, head on Gaz' lap. You are still a bit surprised how you got here, sitting in your garden, surrounded by some very deadly, very disciplined men, smoking weed and having them observe you.

When Price came to your office the day after Ghost had learned about your habit, you expected to be interrogated or fired. Which was sad because you had warmed up to the 1-4-1 and they seemed to like you as well, inviting you to stay for a cold beer and a chat or asking you to join when Soap got a care package with delicious cookies from home.

Instead he had a proposition. Or a favour to ask you.

"You know that we fill an unusual position, that gives us more freedom than others and certain privileges regarding who we work with. When I requested you to be our main liaison here, that made you part of a very exclusive group of people who get our trust." He started and kept his eyes on your face, watching every reaction.

"I hope you trust us as well. As long as you are not compromised by it, your private time is your own. But it doesn't have to be."

Of course he registered your confusion and curiosity. You were incredibly professional but you also watched their training way more often than reasonable, stayed for a beer even if you barely drank, let Johnny hug you, as soon as you were a little bit tipsy.

"What do you.. Captain Price, could you be more specific? I'm afraid, I don't follow ..."

"We, the team, would like to spend time with you. Private time. Get to know you outside of work. As I said, we trust you. And to be frank, Ghost suggested that we could use a little bit of help with relaxing on our leave. Which happens to be the same time you are on leave."

You had no idea what he saw in your face but he seemed to like it, his voice almost turned into a purr. "The boys would be very grateful for a nice evening in a private garden or so."

"Grateful, you say..." You immediately had an idea how they could thank you and you just hoped you wouldn't ruin anything. "Let me think about it. And thank you for the paperwork."

After Price left you had spent half an hour thinking about any wild possibility this thing could go. And then made a list of things they had to talk about before doing this. Starting with food preferences, going through former experiences, expectations and emergency plans. With all of them being prime PTSD candidates you didn't want to risk anything.

It had been a few weeks, a mission putting your plans on hold, but you took the time to get to know them, talk to them and you found that you really liked them. More than a bit. But you knew to keep it professional, because you would not get your heart broken again. You had their trust and maybe friendship, that was enough.

And now they were here in your house, a perfect summer evening with dinner and stories, almost like they had done this before. But there was still the reason they were here in the first place.

"You can still say no." Price had said as you pulled out your stash, a beautiful box with all your tools. "Nah, I'm curious what you think. And what you want to know." It wasn't a lie, even though you were nervous. Ironic, since you knew the first draw would calm you down and it always made you feel like you were one step away from needing instead of merely wanting. Your hands moved without hesitation, grinding, rolling, licking the paper... You went classic today, best to start here for an introduction.

You felt their attention on you, watching your moves.

"Hmm, like the smell of it.. earthy sweet, it's calming" Ghost was sitting across from you at the table.

"Yeah, the scent and taste vary quite a bit depending on the strain. Some absolutely stink, I like this one because it reminds me of freshly cut grass and flowers." You lit the joint and inhaled, closing your eyes to savour the taste before you let out the smoke with a sigh, the act alone calming.

A few minutes later you knew your smile was a bit dopey and you felt that sweet buzz under your skin. Shit, you forgot that you got really cuddly with this one. Usually you were alone here, so it didn't matter, but now you were absolutely aware of Ghost's thigh under the table and his hand turning your grinder like a fidget toy.

"You do look even cuter now" of course Johnny was flirting. "More relaxed. Softer." You just wanted to describe how it fest, when Johnny dropped the next question.

"Hey, always wondered... Do you taste different, when you're high?"

"Some things" you started to explain, "Or it's more intense, it's not exactly different, more.. enhanced. Like you feel and taste details, you weren't aware before" is how you started but Johnny stopped you.

"No, I mean. When you eat asparagus and for a day you have that certain smell. Even your sperm, you know? Is it the same?"

Oooh, that question. Leave it to Soap to escalate a situation.

"Honestly, I don't really know, never put much attention to it. If you eat it, like in butter or brownies, probably. Guess you would have to find out yourself." You meant it like he would have to taste himself, but the moment you said the words you knew it was too late, four sets of eyes fokussing on you. Ghosts leg pressing against yours, his hand suddenly still as you looked up. "Whatever happens here, stays here, remember?"

You nod, suddenly the air is heavy and you are aware that you only wear your panty and a soft summer dress. "Not going to do anything you don't want to."

You nod again. So focussed on Ghost that you didn't notice Gaz moving over until a warm hand turned your face towards him. "May I kiss you?" A third nod, then soft lips on yours and you sigh into the kiss. Until that moment you weren't quite sure if you read the signs correctly but now the last bit of doubt vanishes. You trust them, you want them. So you open up, let Gaz taste you, leave you a bit breathless when he breakes the connection of your lips.

"Hmm, less smoke than kissing the captain" he grins, earning a huff from Price. "Maybe we should move this to a more comfortable position."

They move you, lead you to the blanket and pillows you had placed conveniently, since you liked to sleep outside sometimes. Soap and Gaz taking turns to kiss your lips, your neck, making a point of licking and biting to taste you. Until they have you where they want you, sitting between Ghosts thighs, leaning against his front, strong hands groping your hips, the fat of your tummy, holding you in place.

And if you had hoped it would come to this, then it was none of their business.

[pyramultimuse]

"We got buildings just outside too, we got folks who don't like being in there. I expect a good chunk of the gang to be headed their own way after this big haul so there will be vacancies to choose from." Cole had his close gang, the die hards that didn't want to go anywhere. Then the majority of the numbers fluctuated often, taking in people that needed help then once they had the money to pursue their own dreams would head off.

He listened to Arthur and was glad that the man didn't want to die any more. "Being afraid is only natural and I promise you're no burden." Cole told him and watched him move away. Over to a building that had his wanted poser. The drawing was indeed that of a much more fearsome man, really no one would suspect this sweet farm boy looking man to be one of the most wanted men in the west.

Then he noticed Arthur pause to rub his eyes and he got concerned, a deep frown on his lips. When the man came back over he placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder and stared into his eyes with a serious look, examining him for a moment. "Are you getting blurry vision? Dizzy, feeling nauseous?" He asked and clenched his jaw. "You've taken too much of the doctor's medicine in a short time."

The very medicine that was keeping him alive was starting to have negative side effects. "We can't give you any more of the medicine unless you're having a hard time breathing. Come on, lets hurry up so we can get on the road." Cole decided that they needed to get going then leisurely shopping, Arthur needed treatment as soon as possible. He headed to the general store, getting some canned food and flint box to make it easy to start a camp fire along with a few other items. After paying for that headed to the trading post to find a proper gift for the tribe that would be helping them.

"A cave? I...I'm not so sure if that will do me any good." He scratched his nape, worried since the doctor told him to avoid closed, humid places. "Well...the natives or some special doctor or crazy scientists seem to be the only hopes for me." He sighed. Having a terminal disease was...heavy. Specially now he had found a new purpose with Cass.

"You know...I was...okay about dying. My gang...my family is gone...the people I liked abandoned me- not saying they were wrong to do that but still...I ended up alone, I manage to escape and survive from a place that I thought it would be my grave. I was...ready to die, I was...fine with it, even if it was difficult. But now that....now that I met you...I don't wanna die anymore." He looked down, tensing his lips a little, his eyes a bit sad.

"I'm...I'm afraid. Again. I don't want to die, Cole. Much less be a burned to you." Arthur confessed. He wanted his future to be with Cass. He wanted to be part of his gang, he wanted to have a place to belong, to have a family again.

"Oh wait, I think it's...- just wait a minute." He walked to a bakery, by the wall, a wanted poster of Cassidy. He looked around and made sure to remove it. Looking at the poster, he saw the way they drew his friend. He looked so bigger and scary in the drawing, maybe a person wouldn't even recognize Cass, he had such a sweet gentle look when he wasn't angry.

Then suddenly, again, his sight got so blurry. Arthur rubbed his eyes, but this time, his eyesight didn't return to normal. He tensed, rubbed his eyes again, his right eye returned to normal, but his left one was still a bit blurry.

What the fuck was that? He wasn't tired, and he hadn't damaged his eyes or anything. He took the bottle of water he had in his bag to drink a little, but it felt so bitter. It was odd. His saliva also felt bitter. There was a weird metallic taste in his mouth. After rubbing his eyes again, his left eye finally returned to normal. But he felt a bit nauseated.

The food he had eaten was fresh and top quality- he really doubted it had been any of it. He also hadn't drank whiskey or anything strong. Odd.

He returned to Cass, passing him the folded poster.

"Look what I found. Huh...I'll make sure to remove these every time I see one."

[ackerlikesmen]

"You're biased and just hate Annabeth!!"

Recently, I've noticed posts criticizing anti-Percabeth shippers for being biased against Annabeth because we overlook Percy's mistakes. There's some truth to that.

We focus more on Annabeth's actions than Percy's because they're more impactful and harmful, at least that's me. That's not to say Percy is a saint because he's not. While I do see more criticism of Annabeth, I also see criticism of Percy, such as his passivity when Annabeth does something he dislikes or his lack of openness to her. Hell, a lot of anti-percabeth stans feel Percy is a shell of himself and don't like where he's heading. I also see them criticize how he treated Bob in Tartarus because he was manipulative and a dick. I'm sure there's a lot more to criticize him on.

Percy gets criticized as a character and his choices, but for percabeth, he's rarely the issue here.

To keep it short, let's ask ourselves:

Has Percy done ANY of the following to Annabeth?

Has he called her mean names, intending to bring her down, so he feels better about himself?

Did he demean Annabeth for not understanding something?

Did he crap over her accomplishments because others acknowledge her achievements, then get happy when she's being insulted and told she can't do anything without Percy's help?

Has he insulted her family members or friends?

While Annabeth mourns for her dead brother, has Percy made that moment about himself?

Did he stalk her while she was changing and make excuses for it?

Did he yell and scream at her during stressful times, causing more stress?

Has he made her afraid of him to the point she expects to get hit or chewed out for getting something wrong, even if it's a little?

Has he hit, kicked, shoved, and body slammed her because she ANNOYED or ANGERED him? We're not talking about sparring. Has Percy put his hands on her because she did something he didn't like?

Has he shown a lack of appreciation when she does something kind because she can't afford to do something extravagant?

Has he made her plan everything and hold expectations while he sits on his ass, only to later judge her efforts???

Has he put her life at risk by shoving her into a dangerous situation with a dangerous god/goddess wanting to kill her, watching her getting her shit rocked, and when she asks for help, he sits on his ass and points to his "watch"? Did he do all of this, not knowing if she'll survive?

Has he tried to control her? Make her do something she doesn't like, or make him uncomfortable about interacting, or even think about others?

Has he brought up an ex in fucking Tartarus with the intention of making her uncomfortable?

Has he shamed her for using dark powers that literally saved their lives? Again, showing no gratitude.

Has he gossiped about her to a friend and let his friend paint her as an animal/monster that needs to be leashed?

Has he tried to guilt-trip Annabeth into doing things?

All of those are no.

But Annabeth has done them to Percy.

What's worse? She hasn't apologized. Not once.

Now do you understand why anti-percabeth stans don't like her or are critical of her? It's hard to like a character that's not only a bitch but a bitch that faces little to no consequences, on top of stans calling you 'sexist' for not kissing her feet and calling their relationship the "golden standard".

Trying to shift blame onto Percy is annoying at best and scummy at worst. It's victim blaming. Yes, Percy has done some rude things, but that's nowhere near as horrific as what she did.

When I hear stans talk about her changing, part of changing is acknowledging WHAT NEEDS TO BE CHANGED. Being aware of your wrongdoings. Please list where she has apologized to Percy for being a cunt? Where does she realize she's being cruel and needs to change?

It's Percy who either apologizes or looks over what she did.

That's not changing or becoming better. That's sweeping your shit under the rug and hoping no one smells it. It's the victim trying to tell themselves that what they're going through isn't terrible, and they need to "toughen up".

Yesterday, I saw a stan bashing a fanfic writer for writing Annabeth in a critical light. When the author gave evidence of how Annabeth mistreats him, not only did they ignore it, but they also bash Percy and blame him for things he didn't do or were out of his control.

And that's why I criticize her more. Her actions are more impactful and harmful than Percy's ever will be. The fact Percy EXPECTS her to hurt him is damaging enough. That's probably how fucking Sally feels with Gabe. If I do something wrong, he'll hurt me. Why the fuck can't this be considered the same or similar to Percabeth? Her intent to bring him down and hurt him because of her insecurities is why I voice my complaints, and when I got hardcore stans trying to OVERLOOK and DEFEND her actions, even blaming Percy, I can't help but scorn and bitch louder.

You stans want Percy to share the blame when he isn't required to. You want Annabeth to seem less bad and mean, and I am not okay with that. We should not lessen the blows she delivered. I get that some people can blow things out of proportion, but we have evidence that she's similar to Gabe and is just a nasty person.

Overall, it's not bad that one person gets more blame, especially when they're the ones causing the problems, and that someone is Annabeth Chase, and I won't stop being vocal about that.

Alright. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Have a good night xxx.

[peachycheekz]

Take Aim

a/n: July 13th / Injury / "Don't ever do that again." My dog has been waking me up at five thirty sharp for the past three days and I feel like I'm on the brink of insanity. CW: Blood, Injury, Angst, Hurt/Comfort WC: 2.9K

read on ao3

You were never supposed to be there.

You were supposed to be back at the jet, behind your screens and tablets, your voice in his ear.

You were supposed to be safe.

"Dammit!" With gritted teeth Bucky pressed down on your abdomen, hands sticky and wet with your blood that didn't seem to want to stay in your body any longer no matter how desperately he tried to stop the flow. There was so much red covering your skin. Staining his hands in a frantic attempt to keep you alive.

Red like regret. Red like his past.

If he pushed any harder, he was afraid of doing more harm than good.

If he stopped, you would die. And it would all be his fault.

How did this happen?

"Come on now, doll." Your eyes fluttered shut slowly. "Don't you dare do this to me. Don't you dare!"

How could he let this happen?

⌯⁍ ⌖

Sometimes you wondered why you even had to come on field missions when all you did — all you were good for — was track the team on your mobile surveillance station from the relative safety of the jet and give direction when needed.

You were a guiding voice in their ear, at times a source of steady comfort when a mission went to shit. You always had a solution up your sleeve, even when everyone else thought they had run into a complete dead-end. If there was one thing the Avengers could count on, it was your ability to get them out of a tight spot when even earth's mightiest heroes drew a blank.

Or whatever else Steve liked to pull out of his ass when the seeds of doubt Bucky kept planting in your mind with his derogatory remarks and his derisive glares took root. You never knew a person could unravel your self-confidence with just a sideways glance until you met Bucky Barnes.

To him you seemed to be nothing more than an inconvenience. A civilian playing dress up with the big important hero people. Bucky saw you as a liability. He looked down on you (literally), managed to make you feel inadequate with nothing but a well timed, irritated huff and absolute, stony silence.

He didn't want to have you on the team and he was making it painfully obvious at every opportunity. In pointing out your lack of experience, with snarky comments about your posture during training, by completely and utterly disregarding anything you said to him.

Sometimes you even thought he muted his coms on purpose just so he wouldn't have to listen to your voice during missions.

Steve said to give him time, that he was just wary of you because he didn't know you well enough yet. You weren't so sure about that. But compared to what everybody else was saying when you confided in them about the relationship — or lack thereof — between you and the emotionally constipated super soldier it was at least somewhat comforting.

Wanda had only made a vague comment about his thoughts regarding you and you hadn't bothered prodding. What else could he possibly think of you besides how your very breathing grated on his nerves? Nat, who you thought was probably the only person that could give you valuable insight on the grumpy old man's internal workings, had only smirked suggestively and what Tony had proposed you do to get in Bucky's good graces, you didn't bother thinking about twice.

And you made a mental note to never ask the billionaire for advice again.

If you were honest you'd given up on getting him to see you as anything more than the dirt beneath his feet. That was like trying to light a fire in a thunderstorm. At sea. With a soaked pack of matches.

The last attempt, you made at Christmas last year. You put a lot of thought into what to get him, something personal, something helpful but he never even opened it. Had just stared at the wrapping like it personally wronged him.

The present was gone from beneath the outrageously decorated Christmas tree the next morning and you guessed he probably tossed it.

From then on you stopped trying. No more coffee ready for him on the rare occasions you were up before him. He didn't need the caffeine but you knew he liked the taste. And continuity. No more soft smiles and offering to listen, knowing fully well you were the last person he would ever entrust with something as guarded as his issues. But you liked to believe he appreciated having the opportunity if he ever wanted to.

You even quit carrying around an extra pair of leather gloves in your purse when the team went out or had to do press conferences. Bucky misplaced his like clockwork and even though he was much more comfortable with his vibranium arm now, he still tended to get uncomfortable about it in crowds.

He simply didn't like you and no amount of plum tarts baked at three am because he was having a terrible week mentally was going to fix that.

Squirming in your seat you tried to get comfortable as the Quinjet soared through the sky. Natasha and Steve were conspiring about something in the cockpit but the few words that filtered back to you were so wildly thrown together you had absolutely no idea what the topic was.

Something about spinach, piñatas and hand lotion.

Clint was napping, completely unbothered.

And the psychologically unstable man fighting tooth and nail against any act of kindness like it was a crime committed against him? Staring.

Looking at you like you were the cause of all his more recent issues. The root of whatever new evil it was he chose to fight instead of allowing himself a bit of peace of mind.

Sometimes you did wish to know what he was thinking about when he looked at you like that.

For someone with a multitude of conflicting thoughts breakdancing behind his skull at all times, Bucky was a man of few words. In fact, he was a pretty big fan of silence and not speaking. At all. Ever.

Especially not to you.

He was seventy-eight point nine percent sure he'd slip up and actually thank you for the weighted blanket you gave him for Christmas. The present he pretended he didn't want but had come to love so much, sometimes he didn't want to put it in the washer because it helped more than he would ever be ready to admit. And the first couple nights he slept with it, it had still smelled like you. Like comfort.

Or confess to something equally as ridiculous.

Like the time he caught you baking in the dead of night and had watched an embarrassingly long amount of time from the shadows because the way the dim kitchen light illuminated the soft features of your face and the humming of a tune he didn't recognise captured him in a way little else ever had.

And if he wasn't so uptight about his own feelings, he'd apologise to you for being such a dick. Unfortunately he feared the walls he spent endless years raising around his mind, his heart, had become insurmountable.

The Quinjet lurched in the air, Nat mumbled an apology before setting the aircraft down gently. You looked a little green in the face, Bucky noticed. And your tactical vest hung around your frame too loosely for his liking.

While the others got ready, checked their gear, went over intel again (and again), you set up your mobile surveillance station. Computers whirred to life, screens flickered on. Your fingers flew across the keyboard so quickly it made Bucky wonder if you were even pressing any keys. And that damn vest. Too big on you. It irked him more than Steve obsessively reciting the mission outline like a prayer.

You had smiles for everyone but him while you handed out the tech stuff, reminded the team to keep the coms on at all times — a subtle glance in his direction. Via the sensors on their suits you could keep track of their vitals, their location. Another subtle glance his way.

Bucky rolled his eyes, huffed quietly and fought like hell to not smirk back at you.

And then it was go time but his feet wouldn't follow behind Steve and the others. No, they dragged him right back to where you were fumbling with the zippers on your vest.

"Come here." You startled at the rough command, hands frozen mid-movement, eyes wide and holding too many questions Bucky wished he had the answers to. You took a beat too long to move so he reached out and pulled you impossibly close by the lapels on your vest. So close you were sure he heard the hitch in your breath and the uptake of your heartbeat.

His eyes were twin seas of solid ice daring you to put cracks in the immaculate surface.

"Too loose," he grumbled, fastening the vest in place with nimble fingers. Much gentler than you would've expected him to ever be with you. "There. That's better."

"Thank you," you breathed, baffled. His hands lingered a moment longer than necessary. For one millisecond he looked like was going to say something he'd quite possibly regret. Then he stepped away, turned his back. He was almost down the ramp by the others when you remembered how to speak properly.

"Bucky!" He didn't turn, just stopped, shoulders straightening. "Be careful," you called out to him, "please."

When you finally took your place behind your screens to give everyone's vitals a quick once-over the indicator representing Bucky's pulse was a tad bit higher than it was normally.

Somewhere between the team touching ground zero and the arrival at the supposedly abandoned former Hydra base everything went to absolute shit.

One moment all was as going as planned, the next, one of the screens connected to a drone went out. Clint's vitals were flickering in and out of existence, Nat's tracker was showing she was currently in Iceland, which, if she hadn't spontaneously developed the ability to portal herself places, was impossible. Bucky wasn't responding on coms.

"Steve I don't know what's happening. " You were pacing frantically, trying every trick in the book to regain control over your system. There must be an interfering transmitter somewhere in that building messing everything up. "Steve? Cap? Hello?" Static was your only response.

"Oh no, no, no," you muttered frenetically. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. "Fuck!"

With shaky hands you tried one more time to get the picture back on the drone, what you saw when you finally did caused your heart to lodge in your throat.

The drone was honed in on Bucky's location. Nowhere near where he was supposed to be but you'd be mad at him for that later. If there was a later for him. What made your gut twist with anxiety was the sniper training his rifle on the back of his head.

The one he didn't see. The one you couldn't warn him about because none of your shit was working. Finger lazily hovering above the trigger.

Your headset clanked to the floor, the metallic echo drowned out by your boots drilling into the ground while you ran as fast as you could, hoping against all odds you could make it in time. You weren't prepared, didn't even have a gun on you. But you didn't care about anything else than preventing Bucky from getting his head blown clean off his shoulders. Not on your watch.

Not him.

Lungs burning, adrenaline pumping through your veins with a vehemence that robbed you of any clear thought, you rounded a corner. There was no time to skid to a halt, not enough breath left to form a scream. A warning. You pushed your body to the brink trying to get to the oblivious super soldier in time.

Every ounce of strength went into the next sprint, into a vain fight against a fugitive second. Into clinging to hope.

The moment before you collided with him felt like swimming upstream through a waterfall. Not a moment later you heard the rifle go off.

You hit the ground with a breathless scream and drowned in a world of brutal agony as the bullet ripped through your skin, through muscle and flesh.

⌯⁍ ⌖

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You didn't remember your alarm to be so annoying. Actually, you didn't remember setting one at all. And if you had why was it sounding so different?

A dull ache throbbed in every single muscle you tried to move and your eyes felt as if glued shut. Mouth parched, mind in a daze, you raked your tired brain for any clue of what had happened. Where you were. Every time you came up empty.

Somewhere a voice called your name but it sounded so far away. Familiar. Worried.

Again, with a voice like sandpaper. Closer this time. Something metallic curled around the hand that was clenched tightly around a blanket that was far too thin to be your own.

"Come on, doll." Bucky? You tried to speak but no words followed the effort. "Open those eyes for me."

Why would Bucky be waking you up? Maybe you overslept? Wasn't there a mission you had to leave for?

A mission…

The sound of a gunshot ripped through your mind like lightning, you gasped for air, then, with an effort far greater than it had any business being, you cracked your lids open.

Impossibly blue eyes stared back at you, wide and desperate and angry and relieved. You've never seen Bucky so emotional before. He seemed as if he didn't know what to feel first and what to better keep locked far away.

His vibranium hand was curled around yours almost tenderly, like you were something fragile. There was an infusion catheter in the other, connecting you to an IV drip. A monitor, too. The air reeked of disinfectant and hopelessness.

"Hi?" Your voice came out rusty, more like a half whisper. But it was enough to pull Bucky back to the present. He pulled himself together again, locked his walls back in place, leaned back in the uncomfortable visitor chair he dragged to your bedside.

"What were you thinking?" He snapped, eyes briefly flickering to your middle where you could feel bandages tightly wrapped around your stomach. "Running into the line of fire like that. Are you stupid?"

There were deep, dark circles beneath his eyes like he hadn't slept in days and his voice lacked any of its usual bite. Any of the malice you were sure he was trying to put in it. Bucky just sounded exhausted. Defeated. There were cracks in his icy exterior when his eyes found yours again. "You can't just…you almost died, okay? You almost fucking died. Don't you ever, ever, do that again."

His hands balled to fists in his lap and you thought you heard his voice splinter into a thousand tiny fragments. "Not because of me."

For a good, long moment you weren't sure how to respond to that. Did he really think himself unworthy of being saved? He would throw himself in front of danger for anyone without thinking twice about it, but him being the one protected he couldn't handle? A weight settled on your chest as you realised he actually didn't think himself deserving of what you did.

"Bucky." You extended a hand and to your surprise he took it. Scooted closer with his chair. "Especially because it's you." He opened his mouth in protest but you silenced him with a squeeze of his hand. His palm was rough against yours, but warm. Secure. "And I'd do it again, even knowing I could die." The corners of his mouth turned downward but he let you speak.

"You have no idea how panicked I was when our system crashed. I couldn't reach anyone and I didn't have a clue what was going on. I was so afraid, Bucky. Terrified. And then, then I saw that gun trained on you and I just - I just went for it. Not a second thought. I couldn't have lived with myself if I let you die."

"But I'm horrible to you. Like all the time." Absentmindedly his thumb traced the back of your hand in soothing strokes. He couldn't hold your gaze, there was too much affection in it and he felt far too ashamed.

"You are."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled quietly. "I don't know why I keep being an ass. I-it's…complicated." He raked his free hand through his messy hair, shoulders slumping. "Jesus, I thought I was losing you. And I-I don't want that to happen. Ever. I don't…I can't…"

Slowly, you took your hand from his, let it rest against his stubbled cheek instead. Bucky froze for the briefest of moments before his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into the touch, exhaustion evident in every chiseled feature of his face. He sighed as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Get some sleep, Bucky."

"…not leaving you," he muttered. His head dropped to rest in the crook of his elbow on the edge of your bed. He could barely keep his eyes open. As if he's kept himself awake just long enough to make sure you actually were alive. Maybe he thought he didn't deserve to rest until he had made absolutely sure you were fine.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whispered back, the words holding a far deeper meaning.

Gently your fingers tangled in the dishevelled strands of his hair. A low, appreciative hum was the last thing you heard from him before he finally fell asleep in the comfort of what he was longing for.

[the-tv-lover]

Hey hey! I know this isn't necessarily a Tenna feederism ask, but I love the way you write him so so much! I was wondering if you had any thoughts on him with a reader who just shuts down whenever they're sad or scared. I'm talking like a complete freeze response where no amount of soft words can get them to talk about whats wrong and trying to force them to is like trying to pull teeth. Maybe Tenna's way to get them to relax is with a yummy treat?? 👀

Hi! It's all good, I plan to just post Tenna x Reader content here in general, I just have a bit of a fixation on one topic right now lol. I'm so glad you enjoy how I write him! I was afraid I wouldn't do him justice, but I'm seeing people are actually liking my fics a lot haha

I can imagine a few situations that this could happen! Maybe someone got mad at you, or you witnessed Tenna getting mad at someone himself.

Tenna x Freezing Reader headcanons under the cut!

MINORS DNI

He might panic a bit seeing you like this at first! He'll try to communicate with you and ask you questions in an attempt to help you find the words to say.

If someone else did something to upset you, he would want to know who did it. God forbid one of his employees do something to hurt you. He'll try to find out if one did so he can give them extra workload, but as long as you're quiet about it, he can't do anything.

If you saw him getting angry at someone, not necessarily at you, and got upset or scared since you just get this way as a reaction to anyone's anger no matter who it's directed to, he would feel so sorry for doing something that would make you feel this way, again, even if it's not directed at you.

When he realizes he just won't be able to get you to speak, he does other things to help calm you down so you can hopefully talk about it later once you relax.

If you enjoy physical contact, he'll try picking you up and holding you for a good while to let the weight of a hug calm you down.

If you don't want physical contact at the moment or if just physical affection isn't enough to calm you down, he'll do all sorts of things to help you relax! He'll take you to the couch and wrap you in a blanket and power on your favorite video game to play, or turn on a show or movie you enjoy. He'll make sure if you need anything to take care of yourself, like a snack or meal, a drink, or a nap.

Maybe after taking time to relax and process things, you might feel up to explaining to him what upset you. He'll gladly listen to what you need to express. You might need to convince him, though, that taking action against someone who upset you isn't necessary if you don't want him to do anything. If it was his own anger that scared you, he'll apologize and make a mental note to try controlling his temper around you and do better next time.

[3ammicrosleeps]

I'd say because this blog has put down some pretty hardline stances, and it's one of the four things I expect from this blog, along with peepswine, ff mmo things, and dice. On one hand yeah. it's all true, this particular trans would very much like if jk rowlinged off into the sun and we never had to deal with this shit again, and i'm tired of terfs using the aspect of complicated or problematic media as an excuse to give a shitty person a pass. On the other hand it is real hard to currently erase the ghost of magical British boarding school from the genre, much in the way that eldritch horror *has* to deal with the garbage legacy of lovecraft or steampunk keeps trying, but can't fully escape the grime of Victoriana.

(oh look a bunch of pasty assholes with problematic pasts that tumblr keeps having a complicated relationship with i wonder if that means anythi-)

The better question, i feel, is to ask what the setting and characters gave people so that it makes it easier for people to start tearing down the edifice and build something better. Yes, we know about the rampant racism, sexism, body-shaming, practically-everything-ism, shit romances, shit-ASS-worldbuilding, copaganda and hypocritical fascist bootlicking. it's the media franchise that's launched a thousand essays. So what is it that people loved, besides nostalgia. For me it was because i felt this Worst Witch remake had a hell of a budget but lacked Tim Curry, and i wanted Evil House to turn out to have more depth than it ultimately ever had. I liked the clash of the old and new, and the possibility of ancient magics trying to survive in a modern age. I liked that there was an entire community of weirdos who somehow managed to make things work. I liked how the magic felt in the same pedigree as math magic, where theoretically if you calculus'd hard enough you could summon a dragon. That? is all salvageable, and you don't need some shitty terf who doesn't know proper latin to sign off on it.

The problem is that it'll still be compared to harry potter. and everyone writing this knows it. Doesn't mean it shouldn't be done anyway, but the very writing of it sends very specific flags that invite confrontation with an equally loud and hateful segment of the population, and i can see why people wanting to engage in brain-soothing comfort don't want that.

Like. ultimately I'm going to groan, but put up with it when my busted-up, half-bedbound mom watches harry potter movies on the service that she spends the same amount on each month, hp-watched shows or not. I'll also keep updating her on each new act of bullshit that rowling has done and how it's affecting people. This is her Problematic Thing that she wants to watch with her brain off. People will always have a Shitty Thing That They Consume With Their Brain Off. I'm pretty sure that if i went into a deep dive of all the ff media i'd find enough to turn me off the franchise forever (like someone I knew had issues with Quina because it reminded them too much of how Japanese people stereotyped Chinese people in media, and that's been a splinter that i should look into), but hey, sometimes you want to turn your brain off and play mahjong against a naked man with glasses. At some point I know I need to put the series in perspective, but I also know that flagellating myself isn't doing anything to help any potentially affected communities, actually doing shit to help, will.

But to anon, only you can absolve you of internalized blame. People will have opinions, regardless of what you do or not do. If you're okay with that, then you already have your answer. If you're not okay with that, why are you either a) so afraid of what other trans people feel (if you're trans), or b) feel that internalized guilt will help our community more than joining us in communal efforts?

Genuine question: I have the whole HP book series in a neat little box set that I received as a gift before everything about JK Rowling came to light. I've made a vow to never purchase/rent the movies again and to never buy any new memorabilia. Is it...okay if I still want to re-read the books? They were a big part of my childhood, but I feel guilty for wanting to partake in them again. I feel like I need someone to steer me straight on this, and I'm asking on Anon in case any of your other followers might feel the same way. Sorry if this ask too heavy or requires nuance, thanks for your time ♥

I mean this as gently and kindly as I possibly can, but it feels like you're looking for a moral authority to grant you absolution for engaging with a problematic intellectual property, and I don't have the power to do that. On the one hand, I don't think silently and solitarily rereading books you already own is doing material harm to trans people, but why do it if it's going to make you feel guilty about it the whole time? At the end of the day it's up to you to decide where this fits in your own moral framework.

[pixiescribes]

PROMPTS FROM MY UNFINISHED WRITINGS

Some prompts taken from my own writings of the last approximately 10 years. Some are from novel wips, some just random sentences I had stuck in my brain. Feel free to adjust as needed.

"I'm happy for them. If i tell myself that often enough, perhaps I will start believing it."

"I'm just curious. Is that so bad?"

"I'll leave you alone, if you prefer that."

"Those scribblers have always been vicious."

"The danger is real. You can't just ignore it and hope that it'll go away."

"Calm down and carefully consider your next steps, if you truly want to help."

"To be quite honest, I don't even know what I'm supposed to feel yet."

"Why the hell does nobody believe I'm capable of some delicacy?"

"Thanks. I didn't expect to laugh today."

"You're coming with me then. It'll be perfectly safe."

"You can allow yourself to make mistakes."

"You had a future and an inheritance. And you threw it all away."

"Why is it so easy for you to see your own weaknesses, but not anybody else's?"

 “Nobody is without fault and nobody makes the right decisions all the time."

"Ideas cannot be killed."

"You haven't dedicated your whole life to a single cause, only to find out it's all a lie."

"I always knew you aren't a damsel in distress, waiting for a noble hero."

"Does my face reveal that much?"

"It can be dangerous in the streets alone at this hour. I will accompany you, if you don't mind."

"You look like the food has suddenly become stale in your mouth."

"Are you so desperate for an adventure, that you just throw all caution to the wind?"

"The concern for you has urged them on, more than anything else."

"I'm not sure I ever heared you utter that many words at once before."

"You can easily gather information at a tavern. Just one of its many advantages."

"You've caught me off guard. But that's no excuse."

"You are not alone. And you've got people around you who will always care."

"I only know that I won't return to where I started."

"We agreed on keeping a low profile, in case you've forgotten."

"I've been fine on my own my whole life and I'll continue to be. Saves you a lot of trouble."

"Forgiveness is the true virtue. It demands more courage than hate."

"We will overcome this. Bruised and broken perhaps, but still alive."

"I don't deserve your lenience."

"Pain and heartbreak have entered and once inside they are hard to banish."

"There is no right time for happiness. You just hold on to every little moment of it and hope that it'll carry you through."

"I've always believed you're capable of everything - courage, strength, determination ... but never wrath."

"I'm afraid of ruining everything."

"You won't lose me. Never."

"How does it feel? To kill someone?"

"Do you honestly believe I would hesitate driving that knife through your heart? After everything you've done?"

"You want me to trust in myself ? Then I'm asking you to do the same."

"I've trained to wield the sword. Words have never been my strong point."

"Would you stay? If i asked you to?"

"I don't need anyone to fight my battles for me."

"What if they feel like they could be happy elsewhere, even if it means leaving everything behind? Is that worth it?"

"It wasn't enough. End of the story."

[nekrosmos]

Mine friend, I don't know who to ask, but y'know... How do you draw body hair?? I'm going to choke Price for being difficult

Hey Lia !!

Honestly, a lot of it is looking at references, trying to understand the movement of the hair, and then trying to recreate it.

Make yourself a nice folder full of pictures of hairy bodies, and look at it for way too long before attacking the art.

I use this one ref a lot, here's a quick rundown of the hair movement on this person's chest, it helps me a lot when I'm drawing:

I draw each hair individually but you really don't have to, it depends on your style I think.

I also like to use a brush that is not too opaque, something more akin to a real pencil. I also add some depth to the body hair during the coloring phase, with a light airbrush !

Here's a quick little timelapse I took while drawing :

Like you see on the video, I usually start from one side and then do the other, but this often leads to me having to correct the first side I made because I prefer the second one, but it's really up to you how you do it. I also use a brush size that is bigger than the one I use for the lineart.

I also suggest checking out this body hair tutorial, which is absolutely amazing and can show you a different art style than mine! Don't be afraid to look at how different artists draw hair and get inspiration from them either, that's how you evolve your art.

If you want to try out my brush, I use the "colored pencil" one from this CSP pack : https://assets.clip-studio.com/en-us/detail?id=1842027

Here you go, I hope this helped ! I could always upload my file of body hair reference and send it to you if you need it ! Don't hesitate to ask. Mwah <3

[theincorrigiblemagpie]

Rilla of Ingleside - Chapters 19, 20, 21

Oh, this is going to be LONG—I am so dreadfully behind!

There's nothing I can say about the Verdun offensive and the Ingleside reaction to it that hasn't been said already. Instead, I will tell you all about a scary dream *I* had last week. I dreamt I was in one of my childhood homes (the one we lived in when I was about 8). And a storm was coming and I was rushing to close the windows and balcony doors. Not to keep the storm out (ok a little bit to keep the storm out) but because I knew a scary flying WITCH was coming to get me. A cackling Baba Yaga-esque witch (Indian folklore has similar depictions). And my sister was not taking me seriously at all, nor helping me close the windows. I woke up and immediately texted some of my friends about it and we spent a very enjoyable hour trying to interpret my dream.

No, Gilbert, don't stop laughing at Gertrude's dreams. She needs someone to give her a reality check.

"But work He does, Miss Oliver, and in the end His purpose will be fulfilled." Maybe you should explain this to your anxiety-riddled child instead of lecturing Gertrude, JOHN.

Listen, the whole Robert Grant incident was tragic and I can't imagine how awful it was for Gertrude. But it's doing nothing to dispel my 'oh yeah, my boyfriend goes to another school—that's why you haven't met him' story line. Like, 'you could have met him but unfortunately, he was killed heroically in the war.'

"and then 'joy came in the morning' as the Bible says" Interesting! Wasn't this the verse Anne quoted after hearing that Gilbert was out of danger? Another parallel for @gogandmagog's list.

"because everybody else had gone to the station to meet Di and Nan coming home from Redmond." RIP to two more siblings Rilla doesn't care about lmaoo

"Anyhow, my king and country need me now to cut potato sets for the back garden" I do not enjoy Susan's jingoism but I deeply admire her pragmatism. Even when the world is burning, dinner has to be cooked and the dishes washed, and she is unflinching in doing her everyday duty.

I know the text wants us to loathe Whiskers and grudgingly like Norman Douglas but I severely dislike both. Not sure why, but Norman Douglas has always struck me as a discount Marshall Elliot. Like he wishes he was Marshall.

"I am afraid that there must be something incurably frivolous about me, because, right in the middle of it all, with me crying and Fred looking so wild and tragic, the thought popped into my head that it would be an unendurable thing to see that nose across from me at the breakfast table every morning of my life." Rilla continues to be insanely relatable to me.

"If Fred's nose were as handsome as his eyes and mouth some such thing might have happened. And then what an unthinkable predicament I should have been in!" PLEASE I'm screaming she's so funny asdfghjk

This dude with the two first names is entirely too chill asking for a kiss from a girl who just said she doesn't like you like that. (Yes, yes, I know Arnold can be a last name, but Hey Arnold! made an impression on me as a child.)

Love how Ken (from Toronto) and Fred (from somewhere in the Four Winds general area) know that they're rivals when no one else in the entire Blythe family seems to sense this love triangle. Were they chatting with their respective guy friends about "the interloper"?

Were Leslie, Owen, and Persis as shook as Anne when Ken announced his engagement to Rilla? Did they have some inkling? Did Anne write to Leslie to discuss this development once she found out? Did Anne discuss this with Gilbert so he'd be less confused later?

[a-dragons-journal]

Hey there. Sorry if I'm bugging you, but I'm kind of just in need of some advice and you seem smart. Basically, I am really worried that I'm committing sin and going to hell just because I'm otherkin (polymorph, specifically). Now, I'm not a spiritual person, but I've had Christianity shoved down my throat because of my family who're Evangelist, and it gives me so much anxiety that I'll go to hell because of me being otherkin. I keep on thinking "Is being otherkin a sin?" and I keep on hearing "yes" repeated over and over in the back of my mind like God is saying it, which I really don't know if it's true or not. I don't really know what to do... again, sorry if I'm bugging you, but this has been stressing me out tremendously and I'm afraid of asking for advice for this kind of thing, mainly because I don't have anyone to talk to in the otherkin community.

Sorry it took me so long to get back to you on this! You're not bugging me, no worries, Tumblr's just. bad at notifying me of things.

So I'm going to go ahead and preface this by saying that I'm not Christian, but I was raised at least partially Christian and have gone to a Lutheran church for some time, so - just so we're clear on where my credentials do and don't lie.

My honest assessment is this: if you have decided that Christianity doesn't make sense to you and you don't actually believe in it, then this is not a rational worry for you - it's your anxiety taking something that's been drilled into you as a threat and trying to protect you from it, even though it's not actually a threat. That's a very natural survival instinct, but in this case unfortunately not a helpful one. I know you probably already know this, but sometimes it helps a little to hear it from outside.

(Loretta:) I'm also going to go ahead and give my input as the headmate who is actually Christian*, because I want to emphasize this: your anxiety is not the voice of God. It is drastically more likely that your anxiety is what's speaking to you than it is that you're literally hearing the voice of God - not least of which because it doesn't really make any sense to call being otherkin a sin as far as I'm concerned. Why would it be? What commandments does it violate? Who does it harm? People love to talk shit about trans people "claiming God made a mistake" by being trans (which would be heresy), which could be applied to this as well, but you can just as easily argue that God made you otherkin on purpose and there was no mistake involved if you want to. There's no sin inherent to existing as nonhuman. So even if you did believe in All That, it's still not something you should need to worry about.

*family-inherited heresies irrelevant to this topic of conversation notwithstanding

(Rani:) Hopefully that helps some, and hopefully you can find some peace with this. <3