#everyone involved has to put in the work for it to be safe

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere Vlogger who gains a following by stalking you.

TW. DDNE ! MDNI ! Stalking, Implied NonCon, Voyeurism, Kidnapping

It started out with a few, weird videos that barely got any views.

He had a shaky camera, and he'd rarely ever talk. In fact, he didn't even show you in the beginning. It was more of videos he took walking in random places without showing his face. Honestly, it looked like he hadn't intended for anyone but himself to see the uploads, yet somehow they ended up floating across the feeds of some people.

| What is this even about lol | This is kind of strange... | What are you doing?

He was surprised to get any comments at all, but the last one especially jumped out at him. Any rational person wouldn't talk about how they'd been secretly following the love of their life to some random stranger, but he was far from rational.

Instead of replying in the comments, he made another video.

Why I Do This

" It's because I love her, and I want to make sure she's safe," he said with a shrug. The camera was propped up on a cafe table, and his face was clearly in view. Well groomed, handsome, young... he certainly didn't seem the type to be a deranged lunatic. "Besides, I like the thought that one day she'll see this and know how much I care." After he spoke, the footage was cut with a shot of his shoes slapping against pavement, wandering in some unknown location.

That one got quite a bit of views. Hundreds this time, out of seemingly nowhere.

| Woah is this guy for Real? | No way is he serious, this is probably just some project or some shit. | Lol who cares if it's real, it's kind of interesting | I wish I had a boyfriend like that | You should show us your partner lmao

The videos would come every other day or so now. There seemed to be a bit more editing involved, and the few glimpses of you that the audience got became like a fun guessing game.

"I never expected anyone to be interested in this," he admitted, this time more quietly in a library study area. " I thought people would think that this whole thing is weird, but there are, what? A thousand of you now? So strange... and here I thought I was the weird one," He chuckled and brushed his hair back gently. Just out of sight in the camera was your seated form, working diligently on an assignment. If only you knew how much he cared. Not only that, if only you knew how many people thought he was cool for loving you the way he did.

| Guys I'm starting to get kind of freaked out. Is the person getting stalked okay? | Nah, it's not real. No way. If he was for real he wouldn't be showing his face | Woah the quality has gone up so much! The sneaking into the house portion of the videos are always so creepy and realistic! Keep up the good work! | You should go into acting man | Our beloved stalker is getting pretty bold lol. I wonder how this series will end lol

Sure enough, he started having more fun making the videos. He invested in a higher quality camera, and he started to become more and more obsessed with not only following you, but documenting the whole thing. He invested in a new camera and bought new editing software. Plus, with the ad revenue he was getting from his growing viewers, he could afford to buy trackers and other things...

"Thanks to you guys, I've finally got enough to bring them home," he practically beamed as he stared into the black lens. He was hidden in a bush, the glow of your house lights illuminating his face. He held up a bundle of ropes and some cuffs. "I really couldn't have done this without your support. I'm really grateful. I might have to lay low for a while after this... but hopefully I'll be putting out some more videos about getting them settled in their new home. Again, thanks for everything."

When a missing persons alert was put out for you, hardly anyone paid any attention. His viewers didn't know your name, and he was smart enough to hide your face, so no one suspected a thing. Soon enough, you were a forgotten statistic to everyone but him.

| Woah new video! | The new set looks great! | They're acting is so realistic lol. It gives me chills. | Hey don't they kinda look like that one person...? | I'm glad to see how this series progressed lol, the stalking was getting kind of boring

"They love you," he hummed as he scrolled through the comments, the screen lighting up the darkened room. You were bound in his lap, whimpering, blindfolded and gagged as he rubbed soothing circles into your hip. "Not as much as I can, but I told you everyone was rooting for us to get together," He smiled and planted a kiss to the crown of your head.

He then stood up, carrying you in his strong arms before laying you down on his bed. He switched on the lighting and turned on the various cameras he had set up to catch your expressions from every angle. His voice was sickeningly sweet as he got you tied down and ready, his eyes flashing with barely contained obsession. "Now... some people have been asking for more... exclusive content. I think it's only fair we let them see... I wouldn't have you if it wasn't for them after all. Be good for me okay?"

[ihaznoclue]

Ellen Joe, Nicole demara, and Anby Demara, what are they like with S/O before when they just had a crush on them and after when they got together?

Pairings -> Ellen Joe x Reader, Nicole Demara x Reader, Anby Demara x Reader

Warnings -> None

Note -> What they were like before dating you and after dating you

Genre -> Fluff

ELLEN JOE

Before (Crush stage) - Ellen is very quiet and very composed since her job is a maid but her affection shows a bit every once in a while trying to hint at you

Maybe she would linger for a while with you, maybe sleep next to you and she would just say "I'm just keeping a eye on things just in case" that's her way of saying 'I'm staying here'

Even when danger rises, even in hollows or out of hollows, she is basically the first one to react but she would most likely brush it off as 'duty' meaning that she has to protect and serve

She would rarely smile or give you a small gesture, maybe bringing you your favourite snack that she remembered you saying even without admitting it that she remembered, this shows that she pays attention at all time to you

After (Together) - She mainly expresses her love in actions more than words, since she doesn't really know what to say at times, maybe maintaining your equipment, maybe waiting up when you are late or just need to tie a shoelace or maybe making you feel safe

Occasionally shows a dry sense of humor meaning she lets her guard down at time a bit more than usual, maybe some jokes here and there

She would also hold your hand or leaning her head down on your shoulder so she could sleep after working so hard after a long mission or work shift

NICOLE DEMARA

Before (Crush stage) - Nicole is very outgoing and full of charm when she wants to, but she hides her feelings beneath a cheeky grin and compliments but you can always tell she actually means them

She would mostly seek your attention when she is doing something, she would involve you in anything, her plans, mission, her hollow raiding plans, she just wants you to be there with her at all times

If the reader is close to someone else, maybe someone in her faction do the cunning hares, she might act a little bit dramatic or maybe tease them more than usual to try and get your attention back to her

After (Together) - Expect very tight hugs from her, playful kisses and constant reminders that she loves you very much until she leaves for a mission, but int he end she would make you come with her

She becomes more loyal and slightly possessive towards you, always making sure everyone knows that you are hers and hers alone even in the loudest way possible that make you slightly embarrassed

While she jokes around during walks or missions runs Nicole shows genuine weakness, even during big talks but that's what people do

ANBY DEMARA

Before (Crush stage) - Anby is emotionally uncommunicative and quiet and maybe a bit awkward, so she might have some trouble by understanding her crush at first, she just knows she feels 'strange' when you are around her

She may be a bit blurt by her compliments, trying to sound interested, but her tone is flat but it makes them sound sincere, maybe

This is not in a creepy way but she just likes when your presence is near her as she find comfort in it, knowing that you are safe and okay

After (together) - Anby wants to understand this whole soulmate, together relationships and she puts a lot of effort into learning more and more about this stuff and what makes you happy

When she fully trusts you, she is likely to be touch starved, I mean of come this girl has been alone since Nicole found her and she enjoys quiet cuddles and moments of silence, maybe resting her head on your lap during the downtime

If someone threatens you in any way, Anby switches form quiet to deadly serious mode in a quirk heartbeat, she doesn't like when someone mistreats you like that and would confront them in the 'kindess' way possible

-A<3

[faceofpoe]

On the highly contentious unraveling of Cassian Andor (and how season 2 is at its heart about his relationship with Luthen).

(This has nothing to do with justifying or not fuck-all about Rogue One Cassian beyond getting him to that beach, I'm an Andor girlie just working my head around what we've built and where it's going in the context of the show).

I had a lot of issues with arc 1, and some of those issues (like ducking around pillars at a wedding to have the hey we're gonna have to murder that guy talk or, why is Kleya even here?) are not going to go away BUT as someone whose brain wasn't exploded by season 1 until seeing the full big picture come together (Rix Road, beloved), I promised myself a full season rewatch to try to recalibrate.

I haven't rewatched yet, but let's have a 75% recalibration now that arcs 2 and 3 have led us where they have to much fandom furor, and mulling how we bring this whole thing together.

Which brings me back to: this season is at its heart about Cassian's relationship with Luthen, and his acceptance at the end of season 1 that Luthen was right, he's going to die fighting the Empire - so either kill me right now, or put me to good use fighting these bastards for real.

Season 2 came to us with a gigantic ask: engage with the negative space. We have to imagine how Cassian went from big wet bambi eyes above to Mr Earnest-Reassuring-Come-Into-The-Circle with Niya. Mr Empire's-Most-Wanted is sneaking into top secret facilities and doing it with confidence and -

Shit goes instantly sideways. This isn't even the right ship, did anybody know that?? (they didn't, obviously they didn't, they don't know what's gone wrong, and this is really important I think about the fallout of this arc). Cassian's off having a terrible time while Luthen and Kleya are spying and drinking on Chandrila and he doesn't check in and this isn't normal.

It's been a year+ since season 1. Partagaz tells Dedra she's been on the Axis hunt for "almost two years" I believe so presumably we've jumped decently down the calendar year for the 4bby arc.

I have a lot of feels on how Cassian's arc one story should have had more time to breathe, to make the losses punch harder at the end by showing him leaving home, etc, but perhaps that is also the point -

He's good at this; he's accepted his pact with Luthen, one day he'll die fighting - but they're tucked away safe. Brasso's looking out for everyone, Brasso who he tasked with looking out for Maarva if he could. We're meeting him on the high point of thinking he can have it both ways and... perhaps not fearing what happens back home, if this mission or that is the one from which he doesn't return. They'll pull through. This is perhaps his era of: the Cause comes first; we take what's left. And he's balancing it, or thinks he is anyway.

Dashing off home and having found that unraveled while he was having The Worst time on Yavin - captured by, theoretically, allies -

The balance is upended, and cue crisis of faith. Not in the Cause per se, but in Luthen. He gave his own life up to Luthen but now the situation has changed on multiple levels. He's rattled by the failure on Kleya & Luthen's end on Sienar, doesn't have Brasso, doesn't have this illusion of safety on Mina-Rau, Bix and Wilmon both get involved, but Cassian isn't handling it well. There's no "take what's left" when she's right there in the line of fire too. Bix questions his decisions in the field, Luthen... his exchange with Kleya in 2.6 is telling.

"This isn't the piece we need."

"We knew that already."

"I thought seeing it in person would make a difference."

Cassian is not the operative he was where we met him with Niya. Sending him to Ghorman is something of a confirmation of something they've clearly been realizing/discussing. Luthen going to check on Bix/put her to work/whatever was the deal there - this seems very much Not The Norm by her reaction, they don't have a lot of face-to-face contact I would guess - he's doing his own assessment of just what is the situation here. (In the most dickish way possible of course, my problematic beloved.)

Cassian's at this complicated intersection of having lost this comfortable place where he can risk and trust his family's safety. Luthen and Kleya are having their own meltdown over how chaotic their operation has become. Cassian... is probably thinking about that bad intel for Sienar and wondering when the next catastrophic fuck-up that isn't his fault is going to cost something else while Bix is over here being the far better adjusted one about just what war looks like and how unreasonable his mentality about her presence. And I'm really curious if we're meant to read in the sudden appearance of "I have friends everywhere" that this was an effort to avoid another experience like the Maya Pei Brigade.

And then Luthen asks him to see about stoking the flames on Ghorman. (I'm still trying to decide how I feel about the sort of 'having it both ways' aspect of Ghorman and provocation and 'it never mattered anyway the ending was already written.')

And Cassian says: "I'll sit this one out." He doesn't take the order, he decides he wants no part in it. And that is where the final fracture in kill me or take me in finally happens.

He doesn't trust the vision anymore. Doesn't trust that the inevitable tragedy will be worth something in the end. Is this fighting these bastards for real? And is starting, perhaps, to wonder if it was worth it at all, to walk back off that ship to Gangi Moon.

And somewhere in the next year, Cassian starts to come to terms apparently with the fact that he doesn't trust Luthen with his life anymore. But he's not quite all-in with Yavin and Draven either. He's maybe still grappling with the acceptance, or inevitability, or not, that the fight will claim his life in the end - and he's lost his faith in Luthen spending it well. Sometime in this time gap after arguing over Ghorman, the fallout with Cinta, getting shot and struggling with recovery... it unsettles him into retreating, ducking Luthen's calls, until Wilmon turns up with compelling incentive.

[insert Force-ex-machina plot here to heighten his internal struggle]

And at the root of their conversation before the Mon extraction is basically Cassian refusing the assertion from 1.4 - this end is not already written. His own decisions matter. Arcs 1 and 2 only validated his teenage understanding that rebellion is pointless and all they'll do is fight themselves one way or another and, Ghorman has validated his plea with Maarva that she can't beat them. People stand up, they die.

And he has a very similar sort of conversation with Luthen as he had with Maarva and gets much the same response. Still work to be done. Luthen doesn't ask Cassian to stay, but he gives him the "I can't go." They're done. Cassian's done.

[I have quarantined the unfolding of the Bix departure in my brain, Bix's story is now Tether, sorry, I hate it so much, and it could have very much worked without the Force healer Force-ex-machina of it and probably with different timing, anyway]

Anyway Bix pulls the "if you leave, it won't be for me."

So we the audience know of course that Cassian is going to stay. Ironically, perhaps, in a far less make-my-own-decisions friendly capacity within the military hierarchy than he ever was with Luthen. And it will be interesting to see how we meet him at the opening of arc 4. He's presumably got Wilmon and Vel and Melshi and K2SO. He's finally seen the Rebellion pull together; Bix ripped away his fantasy (and it is a fantasy, he knows it's a fantasy because it's played out already on Ferrix and Niamos and Mina-Rau) that there's somewhere safe they could get away from it all.

Will he trust Draven & co to spend his life for good again? Or perhaps he simply can't bring himself to care so much either way after all of the turmoil surrounding Ghorman and the fallout and Bix. Orders are orders and good soldiers follow orders and here he is now, slapped into a uniform with a rank on his chest (idk if he ever actually wears the uniform with rank insignia between all the amazing coats in R1 but you get me) and he'll play the part because what else is there?

But Luthen is still out there, against just about every prediction for how this season would unfold. Luthen is the one puzzling over Ghorman and Dedra, demanding the endgame. Luthen isn't finished.

And I guess the question is, since we know how this ends - what is the force the propels Cassian along to Kafrene to kick off the final mission?

Just a soldier following orders?

Or are we going to wrap this back around to that s1 claim and that pact and the extension of broken trust and give Luthen something of a chance to earn it back (possibly posthumously), in sending Cassian along to the meaningful death he promised?

[seoulmatez]

𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

a day you convinced yourself you'd never live has arrived—your first date with boothill.

• boothill x f!reader ﾉ 3.8k wc ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ light teasing ﾉ petnames (darlin', m'lady, sweetheart)

previous part ♡ masterlist

here's the finale! i hope everyone enjoyed the resurgence of farmhand boothill! if anyone is interested, i have some "extras" that follow the story but aren't connected to the main plot that i may post :3

Your room looks like a hurricane ripped through it—all the clothes from your closet scattered messily over your bed, makeup products and hair appliances strewn across your vanity, and at the center of it all is you. Your fingers are tangled in the roots of your hair and a groan that sounds like it came from another person penetrates the air. Unlike a hurricane, there’s no calm in the eye of this storm. You thought your stress was supposed to be subsided by now—the hard part has passed, so what the hell is this?

The date hasn’t even started and everything seems to be going wrong. You have no idea what to wear and Boothill has been absolutely no help on that front, not budging even an inch when you asked for a hint as to where he was taking you. The answer you got was, “patience, darlin’,'' accompanied by his signature smirk and wink before he left you to continue with work for the day. 

Just as you consider tracking the farmhand down to ask him again and force him to give you something a little helpful, your phone dings. You ignore it for a second and then another before you remember that you recruited help from Meg a little while ago. You practically dive for the device, quickly unlocking it so that you can read over her long-awaited advice.

go with the white babydoll dress!!!

The one she’s referring to and a few other options lay atop the mound of clothes that you’ll have to put back later. It caught your eye earlier but you had wondered if it would be too dressy for the occasion. There’s only so much to do in town and half of those things involve getting dirty but if you and Meg both have your eyes on it, then the dress must be the one.

thank you, love you!

With one less thing to worry about, you hop in the shower a little more carefree than you have been since waking up this morning. The nerves that have had you on edge for most of the day are slowly but surely turning into ones that are itching for time to move quicker.

The rest of your preparation is considerably less taxing with Meg’s input and your gradual decline of overthinking. You’re able to style your hair and paint on some makeup without any trouble, your foot mindlessly bouncing up and down as you hum the melody to the last song you listened to. Soon, the only sign that you had experienced any turmoil at all is the state of your room. You’ll deal with that later.

You’re packing your bag with the essentials—chapstick, mints, hair ties—when there’s a knock at your door. The sound makes you jump and suddenly the nerves come rushing back. You can’t let Boothill see your room like this. Luckily for you, he’s content talking through the door.

“I’ll be waiting for you outside, darlin’. No rush.” His voice is a little muffled but despite the obstruction, you can still hear the smile in his tone. You can see it in your head—soft pink lips curling up at the corners, a little higher on the left, and sharp, pearly white canines of display. The sight once ignited annoyance in you but that feeling has all but died down, replaced with something closer to fondness.

“Okay!” you yell back.

He assured you that it was no rush but you find yourself hastily gathering the rest of your things. Before you tuck your phone away in the bag, you shoot Meg a text that you’re about to head out. The device buzzes with a notification before you’re able to put it away and you quickly read over Meg’s reply.

have fun and be safe! update me as soon as you get home… or not ;)

Your lips part in surprise at her thinly veiled implication. The thought alone of anything even remotely intimate like she’s suggesting is enough to make your cheeks burn and the tips of your ears heat up. You put the screen of your phone to sleep and shove it into your bag, hoping the thought will disappear with it. 

You make your way down the stairs and stop at the doorway to slip on your boots before you pull the door open to meet Boothill at his truck. The vehicle is pulled up right in front of the porch. He leisurely leans against the passenger door, legs crossed at the ankle and arms crossed over his chest. He looks like a still taken from a romance movie and the corners of your lips turn up as you wonder if that was his intention.

He's never struck you as the type to watch those kinds of movies but as you look at him, you realize that there’s a lot you still don’t know about Boothill. You bite back a smile at the thought that a little part of you is looking forward to learning more.

“Well,” Boothill starts, standing up straight and stuffing his hands away in his pockets. Irises like stormy clouds look you over from head to toe before finally stopping at their destination—your eyes. “You look mighty pretty—as usual.”

“Thanks.” You suck in your cheeks to stop yourself from puckering your lips in embarrassment. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before but the compliment feels different when you’ve put in the effort to look nice, and for him, at that. You clear your throat and gesture to his figure, moreso the outfit he’s dressed in. “You clean up nice.”

His outfit is simple, a plain white t-shirt paired with jeans and the pair of boots he reserves for occasions outside of work at the ranch. There’s a red bandana tied around his neck and one of his favorite hats, a brown beige, sits atop his hair that’s pulled back into a ponytail. It’s nothing out of the norm for him, though, the dirt and sweat that typically stain his attire is absent. He’s clearly put in a bit of effort for the experience.

Boothill grins at the courtesy. He could get used to receiving a little bit of praise from you. Even such a simple statement makes him feel like he’s on top of the world. All his patience seems to have paid off. “I hoped you’d think so.”

A strange sense of ease overwhelms you knowing that the farmhand also had you in mind while he was getting ready, was compelled to try and impress you. Though, you’re sure his room didn’t end up looking anything like yours in his pursuit of the goal.

Thankfully, Boothill doesn’t allow much time for your mind to wander and for you to get self-conscious all over again. He’s moving before you, spinning on his heel to open the passenger’s door of his truck. He turns to face you once more.

“Your chariot, m’lady.” He swings his arm out in a gesture full of flourish that makes you hide a laugh behind your hand. Your suspicion that Boothill may have taken some inspiration from a film only grows stronger with the motion but you play along, not minding feeling like the main character of a romantic story as you walk down the couple of steps from the porch to meet Boothill.

You catch a whiff of him as you slide past to take your seat, clean with soap and the subtle scent of earthy sandalwood. It’s a heady smell that drifts away too soon as he cautiously closes your door and rounds the vehicle to join you on the driver's side.

Your head is practically swimming with the pleasant scent of him when Boothill takes his spot beside you and even more so when he turns on the air conditioning. Your thoughts are bound to roam if you continue to focus on it so you close your eyes and shake your head before turning to Boothill. “So, are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope,” he tells you as he pulls out of the driveway and onto the main road. The man spares you a quick glance with his next words. “You’ll find out when we get there.”

You force out a dramatic sigh that earns a chuckle from Boothill. Despite your theatrics, you don’t push the issue. He seems hellbent on keeping it a secret and maybe the surprise will have been worth it not being spoiled by your curiosity.

So, while Boothill drives, you settle for fiddling with the knob of his radio, switching between stations until you land on one that’s playing a song you like. Boothill playfully ridicules you for skipping past so many decent songs but you stand your ground, arguing that the radio is the one thing you have control over since he insists on being so secretive.

He can only smile and agree.

One full song plays before Boothill pulls off to the side of the road. A crease forms between your eyebrows, confusion written on your face. Other than a house a little farther down the road, there’s not a building in sight. What around here is worth stopping for? “What are we doing here?”

“Quick pit stop,” he tells you, unbuckling his seat belt and pushing the door open. Cluelessness must be evident in your expression because Boothill tips his head down to laugh. He explains once he lifts his head. “Stay here, I won't take long—promise.”

You don’t question him, you just let your eyes follow his figure as he sets out to the field beside the road. You have no idea what business he has in the grass but you don’t question it, choosing instead to change the song playing over the speakers. Warm air from outside the truck flows into the vehicle through the door Boothill left open and while it’s not hot enough to make you sweat, you lean closer toward the vent. With your attention focused on a multitude of other things, you barely notice Boothill’s return, not taking note of his presence at the open door until he clears his throat.

Your head whips in his direction and you find him bent over the seat, his feet planted outside the truck and his arms resting on the seat. It takes you a moment to register that there’s a bunch of something colorful in his hands—flowers. They’re wildflowers, a pretty blend of orange and yellow, not nearly as neat as a professional bouquet but just as thoughtful.

“For you.” He holds the homemade bouquet out to you. It reminds you of a time a little while ago when he said those exact same words. He was handing you flowers from Miss Alma then but the more you thought about it after the fact, the less sense it made that the lady didn’t give you the flowers herself—you were right there, after all. The thought had nagged at you—the possibility that they may have really been from Boothill—but you paid it little mind, choosing not to read too deeply into the gesture for your own peace of mind.

Unlike then, you don’t hesitate to take them. The bunch is held together with a hair tie and it’s only then that you realize Boothill’s ponytail has been freed from its confines, hair flowing freely over his shoulders and down his back. “From you this time?”

“Of course.” He smiles. If he picks up on the fact that you’re onto him, he doesn’t show it, simply boosting himself back into the truck and closing the door behind him. You gently run the pads of your fingers over the soft petals as Boothill makes his way back onto the road. A soft smile pulls at your lips, one that Boothill catches out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t mention it, just cherishes the short glimpse of the sight he’s beginning to think he’d move mountains for.

Several minutes pass before the environment shifts, the tires of Boothill’s truck going from riding smoothly on the pavement to roughly over uneven dirt. It makes for a bumpy ride. That paired with the fact that you’re unsure where the two of you could be heading is enough for you to speak up. “Are we allowed to drive down here?”

Boothill shrugs, keeping his eyes ahead. “What’s a broken rule here and there?”

You frown at that. It’s doubtful that anyone will see you out here—it’s secluded enough—but you can’t help but wonder if you’ll end up getting in any trouble. Sure, it would make for a memorable first date but you’d rather the occasion go off without a hitch. “You didn’t say we’d be partaking in illegal activities.”

“It’s not illegal,” he tells you with a laugh, one that he tries to conceal under his breath but is loud enough for you to hear. “Just frowned upon, maybe.”

You click your tongue in response.

“Wow, a city girl and goody two shoes. I’ve got my work cut out for me with you.”

“Oh, shut it.” You slap his shoulder which earns an entertained chuckle from the farmhand. Your annoyance at yet another nickname is short-lived as you look out your window. Boothill is driving down what you imagine is meant to be a hiking path, far too narrow to have been intended for anything larger than a park ranger’s utility vehicle. The only thing you’re passing by is trees, and plenty of them. “What the hell could possibly be out here?”

Boothill grins—partly at you swearing but mostly because his goal of surprising you can now be considered a success. “You’re looking at it, sweetheart.”

You send him a questioning look but he only points ahead in answer. Following the direction of his finger, you peer straight ahead through the windshield. Underneath the sun’s glowing rays, the soft waves of a creek glisten. The densely wooded area has thinned out to make way for a clearing, one of dusty dirt and tiny pebbles that crunch beneath the tires as Boothill maneuvers the truck so that the rear faces the body of water.

He turns the key in the ignition, the engine dying with the motion. Gray eyes flit to his right to catch your gaze. “Meet me in the back?”

You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt, opening the door, and hopping down to the ground. The slam of the door alerts two birds and sends them flying. You watch their wings flap as they flee while you make your way to the back.

Boothill is busy opening the trunk when you arrive, pulling down the horizontal door and peeling back the topper that covers the bed. Once it’s open, he rounds the back and effortlessly climbs onto the open space. He looks down at you and offers his hand. His fingers wiggle in invitation before you take hold of him. With his support and the step on the bumper, you’re able to join him in the bed.

At the new height, you see that the bed looks different than it did when you last saw it. Instead of being lined with the protective mat and filled with groceries, a blanket covers the surface. There are pillows propped against each other, a wicker basket filled to the brim with an assortment of snacks and Boothill’s guitar is even laid out amongst the things he brought.

“Didn’t wanna overwhelm you with anything fancy or nothin’,” Boothill explains upon taking note of your silence. 

You think about how awkward it would have been to share a meal with Boothill alone. Though, the thought of Boothill dressing up in something more formal than his typical attire and hating every second of it is a humorous one. Despite missing out on the opportunity to see a whole new side of the man, you’re grateful he had your comfort in mind when it came to planning this. “No, no, this is nice. This is great.”

You take a seat on the cushioned bed, not-so-subtly eyeing the spot next to you in a silent gesture for Boothill to do the same. He follows your lead and sits down with his legs crossed. Your shoulders bump in his attempt to get comfortable and the accidental movement reminds you that there’s no center console separating the two of you now. Without the air conditioning, your closeness makes it much easier to feel the heat radiating from Boothill. It’s not unpleasant but, just like his scent, it makes you a bit lightheaded.

 “So,” you start, tilting your head toward him so you can get a better look at the farmhand from the corner of your eye, “What are we doing besides taking in the scenery with snacks and music?”

“Talkin’.” 

You turn your head fully so you’re facing him, waiting patiently for the rest of his sentence. The subject never comes. “About what?”

“Well, you haven't really jumped at the opportunity to tell me about yourself.” 

You can’t argue with that—you’ve been fairly private in terms of your life when it comes to Boothill. Other than the little bits your grandpa has let slip and the few things he’s picked up during your interactions together, there’s a lot Boothill doesn’t know about you. First dates are all about getting well acquainted with each other, right? “Okay… what do you want to know?”

He smiles a soft smile at your willingness to share. “Whatever you wanna tell me.”

It’s a broad ask—lets you keep certain things to yourself and expand freely on others. So you do. You tell him about your summers on the farm—how you’d pester your parents to drive you down practically the second school let out for summer break. You tell him about the tree climbing, the horse rides, the fruit picking—everything you got up to during those warm months off. You tell him about your summers at the ranch coming to an end, traded in for internships and job interviews. You tell him about how all the stress you tried to ignore over those years caught up to you, how you finally bit the bullet and came back to find some solace.

Boothill listens intently, nodding along to your stories, smiling at the parts where you find yourself speaking through giggles, hanging on your every word. He says it's a bummer that something so crummy led you back here but that he’s glad it did—otherwise, he wouldn’t have met you.

That part makes you bite your cheek in a failed attempt to hold back a smile. Being the sole subject of his stare is intimidating. It feels as though he’s seeing you—really seeing you, beyond the walls you put up that he’s actively tearing down brick by brick. It feels almost selfish that the spotlight has been shining on you all night. You take the break in conversation as an opportunity to turn the focus on Boothill, to ask him what he asked of you; to talk.

He tells you about his days in high school—how he used to help his dad out at his auto repair shop and how he took up guitar at his mother’s insistence. He plays a song his mom used to like—the first one he learned—for you before opening the floor for requests. You ask for “A crazy little thing called love” by Queen. The implication of the song’s title doesn’t hit you until Boothill’s eyebrows raise in pleasant surprise. Your mouth opens to explain but he cuts you off with a little ah-ah-ah, fingers finding their place on the strings and beginning to strum.

You lose track of how many songs he plays, how many pieces of popcorn you’re able to toss into his mouth, how much time has passed in this peaceful little bubble Boothill created just for the two of you. By the time you question any of it, the sun has bid you goodnight and left you with its glowing white counterpart. Bright stars speckle the sky and crickets chirp amongst blades of grass when Boothill finally checks the watch on his wrist.

“Gettin’ pretty late,” he informs you, wiping the palms of his hands on his thighs. He turns to you with what looks like a sleepy grin—he must have woken up for the day a while ago. “About time I get you home. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

You nod. As nice as these few hours have been, it wouldn’t be fair of you to keep him out here because you’re not ready for the night to end. 

He stands up with a grunt, offering you a hand to help you do the same. You accept it and let him pull you to your feet. The warmth of his hand disappears as he lets go to hop down from the bed. He beckons you forward with two fingers, holding his arm out to help you down.

Such a gentleman, you think, smiling and shaking your head as you take a couple of steps toward the edge. Before you make it, the toe of your boot catches on the blanket. The mishap sends you forward with a shocked squeal but your shins don’t scrape the bed and you don’t hit the ground with an ungraceful thud.

You’re safe in Boothill’s hold, his arms wrapped around your thighs, your chests pressed closely together. It’s a compromising position, though, despite the frantic beating of your heart, you don’t bother telling him to put you down or fighting your way out of his grasp. You simply look down at him and swallow the nervous lump in your throat.

He smirks. “You alright?”

“Fine,” you tell him. The reassurance comes out a bit breathy.

“Good.” He doesn’t put you down. “Did you have a nice time?”

“Yes.” You nod. “I did.”

Bathed in the dim moonlight, you gaze into Boothill’s eyes. He stares back into yours. Neither of you make any effort to move. It’s like you’re frozen in time, or maybe it’s moving slower, you’re not sure, but there’s only one thought circling in your mind at the moment.

You have no idea where it came from but you act on it before you can think any better of it, leaning down, your nose bumping his. You’d barely consider it a kiss—more like your lips gently brushing against his, but the shockwave that courses through your body at the contact hits all the same.

Boothill’s lips stretch into a smile underneath yours but he chooses to keep them sealed, not teasing, not escalating.

You don’t go back for another, nothing deeper, nothing more passionate, nothing more raw. You’ll have plenty of time for that after tonight. Instead, you bring your hand up to run your thumb over his lower lip. Your next words come out as a whisper. “How about I plan the next one?”

You can feel his chuckle against your finger. “I expect you’ll show me a good time, little miss city girl.”

sua here ( ≧ᗜ≦) thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[summerfated]

"it  has  to  have  some  sort  of  connection  to  this  one  too.  don't  you  think?  if  it's  not  the  same  one  then  ...  it's  someone  who  is  mimicking  this  person."  they  had  to  have  been  involved  in  some  sort  of  way  with  the  previous  set  of  murders  that  have  happened.  the  way  it's  starting  to  happen  again  just  proves  that  no  one  really  is  safe.  'why  now?'was  also  another  question  that  skye  had  been  asking  herself.  "you  can  be  a  bit  much,  can't  you?  i  don't  know  maybe  that  was  one  of  the  reasons  why  i  liked  you  when  we  first  met."  in  a  way,  she  realized  later  than  she  should  have  that  he  was  just  trying  to  show  her  that  he  was  there  for  her.  he  wasn't  ever  trying  to  do  that  to  hurt  her  and  she  turned  him  away  entirely  when  she  shouldn't  have.  that's  what  she  regrets  the  most.  "thank  you!  i  just  ...  i  wish  i  would've  just  seen  that  then  just  pushing  everyone  away  who  was  just  trying  to  help.  i  let  myself  be  alone  because  i  thought  it  was  easier  and  if  anything  it  was  a  lot  worse.  maybe  you  don't,  but  i've  been  starting  to  blame  myself  more."  it  was  one  of  the  main  factors  of  why  they  had  ended  in  the  first  place.  only  if  she  had  realized  that  he  was  just  trying  to  be  the  good  person  that  he  was  when  she  had  first  met  him.  that  was  one  of  the  reasons  she  fell  for  him  in  the  first  place.  when  he  wrapped  his  arms  around  her,  she  wasn't  expecting  it  at  first  and  would  wrap  her  arms  around  him;  staying  there  for  a  moment  before  pulling  back  from  it.  "that's  the  goal..  and  hey,  who  knows?  maybe  we'll  both  find  our  happy  endings  and  they'll  be  far,  far  away  from  here."  skye  didn't  mind  the  hug...  if  anything?  she  really  needed  one  but  wouldn't  of  been  the  one  to  say  it.  "i'd  hope  so,  but  figured  maybe  you  would've  deleted  it  after  everything  and  i  can't  say  that  i'd  blame  you.  and  of  course  not!  should  i  have  just  put  a  big  x  or  mad  emoji  next  to  your  name?"  a  nod  of  her  head  followed  when  she  listened  to  him  speak.  with  this  conversation  it  felt  like  they  weren't  enemies  anymore  or  on  bad  terms.  that  life  just  worked  out  the  way  it  did  for  them  and  they  stood  a  chance  to  live  in  this  town  together.  "you  wouldn't  of  bothered  me..  i  guess  i  just  needed  more  time  to  process  it  all  than  i  realized."  genuinely,  she  couldn't  remember  the  last  time  that  they  have  had  a  civil  conversation  with  each  other.  "you  have  a  really  good  point  and  i  wish  i  could  learn  to  not  stress..  but,  really,  how  do  you  do  that?"  there  was  a  chance  she  was  going  to  miss  it  on  purpose.  when  she  rethought  about  it  she  figured  it  would've  been  a  good  thing  to  get  out  of  her  house  for  a  change.  "as  you  should  be!  and  come  on..  i  was  trying  to  be  nice  here.  should  i  be  looking  forward  to  see  you  at  a  westbay  event?  i  guess  i'll  just  have  to  remember  this  for  next  time."  her  voice  full  of  sarcasm  with  a  playful  eyeroll.

“i heard that, about someone doing this back then… my mom told me about it once. do you think that killer is this one?” luka asks. the thought of the same person being behind the slaying of feyza gave him chills but he remained calm in front of skye. still, if the killer was the same person. he couldn’t understand why now… after all these years “well, sometimes… i can be a bit much, if you remember.” he smiles, though he really could be too much. his persistent need to help skye open up and get her to trust him led to her pushing him away. it hurt luka a little. “i don’t doubt it. i know i was scared to lose you too after everything that happened with sienna. you know, you can always talk to me. it’s hard keeping everything to yourself.” luka responds. hearing skye talk about her sister, he reaches out to skye. wrapping his arms around her before he speaks again. “it wasn’t your fault, skye. you had a lot going on, i don’t blame you for the way you handled things,” he whispers softly in her ear. he hated that she put on the blame on herself for the end of their relationship. she pushed him away but he could be a bit too desperate. he put a lot of pressure on skye, too much pressure. “and i really am glad you stayed but if you ever do get the opportunity to leave. don’t be afraid to take it.” he lets go of skye, a blush on his cheek because he really didn’t know if hugging her was the right thing to do. “i’m glad you didn’t. i still have your contact saved too… and really? no silly emoji? wow, i’m hurt.” his voice playful before he continues, “well that’s good to know, i guess i never noticed if you blocked me or not. i honestly didn’t want to bother you after we broke up.” talking to her felt natural at this point. he couldn’t believe how nervous he was when the conversation started. he hoped after this conversation, that at the very least they could be friends. he nods as she talks, it was so easy for her to captivate him. “you didn’t bring the mood down, i’m just saying that for your own sake… you don’t need to be stressing so much.” he reassures her, looking down at his feet for a moment then back at her, “really? that makes me happy to hear. i’ll be keeping an eye out for you,” luka grins widely at her confirmation. he honestly was gonna skip too until he heard her say she was going. he wasn’t gonna miss out on an opportunity to see her. “wait, what do you mean now you’ve got a reason?”

[thatevilenby]

Every time I see a "there's a shortage of tops/doms" post I have to wonder, is there really a top/dom shortage or do you just treat people who top/dom like shit? Is there really a shortage or do you just have unrealistic expectations that no top/dom could reasonably meet? Is there really a shortage or do you just take no steps to put yourself out there or actively talk to people who you want to top/dom you?

Essentially, is there really a shortage or do you just refuse to put the work in on your end?

[tarrynightss]

what happens when sukuna’s precious little jewel actually does get pregnant ???

I’m so glad you asked Anon hehe

Concubine!reader x Sukuna thoughts part 1 here

Tags; Pregnancy, Concubine!fem!Reader, smut below cut, breeding kink, size difference, bit of lactation kink

Sukuna is not surprised when it happens after all the hard work you both put into realizing his dream. He notices a subtle change in your smell, in the energy that pulsates around you when he caresses his hand over your body. A wide grin splits on his face as he lays his hand over your lower stomach, his chest sturdy against your back. He can’t help but nuzzle his face against the side of your head, inhaling more of your intoxicating smell. “It took.”. Those simple words have your eyes widening and your heart pounding in your chest, looking back at him to ensure you understood correctly. “You’re with child.”

He’s overjoyed with the prospect of having a baby, an heir of his own. He’s more affectionate than he ever was, taking time to settle you close against him, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the growing bump on your stomach. He even caresses your hair and kisses you in an attempt to comfort you when you feel pain, all of it shockingly gentle for Sukuna. In his mind there’s a simple explanation. You did as he wanted, and you continue to do your duty well, ensuring his child is safe and growing strong inside you even when it hurts you, so you should be rewarded for it.

Sukuna has always been wary of others, but with the pregnancy he turns outright paranoid. With the amount of enemies he has he worries that one might now lash out and target you and your baby. He focuses more on maintaining barriers around the house, has someone sample your food in front of him before it’s allowed to be served to you, and you never sleep alone anymore, him always curled protectively against your side. He also decides to dismiss a large portion of his harem, not trusting them to have your best interest in mind. He knows how jealous humans can get, had seen women scratch each others eyes out just to get ahead of the other, and so the only other concubines allowed to stay are the ones you claim are your friends. He still keeps a careful eye on them, only truly allowing it because he knows that when the time comes, you will need women to aid you through it, and he doesn’t trust random midwives more than he trusts them.

Sukuna will spoil you more than ever, making sure you are comfortable in whatever way he can offer. The pregnancy is clearly taking a toll on you, your stomach having grown large and heavy, and he almost worries the size difference between you that excited him so might become the death of you. He carries you basically everywhere the last two months, wrapping you up in his strong arms and doing anything you need of him. It’s quite ironic; you used to be the one helping him get dressed, fawning over your master, and now he does the opposite for you. Though you know it’s out of necessity, it still makes your heart flutter.

That Sukuna is stressed out when you finally give birth is putting it lightly. He waits outside as customary, trying to appear stoic but panicking on the inside at your pained screams. As soon as he hears a baby cry, he barges in, watching as another concubine places the child against your bare chest. He quickly finds himself on his knees beside you, brushing one large hand over your sweaty forehead to comfort you as the other joins you in holding your baby. It’s a daughter, but she’s healthy and strong, screaming her lungs out for a minute more before calming down. You laugh, and he breathes in deeply, knowing you both made it. Relieve makes him bend forward and press a kiss to your forehead, leaning back just in time to see the child’s eyes open. Four in total, just like her father, but with the scarlet stare replaced by the lovely color of your eyes.

It surprises everyone, including you, how much of an involved father he is, holding his baby as often as he can, a large finger prodding at her pouty lips till she smiles and coos. When you apologize to him for not giving him a son, he stares at you blankly, gesturing for you to rise from where you kneel before him, putting one hand on your cheek as two others still cradle your baby. “I don’t need your apology. The child is healthy, and you will give me a son next time.” The surprise is evident on your face as your eyes snap to his. Not only is he being benevolent, but he also just said he wants another child with you. You were afraid he would discard you like a broken toy after this, no longer interesting enough to him, but it seems you still manage to hold your position as his favorite, bringing a smile to your face.

It has to be said that Sukuna can’t take his eyes off of you from the moment that tiny bump appears on your stomach. There’s something about it, about you, that makes every fiber of his being crave touching you. Maybe it’s that famous pregnancy glow, or maybe it’s the fact that he knows he’s the one who fucked a baby into you. You’re his, more clearly now than ever, and it excites him beyond his own comprehension.

Luckily for Sukuna, the hormones coursing through your body have you seeking him out desperately throughout most of your pregnancy. The first few months he fucks you like he wants to ruin you, rutting into you like an addict, but as soon as you really start showing he becomes more gentle. He wouldn’t risk seriously hurting you or his child, often seating you in his lap as he thrusts into you, his mouth lapping at your sweet neck. You still mewl so sweetly for him, so eagerly, and he already knows he might want to do this all over again after you’ve given him his first child.

Sukuna takes such good care of his little jewel, even massaging your poor sore breasts, teasing your aching nipples with his tongue. The changes to your body have him drooling all over you, his hands constantly on your growing breasts or belly. It becomes a guilty pleasure of his to touch you there, enjoying just having you on his lap as he rolls your nipples between his fingers, loving the way you squirm against him.

You find some of the changes quite embarrassing, especially when your breasts start leaking milk as you enter your third trimester. He only grins wolfishly when he notices the wet patches on the fabric covering your breasts, tutting as he pulls you to his chambers. “You need to relieve the pressure, little one.” And of course your benevolent master knows just how to do it, massaging your breasts till more drops come out, making sure he’s right there to help you through it all. This definitely gets far worse after you’ve given birth and your milk fully comes in, aching painfully to be released, Sukuna hot on your heels after ensuring your baby is fed to ‘help’ you.

[confused-wanderer]

Plot twist: Superman having the most insane workout routine for the wrong reasons. A workout so intense the justice league struggles to even comprehend, let alone do it.

It all started with Green Lantern boasting about his workout routine when he was in the military. Which led to Martian Manhunter complaining that it was nothing to brag about, which led to green arrow talking about his workout, and after having enough of Batman’s sarcastic glare (trust the league, you can tell the glares’ sassy) they all start doing each others routines to prove which one is the hardest.

But when they get to Superman, barely any of them last ten minutes. Because you see, while the rest of the league has a strength building workout, Superman’s consists of strength reducing routines. And it’s hard enough to make them call it quits.

Growing up as a farmboy, Kent always had more leniency in how he used his strength, but had been strictly forbidden from ever assissting the livestock until he was properly trained. Why? Because no matter how gentle he was being, he always underestimated his strength. If he wasn’t being 100% focused on all his movements at all time, his sudden movements would create strong gusts of wind, and a single tap to the wood would make the house crack. He refused to go near anything that looked fragile because he was so so scared of hurting it.

So naturally, when he became superman, and had to deal with carrying people, holding up towers and just overall being surrounded by people with the aim to protect, he had to learn to be extremely gentle in caring for them. So naturally, he took several courses for expecting mothers and learnt to handle them as carefully as a newborn. No jostling too much, not too tight, always being aware of how much pressure he’s putting, handling distress and being firm without being overbearing.

One of his routines involved trying to figure out a safe way to catch two heavily cracked eggs while being launched into the sky, while the other included a booby trapped room trigged by sound so he would learn to keep his volume at a certain level without deafening the entire vicinity. And for context: the trigger level is the sound of a feather hitting the ground.

The only person who can relate is Wonder Woman, who also remains the one person Suoerman doesn’t have to worry about hurting.

Green lantern has yet to throw in the towel but he’s been crying for the past ten minutes and everyone else is exhausted. Batman however, is working very hard on trying to implement some of these in his routine. Clark doesn’t know if he should feel happy or worried about that.

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

I have poppy playtime brain rot and wrote this to clear my thoughts. This is also my first time writing anything for poppy playtime. If you have any constructive criticism, please let me know!

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶))

Fluffy Doey head canons because he deserved better!

★ Sometimes, when he's lonely or just needs to relax, he draws on the walls. His drawings often attract the smaller toys to join in. He likes picking them up so that the higher places are in reach. He can even be a staircase if a lot of people want to join! the more the merrier!

★ He would put everyone above himself, even Poppy. Despite everything that has happened, she is still his family. All the toys in safe haven are. Each and every one of them. They mean the world to him.

★ Kissy and him have sleepovers! they share a tent together and he makes up happy stories to pass the time. It's good for them both because Kissy sleeps better when someone she trusts is close to her. And Doey loves sleepovers because it reminds him of his old life. It makes him feel normal.

★ He can sew. It helps him cope, whether it's patching up old rips and tears or creating new pillows and stuffed animals. If they were to ask, he would teach the other toys basic sewing skills.

★ He willingly takes on extra tasks and responsibilities to lighten the load for the other toys. Whether it's cleaning, organizing, or running errands, he is always the first to volunteer. He doesn't know it, but it's earned him a lot of goodwill.

★ As mentioned above, Doey has a talent for storytelling. He often gathers the toys around for bedtime stories. It brings a sense of comfort and routine to the Safe Haven and allows everyone to feel involved.

★ When Kissy isn't feeling her best Doey guides Kissy through mindful breathing exercises, helping her feel more grounded. Doey's calm demeanor and reassuring voice helps Kissy feel more centered. They are certified besties!

[keferon]

Ooo Prowl deciding to snoop or bug the mecha scientists about how various ones work so that he can better figure out how to keep pilots from getting killed in the field, and Tarantulas being one of the only to actually show him the work plus talk possibilities once the mad scientist realizes that Prowl’s actually listening and genuinely paying attention.

Cue an increasing back and forth of Prowl coming by with new ideas for ways mecha abilities could be advanced for safety or protection, with Tarantulas consistently being the only one to figure out how to do the impossible work needed with their Earth materials (and scavenged Quintesson materials?).

Which then gets pushed even farther as Prowl gets more and more desperate with every death and puts himself front and center for Tarantulas to use as a test subject for their new ideas. Tarantulas’ questionable morals not seeing any problems with potentially dangerous or unstable upgrades bc the science is simply fascinating + Prowl really wants to do this clearly so who is he to refuse. Like Tarantulas is gonna make sure Prowl doesn’t die from such things, he likes having him around too much, but if the side effects are within a certain (dubiously safe) threshold then he’s not gonna exactly mitigate them all that much. (Upgrades for other mecha & pilots might be. A bit less safe comparatively. Tarantulas has a soft spot for Prowl and Prowl alone of course)

Eventually Tarantulas is bringing even more wild and dangerous ideas to the table, and bc of years of results and… companionship, one could say, between the two, Prowl is almost completely trusting with whatever Tarantulas brings to the table after only a quick (and maybe not entirely honest sometimes) rundown.

Which obviously has lead to an increasingly questionable state of Prowl’s general health. Not that Prowl would care as long as he’s able to pilot his mecha and do his job.

As well as increased isolation from many others somewhat encouraged by Tarantulas as Prowl focuses only on his pilot work and being around Tarantulas for brainstorming sessions or upgrades. Withdrawing from many around the base as a defensive measure so he doesn’t get overwhelmed if something goes horribly wrong out in the field- grief could get in the way of directing or helping others to safer situations after all. And this being the way things are for a long while.

Until a certain visored bot crashes into the tactician’s life.

OH MAN IMAGINE

Jazz doesn't want everyone to know that he is secretly tiny because he is shady and sneaky like that. But also his armor is too big to fit in corridors so he can't really follow Prowl everywhere. Including the labs~

So one day he decides that "fuck it I wanna know more" and hacks into security system to look though cameras footages right. And he finds the ones that placed in the labs and discovers the fucking HORROR that regularly happens there.

Bonus points if he doesn't realize that the reason Prowl does all this is kind of. him. Jazz.

He looks at Tarantulas and thinks there must be some kind of shady scheme involved. He thinks that Tarantulas is somehow forcing Prowl to go through this shit.

While the real reason is just. Prowl lost his previous partners. He doesn't want to lose the new one. He is afraid he wouldn't be good enough to keep Jazz alive and Tarantulas is very conveniently here reaching his hand and promising that "You can be better at protecting him and keeping him alive. Sure thing you can save him you just need to let me do a couple of tweaks and upgrades~"

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟒]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, cursing, mentions of abuse/alcoholism, mentions of broken bones

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. i've been SO busy this week, but i hope this chapter still meets everyone's expectations ;-;. unedited for now, but please enjoy and pls pls lmk what you think! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚'𝗦 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗣𝗔𝗖𝗘

Kinich breaks his arm when he’s eleven.

It had, admittedly, been stupid of him. He’s always been partial to extreme sports, as many members of his tribe are, but he’d gone a bit too far that day with his grappling, and it all came crashing down in an unceremonious heap. He more than anyone knows how unforgiving the ground can be, so it’d been a foolish endeavor in the first place.

Dizzy, he tries to push himself to his knees before crying out in pain—it’s his right arm. He can’t put any pressure on it all, at least unless he gets used to the shooting pain that overwhelms his senses. He leans on it again, testingly, before wincing.

No, there’s no getting used to a pain like that.

Surveying the land nearby, he notes the sharp, menacing rocks that dot the riverbed—he’d been lucky to land where he did. He decides he won’t fill you in on that detail. After all, you’ll be mad enough as it is.

As far as he knows, you’re still at home at this time, but you’ll be out delivering medicines later as a courier—the village apothecary trusts you with the work, and there are few others willing to do it. Plus, you learn a few things along the way. Kinich notices that you’re becoming quite skilled in certain remedies.

In general, the work the two of you participate in is rarely safe—safe work doesn’t make Mora, and it’s hard to feed two mouths without coin. Kinich himself usually takes jobs that see more combat, involving Saurians or any other odd tasks. So it’s not uncommon that he comes home with injuries, but it’s never been this bad. Something like this spells out a lack of work for at least several weeks, maybe more.

He sighs, briefly considering whether or not he should hide it.

But you seem to have a sixth sense for these things, and he’s truly lousy at lying when it comes to you, so he decides against it. Instead, he rises to his feet, groaning at the feeling of his pants sticking to his skin, still soaked.

The journey home feels three times as long.

He hadn’t risked grappling again with one arm, so he had walked, the hot sun beating down on his skin. When he thinks about it, he can’t really remember how he had put up with having to walk everywhere—grappling truly saves him so much time out of his day. The small building at the foot of the mountain enters his sight after what feels like an eternity, an even smaller form standing just outside of it.

“Kinich!”

As he grows closer, a certain affection seeps into his chest at the sight of your grin, toothy and bright. You’re carrying a wicker basket on your hip, filled to the brim with fruits and vegetables—dinner for tonight, most likely. 

He never quite gets used to your excitement whenever he returns to the small house you share. It’s as if every day is your first day seeing him, or like he’s just returned home from a year-long journey. At most, he’d been gone a few hours.

“Hey,” he says, smiling faintly. For a moment, he almost forgets he has something to tell you, simply satisfied with your presence. It’s only when you scamper to his side that he becomes hyper-aware of his arm.

“Wait!” he hisses, just as you reach for him. You stop in your tracks, lips barely parted in an ‘o’ shape. He takes a cursory step away from you, blood freezing in his veins when your face drops at the distance.

“I broke my arm,” he quickly admits. Your brows knit together as you give him a once-over.

“What?!” you half-yell, nearly dropping the goods in your hands—Kinich has to catch the basket with his good hand, wincing at the volume.

“I was grappling, and I messed up, and I…I landed in the river.”

The whole thing sounds ridiculous as soon as it leaves his lips. You seem to think so too, based on the way you blankly look between him and his arm. You’re thinking, hard.

“And you’re sure it’s broken?” He nods, sighing. “I’m sure.”

Truly, he’s never experienced pain like that in his life—at least not the physical kind. His father’s beatings usually ended in bruises, but he was always able to escape out the door before they got to this point. But the way his arm hangs uselessly at his side is certainly unfamiliar.

Fingers pressed thoughtfully to your chin, you look toward the house.

“Well, I have the materials to make a splint, but that means you won’t be able to use that arm for a while.”

Kinich frowns. A while could be a long time, and time he isn’t working is time that Mora isn’t being made. The two of you could survive decently on your farming and hunting alone, but it would be hard labor for you. He’s unsure how much help he can be with only one usable arm.

“But—”

“—and I already know,” you interrupt smoothly, “that you’re not going to argue about that. Because that would make me really annoyed, right? Because your arm is clearly broken, right?”

Kinich presses his lips together tightly. It’s probably not the best idea to fight you on this. So he merely sighs, walking toward the front door.

“Fine.”

“Good!” you cheer, hoisting the basket to your side again, following closely in his wake. “Then I’ll make dinner for us, and you try not to make trouble for me!”

He rolls his eyes; he never makes trouble for you the way you do for him.

/

If there’s one thing that truly bothers Kinich, it’s being unproductive.

He’s not unreasonable about it, per say; after all, breaks can be productive too if they improve your work. But it’s to the point that there’s rarely moments where he truly isn’t doing anything. He’d grown up that way, always on the move, always doing something for the sake of survival.

That apparently includes moments when his arm is broken, set firmly at his side in a splint.

You’re preparing vegetables for dinner when Kinich plops into the chair at your side, quietly asking what he can help with.

You send him an incredulous look, still cautious about your fingers under the shadow of the knife.

“Your arm is broken, Kin.”

And you’re right, but the notion irritates him a bit—the idea of doing absolutely nothing while you prepare all the food. He folds his arms on the table, resting his chin atop with a scowl. His golden eyes passively watch each cut of the potato, the neat chunks gathering on one side of the cutting board.

“So? I can still help.”

A heated exchange occurs—you stare at him questioningly, and he stares right back, determined. Within the past few years, the two of you have reached the point of nonverbal communication. Sometimes, he truly feels like you can read his mind.

“Fine,” you relent, gently placing your knife down. You slide the basket of vegetables to him, gesturing towards it with your chin. “Pick out the good ones and give them to me.”

Kinich looks unamused, unsatisfied with the difficulty of his task, and his mouth opens like he’s about to say more when you shake your head.

“Please?”

And he really can’t take that look you give him, when your eyes widen and your lip juts out, so he merely sighs, pulling the basket closer to himself.

“Alright, alright.”

The room grows comfortably quiet, save for the even thuds of your knife against the cutting board. Kinich listens to your sonorous hum as you smile and sway to the sound of your own music. He takes his job seriously, too—he squeezes at each potato, feeling for the right ripeness.

“Is that a good one?” you ask, nodding toward the vegetable in his hand.

He frowns. “It’s okay.”

Kinich tends to be a bit strict about his vegetables—he gets it from his mother. Rarely is he ever truly satisfied with a harvest. Based on your impatient stare, you’re probably realizing this isn’t the best job for him after all.

“It’s probably good enough,” you say. Kinich looks at the potato thoughtfully for a moment before setting it down before you.

He still has trouble accepting the idea of being good enough.

You engage in a bit of small chatter, discussing your plans for the next few days and funny things that have occurred recently. Kinich enjoys these moments the most, the feeling of belonging, of caring—the way your eyes sparkle genuinely as he recounts his day, or the way you giggle hearing about the gossip overhead in the village.

“I’m gonna head to the market tomorrow, so let me know if you need anything.”

Your lip curls in disapproval, gaze drifting to his arm.

“I can go this time,” you say, concern written over your face. Then, you add teasingly, “since I know you hate having to get along with all those people in town.”

Kinich glares at you, sour.

“I know how to get along with people.”

You smile, and Kinich remembers when you told him that you like when he acts a bit childish, a bit more like you. It reminds you that you are the same age after all. It’s a bit difficult to realize in your daily life, when he’s always nagging and protecting and working. 

“Is that why all the others run away at the sight of you? Ever since we went to school, they’ve been avoiding you.”

And Kinich can admit that he isn’t the easiest person to get along with, but the kids at the village school aren’t the kind of people he wants to get along with anyway—the one day he spent in class made that much clear. They don’t understand the realities of living the way he does, the way you do. 

Really, he considers it a success that they seem to steer clear of him now.

“What about you?” he counters. “You’re not exactly a social butterfly, living out here in the woods. The most social interaction you get is in the market, just like me.”

It’s your turn to be offended, a pout crossing your lips.

“I’ll have you know they like me in the market.”

Kinich quirks a brow, handing you another potato.

“They like you because you take whatever price they offer,” he replies flatly. “I really need to teach you to barter.”

Everyone knows how notorious Kinich is in the market—he’s a menace with Mora in hand, even at your age. It’s one of the reasons that he’s so insistent that he be the one to do your shopping, besides the fact that he doesn’t like you traveling alone.

“I can barter,” you defend, pouting. “I just feel bad. What if they need that extra Mora?”

“You know we also need that Mora, right?”

Kinich flicks at your forehead with his good hand, faintly smirking when you sulk in response. Brushing off your hands, you lift the cutting board toward the pot on the stove. He lets his gaze follow you, curious.

“Enough about me,” you declare, glaring playfully. “If you want to eat, help me start cooking these.”

When Kinich eats that night, a simple meal of curry and rice, he thinks it might just be the most delicious food he’s ever had.

/

A few weeks later, Kinich finds himself lying side by side with you in your bed, staring at the ceiling.

You’d been telling him about something amusing you saw on one of your deliveries, and he makes a point to listen to all your stories, no matter how small they are. The moon is peeking over the horizon by the time that you finish, and Kinich glances over at his own bed across the room.

He’s not really sleepy yet, he reasons. You don’t seem to be either, based on the way you stare at his side profile.

“Your hair is getting long,” you murmur, taking a lock between your index and thumb. It’s a bit rough to touch—Kinich doesn’t tend to be gentle when he washes up. Neither of you really are, not when the river water is as chilly as it is.

He sighs, blowing his bangs out of his face. It’s a perpetual messiness that you think suits him, in a way.

“I know, it got in my eyes when I was grappling and I couldn’t see. That’s how I fell.” He glances at you, deadpan. “Should I just shave it off?”

The idea leaves you giggling—the image of it is certainly vivid. 

“I don’t think you should go that far, but I do think we have to do something. Otherwise, you might snap all your bones at this rate.”

He huffs, immediately defensive. “I would not—”

“I’m joking,” you soothe, chuckling. You card your fingers through his hair absentmindedly, humming—Kinich has to keep himself from melting into your touch. The room grows a tad warmer by the time your voice echoes again, barely a squeak from your throat.

“Can I try something?”

Kinich snorts. “You’ll have to be more specific, because last time you said that, it didn’t end well.”

Sitting up, you scoff. “I mean with your hair. Just to see if we can get a bit of it out of your face.”

You pat at the space in front of you, urging him up—he moves begrudgingly, already comfortable in his spot. Clambering to your knees, you peek at him over the top of his head. 

“Which part gives you trouble? This long part?”

Kinich hums thoughtfully, thumbing at some of the strands framing his face.

“Yeah, I guess. Some of the longer strands behind my bangs get annoying because they won’t stay.”

You nod. “Okay, let me try this then. Just sit still.”

Kinich follows along, hands neatly gathered in his lap. It’s a bit puppy-like, and you smile at the notion.

You don’t speak as you plait his hair, gently easing each strand between your fingers. It’s a certain kind of calm that tends toward the unfamiliar. Kinich feels a bit conflicted over the heat that spreads through the rest of his form at the contact.

He’s still trying to get used to a lot of things about you, despite how long he’s spent at your side—even now, the gentleness and kindness with which you treat him leaves him speechless sometimes.

“Your hair is pretty,” you state softly, looping a tie over the end of the braid. “So unique.”

He thinks that you’re the first person to have told him as much. There had been times when he caught his mother staring at the blond streaks of his hair, frowning—they likely reminded her too much of his father. A part of him is glad that he at least inherited the majority of his genes from her. 

“Thanks,” is all he breathes, staring down at his hands.

Your fingers brush over his ear, and a blush crawls over his cheeks.

“You’re welcome,” you yawn, stretching, “I’ll try to figure out something else to keep your bangs out of your eyes.”

That night, listening to your soft snores, Kinich watches the moon just outside the window. 

His hair doesn’t bother him anymore, he realizes.

/

A resounding crash rouses you from sleep.

When your eyelids split open, body pulsing with shock, the sun hits you first. Harsh rays slip through the curtains, pools of gold falling between your bedsheets. You’re quick to throw the blankets off, sitting up quickly. 

In the opposite corner of the room, Kinich’s bed lies empty, cooling with the morning dew. But he shouldn’t be gone, at least not yet—with his arm out of commission, he’s been taking time off work.

Your heart drops.

In a panic, you cover the space from your bed to the door in a mere two steps, and then you’re throwing it open, chest heaving.

The sight that greets you leaves you frozen where you stand.

Kinich stands in the kitchen, equally as flabbergasted as you are, surrounded by a shower of crystalline shards. His good hand is still raised, evidence of his own shock.

“Sorry,” he utters, hasty. He looks more disturbed by the situation than you do. 

You take a cursory step toward him. “W—what happened?”

He looks at the floor, then back at you.

“I was trying to wash the dishes,” he explains, sheepish. You peer over at the sink, bursting with soapy water. It would’ve been hard to do with one arm.

He’s still standing among the slivers of ceramic, sharp edges too close for comfort. You suck in a breath.

“Just…don’t move, okay?”

You snatch the broom from the closet—when you glance over your shoulder, Kinich is standing obediently still, a statue in your kitchen. Carefully, you sweep the shards away from his feet, before neatly depositing them in the trash.

Kinich lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He’d wanted to wake up early and clean up a bit so you could relax, but even that had ended in disaster. 

He glares down at his arm.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It takes a bit of arguing to get him to take a seat away from the sink—Kinich finds something ugly curling around his heart at the idea. He’s heard enough arguing in this kitchen, and the memories aren’t friendly. So he takes a seat at the table despite his hesitation, unwilling to meet your stare as you check the floor for stray fragments.

You don’t seem to be angry about the broken dish—in fact, you seem to be angrier that he woke up early to do any of this at all. He doesn’t really get it. Though he’s becoming familiar with your habits, he finds that he sometimes falls short in terms of truly understanding you.

The cupboard falls shut—Kinich flinches at the sound, and then you’re padding over to him with a cup of water.

“Drink.”

The order barely leaves your tongue by the time you’re back at the sink, starting to clean at the rest of the dishes. You’d been upset moments ago, but you’re already back to being concerned about his hydration.

He stares at the drink, too long. If you notice his unrest, you don’t comment on it. 

A few minutes pass that way.

“Sorry that I broke my arm,” he finally mumbles, tracing the rim of his cup. A drop of condensation glides down the side, slow. He watches it pool on the table, seeping into the wood. 

“Why are you sorry?” you wonder aloud, scrubbing at a plate. “Did you hit the ground on purpose?”

He eyes your back. You’re so happy in everything you do, Kinich notes. Even something as simple as washing dishes, you do with your best effort—it’s admirable. You glance back at him when he doesn’t answer, and your gazes meet momentarily. He’s first to break the contact. 

“You’ve had to work way harder for weeks,” he replies, regret pouring from his words. “Because I fell from that stupid tree.”

A seed of fear plants itself in his heart. Despite your cheery disposition, he’s always wondered what you truly think of him. Typically, he’s satisfied with just being useful to you, being able to provide for the home that you share. But when he’s like this, he wonders if that standard will change.

Like this, he’s just a burden to you.

To his surprise, you merely shrug. “I had to work way harder than this when I was alone. And now, I get to work hard with someone by my side. I think that’s a better deal, isn’t it?”

Your words permeate the air, and Kinich sucks them in greedily—they fill his lungs, slow. He wonders if this house has ever seen such warmth before. Then, he wonders if you know the way your comment fills his heart, pulsing.

You crane your neck to look at him, another smile gracing your lips. Light pulls through the gauzy curtains over the kitchen window, a halo.

“Don’t you think that kind of relationship is priceless?”

At that moment, the blazing sun rises in Kinich’s chest.

[mm-lurking]

Emperor Blade AU brainrot

I'm struggling to finish my Blade wips so have this for today. Inspired by my interest in historical Chinese dramas (forgive me for my limited knowledge), Im writing this at 12am please don't mind me with the grammar mistakes etc thank you WC: 1000 ish Warnings: blade x fem! reader, NOT proofread! --- Emperor Blade who picks you during the wife selection stage. You, a middle-class woman with a clan that is neither too powerful nor weak, just ok. You, who compared to the many beauties with influence and high political power, are just average. But that doesn't matter to him as he calmly picks you from the list of candidates, dumbfounding his advisors and court members. Emperor Blade who only picked a wife because of the pressure his court was putting on him. In his thundering dominant reign of purging corruption and enemies, he had never considered being married even once. Marriage to him was an inconvenience and an unnecessary contract to sign.

Emperor Blade who keeps you at an arm's length, treating you just right so it's not controversial yet keeping you so distant that your only companion is your right handmaid. He doesn't speak much to you, and your conversations are short and out of formality. You barely see much of him as he spends most of his day running the nation and the times he is free he rarely visits you.

Emperor Blade who frankly doesn't care what you do or say, as long as you let him be and don't cause trouble. You're merely a pawn in his eyes, a pawn to get everyone to shut up and let him reign however he wants without interfering, that is -until you're pulled into the games of politics.

Emperor Blade whose eyes are raging with a fire his court members have never seen when a faction decides to take advantage of the awkwardness of your marriage and hurt you. He has never liked innocent people being involved in the deception and web of lies of politics. The anger in his voice followed by the withdrawal of his sword makes everyone present cower with fear as they rush to cease his anger so they can save their own heads.

Emperor Blade who works tirelessly at night to figure out who had dared to poison you so shamelessly without any consequences, his jawline clenched and knuckles white as he looks through all his reports to find the mole within the palace walls. Despite saying he doesn't have time for you before, he finds a way to visit you when you're unconscious in your bed, holding your hand as he looks over your peaceful face. Your touch is comforting yet foreign and despite his initial reservations, he finds himself wanting more.

Emperor Blade who rushes over to your chambers when he's informed that you're awake so he can see you for himself and breathe a sigh of relief. There is a twinkle in his eyes that you have never seen before but in your weak state, you shrug it off as your imagination. He swears to find the ones who have hurt you and promises to keep you safe. The tiny smile he shows you has you flabbergasted for the rest of the day.

Emperor Blade who does not hesitate to execute the perpetrators publicly as a warning for everyone to see, to fear the consequences of what would happen if anyone even thought about hurting his wife, his empress. He makes sure you're not watching so he doesn't subject you to the brutality of his role as the emperor. To him, he does not find the need to scare you with his powers. He does not want you to fear him.

Emperor Blade who is slowly but surely falling in love with you. You find yourself welcoming him into your chambers more and more as he drinks tea and chit chats about his interests with you, something you were confused by at first but now have become accustomed to. He loves how you eagerly listen to him and offer your opinions if asked while making sure he's comfortable in your space.

Emperor Blade, who swore to never fall in love, has his heart beating faster and faster whenever he sees you, his breath hitching in his throat when you pass by him in the halls wearing your beautiful gowns. Your scent is intoxicating and he finds himself addicted to you, unable to get enough of you.

Emperor Blade who asks you to accompany him to the pavilion to admire the moon one day. He asks you to wear your favourite gown and says nothing more, leaving you confused but curious. You comply as you meet him in front of your palace, shyly smiling as he admires you.

Emperor Blade who takes your hand into his own, causing you to gasp as the public display of affection. His grip is firm and unwavering, a sign that he doesn't plan to let go. He dismisses his guards and your maids, leaving only you two alone as you both walk to the pavilion and stare at the night sky. The moon is bright and beautiful today with stars that twinkle in the sky like jewels.

Emperor Blade who pulls you into his arms, lifting ur chin with one hand as he looks into your eyes. "You're beautiful", he murmurs causing you to blush. The faint redness of your cheek makes him chuckle as he draws closer. Your noses are touching and your hearts thumping.

Emperor Blade who before only viewed you as a pawn, an inconvenience and a waste of time, now looks at you endlessly as he flicks his gaze back and forth between your lips and your eyes, asking for silent permission as his grip on your waist tightens and the gap between you two closes.

Emperor Blade who asked you to keep your distance from him now closes the distance between you both with a kiss, a kiss that washes away every painful thing he had said to you before. The winds of the night embrace the both of you at this moment as if it were a sign of acceptance from nature itself, a thumbs up almost.

Emperor Blade, a man of fear, blood and formidable reign had now become a man of affection, love and security. A man who swore to never love and never be married is now a man who is deeply in love with you. As the night continues and the moon illuminates your figures, he promises to cherish you and be your man for the rest of your life. A man whose tenderness, warmth and devotion are reserved for you and only you to see. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[astroyongie]

🍃🪐 What Chiron Says About You 🪐🍃

-> Hey guys <3 a little astro post today! I haven't added the houses because I admit I felt a little lazy, hopefully you can forgive me <3 Please enjoy! this is my personal opinion too :))

⚷ Aries: If you have this placement (well we are together in this), our wounds are often rooted in our self identity as most of our life we had a feeling like we have to prove ourselves we exist or are "good enough." maybe some of us had early experiences that made us doubt our ability to be brave or take initiative (eg, however has this in a 9th house It can translate as trying to succeed in studies, 10th house in career, ect) . This often has ended up in inner anger, and some of us may have struggled (and still struggle) with it. it's okay to stand up for ourselves. However we also have gifts provided by Chiron. we have the capacity to teach others how to believe in themselves, take initiative, and be courageous.

⚷ Taurus: People with this placement often have to deal with wounds related with feeling insecure about self-worth and feeling like they aren't enough (eg. 1st house, 12th house), material security (eg. 2nd house, 10th house), body image which can often come from heavy wounds related to self image (eg. 1st house, 5th house, 6th house) or safety (eg. 4th house, 8th house). Despite all of that, they are the ones who are always helping others finding stability in their life and relationships. They have the right words to help others value themselves, and create abundance rooted in peace, work or any other area depending on the other person.

⚷ Gemini: Their wound is so deep, and often it comes from the constant feeling of being misunderstood by everyone around them which also is linked with the feeling of being unheard and silenced, or not smart enough. Depending on the house, this can translate a lot with carrying secrets in the family, suffering things and never telling anyone, or often being seeing as a liar or as someone who isn't honest. As their grow, people with Chiron in Gemini become a master communicator for others and they are often in careers related with teaching, writing, speaking and connecting with people across the world in general.

⚷ Cancer: I have noticed that often, people with a cancer in their Chiron have deep emotional wounds from their family, from childhood or like being abandon or have abandonment issues, or not feeling nurtured enough. This can often be empathized for people with that placement in their 4th, 5th and 8th houses. Having it in a 10th house for example could be translated as the family putting a lot of pressure in the studies or choosing their children path for them. Because of that, they are often people who have the capacity of healing emotional bodies, they are amazing therapists and doctors. they are capable of creating safe spaces, nurturing others, and teaching emotional security.

⚷ Leo: They bear wounds that often people don't understand simply because they are linked with the fear of not being seen, loved, or recognized for their true self. And yet they suffer a lot due to people not being genuine, because they seek love in places that bring only wounds and hurt. they are known to be lust over and not loved which is deep to deal with. their healing gift however, is the fact that the are able to inspire others to shine, perform, create, and love themselves fiercely which they after try to project on others since they have a hard time to grasp it themselves.

⚷ Virgo: Virgo's are often known to be strong facades and yet, Chiron virgo has deep wounds, and when they feel broken it's such with a depth because it involves feelings of being and feeling imperfect, never "good enough" no matter how hard they try and obsessing over their flaws. Depending on people and the house placements it can be translated in their appearance, in their job, in their selves as partners, parents, children, ect. Yet they are capable of teaching others self-acceptance through Chiron's energy. to others they also teach practical healing (they are good doctors), mind body connection, and sacred services for others and ourselves.

⚷ Libra: It's not an easy placement because most of people with a Libra Chiron will always have to bear wounds related to pain around relationships either they are romantic, family or social/friendships, but also they struggle with fairness and balance, often feeling betrayed, unseen, or unchosen by others. Chiron provides them with the healing gift of being able to guide others into healthy relationships, teaching fairness, diplomacy, and true connection. They make good lawyers, teachers and mediators.

⚷ Scorpio: They have such a deep fear of betrayal and depending on other placements some of these people can have never experienced betrayal in their childhood back ground and yet it's an unconscious hint to it. They also have wounds and fears around feelings of abandonment, they have deep emotional trauma often related with loss, issues around trust and radical changes. some people with a 4th or 8th house placement can experience harsh divorces of their parents or the loss of a parent when young. Despite that, they are able to become a powerful emotional healer for others, guiding people through shadow work, rebirth, and deep intimacy.

⚷ Sagittarius: They struggle with life in a general basis to be honest, but I also have notices that their wounds is often linked with a feeling of being disconnected from truth or betrayed by belief systems (many of these have issues with religion, spirituality or traditional settings in their family and culture). Because of that many of them develop wounds and pains by being stuck in a cultural or a philosophical confusion because of their roots. They have the healing gift of leading others to find their own personal truth, expanding horizons through adventure, faith, and exploration which is basically the core energy of Sagittarius.

⚷ Capricorn: Many people who have a Capricorn in their Chiron are really fighters in my eyes. they often have to deal with wounds of feeling unsupported by the people they love the most while also being burdened by responsibilities (eg. in the 4th house some of you had to grow up too quickly or become the parents. in the 7th house, you often are the caregiver of your partner). Because of that they often feel unworthy of success, or afraid of authority. Yet they have the power of teaching others how to build real success based on their talents, how to be patient, disciplined, and create structures that support dreams and ambitions

⚷ Aquarius: One thing I have noticed is that most people with this placement often struggle with the feeling of being like an outsider in their own home, their own country or their own selves which often can be troublesome or connected with some deep emotional trauma. Aquarius Chrison does not fitting in, in the traditional expectations, and they are usually rejected for being different or visionary. Many of them might have been bullied or kicked out of their homes or example. Their healing gift is the capacity of showing others how to embrace their uniqueness. many of these people create communities to find their own, and dream up of better futures.

⚷ Pisces: Finally we reached the Chiron pisces and of course their wounds are often so carved in their psych that it's hard to heal them. they often had to deal with feelings of being abandoned by the universe like they weren't supposed to be here to being with. they are feeling disconnected from the source and overwhelmed by collective suffering. Their empathy often make them create wounds that aren't even theirs and are transgenerational. Yet their capacity of becoming a bridge to unconditional love is just the most precious thing ever. they are good spiritual healers, they are artistic, and have transcendent compassion.

[creekfiend]

I wanted to make a bonsai kitten recovery post that outlines some of the stuff that I've been doing. Because I don't think that you need to ✨see a therapist✨ to start dealing with a lot of this stuff and I get really frustrated when that is the answer that everyone is constantly giving. Firstly a disclaimer, because I know what website I am on: this is a guide for things that have worked for me! I am not everyone and if there are things on here that do not work for you or even that you think are stupid, that is fine, but please do not make it my problem. If you are reading it and you're like "that sounds like it would actually be detrimental to my specific mental health because of my specific issues" then please disregard it. Use your critical thinking skills and do what you think is right for you!

My second disclaimer is that I didn't make any of this up myself; most of these are collected from various places either in therapeutic guide books or various websites about emotional regulation etc. Some of it is stuff that I have extrapolated from those places based on experience with what works for me or does not work for me. A lot of the way that I treat myself when I need to get my body and brain into a place where I can think about stuff productively is actually directly from gentle parenting guides, because frankly cptsd recovery stuff is very often like parenting a toddler. And the toddler is you. ALL THAT SAID,

The first skill that I had to get good at, that many of the other skills depend on, is to learn how to understand when I am Reacting to something. If I am Reacting it is extremely likely that that's going to only escalate the situation and make it much worse. I HAVE to be able to tell if I am Reacting emotionally to something in a way that is coming from a place of fear and panic. This is important because it involves not being prescriptive about your emotions. You could be Reacting to something that you do not logically feel is at all justified in making you feel that way and that doesn't matter! You can't be doing math equations to try to come to the answer of how you SHOULD be feeling; you have to be observing your mind and body to see how you factually ARE feeling and then respond to THAT. This can be really hard to learn how to do especially if you were abused as a child. (If you cannot think of yourself as someone who is abused as a child perhaps it would help to think of yourself as someone who simply was not taught various emotional regulation skills for mysterious reasons that have nothing to do with your parents' inadequacies.) I need to be able to glance inward and see what the physiological reaction that I'm having is and identify whether or not I feel like this is the biggest emergency in the world that needs to be addressed right now immediately! That is a sure sign that Mr Fight and Mr Flight are in the building and it is bad to make declarative statements or important decisions when that is the case. So, I have to work on dismissing them first. That is literally the first step to any of this. One of my friends calls this "fire mittens," which is to say, if you are wearing mittens that are on fire and you try to touch stuff, the stuff will also become on fire. You have to put the fire out first before you can touch other things.

Once I have determined that I am indeed Reacting and in a physiological state of fear, I have a document in my notes app that is a "what to do when you are in fight or flight mode" guide and it has several helpful things that I will try to outline here.

Firstly, the really important thing for me for trying to get back into an emotional state where I'm capable of making decisions and being thoughtful is to feel safe and comfortable. So I actually have some stuff in my document that is straight up just like "go in the blankie nest. put on this specific music album. light this specific scented candle." etc. You might want to have a specific food or drink that is comforting to you or some other sort of stim toy that helps you regulate. If there's any calming medication or supplements for anxiety that you take as needed, now is also the time to do that. Physical sensory grounding is really important for this. This is probably especially true if, like me, you are neurodivergent, but I think it is also true for everyone because we are animals! And you can't just think about it, you have to actually do it. Which sounds obvious but is the thing that has often tripped me up in the past. Once you start getting into the habit of actually physically doing this it DOES become easier though.

One of my rules is that if I want to respond to something but I am in fight or flight mode, I don't get to respond to it for at least 24 hours. I'm only allowed to respond once I've gotten myself out of fear mode. If it is some kind of comment on Facebook that has set me off, often this means that 24 hours later I realize that I actually don't want to get into it to begin with, which is great. If it's something that is pretty serious and interpersonal with a friend, sometimes that means I have to communicate to them that I'm going to take a while to process it and then get back to them. IMPORTANT: You CANNOT do this passive aggressively or else it undermines the whole thing. You can't phrase it in a way that will make your friends think that you are guilt tripping them for "making" you feel a way. It is VERY tempting to do this when you are in the first stages of trying to form this habit and you simply need to resist the urge because it will render this step worthless. I know. It sucks.

If I am feeling fearful and insecure about friends or loved ones, I also usually try to spend some time thinking about the people that I love and care about. Because often this stuff manifest for me as insecurity that the people that I care about do not care about me, or that they think that I'm being annoying, or that they are secretly thinking mean things about me. It's obviously not good for me to constantly be imagining that the people in my life who I care about are actually avatars of my own insecurity who are here to tell me that I'm secretly fundamentally unlovable! But crucially also it's ALSO not fair to those people to imagine them as that. They are not that guy, they are their own complex human beings with their own lives and experiences and interiority. So sometimes I do thought exercises where I will imagine my friends or loved ones doing things in their everyday lives and I will think about them as people and I will think about the things that they like to do and the things that they say and the places that they go, and I will try to imagine them fondly in those circumstances. This helps to remind me that they are just people and that the scary puppet wearing their faces is not real. To this end I sometimes will have a document of screenshots of things that they have said to me that I can use to reality check myself. I personally find reality checks to be essential for a lot of this. Things can feel true when they are not true at all. Things can feel wrong when they are actually true. The point of most of these exercises is to gently remind myself that those feelings are normal for me to be having, but that I do not need to let them dictate my responses.

It is crucial throughout all of this that you are nice to yourself. You can't talk to yourself in a mean way while you're doing this, or you will not get to a point where you are feeling safe enough to react from a place of not-fear. You can't make yourself feel ashamed or defensive for your emotional reactions. This is the particular area where I find gentle parenting protocols helpful. You HAVE to be patient with yourself.

Ok that's all for now bc I ran out of steam but I will try to think of more to add on another day maybe. Godspeed everyone

[shotosjupiter]

BACK TO THE KITTY 'CAUSE SHE'S KINDA PRETTY!

— jjk men and what kind of pet cat they'd have. fluffy and gn! reader <3 this audio was stuck in my head so i decided to make it the title </3

𖤐 GOJO spoils his little tuxedo cat horrendously. this man has money and he ensures that half of it is going to his lavish cat's lifestyle and the other half to you. he loooves his cat dearly and he makes you come with him to go shopping for her! he values your opinion deeply from the food choices down to what new cat tower he should get.

a silly thing he enjoys is matching outfits! he'll have his cat wearing a bandana that is the same color as his shirt. he'll ask you to do a subtle matching couples outfit - the same color scheme and once you're all dressed he'll insist on taking many pictures together. "it's a family photo, angel! we're all matching, isn't that cute?" (he ends up making it his lockscreen for his phone for ages).

𖤐 CHOSO's orange cat balances his energy out perfectly. for someone whose more on the calm and collected side, his cat brings out the more outgoing and silly side of him. his cat is constantly doing something that has choso running out of his seat to go save his precious cat. once it was preventing his kitty from diving straight into a cup of matcha and another time it was prying his cat off the ceiling fan.

a big sign in your relationship is when he invites you to his apartment and introduces you to his cat! he loves his pet dearly and knowing that his cat approves of you means the world to him. when he sees his cat purring and rubbing it's head on your legs, choso smiles and feels his heart melt. he knows you're the one.

𖤐 NANAMI would have a distinguished little tabby cat. she's more of an elderly cat but nanami doesn't mind because it means peaceful mornings for everyone involved. one time, when you were sleeping over at his place early in your relationship, you woke up to a thump and a weight on your chest. what is it? it's nanami's cat sat right on your stomach, all comfortable like it's her birth right. she's kneading into your skin and purring in approval.

nanami, coming from the kitchen, visibly softens at the sight of you in his bed all warm, and his cat cuddling into you. he kisses your forehead in greeting, whispering good morning. he feels his heart race as he realizes, this is a sight he wants to see for the rest of his life.

𖤐 GETO had originally gotten a cat because nanako and mimiko had begged for one. he was definitely one of those people that insisted that he didn't want a cat and had put up a big fight against. cut to five months later and here he is spoon feeding his pretty tortoiseshell cat tuna treats.

for him, when he sees you interact with the girls and sees how gentle you are he's already smitten with you. on top of it, when he sees you gently petting the family cat, he all but melts into the floor. he adores the way you treat his family and it's the biggest green flag to him. he immediately wants to make you a part of his family.

𖤐 TOJI did not mean to adopt a cat. he really didn't, he has enough on his plate! the stray cat just followed me home, or so he says. he has a nonchalant attitude about his boy cat, as if he couldn't care less but really you'll find him in the pet store aisles reading through ingredients to make sure the food he's buying really is safe and healthy.

he'll laugh and laugh when you come over and you get jumped by his black cat as it tries to play with you. his cat is definitely a bit of a biter, so beware of that. regardless, toji will watch as you play with his stray-not-stray cat and feel a sense of home unfurl in his chest. he won't say anything but he'll have a wide smile on his face and he'll take the both of you in his arms, peppering kisses everywhere he can.

© shotosjupiter. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[sparkly-sediment]

STUDY OF MERCS HIERARCHY PRETTY PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Tf2 Mercs Social Hierarchy Analysis

I’m a slut for anthropology

The general idea is

Older mercs as the group elders

Introverted mercs often fill a service role

Extroverted maintain the social climate

The younger and louder the less in charge BUT can be more effective in maintenance peace within the group

The elders can offer advice and wisdom to the younger group members and a sense of care and support.

Medic is arguably the most important to their order!!

He’s not only one of the oldest but the caretaker of the group. Other mercs may have varying relationships but Medic has a unique position to connect and exert authority over everyone else because he tends to their wounds! This also creates a base level trust in him across the board

Scout and others mention their distrust of Medic but they undeniably need him and give in (or submit!!) in 1 on 1 situations because of his position as a caretaker. You can also see in the comics and sfm videos that Medic’s word holds authority

This also allows those closest to Medic to absorb some lateral authority even while having their own

Engineer and Heavy are next in line

Both are capable of harboring a caring spirit (heightened by they age and both being relatively chill)

Both expert authority through age, contribution to the team, and intelligence/size respectively

Not to diminish Dr. Heavy but he doesn’t need to use his intellect to compensate for size like Engineer

Heavy and Medic are the mommy and daddy imo but that is slightly fanon and this analysis is more canon. Just a thought tho

Engineer assumes leadership because of his intellect. His word is highly valuable to the team, but because he is articulate and carries himself like an educated man, he can intimidate others (or give off an air of disrespect) Since he is the only one capable of his work, he gains respect.

Heavy is accustomed to being a caretaker and needing to make decisions for the benefit of a group (his family!) He carries a sense of responsibility for others that Engineer lacks and so may be seen as more approachable

Heavy is the alpha female

^ this is supported by Scout constantly fucking with him!! Young ones challenge mother as they age! In the videos and comics Scout is an itty bitty menace to this man, but it isn’t out of malice. Heavy is a safe group elder and may be sought out for emotional connection more-so than Engineer, who others may seek for practical advice

Again, Medic is in a unique position to provide both if sought because of the inherent emotional vulnerability that comes with being wounded and in pain

In my opinion, those are the three chiefs. The council

Spy, Soldier, and Demo

Spy is a difficult one to place. He’s got enough influence in the group to have a higher status, but isn’t as emotionally involved with the others and can be quick to hurt feelings 😭

he’s like the stray male chimp who’s a little grey and has a chipped tooth. Others acknowledge a level of authority when he enters the enclosure, but it’s often contemptuous.

He does show care but quietly. This reservation + his age and professionalism makes him distant from the others, but nonetheless an important member of the team.

Soldier is the wild card

Grown, aggressive, protective

He doesn’t consider (or even realize) how violent he is and so the others know not to fuck with him

They also know he’s a silly pants

Soldier linking up with Heavy’s sister is actually fitting considering their roles in the group. Heavy’s the mom of the wolf group, Soldier is the promising but willy bastard who pines for mama’s daughter (sister only works for humans)

Demo is a true middle man. He’s cared for and has a good relationship with everyone. His relationships go to varying depths but overall he’s well liked. His alcoholism and emotional issues put him in a position of less authority but more room for personal connection

Sniper has more respect within the group than Spy, but lacks his authority

He’s young and relatively reserved. But, he clearly knows his shit. Being good at his job and a decent man means that Sniper would be up and coming in a tribal setting (young warrior yet to take a wife core) . He doesn’t have as much influence as more senior mercs, but if he speaks they do listen

Scout isn’t a runt exactly, but he’s the bitch

If these were chimpanzees, Scout may possible be kicked out of the band for challenging authority

The others lowkey treat him like shit because he is so young, restless, and a little fuck

His behavior is a cycle.

Feel insecure, act tough, be dominated (not in the freaky way) by others, feel insecure, so on and so forth

Young buck with something to prove. He is cared for, though, and learns from the others.

In some Native American tribes, once children became of a certain age, they would go live with their eldest sister to learn how to grow spiritually and physically. That’s where Scouts at in life

Geisha in training

Pyro is some secret third thing. He’s the mystic. The out skirts and uncomfortable and feared above all else

Poor guy. Lonely. Scout is the only once who can be forced to socialize with Pyro because of his rank in the litter

It’s worth noting that there is a significant trauma bond between all nine

People who would never interact otherwise watch each other kill and die? Hell yeah you’re loyal to them, our brains are wired to be

But they do bond in other ways!!

Gossip strengthens social bonds!!

Mercs be talking mad shit

Heavy and Medic? Gossiping in the medbay

Scout reports everything to Sniper

Sniper, Engineer, and Demo are like high school girls

Soldier and Demo can probably telepathically communicate

I suspect Spy will randomly spill SCALDING tea to mainly Medic, Engineer, and Heavy. Sometimes Sniper

Pyro is omnipotent

In such an unhealthy environment this is so important!! It keeps everyone humble and involved socially

Also:

Groups that groom together stay together and so the communal shower and clean up after work is critical for their relationships

I cannot understate how important it is

Instead of picking small bugs out of each other’s pelts, they pass shampoo and towels. This lowers inhibitions between group members and in stressful situations (maybe Spy is being a real dick or Soldier is fucking tweaking) the shared vulnerability allows for a reset

The mercs assume different roles

Medic is the main caretaker, but Heavy and at times Engineer can also provide a paternal vibe to some

Spy fucking can’t LMAO but he does offer considerate action, and his work is incredibly important. He’s respected and appreciated for his work but is socially difficult at times

Sniper and Scout are both young challengers but at different stages

Scout is a page Sniper is a knight evolution wise. They are treated as such and have a special connection with each other for being close in age/status (and status is different from opinion 😭)

Soldier is an aggressive uncle and Demo is the counterbalance aunt. Usually the goons the others plan how to use and valued for their hard work

Think the proficient hunters in a tribe. Not the best but certainly not the worst, and the tribe always appreciates what they find

Pyro is that thing in the basement of AHS season one that Tate unleashes upon people he dislikes

Medic and Engineers are the leaders

Miss Pauling could never live with the mercs and maintain her position of power

She’s good at her job and an overall bad bitch. She demands respect, but isn’t at the point of commanding it like the administrator

The disconnect between her and the mercs allow for an air of mystery and thus authority!

Quick disclaimer!!!

In this analysis, I use the word alpha on occasion. Please know that any a/b/o dynamic in nature is completely unfounded. There are social hierarchies and dominant/submissive members in social groups across species, and I only use to the term alpha because it’s easier than typing out things like dominant and this is tumblr. Alpha funny i go haha. But alpha not necessarily scientific

Also, this is just for funsies! I am not an anthropologist by any means just neurodivergent and have a special interest in everything early modern human (specifically 10,000-13,000 years ago but all over too)

Encino Man lover ❤️‍🔥