#feel free to get off on my trauma or whatever

[swaglessboygirl]

i find it so sus that my entire life has been full of Almost being raped actually.

like yea my grandpa grabbed my ass and looked down my shirt and liked kissing me on his lap too much but i dont remember anything happening

yea that boy my age led me to the woods when we were kids and my mom said i was gone for two hours so she almost called the cops, and all i remember is getting mud on my pink leggings, but he didnt do anything and i dont remember what we did in the woods, let alone being gone for two hours.

yea that car followed me when i was walking down the street in cosplay but i wasnt kidnapped or anything

and sure my "friend" kissed me when i was drunk and pulled me into a bathroom to see my tits to check if i have the anatomy for nipple piercings, but all they did was grope me and pinch my nipples, they didnt do anything else.

how is it statistically possible that so many times, I've "almost" been raped, but never have been? how is it possible that ive been groped but no one's ever touched me down there? who wants to be the first?

[waywardsalt]

ive spent like 20 minutes trying to world this eloquently but i give up; im a big fan of linebeck just. not being capable of watching over kids not the person to be the guardian of a group of young people he struggles to take care of himself at times and has so much shit going on that it takes about one conversation with oshus for the old man to realize that this guy is. not doing great

[anxious-witch]

I apologize for irritable tone of this post, but a portion of this fandom is starting to irritate me, so let's analyze catwin through the lens of how age works for ghosts and how situational irony is used in a scene where Edwin and Niko talk about kissing.

Let's start with age. Right at the beginning, when Emma asks Charles and Edwin to take her case, she tries to play it off as her being just a little girl. This is what Edwin replies:

And before anyone jumps the gun and says: "He said SUPERNATURALLY speaking! He is still physically 16!"

Okay. Let's unpack that. Considering how for people who are immortal, which ghosts essentially are, and as such unchanging, that isn't quite a proper argument, is it? Because the way I see it, there are two ways someone could argue this. Either your gripe is about the Cat King finding Edwin attractive despite him physically being a 16 year old or your gripe is that Edwin is mentally 16 and as such, cannot consent.

If it's the first, I think that argument is quite lacking here, because we know the Cat King is aware Edwin is older than 16. And as someone who is an adult and often gets mistaken for a minor, I think the idea that you can just always tell someone's age by looking at them quite funny. Also, by that logic, I shouldn't be able to consent either, because people generally gauge my age to be between 16-18, when I am in my mid 20s.

If it's the second, your point doesn't work because being frozen at 16 would mean being unable to learn and develop firther than what you did by that age. Which we know is false for ghosts, especially Edwin. He changes and develops constantly throughout the s1, and we have a front row seat to that! Human brains aren't clear cut, and before you jump under the post to say your brain isn't fully develop until age 25, I will kindly tell you that human brains, in fact, never stop changing and developing. And that experiences, traumas, etc hugely impact developments of individuals.

One argument I can sort of is perhaps Edwin and Charles having somewhat stunted emotional growth, but as we also see throughout the season, that has more to do with them stagnanting rather than them being unable to emotionally develop. And frankly, I know bunch of adults with the same issues, so.

Now for the "But Edwin said he doesn't want to kiss the Cat King!" argument. How about we look at what Edwin says before that, huh?

He says he has never been kissed and didnt understand the appeal, until recently. And you cannot tell me it wasn't the Cat King who made him realize it. Yes, he wanted to kiss Charles and I am not saying he didn't like Monty too, but if it wasn't for the Cat King getting physically close to him and playing into his desires, he wouldn't have realized that he too, feel physical attraction!

As for him saying "Absolutely not!" When Niko asks him if he wants to kiss the Cat King, I think that's laughable argument to saying "Well, see, he didn't want him!" Because first of all, characters can lie. Edwin most certain, lies about things he wants, both to himself and others, up until pressed.

Besides, if I am not mistaken, given English isn't my first language and I learned this stuff in a different language, this is also called situational irony, aka, someone say something won't/can't happen and then it happens. This is very often seen in romance plots too. A characters says they hate someone and then they end up dating them.

Think of Lizzy Benett and Darcy

And then she goes ahead and married him later, once her opinion of him changes. It's a classic romance trope!

Similarly, Edwin says he doesn't want to kiss the Cat King and what happens at the end? Oh yeah!

He kisses the Cat King. Shocker.

But yeah just like. Y'all are free to not like the ship for whatever reason, but for the love of god, stop making up stuff that's just blantantly untrue. There is an "anti catwin" tag for a reason, if you truly cannot stop yourself from commenting, but in all honestly, you could just enjoy your own ship without putting other ppl's ships down. Cat King is not perfect by any means, but this isn't a predator type of situation. I and many others have addressed the whole "coercion" bit quite a few times so I won't get into it again, but these two arguments I have seen pop up and I just had to address it. Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the brie

buttercup, chapter two

a/n: i was originally gonna go into more detail and dive into and actually write the traumatic moments, but i decided to go a little bit more easy on myself, just focus mostly on the healing part and regaining the good.

summary: “well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, wingman foggy, reference to croissant theft, alcohol consumption, drunk munching on cheese, kissing, crying, retelling of trauma (if it gets too much for you, then please feel free to just skip the last part of this chapter)

word count: 4978

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Scooping one divided lump of dough closer with the bench scraper in your grasp, you put it down before first folding the bottom of the blob over itself, then the sides and then stretched the top down as well before you rolled it all up to create that much more tension in the loaf. As you plopped the soft mass into one of the nearby dusted bannetons, nippily pinching the seam and giving it a few stitches, the ingrained dance only kept on as your fingers moved on to shape the next loaf of sourdough. 

To your left, not at the central table where you worked, stood your uncle Howard, a piping bag of vanilla-flaked cream in his grasp as his rotund frame bent over rows and rows of delicate, flaky little pastries, filling the sunken centre up before he could top them off with little chunks of crimson berries. 

“Are you alright, cupcake?” you glanced up to see Walter leaning against the doorframe that led directly behind the counter, “you look like you’re about to nosedive into the dough and use it as a pillow.”

“I’m alright, just didn’t sleep much last night,” you blinked back down at your work, noting how your weary eyes stung slightly from the lack of rest, “I had a nightmare that was really, really not fun, and immediately when I woke up I started crying and shaking, like instant panic attack, so I couldn’t really fall asleep again after that,” you glanced back up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“I just don’t get why it has to feel so real,” you let your hands halt their waltz as you shared, Howard too glancing over in your direction, “why my body needs to remember it so vividly when I fall asleep. It hasn’t forgotten it while I’m awake, so I don’t feel like I need the reminders… sorry…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s–…” instead of uttering the painful truth, Walter instead let a heavy sigh flow and offered, “…do you want me to make you a cup of coffee? Maybe that could be nice, just a little bit?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, “thanks,” before clapping the worst of the flour off your hands, briefly wiping them against the chocolate brown apron that partially covered your t-shirt and jeans, and wandered around the table, shadowing Walter as he fiddled with the espresso machine, making it hum and puff, till he handed you a steaming mug that had a little heart in the frothy foam floating on the top. 

“Here you go.”

Bringing it up to your lips, you offered him a genuine smile, “thank you, Walt.”

Staying behind the counter as Walter disappeared into the back, the chime of the small bell above the door brought your attention to the pair that then strolled in. Setting down your latte and expecting it to be just any other customer, your eyes instead went wide as you saw who it was.  

“Heya, neighbour!” 

“Y/n, hi,” Matthew smiled as both he and the floppy-haired man beside him came to a stop on the other side of the stocked display case, “uh, Y/n, this is my friend Foggy Nelson,” he gestured to the friendly looking fellow, “Foggy, this is my new neighbour Y/n.”

“The pastry goddess!” Foggy exclaimed excitedly, “I bow to the.”

“Goddess?” you giggled, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you glanced over at Matt, secretly in hopes that he’d gotten that nickname from him, “oh, I don’t know about that. My uncle’s the one who oversees most of the pastries. He studied in Paris back in the 70’s, so in other words he’s a bit of a control freak. But, he is getting better! Slowly letting me take care of more things that I’m more than capable of doing… I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?” you sucked in a sharp breath as you noticed 

your rambling, “I’ll shut up. The point was just that he is the one who makes most of the pastries here, not me. He’s the goddess.”

“Well, I tasted one of your croissants the other day–”

“Actually,” Matt raised a hand and interrupted his friend, “you stole it.”

“I did not–”

“You came over and I turned away for two seconds and the next thing I knew you’d obliterated the entire bag.”

“That sounds more like your problem,” Foggy joked, managing to keep a straight face as Matt chuckled, “you’ve known me how many years now? You should know not to trust me with baked goods unless you mean for me to enjoy them,” turning his attention back to you, he leaned his folded arms against the tall section of the counter, “anyways, Y/n, that croissant was properly one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”

“Really?” your face lit up with a bright grin. 

“Yes, it was so buttery and flaky and urgh!”

“Well, if you liked that, you might like today’s special…” your feet began to carry you further to the left to the very far side of the counter. 

“Oh, please do tell me,” he followed along like a magnet.

Pointing down to the pastry row on the other side of the glass, you explained, “it is this rhubarb danish that also has a little base of pastry cream at the bottom to balance out the tart compote.”

“Oh… my… god…” Foggy nearly salivated, his hypnotised gaze never straying from the treat, “you gotta be some angel sent from above.” 

Busting out a laugh, you grabbed a brown paper bag, “should I take that as confirmation?”

“Yes, please,” he nodded as you plucked one up with a set of tongs. 

“Will that be all?”

“I don’t know if it ever can be all, but slowly but surely I’ll get through your spread, and that is a promise,” Foggy accepted the bag into his waiting fingers, “but for now, yeah.”

“Matt, do you want anything?” you asked, feeling the flutter of butterflies wake up within your stomach as you returned your attention to him, “do you want me to describe the options for you?”

“No, I’ll just have the same as Foggy, as well as–, do you sell coffee?”

“Oh,” the scent wafting off your half-empty mug probably caught his attention, “yes, we do.”

“Then I’ll have a cup as well.”

“Oh, one for me too,” Foggy interjected. When you’d packed up another pastry and filled up two to-go cups, the shaggy-haired man pipped up as they were paying, “hey, what are you doing later tonight?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Properly just head home and rewatch some series for the billionth time,” you said, putting the cash they’d handed you away in the register, “why?”

“Well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”

A laugh then rumbled within Matt’s chest, “we’re not gonna go dancing, Foggy.”

“You never know,” Foggy sang, “I’ve got moves like you wouldn’t believe!” he snuck a small sip of his steaming coffee before meeting your eye, “so, Y/n! Please tell me you’re coming?”

“…and then Karen was like what’s that? Turns out a giant piece of glass had stabbed my side,” Foggy clutched onto his drink as he told his dramatic tale, “I nearly died.”

Cutting her sip of beer short, the golden-haired woman sitting beside him at the round bar table objected, “you did not nearly die.”

“Oh yeah?” Foggy squinted light-heartedly back at Karen, “says the person who barely got a scratch. I single handily rescued both you and Mrs. C from that building and got a sick ass scar to prove it.”

Their voices faded away like grown-ups in a Saturday morning cartoon as you glanced back down at your drink and let the radiating heat of the man next to you seep into your bones. As your fingers brushed down the sides of the glass and played with the condensation, Matt suddenly reached out for his own, though in his search for the stout glass that stood ever so close to your own, his touch briefly grazed against your skin. But if that wasn’t enough to spike your heart rate, when his long fingers enveloped his short glass, the back of his hand pressed up against yours at the proximity.

You weren’t sure how long it persisted before he raised his dark drink up to his lips, but it didn’t seem like he was in a rush to let the contact fade. Your breath managed to grow ragged in the chunk of time you got to stare down at his hand, it looking so massive up against yours. Though the light in the dingy bar was low, you could still manage to make out the dizzying pattern of prominent veins that cascaded off the back of his hand like a calm rainfall rolling down a windowpane. 

For a moment there, assisted by the few drinks in your system, you let yourself dream, just for a little while, just until Foggy’s voice cut through your haze and stirred you from your fantasy. 

“… I mean, am I right? I’m right. Come on, Y/n, back me up here!”

“Huh? I’m sorry, uhm…” you blinked, in some ways feeling more drunk than you had a minute ago, “wha–what did you say?”

As Foggy then began to explain what you’d missed, Matt leaned down close to your ear and whispered, his hot breath tickling your skin and causing goosebumps to erupt. 

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed fuzzily. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you glanced down and noticed how rapidly your chest was rising and falling. 

“Do you wanna go home? I can walk with you if you want,” he offered quietly. 

“Uhm…” you blinked up at him before uttering, “sure, but I don’t wanna end your night before you want to.”

“No, you’re not,” he reassured you, “I’m ready to go home myself.”

“Alright then,” you nodded before Matt turned to the others. 

“Guys, we’re gonna head home.”

“No!” Foggy boomed, “really?”

Throwing her hands up, Karen added, “but we haven’t even gone dancing yet!”

“Sorry,” Matt got up from his tall stool, “another night.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you tugged your jacket back on, “I had a lot of fun.”

To your surprise, they both got up and hugged you in return.

“Thank you for coming!” Karen gave you a tight squeeze before Foggy took over. 

“And we’ll be seeing you for the next one, right?”

“Uh, sure,” you gave his back a light pat, “if I have time and stuff the day that it happens, then I’d love to tag along.”

Casting his glance upon the other lawyer, “bye, Matt,” Foggy then yanked him into an embrace, “I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Matt chuckled, clapping his friend’s spine, “I know, buddy.”

“You love me too, right?” Foggy pulled back, though still kept his hands fast on Matt’s broad shoulders, “don’t leave me hanging, it’s bad for a man’s health.”

“Foggy, I started a firm with you. Of course, I love you,” Matt smiled back at his sloshed pal, “good night.”

“Night, night,” Foggy patted his scruffy cheek before letting him out of his gasp, though adding as you turned to exit the bar, “night, Y/n! I love you too! I just met you today, but I love you!”

Soft giggles bubbled out of you as the door slammed shut behind you. 

“So, those are your friends...” you smiled into the night, “I like them. They’re nice.”

“Yeah,” the corners of Matt’s lips turned further up till dimples bloomed, “they’re good eggs.”

As the two of you began to move along, the silence didn’t last very long at all. 

“This is really nice of you, walking me home like this,” you uttered, “I know it’s just because we’re neighbours and headed in the same direction, but–”

“It’s not.”

“What?” your eyes found him.

“It’s not because we’re neighbours. It’s just, you know, the decent thing to do.”

“Right,” you exhaled, casting your glance back down onto the sidewalk as you momentarily got your hopes up. 

“And you know how this city can be,” Matt went on, “it’s not smart for anyone to walk alone at night.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, “of course.”

When a street then appeared before you, slicing the path you journeyed on, and even though there wasn’t any traffic in sight, your hand still instinctively shot down to grasp Matt’s forearm before the two of you could cross.

Realising what you’d done, you quietly muttered, “sorry,” though couldn’t find the strength to withdraw your touch just yet. 

“It’s okay,” his low voice slid from his lips like silk. 

“I just didn’t want you to walk straight out into ongoing traffic...” you tore your gaze away from him and forced yourself to look at the road before you, “but there aren’t any right now, so we can cross the street…”

Guiding his palm up to the curve of your elbow, he accepted the gentle aid as you began to cross the lane. 

Once you’d reached the other side and his grasp slowly began to drift back down. When his palm reached the height of your own, you softly caught it before timidly testing, “…do you mind if we–…”

“Hold hands?” with a gentle smile, he filled in before you might wonder if he could even sense your shy touch at all.

“Yeah…”

“No,” you felt him weave his fingers with your own, “not at all.” 

His touch somehow felt even better than you’d imagined. Though surprisingly gruff, with harsh calluses all throughout, he cradled your palm with such care, like he’d held it a thousand times before, occasionally swiping his broad thumb over your knuckles, presumably just a subconscious gesture from his end that still caused shivers to trickle down your spine every time he did so. 

You wanted the latter part of your walk home to last forever, engulfed in the comfortable silence of endless possibilities. But alas, when you did reach your building’s front door and then climbed the steps all the way up to your respective apartments, you couldn’t get yourself to let go just yet. 

“Are you hungry? Because I kinda am,” you weren’t really, but anything to just stretch the night a little longer, “or maybe it’s just my subconscious taking care of me and lessening my hangover by giving me a sudden craving for cheese.”

“I don’t think I have any cheese.”

“I do,” you said maybe a bit too fast, “do you want some?”

Exhaling lowly, a soft smile twitched at his lips as he then uttered, “sure.”

As you unlocked your door, you finally let go of his hand, “make yourself at home!” you placed your keys down on the slender entry table before kicking your shoes off and peeling off your coat, hanging it up on the row of hooks, “oh, do you want me to, uh, describe the layout for you? Or just plant your down on the couch?”

“Just tell me the direction and I think I’ll be fine.”

Facing him, you haphazardly explained, “alright, the hallway goes on for a few steps and then it’s to your right–, no, wait, my right, that’s your left. It’s to your left.”

Whirling around, you delved deeper into your home till you reached the kitchen. Ripping open the fridge, you snatched up a block of half-eaten cheese before seizing a clean butter knife from the dishrack and a roll of seedy crackers from a cupboard. 

Matt was already comfortable on your sage couch as you laid the humble spread out on the coffee table and joined him. 

“I hope you like brie because that’s what I got. Unless you want a single slice of american cheese, then this is all the cheese I have to offer.”

“Brie it is then,” he relaxed into the cushions as you unwrapped the snack. 

“Here, let me make you a bite,” slicing off bits of soft cheese, you spread it both on a cracker for him and one for you. Gently picking up his hand to place his snack in his palm, you then popped your own in your mouth and nearly melted into the couch next to him, “yep… that’s the spot…” you grinned hazily out the tall windows at the night sky as you chewed, “there’s just something about eating cheese when the moon is out that’s just so right in a way I can’t describe…” 

Your murmuring conjured a light chuckle to rumble within Matt, one that swayed your gaze to train on him. Resting your head against the back of the couch, you watched as the moonlight reflected in his tinted glasses. 

When the silence stretched on, Matt eventually cocked his head, “…what?”

Not tearing your eyes off of him, you breathed, “nothing…”

“You’re quiet,” his dark brows furrowed gently, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you repeated, feeling almost like you were floating in a calm sea. 

“You tired? Do you want me to go so that you can go to bed?”

“No, please don’t, I–…” you reached out and grazed his arm, “could–… do you want to go?”

Letting his body relax once more, he breathed, “not particularly…”

Gazing up at him, your bottom lip snuck its way in between your teeth, “Matt…”

“Yeah?”

“You–… you’re–… I–…” your pulse pounded in your ears. 

“Mhm?”

“I really, really wanna kiss you right now…” you uttered thickly before you had the chance to chicken out. Like a wave crashing a shore, you didn’t even think as you let yourself dive in and press your lips to his. The kiss however didn’t last too long as you swiftly drew back as soon as your brain turned back on and you realised what you’d done, an apology hastily rushing out of your lungs, “Oh my god… I am so sorry.”

“Y/n,” hearing your name on his silky tongue did not help matters. 

“I didn’t mean to just–”

“Y/n,” he repeated, trying to cut through your fog. 

“We can just forget any of that ever happened, I totally get it if you don’t–”

As he brought his hands up to cradle the sides of your face, your nervous ramble fell short. When he ghosted his thumb across your cheekbone, you swore that you stopped breathing entirely. 

“…can I kiss you?” he slowly asked, leaving you utterly dazed. 

“W-what?”

Drawing in a breath, he repeated for you, “can I kiss you, Y/n?”

Blinking back at him, you hazily hummed, “mhm,” before he leaned in and brushed his lips against your own. The kiss was soft, just as your shoddy attempt had been, but it made your limbs feel like they morphed into jelly. When the pecks soon departed, you filled your lungs with a shaky breath as you gazed back at him in total awe, “holy shit…” only staying there a moment before you had to have another taste. 

Slowly growing more confident, the intoxicating kiss gradually grew more hungry. When his fingers then weaved into your hair, you realised that up till now he’d been holding himself back, gatekeeping a kiss that caused your frame to crawl into his lap, starving for more. Your little whimpers vibrated against his tongue as he danced it against yours, growing dizzy as you melted into the heart-stopping sensation. 

But suddenly a tormenting flash stabbed your being, and you abruptly tilted your lips away from his, breathlessly uttering, “wait, wait, there’s-, there’s-, uh…”

“What,” he breathed thickly, nose grazing yours before you retracted further, “are you okay?” 

“I’m…” carefully crawling off his lap, you kept going till you were a safe distance away on your own side of the couch, “Matt, there’s something I need to–, uhm, tell you…”

Staying silent, he patiently waited as you gathered up the courage needed to jump off the cliff and tell him.

Casting your gaze up to the tall and dark ceilings above, you felt your limbs begin to tremble, “okay, alright… I have no idea how to, uh, say this, so I’m just gonna do it,” and like a band-aid, you uttered, “I-, I was raped,” your eyes squeezed shut, not daring to risk glancing at his reaction, “a little over a year ago… and I haven’t–, uhm, done or tried anything with anyone since… so yeah, I just thought that was a good thing for you to know since even though I hope for there not to be any problems, I just don’t know, I don’t know what it will be like for me, if my body will suddenly freak out, but I just wanted to tell you so that in case something does happens, that you know not to automatically take it personally...” drawing in a shaky breath, you fluttered your gaze open and waited for his response, “Matt?”

“Yeah?” he answered carefully. 

“Please don’t say that I’m scaring you away right now…” you shifted your position, turning to face him once more.  

“You’re not, you’re not,” his head softly shook from side to side, “I just–… I really, really sorry.”

“Yeah…” you exhaled slowly, feeling tears sting the corners of your eyes, “me too…” staring at him a moment, you then bared your all and uttered, “I really like you, Matt,” a faint smile accompanied the declaration, “I think you might be the only guy in all of New York that I’m not scared of,” every other man you could think of had all had at least a second, a little flicker, of something that over the past year had terrified you, “and I don’t want you to think that I’m made of glass, that’s not what I want, that’s not why I’m telling you this. Please trust me when I say that I want to, I wanna do–…” a weighty exhale flowed from your lungs as your lips remembered his taste, “I wanna do everything with you… if–, if that’s something you’d like as well… but if we do, even though I really, really want to, I think it’s probably smartest to go slow, no pressure, you know, just in case, so that my body doesn’t freak out. Also, I’d really appreciate it if I at any point indicate for you to stop or even just pause a moment, that you’ll do that, that you’ll listen to me,” you briefly glanced down at your fiddling fingers, “and you know, I’m not saying let’s only do PG things, there are so, so many wonderful steps on the way that we can have fun with… I just–, I wanted to let you know now, before, so that we wouldn’t potentially have this conversation when something did happen.”

Only parting his lips when he was sure you were done, he uttered, “thank you for telling me. Are you–… are you okay? Was what happened before too much?”

“No…” you shook your head gently, “no, it wasn’t,” taking his hand in yours, you shared, “and I’m okay, I think… I mean, some days it still feels like it just happened, and others I notice something, something small, that I’ve gotten back, that I’ve regained…” absentmindedly tracing the lines of his palm with your thumb, you asked, “do you–… do you have any questions? Is there anything you wanna know?”

“No, I–… I just want you to tell me however much or little you feel comfortable with sharing.”

“…can I tell you? About it?” you asked slowly and he swiftly offered you a soft nod. Drawing in a deep breath, you began, “It, um, it was a Saturday night… I’d just gotten back from the bakery super late, maybe close to midnight… and when I was getting ready for bed, my roommate came home, he’d been out drinking as he usually spent his weekends. I remember we stayed up a while, just talking about the mundane stuff we always did. It was like any other Saturday, really. That was until I got too tired and went to go to bed, but he didn’t wanna stop talking, so he followed along into my room while I got ready and stuff,” averting your gaze, your bottom lip began to tremble, “we were just talking, it wasn’t anything special and then the next thing I knew, he was kissing me. It just–… it happened so fast… his hands were all over me… I remember he pushed me up against my closet so hard that my back was bruised the next day, and I don’t bruise that easily. He was just so wasted that I don’t think he realised or maybe even cared what he was doing. I tried to say something, tried to make him stop, but he didn’t listen to me. If he heard me, then I don’t think he understood what it was that I was saying… I would have pushed him away, slapped and hit him, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t move my body, not even a little, I just froze…” 

“I can still feel what he felt like… like my skin won’t let go of the memory…” tears rolled down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to ignore how your palm tingled with recollection, “how he forced me to touch him and held his hand over mine, making it move as if he just thought I didn’t know what to do… he was my friend, you know? He wasn’t just some stranger who dragged me into an alley and held a knife to my throat. He was my friend. He would always make offhand jokes about seeing me as just a little sister and how he wasn’t attracted to you at all. Made such a big deal of it that I never thought he’d try anything… I have no idea how long it actually went on… I don’t even remember when it was that I landed on the bed, if it was before or after he–… after he–… did stuff, t-touched me… I just remember I was laying there when it happened. The masked man, the devil of hell’s kitchen, he ripped him off of me…”

“He’d somehow heard… I think maybe if I hadn’t opened the window that night to air out the room, he wouldn’t have saved me… he beat him up... knocked him out… he told me to call the police, but I couldn’t, so I instead asked my uncle to come get me… my body’s never shaked the way it did that night… I remember I was so confused because I wasn’t cold, didn’t get it till the masked man said I was in shock… it didn’t stop till the next night… when he was about to leave, I asked what if Mi–,” you couldn’t get yourself to utter Michael’s name out loud without feeling as if your whole world would crumble around you, “what if he woke up before Howard arrived, and so he just stayed there with me, right till he somehow heard my uncle walking up the stairs and then he slipped out the way he came in, right before I heard the front door unlock.” 

Letting out a long and unsteady breath, you raised a trembling palm up to wipe your cheeks. 

For a while, the silence got to encompass the space completely, your left hand still shaking in Matt’s as you eventually heard him ask. 

“Did you ever go to the police?”

“No. In the small window that I had to do one of those kits, I was just way too overwhelmed and confused and I just couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t do anything but relive that moment over and over again, so I didn’t do anything in time. But the longer time that passes and the more it sinks in what he did and the ways that I’m still paying for it, the things he ruined inside of me that I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get back, the more I wish that I had gone to the police. But it’s too late now.”

“No, it’s not,” his fingers squeezed slightly around yours, “I could help you, I’m a lawyer after all.”

“No, Matt,” you said firmly, “it is. I don’t wanna sit there and hear them go oh, it’s your word against his, sorry, and have them think that not enough happened technically for them to take it seriously. Enough happened, trust me. I’m eternally grateful that Daredevil saved me from whatever else he could have done to me that night, but enough happened. Just because he didn’t stick it in me doesn’t mean nothing happened. That is the kind of belief that only belongs to people who think that the only sexual act that counts as sex is when a penis is in a vagina, and that is just so incredibly wrong,” an enraged laugh tumbled out of you as you fumed, “they are the kind of people who think that someone queer, disabled or just someone who isn’t into that sexual act isn’t actually having sex when they are. Sex is about connection, it’s about pleasure and there are endless amounts of things that can give a person pleasure,” clenching your jaw, you let out a heavy sigh, “I wish it could be different, I wish many things, I wish it hadn’t had happened at all, but it did, and I hope that at the very least he learned something from it, that he changed, that he wouldn’t do it again to someone else.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[mediumgayitalian]

“Death Breath! Hey! Wait up!”

Nico bolts. He makes it about ten feet away from his cabin door before Will and his stupid long legs catch up with him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and then immediately tripping over his own foot and sending them both sprawling.

“I hate you,” Nico groans, curling up on the grass.

It’s too early for any of this. He was just trying to get back at Cecil for covering everything he owned in aluminum foil last week — and then he was going to go right the hell back to bed.

He knew he should have fucking shadow travelled.

“Aw, c’mon. You love me.”

Nico pretends to gag. The only thing he gets is Will’s crossed arms and raised eyebrow, so he doubles down and really starts to retch. Whatever. It’s eight thirty in the morning. He fell asleep at five. Rational thinking is a distant, distant memory.

“Whenever you’re done.”

“I will be sick at the thought for the next eight weeks,” Nico informs him. For dramatic effect, he looks up at Will’s face — which he cant even see, since the sun’s in his eyes — and shudders.

“You know, you have a genuine, beautiful talent for the dramatic arts, the likes of which I have never seen. Are you sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

I better not be, ‘cause then all the staring I do at your calves would be real weird, he thinks to himself, then considers whether he can convince Kayla to give him a lobotomy. He thinks she might like the opportunity.

“Piss off,” he says instead of that, artfully schooling his face into the aristocratic mask he’s perfected from his father, squaring his shoulders and looking at Will like he’s a pebble lodged in the flesh of his heel.

Will rolls his eyes. “Get up, Sharpay Evans. You’re gonna stain your shirt worse than you already have.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “My shirt is perfectly fine, thank you very much. I order them in black for a reason.”

He notices a giant grass stain on the side when he stands. He ignores it. Will does not.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re the Goth King.”

“Ghost King.”

“Right, right. That helps your case.”

Nico shoves him, fighting back a grin. “Whatever, Solace. What are you bothering me for?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Nico is a deeply cheesy person. Down to the core of him, past all the sarcasm and prickliness and trauma, or whatever, he’s made of fucking mozzarella, because what business does he have comparing Will’s eyes to the morning winter sky? Huh? That’s embarrassing. It isn’t even original. If Nico caught anyone saying shit like that out loud in real life, he’s collapse into the shadows from embarrassment. He needs electroshock therapy.

“I was thinking —”

“Rare,” Nico quips, just to watch Will’s eyebrow twitch. It does. Nico smiles.

“I was thinking,” he repeats, mocking glare in Nico’s direction, “that you and me go to the city this afternoon.”

“You chased me across camp for that?”

“Oh, please, Zombie Face. I chased you maybe twenty yards.”

“I think all that time sniffing rubbing alcohol has deteriorated your brain.”

“I think I’m going to shove you in the lake.”

“Feel free to try. You will not wake up the next morning.”

“Nah.” Will shoots him a smug smile. Nico trips over air. “I can be as annoying as I want and you still won’t kill me. I have impunity.”

Nico rolls his eyes, refusing to dignify that with an answer. The less he acknowledges his own shame, the more likely it will go away on its own. Probably.

“Anyways. Guess what Cecil told me today.”

“His last will and testament?” Nico guesses, suddenly remembering his reason for being up this early.

“No, no, not that.” Will pauses. “Well, I mean, he did. I passed it on to Chiron. He has requested that when you maul him, you avoid his face, because he wants to be a sexy corpse and he can’t do that if you destroy his prettiest features.”

“Noted. Please inform him I will come for him within a window of the next fifteen hours.”

Theres a very particular face Will makes when he finds something genuinely funny. A smile a little more crooked than his regular one, teeth working at his bottom lip to hold it back, left dimple appearing in his cheek. It makes Nico want to do stupid things like press his thumb into said divot. He instead shoves his hands deeply into his pockets.

“I’ll let him know.” He clears his throat. “Anyways. You know what day it is today?”

Nico squints. “Tues…day? No, Wednesday.” He glances at Will. It’s been maybe….three days since their weekly sleepover? No, fuck, four. He thinks. “Thursday. Final answer.”

“Monday,” Will corrects, “and, gods, you need to sleep more. And a calendar. But no, that’s not my point.”

“Feel free to get to it.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Will finally explains. He tries for exasperated, but it doesn’t work — he’s clearly excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet and waving his hands. “And The Five Seasons is doing half off for couples, so you and I need to go!”

He waves his hands, as if tying off some grand reveal. His (blue blue blue blue) eyes are squeezed nearly shut by the force of his beam, which lessons slightly with every second Nico does not respond.

“William,” he says finally. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “William.”

Will pouts. “What?”

“Explain how this is relevant to me, William.”

“Aw, c’mon, Nico! Don’t be difficult!”

“William,” stresses Nico again. “We are not a couple. Did you hit your head again?”

“Well, duh, Neeks, it’s about the scam!” He flaps his hand in a way Nico assumes is meant to convey something. “We’re gonna — eat! Cheap! By pretending to be a couple!” Now both hands are flopping, paired with wide, imploring eyes. “Obviously!”

“Obviously,” Nico repeats, slowly. He instructs one half of his brain to keep its focus on not melting into a puddle of blushing embarrassed goo, and the other to exercise restraint and not strangle the boy in front of him. A headache begins to press behind his eyes. “Will, what the shit.”

“You of all people!” Will throws his hands up. “You love scamming people! You hate corporate holidays! You frequently throw pebbles at people who look, and I quote, too obnoxiously happy! You’re the best hater I know! You should be on board!”

He makes a compelling point. Not that Nico is going to make that easy for him.

“You seem very invested in this,” Nico points out. He manages to keep his voice tastefully judgmental, which he’s very proud of.

“Of course I am! I want cheap Five Seasons food, godsdammit!” He pauses, switching tactics. “Nico,” he says softly. He puts a gently hand on Nico’s forearm, making him freeze. He is suddenly very, very close, and wow, did his hair always frame his face in gentle waves? Has that always been a thing? “I really, really want to scam a restaurant with you.” He smiles, small and crooked and gods, Will doesn’t look dangerous very often, but holy Hades when he does — “Will you make my Valentines, and scam a restaurant with me?”

His fingers begin to trace little circles in the inside of Nico’s wrist.

“Yes,” he squeaks, voice cracking.

“Yes!” Will cheers, pulling his fist. “Yes, hell yes, Nico! We are going to scam the shit out of this restaurant! Half off for couples? How about half off for heathens! Free money, baby! Fuck yeah!”

He turns back towards Nico, smile still wide and radiant, blinking eyes pools of sparkling excitement. Nico’s knees go a little weak. “I’ll come get you at 2! Thank you, Neeks!”

He runs off back to his cabin, only tripping twice. Nico watches him go, feeling a little like he’s tripping, too, with all the swooping his stomach is doing.

“Dude,” he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. “Be normal. Christo.”

It takes him ten straight minutes to get back to his cabin, even though he’s standing at the porch.

———

The obsidian handle of the Hades’ cabin door rattles.

“Neeks!” calls a voice behind the door, “you ready to go?”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Nico scrambles over to the mirror and stares at himself. He turns a little to the left. He scowls. “Shit!” Tugging the shirt off, he turns back to his closet, tossing the piece of clothing to join the rest of its brethren on the floor. “Shitfuck. Fuckshit. Shit.”

“Nico!”

“Coming!”

Tapping his foot rapidly, he looks harder, as if that will magically make the right shirt pop into existence, perfectly pressed, on a hanger. “Shit.”

“What could possibly be taking so long? You’ve had two hours!”

“I care about my appearance, Mr Flip Flops and Scrubs!”

“Bleh bleh! Hurry up!”

Nico bites his lip. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t, really. Five Seasons is not actually a fancy restaurant. He and Will just like to joke that it is, because it has tablecloths. They’ve gone there dozens of times before; they stop every time they’re in the city for supply runs or visits to Olympus or to harass their summer-only friends at school. There is literally no reason for Nico to be stressing about what stupid shirt he should wear. Gods know Will is wearing cargo shorts.

“Nico!”

“I’m coming!“

Scowling, he digs through the pile of discarded clothes until he finds the first shirt he’d put on — a dark green button up that was given to him, along with a bunch of other fancy clothes he never wears, by the Aphrodite cabin. He hastily shoves their buttons through their holes, cursing when he mixes them up and has to start over, and sprints over to the mirror to inspect himself.

The shirt looks good. It’s a little tight on the arms, which he suspects was on purpose, and the colour compliments his skin nicely. The buttons are a dark, shiny brown that match his eyes. They pair nice with his simple jeans and black vans, casual enough that he doesn’t look like he’s going to Prom, or anything stupid like that, but dressy enough that it looks like he put effort in. He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to make the staticky strands sit right, but gives up pretty quickly. It’s okay if one thing is a little messy, right?

“Finally,” huffs Will as the door swings open. He glances Nico up and down, then grins. “You look great.”

Nico was right. He is indeed wearing cargo shorts, although to his credit they are his one pair without various Head Medic stains. His sweater, too, is a pretty blue, V-necked, long-sleeved, and a completely different style than his shorts. It clashes horribly. His shoes are, for some reason, bright solid pink. Nico suspects Hecate magic. His hair is braided in two French braids, his favourite way to wear it. Nico believes he is also wearing a touch of sparkly eyeshadow.

“You look dorky.”

Will grins wider. “Thank you! I wouldn’t let anyone help me choose something.”

“You should have.”

“I wanted it to be authentic, Nico. Also, got something for you.” From behind his back, he pulls out a handful of daisies, black dirt clinging to their roots, like he plucked them straight from the ground. Nico is inexplicably endeared by the image, and prays the smile on his face is less soft than he knows it is.

“You got me flowers?”

“Well, duh, Avril Lavigne. We gotta sell the scam.”

Nico brings them close to his face and inhales deeply. They smell fresh and earthy and sweet.

“That’s a stupid reason to bring someone flowers.”

“Give them back, then.”

“No. Fuck off. They’re mine.”

Will’s eyes twinkle. “Okay.” He holds out his arm. “Ready to go?”

The jump is close enough that Nico can convince him to shadow travel, and not just because he sadistically looks forward to the shade of green Will’s face will get after. As dangerous as he knows it can be, he misses it, sometimes. There’s something comforting about it, something soothing and familiar. Shadow travelling to the restaurant eases any lingering nerves.

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it somewhere I can’t hear you,” he says as they materialize in an alley.

Will’s cheeks puff out. “I’m gonna do it on your fuckin’ shoes.”

“I will leave your ass here, Solace, I swear to the gods.” Despite his grumbling, he rests a cool hand on the back of Will’s neck until he’s recovered. “Good?”

“Yeah.” He straightens, dusting off his sweater. “Let’s go.”

Nico follows him down the alley and onto the street, elbowing past the crowd of pedestrians until they approach the familiar glass doors. He rolls his eyes fondly every time Will apologizes to someone.

“You need to be meaner.”

Will sticks his tongue out and tries to trip him. Unfortunately, he only manages to throw himself off balance, nearly crashing to the floor of Nico hadn’t caught him.

“Good gods, Solace.”

“That was your fault!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The doors of the restaurant are absolutely plastered in cheesy red hearts and bows and cartoon kisses. And, as promised, a giant sign promising couples a fifty percent discount on their meals.

“My love,” says Will dramatically, holding out a hand, “shall we?”

Nico sighs, resting his hand delicately in Will’s. It sparks with electricity, like it always does. “I suppose.”

“Party pooper.”

“I’m not hearing oh, Nico, thank you so much for doing this incredibly stupid thing with me, you are my dearest friend and I owe you one. Or three, for some reason.”

Will’s mouth twitches. “Oh, Nico, thank you so much for —”

Nico shoves him, laughing. “Shut up.”

They’re seated pretty quickly, server smiling when they take notice of their clasped hands. Will orders chicken tenders, like he does every single time without fail, and water. Nico orders from the adult menu and absolutely does not make any kind of show about it.

“There is nothing babyish about chicken tendies.”

“Oh, of course not.”

“Is this about you having a credit card? That does not make you more adult than me. It makes you a nepo baby.”

“Mhm. Sure thing.”

“Nobody likes a nepo baby, Nico.”

“Look, I think your drink comes with a complimentary sippy cup.”

Teasing and joking with Will is so easy that Nico forgets the core of their mission. The pink garlands hanging from the ceiling fade into the background — he’s too busy crying with laughter when Will nearly chokes to death on a french fry, too busy flicking a forkful of food at his shoulder just to make him shriek, too busy kicking his shin under the table. He catches Nico’s foot between his the fourth time he tries it, keeping it trapped for the rest of the meal. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“And your bill,” says their server when they’re done, setting down a slip of paper. “Forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but do you two qualify for today’s discount?”

Will smirks widely. “We do,” he says, with no small amount of pleasure. He shoots Nico the least subtle wink of all time. Nico rolls his eyes, cheeks going a little pink.

“Great! You guys have a wonderful Valentine’s day.”

“You, too.”

The server hurries away, turning to their other tables. Will’s smile is wide and smug.

“I knew it would work.”

“Duh. Easiest scam in the world, Solace.”

He sticks his tongue out. “And thus the best payout. You’re welcome.”

“Blah, blah. Gimme the bill.”

“Um, no way, di Angelo. I’m paying.”

He opens his wallet before Nico can stop him, mouthing as he counts the bills.

“What? No! I’m paying.”

“Are not.”

“Am too!”

“Are not.” He sets down a couple twenties. Nico snatches them right back up. “You we’re just complaining about my credit card!”

“Exactly. Thus my need to continue to pretend you don’t have one, so we can continue our friendship.”

“Solace, I swear to the gods.”

“di Angelo, I swear to the gods.”

Nico stares him down. Will stares back. He doesn’t even try to hide his lazy grin, his laughing eyes.

“You’re not paying for this by yourself,” Nico says firmly. “You don’t have a job. My father invented being rich.”

“Sure, but I made you come with me.”

“Ugh!” Nico throws his hands up, imagining how satisfying it would be to wrap his hands around that long neck (followed by his teeth and his tongue and his —). “Why are you impossible? I would’ve gone with you no matter what, stupid!”

As soon as he says it he wants to stick his head in wet cement. For a brief second, something like surprise flits across Will’s face, before he schools it back into his teasing smirk.

“Well, obviously, Death Breath. I’m excellent company.”

“You’re literally the most annoying person I know.”

“And yet here you are, hanging out with me, of your own volition.”

“…I’m paying next time.”

Will grins. “Whatever you say.”

They walk around the city for a while before heading back to camp. Will says it’s because he needs the air, Nico knows it’s because he wants him to rest a little longer before trying to shadow travel again. He tries not to let himself get all melty inside.

(Nobody willingly hangs out around the city for the ‘air’. He’s a shit liar. Nico should be offended.)

It’s nearing curfew by the time they melt back out from behind Thalia’s tree, extra shadows of early evening making the trip easier.

“Those fries are going to make a reappearance,” Will grimaces.

“Not if you don’t want me to kick you in the face.”

“You’d never.”

He would indeed never. But he would rather pass away than admit it, so.

“C’mon, dot face. It’s getting late. You have a cabin to run.”

“Oh, Nico,” Will says in a breathy falsetto, “are you walkin’ me to my cabin? How chivalrous!”

“Nevermind.”

“No no no no no I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Nico allows himself to be tugged, weak to Will’s giggles. “Walk me to my cabin. C’mon.”

Sighing, as if he’s so put out, Nico does. Some point in between Thalia’s tree and the amphitheater, Will’s hand slides down from around his wrist to tangled in between his fingers. Coincidentally, his mouth goes dry.

As they approach the Apollo cabin, Will slows to a stop.

“Hey.” He squeezes their fingers together, smile soft in the dying light of dawn. “I had fun today. Thank you for coming with me.”

Nico swallows. One day, those words will be said in a different context, if everything goes well for Nico, and he’s not sure how the hell he’s going to handle it without bursting into flame. “Yeah, well. Anything to scam a restaurant.”

“Right.”

They walk the last few steps to the cabin, rickety porch steps creaking under their feet as they approach the open door. Will doesn’t let go.

“Hey, Nico.”

“…Yeah?”

Quick as a flash, Will leans in and presses the softest of kisses to his mouth. The noise Nico makes is practically punched out of his lungs, spine going rigid in surprise.

“You can pay for our next date, okay?”

He’s gone before Nico can respond, ducking into his cabin with a small smile and closing the door behind him. Nico stands there, like an idiot, for three solid minutes at the very least, distantly aware of the giggles coming through the open window.

His hand comes up, fingers brushing his bottom lip.

“The little fucker set me up.”

Valentine’s day scam. Please. The only scam today was the scam of Will’s sneaky asking.

Nico smiles.

“You’re a mess, Solace!” he shouts, knowing damn well Will is listening.

He’s right. “Goodnight, Nico!”

Shaking his head, Nico runs back to his cabin, entire body tingling and cheeks aching with his grin.

[thisdreamplace]

for those who struggle

i recently got sent an anon message about frustrations surrounding the law, and how non-dualism hasn't made it any easier for them, but actually just more frustrating to the point where they're officially walking away from everything and wanting to just go back to live as they knew it before any of this.

the truth is that, oversimplification runs rampant in this community. as well as, hiding behind the realities of how difficult it all can be, because people are afraid of affirming that it's difficult or identifying with difficulty... but when we hide from this experience and try to come off as if it doesn't affect us, while simultaneously trying to give out advice, there tends to be more damage than good happening. the oversimplifying isn't the fault of anyone, as the truth is most of this is simple. but in actually living it, it tends to not be simple at all. the ego will fight till the very end to keep things the way they are, even when they hurt us. and that is worth being honest about.

when it comes to non-identification and indifference, this is not meant to be used to as yet another way to pretend something isn't happening or push down your feelings or gaslight yourself. i see these posts like, "just ignore the 3d and don't identify with it and you would have already have what you wanted" ..... this doesn't actually really help anyone, unless you're a person who strives on that kind of mentality. but i think a lot of people need a little more gentleness and realness, otherwise this journey wouldn't have been so difficult and painful. we'd all just get it overnight, but clearly, this community stays extremely active for a reason. because the million ways its already been explained still leaves so many confused and frustrated.

indifference is a daily practice, and it is NOT one that includes pretending something doesn't exist in exchange for getting what you want. it is actually, the extreme opposite. it's by acknowledging what's there... and allowing that to be what it is. the non-identification comes in from how you choose to see YOURSELF in relation to whatever that thing is. "this is painful, this sucks, i hate it... but that doesn't mean tomorrow won't be better for me. it doesn't mean my life is doomed..." etc etc etc. it's this very small flip within yourself, that actually leads to results. not trying to force yourself into believing you aren't even who you are when you've identified as yourself this entire life. remember that god's name is I AM, and literally nothing else.

and doing something to get something else is just... not it. it's time for you to truly want to feel better, regardless of anything else. that's why so much of this starts to get trickier than it needs to be.

non-identification is literally as simple as realizing... you are bound to no past, and you have the opportunity of every future you can possibly imagine. why ? because non-identification is literally just non-attachment. when you're not attached to this idea of who you were, of the struggles you used to face, you're able to allow in different experiences. and y'all... this as simple as being able to say to yourself, "i am allowed to experience something new" and don't let your fear of the unknown stop you from experiencing something new.

here's where it doesn't feel so simple though. how can you just stop identifying with this whole human self when the traumas of the past keep coming back to haunt you ? thats the thing. you don't just stop identifying with it. you let this be a process, a non-linear path to liberation. slowly, but surely, if you keep at it everyday, even when you feel you're only going backwards... one day you will realize how much more free you are. how much more easier it is to move into a new beautiful story for yourself, one that isn't contiminated by your past. but let today be today ! and whatever may come, let it come.

this is why just focusing on yourself is so helpful because if you're simply doing the best you can for yourself and your feeling state, the daily dramas are no longer your ruler.

the gag is that, the more you just do these small daily practices of sitting with yourself, choosing to not engage in the stories you used to identify with in the past, and allow new experiences to come to you... the more easy it gets, the more the truth of yourself begins to show itself on its own. you have to realize that the days are going to keep passing by anyway... so stop counting them, and just commit to yourself.

i also want to quickly note that so many seem to leave out the fact that behind all of this, within the pure nothingness that is also everything. behind our human identifications and all the things we have experienced in our lives, there is unconditional love. and when we actually begin to stop identifying so deeply with who we thought we are, we are lead right back to unconditional love. love in its purest form. so, use love as your guide when things get too difficult. it's the truest thing to who you really are.

you have to let allow yourself to experience the beautiful, despite how strange it may feel. because it's going to feel strange if you've never really experienced it before, and the ego is going to fight because even when it's good, the unknown is still strange and scary. and you never have to be perfect at this to get to experience the things you want, believe it or not. i know that i still have a long way to go on this journey, there may be much more time before i ever get to fully experience the promise in full, but that hasn't stopped me from experiencing the desires of my heart on a daily basis. that's because i used these simple things, these small little flips in how i chose to see life. even if the anxiety never went away, or it was a more difficult day full of tears... this is way more possible for you than you realize. if only you're willing to allow your life to be different than it's always been. just that small allowance, opens up all the doors.

xo dream 🕊

[regressor-wicked]

agere headcanon ask game !

seen a few of these go around and i thought i'd try my hands at making my own! just send me a character and a number :) feel free to rb and do this yourself!

how did they find out about age regression? did they stumble upon it online? did a friend tell them about it?

do they have a specific age or range they regress to, or do they just go off vibes?

why do they regress? is it trauma or stress related? do they regress to go back to simpler times, or to create new memories? what causes them to regress?

is their regression more voluntary or involuntary? do they ever regress without realizing it?

do they ever find themselves only regressing partially, or do they fully drop when they regress?

are they a stuffie or a blankie kid? both? neither?

do they have a caregiver? are they a caregiver/flip?

in what ways are they different when they're regressed? do aspects of their personality or interests change at all? are they similar to how they were when they were an actual kid, or completely different?

do they identify with any specific labels (regressor, flip, pet regressor, etc.)?

do they have any regression gear (teethers, pacifiers, diapers, specific toys or outfits, etc.)? do they try to hide it from friends/family?

do they fall into any 'regressor stereotypes' (baby talk, loving disney movies, liking pastels, etc.), or do they diverge from the 'norm' (liking horror media, regressing to an older age, etc.)?

do they have any specific nicknames for when they regress? how about nicknames they've given to their caregiver(s) or friends?

what do they like to do when they're regressed? do they like to play pretend, watch tv/movies, color, etc.?

what kind of snacks/drinks do they gravitate towards when regressed? do they use a sippy cup or bottle? how about those little divider plates/trays?

what do they wear when they're regressed? do they have specific clothes, or do they just wear whatever is most comfortable? do they have a comfort article of clothing?

where do they tend to regress? do they mostly regress at home, at the park, at a specific friend's house? do they have a specific place they like to go once they're regressed?

do they prefer to play indoors or outdoors? do they get upset when it rains?

do they take naps? if so, do they take them at a specific time, or just nap whenever they feel like it? do they get fussy over having to take one?

what kind of things do you associate with their regression? is their a specific aesthetic or general 'vibe' you think suits them and their regression?

what is age regression to them? what do they like/dislike? are they proud of their regression, or feel a bit more insecure about it?

[percygranate]

⚠️PSA – ickybatz is back! Predators on AO3⚠️

⚠️TW for Mentions of Child Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, Minor Sexual Content, Pedophilia, GROOMING, and Pedophile Conversations. PLEASE read and reblog if you can.

IMPORTANT UPDATE: Demobatz is NOT ickybatz, also known as batty-ruski, battyrusk.

I made a mistake by assuming due to the names, and after being in contact with Demobatz, I edited the post. I apologize for this but don't fully regret calling them out, as it helped Demobatz realize they made a mistake and it brought a lot of attention to the issue of predators on AO3 and Tumblr.

In-depth explanation [HERE]!

This 13/16-year-old CHILD is out here asking for pedophilia requests and getting encouraged and groomed by predators.

I accidentally came across it, and I encourage you to report them and everyone interacting with their work. There is a difference between dark romance, dark fics, and straight-up romanticization of children being assaulted.

They write about these children actively partaking and enjoying it, hoping they can please the adult taking advantage of them. These works are clearly written for the type of person that gets off on it.

——— Update ———

Their way of writing to cope with past trauma was groomed and manipulated by predators on AO3.

——— Update ———

——— False Information | Demobatz isn't Ickybatz ———

So much for “Oh, they are a traumatized child and made a mistake.” They now know it's wrong and continue doing it, even worse than before. And people continue to support it.

Their fucking apology was absolute bullshit. And everyone that came to their defense should be ashamed of themselves.

——— False Information | Demobatz isn't Ickybatz ———

↓ Here are AO3 accounts supporting this. ↓

Yes, they put warnings on their work and say “Don’t Like It, Don’t Read It!” But I would like to show you what they are writing, and how they are getting the attention of predators. I am sure you have to agree with me that they and everyone supporting this need to lose any type of platform they own. Demobatz should NOT be in any contact with these men.

⚠️They encourage each others to write this and Demobatz, A 13/16-YEAR-OLD, is actively putting themselves in danger by making “friends” for roleplay, and exchanging social media, with very likely, PEDOPHILES. They are actively getting groomed by people that know what they are doing.⚠️

——————————————————

↓These are their two original works↓

Financial Struggles — The summary says it all. But I feel like I should point out their conversation under their post.

Mother’s Milk — Sexual Assault of a male baby.

——————————————————

↓This is their work in the Stranger Things Fandom↓

Their work “Deceit” which is taking requests and actively posting has, as of May 21st, 16 Chapters.

1 — “Using this as a coping mechanism for my own trauma. Please request, any age is allowed❤️”

2 — Eddie Munson, 25 y/o | Reader, 17 y/o

3 — Uncle Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson | Reader, 6 y/o

4 — Eddie Munson, 20 y/o | Reader, 12 y/o

5 — Steve, 19 y/o & Eddie, 20 y/o | Reader, 14 y/o

6 — Dad Steve | Reader, 8 y/o

7 — Dad Steve & Eddie | Reader, 8 y/o

8 — Big Brother Steve | Reader, 4 y/o

9 — Big Brother Billy Hargrove | Reader, 6 y/o

10 — “Posting this so that you all can give me ideas on what to post next❤️ Anything is allowed/ age can be whatever you want♡♡!”

11 — Billy & Steve | Reader, 3 y/o

12 — Hopper & Joyce | Reader, 4 y/o

13 — !BILLY HARGROVE AND A NEWBORN BABY!

14 — Billy | Reader, 6 y/o & Max, 7 y/o

15 — “It hasn't been a week and I'm almost at 2,000 reads! Thank you all so much♡♡ Feel free to drop suggestions, request or even ideas/blurbs♡♡”

16 — Big Brother Eddie / Reader over the years, starting at 6 y/o

——————————————————

They actively encourage pedophilia and put themselves on a silver platter for predators.

If you are still trying to justify these types of works, please do it off anon and openly so you can be blocked since you are part of the problem.

Do not send threats, bullying, or harassment their way. Block and Report.

If you know one or more of the interacting blogs, call them out.

⚠️UPDATE: 22nd of May⚠️

Dear fellow Bloggers, Demobatz pedophilia fic “Deceit” has been taken down!

Yet their two original works (mentioned above) are still there. I ask you to keep reporting them!

Demobatz is currently using Wit as their social media to exchange ideas for their CSA & incest Erotica, and worse, to roleplay with potential predators.

⚠️Update: May 25th⚠️

AO3 has removed their account or they deleted it themselves. Their Wit profile has been deleted.

Due to this post, my blogs keep getting shadowbanned and reported.

⚠️Update: May 26th⚠️

DEMOBATZ CONTACTED ME AND I CAN CONFIRM THIS APOLOGY TO BE REAL!

In-depth continuation and explanation [HERE]!

⚠️I turned off Reblogs as the original post with false information is still making rounds and therefore people are missing information.⚠️

[reiderwriter]

could you write a fic with a fem reader where spencer’s going through withdrawal and he’s being like snappy and stuff when she’s just trying to help? idk if that makes sense?

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I'm sorry it took me so long ㅠㅠ I hope this is everything you were looking for!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid × GN! reader

Warnings: mentions of drug use, mentions of addiction in the family, and spoilers for Season 2 of Criminal Minds.

You can check out my masterlist here!

In comparison with the other members of the BAU, you had the most experience with recovery. So you knew that it wasn't easy. Spencer Reid didn't. 

The moment you'd noticed him stepping out on the team, spending more time isolated and with a shorter temper, you knew. Tobias Hankel had only tortured Spencer for a day, but he was still inside him even months later. 

The day you realised he was using, you moved yourself into his apartment. 

“Hi,” you said as he opened the doors, bleary-eyed from whatever hit he just dealt himself. “My apartment flooded, and I had nowhere else to go.” 

Spencer Reid would always help others before he helped himself. It took a few more hours to broach the discussion of the drugs, but when you did get him to give in, you could feel the weight flowing off his shoulders. 

“I can't get his face out of my mind. The drugs, they help. And I know they're not really helping, but it's like I'm not strong enough to care.” He'd broken down into tears, placed his supply on the tables in front of you  and picked open the wound that had never fully healed properly. 

Step one to recovery was accepting you needed help. Step two was harder. 

Slowly decreasing his intake until he was free of the drug. Watching him for any negative reactions in the field and at home, dealing with the underlying trauma. 

You had to talk to Hotch about it, of course. But he knew about your father, and to a certain extent, you knew about his. A single shared look was enough for you both to agree that Spencer needed everyone's support. 

So you dropped him off at his meetings. You picked him up afterwards. You watched him in the field for any mention of addiction and drug-related psychosis that could lead him down a dark path of what ifs. 

You held his hand. You kissed his head. You were there. 

Even when he tried to show you he didn't deserve it. 

“Spencer,” you'd started the conversation trying to get his attention, knowing from the far away look that he was missing the numbness that came with the high. 

“Spencer, you look tense. Are you okay?” He'd whipped his head around at the words, a scowl on his face. 

“You don't need to hover over me like I'm a child, Y/N.” 

“I want to know that you're okay.” You said back, pouring yourself a glass of water to calm yourself again. Sometimes, Spencer made every little question an attack, and you had to learn to dodge the blows.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I want to take care of you.” Your calm reply had him angrier though, as he snorted with a single reply. 

“Like you took care of your dad? That worked out so well, didn't it.” 

Ten years and any mention of the man who had raised you still had you freezing in shock. You almost didn't notice when your glass tumbled to the ground, to be smashed into a thousand tiny pieces.

It was almost as if the crash woke Spencer up from his stupor, his gaze growing regretful as he stood and approached you quickly. 

With a hand and a shake of a head, you stopped him, though.

“Let me clear the large pieces on my own. I don't want you to get hurt.” Kneeling, you did just that, picking out recognisable edges and sides and transporting them carefully into the trash. 

“I'm not going to sit here and let you do all the work, Y/N. I'm… I'm sorry.” His voice whispered those last few words as he kneeled next to you  sweeping the glass up, careful not to cut himself on it. 

You wiped the tears from your eyes as both of you worked busily, letting your argument hang in the air between you.

“I know you're sorry, Spencer,” you whispered as the two of you worked, still not brave enough to look him in the eyes. “My dad was, too. He never meant it, though.” 

“I mean it.” He stopped moving, and you finally looked up to his eyes, to the life there that sparked, that had been buried by Tobias Hankel. Motivation. 

With the glass cleared, he stood, reaching out a hand to you to help you up. You took it, letting him assist you. He didn't let go after, though. Not immediately. 

He stepped closer, and you relaxed into his chest, resting an ear over his heart. It was still beating, and that was what mattered. 

“I can't fix you, Spencer. I can't make this better. I can't do that for you, because you have to do it for yourself. That's what my dad never understood.” Your voice was barely audible, but you knew he could hear and knew he was listening. 

“I can't reverse what he did to you. But I promise, I will be here to remind you that you are a good man. To remind you of what you are like when you're you  how much I love you, how much we all love you.”

“I'll stand next to you and look into that mirror every morning and tell you what I see. A good man on the bad days, the same man on the good days. I don't want to fix you, Spencer. I want to love you, and I want you to accept that you're worth it.”

His head rested on top of yours, and you could feel his small wrecks of tears as he sniffled. Inhaling your scent, he could've spent the night wrapped in your arms like that.

“Thank you. For saying that. For being here. I know it's not easy.” 

“It's not. But you're worth it.” Clinging to him, you let the moments tick by, never releasing him from your warm embrace. 

[zivazivc]

Sorry if this has already been asked before but why did the band break up? And did they break up on decent terms? Do they still talk to each other sometime?

It has been asked before, I just never answered jshfbdjcbh I'm still piecing everything together and stuff is changing or getting tweaked all the time, so I'm always super hesitant about answering these types of questions, afraid that people will take whatever I say as the final answer. So basically what I'm going to answer now will already contradict what I told some people already. And maybe in the future the story might go a little differently too (although I'm pretty satisfied with the current events)

Uhhh, get ready for a long info dump. I didn't expect I'd write this much...

Floyd basically stayed with the band for 8 years (from 14 till 22) and got pretty messed up in the process. The rest of the guys are all quite older than him so I guess I could say they were more responsible, or at least had a better understanding of their own limits (also they grew up in this kind of environment or grew up aware of it, while Floyd was oblivious and naive about all of it) and while they do get drunk and do drugs often, none of them are really dependent on them. They are also pretty good judges of character and know how to avoid trouble. Floyd on the other hand drove in with no breaks and constantly got himself in trouble that the rest (mostly Les) had to drag him out of. He also developed bipolar during this time (in my story Floyd constantly fluctuates between being saturated and being desaturated because of this) and his manic and depressive episodes started getting out of hand after his teenage years. (None of them are aware it's a mental disorder that's making him act so out of character.)

Floyd was becoming miserable because of this and all of his problems pilling up, and started blaming Les for the way he was. Les never argued this which only fueled Floyd to blame him more. In the end he was getting so frustrated and irritable that Floyd constantly tried starting arguments with him, even putting him down and getting aggressive at times because Les gets very unresponsive and closed off during personal conversations (guy is a giant onion of suppressed trauma that Floyd is hellbent on peeling open).

Eventually there was one fight too many, terrible things were said, some objects flew through the air, and Floyd walked out (or Hed kicked him out, I haven't decided yet) with the promise of going home and never seeing them again.

So, yeah, it was very messy and Floyd was the primary asshole, even though he's not really to blame either...

But Floyd didn't make it home (was too scared to sneak through Bergen Town to get to the tree (i don't think i can judge him for that either)) and he just returned to the reckless lifestyle, this time without anyone being there to keep him safe. So if he was messed up before, this is the time period where he got absolutely fucked up. This is also when he got heavily addicted to sour worms. And when he chronically slept around (half the time just to get offered free worms or have somewhere to sleep, other times because he was having manic episodes and was feeling hypersexual). (This is also potentially the period when he had the two eggs with that techno troll, but I'm still thinking if I want that to be canon to the story or not.) During this time he also grew to become very anxious and his self-confidence went to shit when he was being himself.

Then after about three years of that, he bumped into Les at some party. He wanted to dodge him out of shame but Les grabbed his arm and manhandled him outside to talk. Floyd felt like shit about the way they had split up and tried apologizing for all the stuff he had said and done to Les, but Les wasn't having any of that because he wasn't angry at Floyd, he was just worried about him. Les is also insanely empathetic like Floyd, and he knew that Floyd never really meant any of it, and that he was just looking for an outlet when he was hurting. Also he does think he is to blame for the way Floyd ended up.

Les wanted to know why he didn't go home like he had said (because that was the only reason Les had even let him walk out in the first place). A few exchanged words later and Floyd broke down telling him all the awful things he'd done, and Les promised to help him, feeling insanely guilty. Floyd wondered if he was allowed back in the band but Les made it clear that the band wasn't good for him and that he was never taking him back. Instead Les helped him go though rehab. I don't think trolls have those institutions (or at least not many are aware of them or how they work (I'm sorry but I refuse to believe the Trolls world has internet and cellphones, Mountrageons can keep that for themselves lol)), so it was more or less just Les finding Floyd a job and his own place to stay in the middle of bumfuck nowhere where he had no option but to detox, and constantly checking up on him to make sure he was doing okay. During this time they grew pretty close again. Or maybe the better term would be that Les slowly started putting his walls down again.

Hed needed a while to warm up to Floyd again. He's almost as protective of Les as Les is of him, and he resented Floyd for the way he had treated him.

Flea is pretty phlegmatic when it comes to any sort of arguing or drama. He was casual about seeing Floyd again, they were never super close anyway.

And Liv, she left the band when she and Hed broke up (haven't decided if that happened before or after Floyd left), so Floyd didn't get to see her again after bumping into Les at the party. And I haven't thought yet if they'd ever meet again somewhere later in life. But if they did, I think they'd both be happy to see each other.

Anyway...

Floyd managed to detox and successfully kept the job for about a year, but then he became manic again and messed it all up. After that he returned to his nomadic lifestyle, but he never fell as hard as those three years again. In my story Floyd's life is a constant cycle of getting his life together and fucking it up and booking to the next place. And he and Les are trapped in a never-ending cat and mouse game where they're both trying to fix each other.

So, uh, Les and Floyd are still very close and see each other somewhat often...

(sometimes monthly, sometimes yearly)

Yeah...

I am so fucking obsessed with them I'm gonna hurl. Please take this song before I combust:

[lethalchiralium]

All I Ask | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: hi. PLEASE GIVE ME REQUESTS FOR THIS IM RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS AND I DONT WANT TO START THE ANGST ARC YET PLEASE

warnings: TALKING ABOUT SIMON’S TRAUMA (which includes physical abuse)

summary: Simon tells you why he feels ashamed, plus Mellie decides to be a comforting little baby.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

Simon could not get you to slow down, it was worrying him. He had taken the night to just sleep, fighting nightmares and waking up just as tired as he was when his head hit the pillow. He got up, took a shower without having to let Mellie into the bathroom to play, got dressed and made his way downstairs to find you.

The TV was on, the stupid show about those blue dogs playing that Simon secretly enjoyed, Mellie bouncing around in her little walker as you sat on the couch; Winnie’s hair between your fingers, making much prettier braids than he ever has. Though, Winnie has never complained; she said that he braids her hair ‘nicer’, whatever that meant - but it meant everything to him.

The baby in the bright yellow walker looked to him, her hand in her mouth as she smiled and began to coo at him - her free hand making grabbing signals. He smiled, walking straight to her and plucking her from the walker, settled her on his arm while both of her hands gripped his shirt. Her little head rested on his collarbone, a happy little giggle leaving her lips as he turned to his wife and oldest daughter.

Winnie shoveled fistfuls of Cheerios out of the box and into her mouth, infatuated with the blue and orange dogs while you smiled to him, radiant. He almost took a step back, in disbelief of how content you looked.

“You okay?” You spoke, looking back to Winnie’s hair. He gazed down at Mellie, her face looking at the TV too.

“Fine.” He answered, moving towards the couch to sit beside you. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before draping his free arm on the back of the couch, eyes falling on the TV. “You doin’ okay?”

“I’m more worried about you than I am me.” Your answer made him frown a bit as you looked back to Winnie’s hair.

He looked to your hair, wishing he could see you beautiful face. “You don’t need to worry ‘bout me.”

“I always worry about you.” You murmured, fingers slowing as you continued the one of two Dutch braids. He opened his mouth to say a rebuttal, but you continued, “But this is a whole different kind of worry. This is really hard, and I need to make sure that you’re going to be okay. And that I can help you in any way you need.”

“I should be saying that to you.” His baby tugged on his shirt while the hand not on Mellie settled on your closest shoulder, the girl cuddled on his chest began to coo again. He looked down to her, noticing that she wasn’t even looking at him - she was looking at you.

You turned your head to kiss the hand on your shoulder before turning back to your daughter’s hair. “Did a lot of thinking. A lot of crying.” A moment of laughter came from the TV, his eyes flickered to it. He watched the show just for a second before you began again, his eyes went back to you. “Families don’t go according to plan. When I was a kid, wanting two girls and two boys of my own and a loving husband was my plan; but then you crashed the party and you stomped all over it with the most wonderful little girl I’ve ever met.” You leaned forwards a kissed Winnie’s hair, to which she grumbled as the cereal box kept rustling with her grubby little hands digging out Cheerios. “Nothing I planned for my whole life has ever gone as planned. Adopting my daughter and hoping I’m raising her how her birth mother wants wasn’t a part of my plan. Having a surprise baby while you’re off protecting the world wasn’t a part of the plan.” He squeezed your shoulder. “We wanted another, but it just wasn’t in the cards. We drew a bad hand.”

“Wise girl.” He smiled, moving forwards to press a kiss to the back of your head. “I’ll be fine.”

“You say that.” You murmured. “I don’t want to push you, Si, but I want you to actually be okay. And it’s not an overnight decision-“

“I had a dream about my mum.”

You looked surprised. He has never told you about his dreams, even when she’s waking him from the nightmares which had him screaming.

The weight in his chest was lifted because of that dream, even if he knew she wasn’t real. His mom was dead, but he dreamt and talked to her as if she wasn’t. He couldn’t tell you what he had told his mother in his dream.

“I hope you were able to bring yourself comfort.” Your voice broke him from the memory, head still faced forwards towards Winnie. “There’s no reason to feel ashamed about missing your mom. I miss mine all the time.”

Mellie’s hand gripped what little stubble he had on his chin, he looked down at her. Her eyes that matched his, wide and warm and accompanied by her two toothed smile. His hand gently pushed back her barely their hair that looked like yours, the girl cooed.

“She’s supposed to be talking soon, right?” He mumbled, her little baby nails dug into his chin but he didn’t care. “Keep forgetting to get her to talk.”

“She will when she’s ready.”

Mellie smacked his chin, he frowned at her. She giggled back, the sleeve of her blue onesie riding up her arm.

“Say Dada.” He whispered, the baby furrowed her eyebrows. “Dada.”

“Simon Riley, don’t you be turning her on me.” Your voice held warning, but full of playfulness. He glanced to you, you still faced away. “Her first word is gonna be ‘Mama’ and there will be hell to pay if it isn’t.”

He looked back to the baby on his chest, a sudden clench of his heart made his smile drop. The little baby was looking to you now since she heard your voice.

“I didn’t want him.”

His free hand gently patted his baby’s back, she kept her eyes on her mom.

“I didn’t want our son and I don’t know why.”

There was a moment of silence, save for the TV, where neither of you said a word. He couldn’t look at you.

“Winnie, baby, can you go eat in the dining room for me?” Your voice was soft, Winnie hopped off of the couch, loudly crunching on her Cheerios as she passed by Simon - her hair in two neat little braids. He kept his gaze on his baby, watching as her little smile grew bigger as you turned to look at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your hand was gentle when it rested on his chest, Mellie’s grip disappeared from his chin, moving to your fingers. The little chunky hands grabbed your pointer finger, trying to pull it to her mouth.

His words failed him as he watched Mellie begin to chew on your finger, you were completely unfazed. How could he have told you? It would’ve only hurt you.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Your head then rested on his shoulder, his hand still patted Mellie’s back. “I don’t need to know, I’m just trying to help you.”

The tears weren’t purposeful, yet they still fell - just short of Mellie’s head. The girl looked up to him, her little eyes widened and she immediately pulled your hand from her sharp teeth. Her little baby hands then smacked themselves onto his face, directly in the way of the streaks of his tears.

“Daddy’s okay, baby.” He whispered, his other hand tried to move her hands from his face, but she let out a grunt in disapproval. “It’s alright.”

You curled your body into his side, arms wrapped around his left arm - head nestled on his shoulder. Silence fell again, his daughter staring directly into his eyes and refusing to move her hands as he silently cried. Her little fingers curled uncurled against his cheeks, little nails scuffing up his face but he didn’t care. He could stay like this forever.

Mellie blinked at him, cooing a little as the tears began to stop. Her eyes grew tired, her hands moved from his face and to his chest, keeping herself sitting up so she could stare at him. She scrunched her nose just like her sister, and without warning, slammed her head into his collarbone. He winced in pain, his only free hand coming to cradle her head.

He’d be lying if he said that he wanted time to keep moving, so he could watch his daughters grow. He just wanted to stay like this, his baby cradled on his chest and just as sassy as her older sister.

“My father,” His voice was quiet, just above a whisper. “He hated that he had boys. Hated that he had children in the first place, never once told me that he loved me. Always told me that he never wanted me.”

Your hands squeezed his arm.

“And I know I told you that I would be okay with a boy, but I don’t think I could look my own son in the face. All I’d see is me, that little boy who was so terrified of his father that he hid in the cabinets for days. The little boy who was forced to watch his father beat his mother.” He took a short breath. “I couldn’t look a carbon copy of myself in the face and act like I loved him, because he would be a reminder of how I failed my family. That I would end up like my father.”

“You’ll never be that fucking bastard.” Your voice was certain, he knew you were looking up at him but he couldn’t move his eyes from Mellie as her little face turned to look at you. “Simon, please, look at me.”

He couldn’t deny you a thing - not in this lifetime, or the next. His head turned, his face looking to you - his heart shattered. There were tears in your eyes, your hands squeezing his arm.

“You never will be like your father,” Hands gripped around his arm, you pulled his arm even further into your chest. “That girl on your chest has never been anything but love from you. Winnie has only ever been loved by you. Have you hit her?”

He stared at you. “No.”

“Would you? Has the thought ever crossed your mind?”

“No.”

“You’re already miles better than him.” Your voice grew softer, your hand moved to rest on his cheek. “And I know you’d never think of hurting me.” The tears stung his eyes, the tiredness that welled in his shoulders began to hurt as you whispered to him, “I know you’re scared of becoming him, but I doubt you ever will. You have so much love to give, Simon. From what I’ve heard, your father only had hurt to give.”

“I don’t ever want to hurt you.” His eyes fluttered closed, leaning his head forward to settle his forehead against yours. “I don’t want to hurt my girls, I just want to love all three of you.”

“That’s all I ask for.”

A little hand smacked his cheek, he opened an eye to look in the direction of Mellie. He opened both of his eyes, pressing a kiss to your forehead before looking to his baby.

“Say Mama.” He spoke, the little baby scrunched her nose again. He smiled through his tears, his eyes flickered up when he saw Winnie creep into view. Her little green bear settled in her arms, she rubbed the back of her hand into her eye. “C’mon, Winnie.”

The chestnut haired little girl instantly climbed her way onto his lap, narrowly avoiding the baby on his chest and plopping in between him and you. You instantly moved your arm around her, grabbing the blanket that was set on the arm of the couch. He helped you with his free hand, pulling the blanket to cover his family.

“I’m proud of you, Si.” You spoke, hand resting on his chest as your arm laid on Winnie’s side. His oldest daughter’s head settled just under yours, you placed a kiss on her head.

Those words made him smile, the tears falling down his face - Mellie looked back up to him after curiously watching you and him cover everyone with the blanket. He pressed a kiss to her face before leaning his head back onto the back of the couch, closing his eyes. You moved one leg over his lap, sleep began to gnaw at his head.

“Daddy.”

“Yeah, Winnie?” He answered.

“That wasn’t me.” He heard Winnie as clear as day, his head shot up to look down at Mellie, who still kept herself sitting up and looking at him - a smile on her little face. He could instantly feel your head pop up from his shoulder.

“Mama.” He said, hushed, “You say Mama, Mellie. Not Daddy.”

“Daddy.” The little baby on his chest cooed, louder this time. “Dada.”

“She said her first word.” You whispered, hand squeezing his arm. “I’m so mad at you for being first.”

“I was rooting for her to say mama too,” He whispered, his hand gently patting Mellie’s back.

“Say Mama, Mellie.” The baby looked to you as soon as you spoke, she stared at you. “She has your staring problem.”

“I know. I kind of feel bad.” He commented as he watched Winnie’s hand reach out to pet her sister’s head, the baby cooed again. Mellie looked back to Simon, her little hand reached back for his face. He pressed a kiss to her hand before letting her grab his stubble again, almost wincing as she pulled on it. “Gentle, Bug.”

“Dada.” Mellie answered, then let go of his chin - settling her head gently on his chest this time.

“I love you, Bug.” He whispered, kissing her head before moving to Winnie, placing a kiss on her head too as he said, “I love you, Duckling.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek before he could get to you. “I love you.”

He wasn’t sure he could ever live without you.

taglist: @sigynxlokiwifelover @lumpypoll @multitargaryen @chloeforde @blueoorchid @vir-tual @lolis-pikt @theverycelestialgemini @simpingforleoandnico

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[klaustozier]

brute ; miguel o'hara

SUMMARY: miguel is trying to work and you are not allowing him to concentrate.

warnings: miguel o'hara x fem!reader, MDI, miguel has sharp teeth as well as claws, remember that :); he will use his "web" to tie you up (I described how I thought it would be); oral (in both, but when you do it's rougher); slaps and spanking; degradation kink; mention of body hair (chest <3); nipple play; he is older (hihi); miguel swears in spanish (because i'm a whore); bigcock!miguel; there are no traumas here, miguel is not suffering from a loss, there is just fucking horny angry miguel here; no condom; light spit kink; no spoiler; and I described the way I think it would be easier to take his uniform off, I think the zipper is on the back, but it's not as sexy :3; begging; anal; gag

word count: 1.6k

english is not my first language, so i'm sorry for any mistakes

i'm sorry for not deliverying the aib fics, but i'm kinda swamped and obsessed with spider-verse, so i wanted to make something different :)

hope you enjoy it!

"You're getting on my nerves", said the older man.

You smiled innocently and rubbed your face against his knee, "Am I?"

Miguel was trying to work, he knew he shouldn't have brought you to the headquarters. You had promised you would behave and you had even kept your promise for half an hour. You soon got tired of just watching him tinker with all that technology and analyzing realities, it was boring just watching. So, like a good bored person, you tried to entertain yourself however you could. Your form of entertainment didn't match much with what Miguel planned for the day, he wanted to focus on work, but he soon noticed that you were ducking under his desk and started to bite his thigh still covered by the elastic cloth of his uniform.

It was no use asking you to stop, you continued as if he had no authority.

"I brought you to keep me company and not get in the way", Miguel said irritably, his handsome jaw locking.

"I just want to be close to you", you whispered, biting his thigh again.

"I hate you."

You smiled and rested your chin on his knee, "It doesn't look like it", and laughing softly, you felt the volume he displayed in his pants.

He took a deep breath, pulled his mask off with one hand and tossed it onto the table, his free hand grabbing your hair, pulling your face close to his, "You're testing me and you're not going to like where this is going. So stop."

"Am I really not going to like it, Miguel?", you asked, smiling wickedly.

"You won't", he agreed.

The elder clenched his free fist and pointed it downwards, immediately you reached your hands behind your back, feeling the warm red rope holding your wrists in place.

"Does it hurting?"

"No, sir."

He smiled showing his sharp fangs, "You're gonna wish you weren't such a dirty slut", he slapped you across the face and ran his thumb across your bottom lip.

"Please, Miguel…", you smiled, "Just take those gloves off, por dios."

He smiled, his sharp teeth shining in the reddish light of the office, "Puta madre…", Miguel took off the gloves of his beautiful uniform and slapped you once more in the face, receiving kisses on the palm of his hand, as if you were asking for forgiveness for hurting his hand with your face.

His hands were so beautiful, full of veins on the back and with long, sharp claws ready to destroy whatever he wanted.

If the uniform wasn't so perfect for Miguel, if it wasn't tailored to his body, maybe you could control himself, but you could see his thighs, the outline of his cock and ass, there was nothing that could distract you more.

The brunette's thumb slid across your tongue and saliva fell from his lips, earning a soft moan, seeing you roll your eyes before being kissed. His sharp teeth scraped gently against your bottom lip. His tongue rubbed against yours, your hands locked behind your body, the bright thread holding them together.

Miguel pulled the small zipper down the center of his uniform revealing his strong, broad chest. The short black hair spread across the skin, delicately cared for. The zipper continued down until it was under his cock, which was hard, pressed against the cloth glued to his body, resting to the left, pulsing gently.

"Do you want it?", asked the brunette, pulling his cock from his clothes, so thick and beautiful, the veins pulsing in the soft skin, the red tip begging for attention. You nodded desperately, "Then beg."

"Mr. O'Hara, please, I need to choke on your cock, fuck my mouth, please… I'm such a good girl…"

"Ah", he stopped you, holding up his finger, the long nail glistening, "We're not going to lie."

You chuckled and lifted yourself up towards his face, licking his lower lip, "I know how to be good, I just don't like doing it that much."

Miguel laughed softly and gave you a soft peck, "Stick your tongue out."

Promptly, you complied. Miguel took his cock and gently spanked your tongue with the tip, the soft wet sounds making you purr. Without any delicacy, the oldest held you by the hair and sank his cock into your mouth, forcing your head until your nose was pressed against his belly.

You moaned low feeling his cock once again widening your throat. Miguel sighed and groaned low, starting to move your head away from you, his hips rolling in opposite movements, thrusting into your mouth. Initially the movements were smooth, but soon they began to accelerate.

"Ay, carajo", he whispered, his low voice making you moan.

Your eyes watered, no matter how many times he fucked your mouth, your body always reacted that way. Your hands tried to force against the red webs on your wrists, your legs squeezing together to ease the throbbing on your pussy. He held your jaw just so he could watch his cock slide through your tongue.

Miguel positioned his leg between your legs, laughing evilly when you started to rub against him.

Pulling you by the hair, the brunette forced you to look at him, your mouth completely drooling and red, your eyes lowered, breathing hard, "Aren't you ashamed of being such a desperate slut? How ridiculous. You get dumb as fuck just because of a cock in your mouth..."

"Forgive me for being like this, sir, I can't control myself… what do I have to do for you to forgive me?"

Miguel smiled and said nothing, just kissed you desperately. His tongue once again dominating yours, his sharp teeth biting down on your bottom lip, controlling himself not to draw blood. His lips devouring yours.

"Lay it face down on my table."

Immediately you obeyed him. The brunette pulled your pants down and grabbed your legs, pulling them apart. His hands squeezed your ass tightly, his thumbs moving the lips of the delicate pussy apart, sighing, seeing how wet you already were.

"Ay, coño… all wet… fucking slut", he growled, giving a hard smack on your ass, making you moan.

You moaned slyly, your legs shaking, your face crushing papers that were on the table, feeling the wet tongue slide through your pussy, until it reached your clitoris. His hands rested on your delicate ass, squeezing, his claws pressing against the skin.

"Miguel", you whimpered.

"Slut", he chuckled, going back to his work.

His lips and tongue had fun with your pussy. Your hands ached trying to hold themselves in place, your legs shook, moaning.

"Miguel", you whispered, "can I cum?"

He grinned, slapping you hard on the ass, "No."

"Miguel… please… don't do that to me…"

"Shut up", he whispered.

The bright red web circled your face, gagging your mouth, not allowing you to continue to beg or cry. But that didn't stop you from muttering.

"Carajo, you don't shut up", he laughed at the whimper you gave, laying his body over yours, "If I get you full of cum, you stay quiet?"

You nodded, getting a slap on the ass. A soft moan escaped your lips as the tip of his cock rubbed through the wet pussy, gliding effortlessly.

"Fucking pussy."

A strangled moan caught in your throat, your mouth still gagged, as his cock sinking into you all at once, going deep.

His hands held you squeezing the flesh of your ass, using it support to help with the movements. As he thrust into you, he forced your body to do the opposite, just going deeper and deeper.

The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room. His moans low and rough, yours were muffled by the gag.

Your body started to shake on the table, you were about to cuj, but Miguel pulled out of you. He growled low seeing his cock all wet from all your pleasure.

"Open for me", he ordered, releasing your wrists.

You didn't have time to feel pain, your hands were routed by his rough hands to your ass, holding yourself open for him as he smeared saliva on your cock.

O'Hara positioned the tip of his cock in the tight entrance and began to force its way in. Big, strong body leaning over yours, crushing you against the table.

The gag was also undone so that the brunette could kiss you. His movements were less rough than before, but they were still accurate and made you whimper softly.

"You're going to be full of cum, princess", he whispered, his lips pressed against yours, his sharp teeth scraping on your lower lip on purpose.

"Miguel… please… I swear I'll be quiet, but let me cum… please… I beg you…"

"Of course, princess", he kissed you once more, his lips close to yours as he said, "Masturbate yourself for me."

And that's what you did, one of your hands went straight between your legs and you started masturbating frantically, desperate for relief. The other remained in place, leaving it open so he could continue to enjoy himself.

One of his strong hands tightened around your waist, keeping you in place and the other gripped your hair, kissing you desperately.

It didn't take long for you to cum even more after feeling his cum fill you. You panted heavily as he smirked and kissed you again.

"Now are you going to stop teasing like a whore?", asked Miguel getting out of you.

"Yes, sir, I will stop."

"Promise?"

"No."

He chuckled, giving you, and yet, another slap on the ass, "Now come on, let's get you straightened up and get you something to eat."

And Miguel pulled you by the waist, adjusting your clothes and his so he could take care of you a little before he could go back to work.

...

well, i hope you liked it <3

please reblog and leave a like if you enjoyed it! and leave a comment with your thoughts, i would love to know!

maybe if there is a lot of comments i can comeback with a hobie story <3

see ya next time.

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

♡masterlist♡

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 7, Unburdened - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, brutal honesty, mentions of some sexy stuff, but no actual sex-on-page, mention of m masturbation,

Word Count: 3k

Previously On...: Bucky spent the entire evening at Jade Carthage's side, and when he calls her "doll," you had enough and stormed off. The two of you have the very first argument of your friendship, and now Bucky says you need to talk...

A/N: I had a very shitty and emotionally draining evening yesterday, so I didn't get any writing done, unfortunately. But I need to make myself feel better somehow, so let's post Chapter 7! I think many of you will agree with me when I say "Fucking finally!" to what transpires here! Alas, though, there are plenty of emotional ups and downs still to come, because that's just life, isn't it?

Also, I finally watched Lisa Frankenstein to cheer myself up last night. What a delightfully messed up, fun, campy romp that was! Highly recommend if you haven't already!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321

The silence in your room felt deafening as you closed the door behind Bucky. For the very first time in your friendship, it felt awkward having him in your space, and you could tell he felt it, too. You crossed over to your sitting area and sat in one of your arm chairs, curling up into yourself. Bucky sat in the chair opposite you, leaning his elbows on his thighs to support his weight. The two of you just stared into space for a long moment, avoiding the other's gaze.

"You wanted to talk," you said eventually, "so talk."

Bucky looked up to meet your eyes, and you could see the sadness and defeat in them. "I'm sorry, Pocket. You're right, I've been an ass all night. I didn't do it with the intention to hurt you, but I hurt you anyway because I wasn't thinking about how my actions would affect you, and that's almost worse. I'm sorry."

You exhaled and looked away from him, afraid that if you held his gaze for too long, you wouldn't be able to stop the tears that would certainly come. "Listen, Buck," you said, swallowing hard, "if you're interested in pursuing something with Jade, that's... well, it's your life, you're free to date whoever you want. We never put any labels or rules on whatever this thing between us is, so I know I don't have any right to be jealous, but watching you flirt so openly with her right in front of me, like I didn't even exist? I can't begin to explain to you how worthless and small that made me feel. So, if you think you want to try for something with her, you have to let me know so I can try to move on, because I can't sit around and watch it happen. It's too painful."

When you looked back over at him, Bucky had gotten up and was now kneeling on the floor in front of you, practically beaming as he took you in.

"Why are you smiling like a lunatic?" you asked, an edge of concern in your voice. "You're creeping me out."

"Pocket," he murmured, cupping your face in his hands as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. For a moment, you considered pulling away, but the feel of his lips on your skin was such a comfort, you stayed still. "My absolute one and only doll, you've got it all wrong. I let you get the wrong idea and stew with it and I am so, so sorry."

You did pull away at that. "What are you talking about? How do I have the wrong idea?"

Bucky leaned back until he was resting on his heels. "I am interested in Jade, that's true." He took your hands in his as you felt your heart drop into your stomach. "But not in the way you think." He brought your hands to his lips and began placing kisses across your knuckles. "Doll, there's only been one girl I've been interested in pursuing something with in the last seventy-five years, and I'm sitting across from her right now."

You shook your head, sure you had misheard him. "I don't understand."

He chuckled and looked up at you through his lashes, the sight so beautiful, your breath caught in your chest. "Pocket, I have been crazy about you since the moment you made that god-awful 'unarmed' joke. At first I thought a girl as pretty as you, as smart as you, as good as you, you'd never give a guy like me, even without my history, a second look, and I'd be content to just watch you from the sidelines, you know? Watch you be beautiful and bright and I'd be happy my world was a better place just because you were in it.

"But you went outta your way to be nice to me. You talked Tolkien with me, you wanted to spend time with me, you wanted to be my friend, and I thought 'This is already more than you deserve, it's more than enough.' Then, when I had my nightmare, you didn't run away. You stayed. You stayed, and you understood, you let me hold you, and I-I was a goner for you. And that night...," he groaned at the memory, "God, that night you kissed me back, and you let me touch you, in all the ways I dreamed of touching you, all the ways I'd imagined touching you while I fucked my fist for practically a year, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to give you up after that.

"You'd told me about your past, how you were scared of relationships but, sweetheart, I was so greedy, I'd take any part of you you were willing to give me, your friendship, your body, even if it wasn't ever gonna be your heart. I'd take any crumb you offered me, and I'd be grateful for it."

You blinked your eyes repeatedly, dazed by his confession and unable to articulate words. Bucky's face fell as your silence stretched on.

"You don't feel the same way," he said, voice low as he stood up. "I'm sorry-- I-I shouldn't have dumped all of that on you. I'll go--." He turned and made steps toward your door, but you jumped up, reaching out to grab his arm.

"Bucky, wait," you turned him back to face you and brought your lips crashing to his with such intensity that he stumbled backwards a few steps before wrapping his arms around you to kiss you back.

"I love you," you gasped when you broke apart for air, breathing out a laugh when his eyes widened comically in shock. "I'm so fucking in love with you that it terrifies me, because it's an entirely brand new experience and I don't know how to do it. I'm so worried that I'm going to fuck it up and scare you away, or that you're gonna realize I'm not worth it and I don't even know how to live without you anymore."

Bucky held your face between his hands. "Are you serious right now?" he asked, eyes searching yours for any trace of deception. "You're not fucking with me?"

You shook your head emphatically, bringing your hands up to cover his. "No, no, I'm completely serious. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes." You laughed; the more you said the words, the more you realized how entirely true they were. "I love you and I've been so insanely jealous all night because I thought you were interested in her."

Bucky looked down at you with the brightest smile, like the sun shining after a storm, before pulling you toward him so he could kiss you again. You hadn't even realized you'd started to cry until, after Bucky had pulled away, he was brushing the tears from your cheeks.

"I love you, Pocket," he whispered as he began peppering kisses across your face. "I love you and I'm so sorry for everything I did tonight that would make you doubt that you're the most important person in my life and the best thing to ever happen to me."

The reminder of his earlier actions drew you out of the emotional haze his declaration had put you in. "Wait," you said, pulling back and putting some distance between the two of you, "if you've been in love with me this whole time, how come you've been weird about Jade ever since you saw her profile in those folders Tony gave us?" Bucky ran a hand down his face and sighed. Taking your hand, he led you back to the armchair you'd previously vacated and sat, pulling you down to sit on his lap and wrapping his arms around you.

"I told you that I am interested in Jade," he began, but when he felt you tense beneath him, he quickly continued, "but I'm not interested in dating her, or sleeping with her. You're the only girl who's got my attention in those departments." He paused to nuzzle at the junction of your neck and shoulder and you took the opportunity to run your fingers through his hair.

"Go on," you gently urged him.

"I'm interested in getting to know Jade, in talking to her, because she's... well, she's like me, you know? She's got the serum, and I don't know anyone else who's got it that's still alive."

You put a finger on his chin, tilting his face up to meet yours. "But, Steve," you said, somewhat confused, "he's got the serum, too, and you talk to him all the time."

Bucky sighed and shook his head. "Steve's got Erskine's serum," he told you. "The one made by the U.S. Government. The one that they-- that Hydra-- used on me, it was similar, but not the same."

"It's the same one that was used on Jade," you said, understanding dawning on you.

Bucky nodded. "Not exact, but what's running through her veins evolved from what's runnin' through mine. And they never put her through cryo, she's never been wiped. She was conscious through everything they put her through, all the experiments, the tests... I was excited to think that there was someone I could talk to about it, who understood. Someone who could maybe help me fill in some of the blanks I still have. Answer the questions I've been too ashamed to ask Steve."

"Oh, Buck," you hummed, running your nails gently across his scalp, "Baby, why didn't you ever say anything?"

He arched into your touch. "Because you've already had to put up with enough of my shit," he said. "I didn't want to burden you with any more of it."

You stopped your scratching ministrations and looked at him. "Now listen here, Barnes," you began, your tone serious, "the last thing you could ever be to me is a burden. I have never met anyone who was funnier, kinder, braver, more selfless or caring than you. You're a fucking gift, Bucky. One that I am endlessly grateful for, everyday."

Bucky groaned. "Pocket, you can't just say things like that while you're sitting on my lap. I try to be a gentleman, but I've got my limits."

You laughed and leaned into him, resting your head against him. You picked up his right hand and began tracing his fingers with your own.

"If me talkin' to Jade makes you any kind of uncomfortable, doll, I promise I'll never speak to, or even look at, her again." He caught your eye and you could see the seriousness of his statement in them. You leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"I'm never going to tell you who you can't be friends with, Buck," you told him with a sigh. "I admit that I don't love the idea of you spending one-on-one time with her alone or anything, but I'm also not going to stand in the way of you getting answers you need about your past. But you tell me the second she tries something," you warned. "Super soldier or not, she comes for my man, I'm gonna kick her fucking ass."

"You've got nothin' to worry about, darlin'. I told you, in seventy-five years, it's only been you. Seventy-five years more, it's still always only ever be you." His words made your heart swell in your chest and you leaned in to kiss him again. "Mm, but say that again," he told you.

"The part where I'm gonna kick her ass?" you asked with a smirk.

"No," he said, nipping at the sensitive skin at the pulse point on your neck, "the part where you called me your man."

You shifted so you could wrap your arms around his neck, toying with the soft hairs at the nape. You leaned in close so you could whisper in his ear: "You're my man, Bucky Barnes." A full shiver went through Bucky's body at your words and you relished in the effect you had over him. He ran his vibranium hand up under the back of your shirt, tracing gentle circles on the skin of your lower back.

"And you're always gonna be my girl, Pocket." His flesh hand came up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, the motion, combined with his words, so tender your breath hitched.

Something seemed to shift in that moment, the air growing thick and heady between you, as if you were both just realizing the new depth of your relationship for the first time.

"Bucky," you breathed, voice barely a whisper, eyes pleading.

He nodded and, placing one hand at the small of your back and the other under your knees and scooping you up as he stood. With the utmost care, he laid you down on the mattress of your bed and rested his body over yours, careful not to put too much of his weight on top of you.

"This feels different," he said as brushed your hair away from your face.

"Good different or bad different?" you asked, bringing your hands up to cup his face, the stubble scratching your palms.

"The very best different." He leaned down, bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was unlike any you'd shared before-- sweeter, more languid, as though you'd been forced to rush every previous kiss and you were both finally allowed to take your time. Bucky tasted like smoked whiskey as his tongue made leisurely sweeps across your mouth, eliciting a moan from you when he sucked on your bottom lip.

You could feel your arousal pooling between your thighs as you kissed, Bucky's flesh hand roaming up the soft skin of your side. He shifted, pressing more of his weight against you, as if he were desperate to be closer, and you could feel the hard press of his erection against your thigh.

You rocked your hips up against his pelvis, drawing a guttural moan from Bucky's throat. He pulled back, drawing himself up on his haunches. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shirt, teasing the edges as he looked up at you, silently asking you for permission. You nodded, sitting up and raising your hands over your head so he could slide your shirt off. As soon as it was free of your arms, Bucky tossed it aside and brought his lips to your shoulder, kissing his way across your collarbone.

Reaching down, you grabbed the hem of his Henley, slowly rolling it up over his abdomen, placing soft kisses on the hard lines of muscles it revealed. Once you'd fully divested him of his shirt, you let your hands roam the broad expanse of his chest, your lips and tongue trailing open-mouthed kisses across the raised pink scars at his mangled shoulder.

"You don't have to," he said, subtly pulling his shoulder back.

"Shush." You pulled him closer, continuing to kiss his puckered flesh. "I love every inch of you, Bucky. You're beautiful."

He pulled away from you, blue eyes boring into yours like he couldn't believe what he was seeing in front of him.

"How are you even real?" he asked, bringing your lips to his once again, his kisses growing more desperate. "I swear to God, Pocket, 'm gonna take you out, date you so fuckin' hard. Be the best goddamned boyfriend you've ever had."

He wanted to be your boyfriend. Not long ago, those words might have terrified you, but now, with the emotions you'd finally both let yourselves express, they thrilled you.

"You gonna take me to brunch, Barnes?" you teased, nipping at his skin as you rolled your hips up into his, your words coming out in gasps between the mewls of pleasure he was drawing from you. "We goin' to the farmer's market? Fuck--- Spend weekends at bed-n-breakfasts in Vermont?"

Bucky growled as he ground his hips down into yours, the length of his erection pressing down against your clothed clit and making you moan. "Sweetheart, I'll do anything you want. You wanna ride around the city on one of those tandem bicycles?" A dragging of his hips that had you arching your back. "I'm here for it. You wanna share a bowl of spaghetti like those dogs in that movie? I'm your man."

"Baby, I would never make you get on a tandem bike," you gasped, faux scandalized at the suggestion. "A swan paddle boat, maybe, but never a tandem bike. I respect you too much for that."

Bucky laughed as he buried into the crook of your neck. "I'd do it for you, anyway."

"That's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," you told him with a smile.

"Oh, baby," he moaned, licking a stripe along the side of your neck that had you shivering, "We gotta fix that. I'm gonna romance the absolute shit out of you." He moved his mouth, placing kisses down your collar bone, between the valley of your breasts, and down your stomach. You bit your lip as his hands reached the waistband of your pants, his eyes looking up to meet yours as he slowly, so agonizingly slowly, began unbuttoning them.

"Ms. (Y/L/N), Sgt. Barnes," FRIDAY's voice echoed across the room. Bucky groaned and dropped his head on your pelvis at the interruption. "Mr. Stark requests your immediate return to the common room."

It was your turn to groan now as you threw your head back onto the pillow. "How much trouble do you think we'll be in if we just ignore it?" you asked him, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair.

He chuckled as he leaned over to pick up your discarded shirts from the floor. "We don't go, he's libel to come barging in, and I don't know about you, but I'm not keen on Stark getting a load of my bare ass as I'm plowing balls-deep into his favorite little protégé," he said, winking at you as he pulled his Henley back over his head.

"Ew," you laughed, "everyone knows Parker's Tony's favorite little protégé these days. Thank you for that mental image."

Bucky shot you a sardonic look. "Arms, smartass," he said, indicating for you to lift your arms above your head so he could put your shirt back on you. "You got some mouth on you. I ever tell you how much I love it?"

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[skythealmighty]

why am i just now finding out about thisisnotawebsitedotcom i feel a little stupid.. then again i dont have the Book of Bill so maybe im lucky to know about it ???

#rocket talk #gravity falls #miss this show. anyway twink cipher fuckign jumpscared me

(3 notes)

👓 the-nerdiest-glasses Follow

Why Flatland counts as an object show: an essay

Keep reading

🔧 warp-pipe-sfx Follow

Why Flatland does NOT count as an object show: a rebuttal

Keep reading

⛓️ chainsaw-massacres Follow

why flatland isnt an object show: its a book + movie you assholes

#this argument is fucking stupid its just flatland

(3,821 notes)

🔘 join-my-evil-polycule-deactivated08142020 asked: Im going to tear apart your circuitboard until its broken irreparably

🌈 super-rainbow-epic-computer Follow

lol ok have fun w that 👍

also do u know any recipes for roasted pumpkin seeds the internets failing me rn and im cooking a big dinner for me and my bf

🔘 join-my-evil-polycule-deactivated08142020

Oh yeah sure https://www.jessicagavin.com/how-to-roast-pumpkin-seeds/#wprm-recipe-container-35845

🔘 join-my-evil-polycule-deactivated08142020

Wait why am I telling you this go die I hate you

🌈 super-rainbow-epic-computer Follow

thx for the help!

☝i-date-iconic-posts Follow

Date of origin: November 3rd, 2021

(216,025 notes)

❌ mephonex-deletes-your-favs Follow

~~Welcome to MePhoneX deletes your favs!!~~

I'm mod Xav (the only mod rn - -"), here to cause trauma to your favorite characters :)! PLEASE keep in mind that submissions will take a while to get to, because I have to photoshop out the limbs + background or even completely recreate someone's object if they're transparent!

The background flag is in the header and the X (recreated from an image of MePhoneX) I overlay on top is the profile picture if you want to make your own :) just @ this blog and I'll reblog it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~❌~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

RULES ABOUT SUBMISSIONS:

NO INANIMATE INSANITY CONTESTANTS. I would like to avoid Apollo's Dodgeball thanks (plus it's insensitive)

No algebralien or algebralien-adjacent characters! I love those guys too I get it but I honestly don't have a good method of 'deleting' them planned. Feel free to do it on your own time though!

If someone asks me to take down a submission with them in it I will do it without questions. This is for a variety of reasons, but I think you get it.

Alright, that's it! Have fun :)

#not xed out #mod xav #pinned post #your fav is #your fave is #mephone #mephonex #inanimate insanity #ii2 finale

(681 notes)

📁 sticky-note-hit-post Follow

has anyone else wondered why this spaghetti code webbed site can connect across DIFFERENT UNIVERSES??? or is that just me

(2,416 notes)

🦀 thesamepictureofbaxtereveryday Follow

follow for the same picture of my crab every day!!!!! look at him :D

(3 notes)

anonymous asked: greeny how does it feel to be technically a higher being than most other people on the site

🟢 greenyguy Follow

sir this is a wendys

#i didnt order an existential crisis today :(

(37,102 notes)

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

todays liveblog!! B)

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

knife and suitcase made it to the finale!! hell yeah so proud of them

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

balloons talk with suitcase didnt go so well :/ i hope they can get some alone time without anyone else so they can like talk properly next time

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

mepad???

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

oh i think the finale challenge is happening

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

baseball looks worried but lightbulb's brushing him off :|

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

ojs backing away from paper??? wh

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

WHJDT THE FUCK

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

WAIT I HAVENT SEEN SOAP IN A WHILE WHERE IS SHE???

🎤 screamintothemic Follow

OH GOD

#mics ramblings #SOAP???!??

(11 notes)

anonymous asked: evil woman are so hot <3 i will do whatever you want queen

🌐 dr-who-could-never Follow

Awwww, this means a lot to me, anon! Could you find Film Reel for me and doxx him? That would be really helpful <3

#He's been evading me #It's really annoying #Hard to take over the world when I have to worry about him 🙄

(6 notes)

🥄 only-a-spoonful Follow

WHY DO I KEEP GETTING SENT ASKS ABOUT PREGNANCY?!

#I'M GOING TO QUIT TUMBLR AT THIS RATE.

(47,284 notes)

📗 journal-of-secrets Follow

if this fuckass hand keeps showing up at the edge of my vision i'm going to hit something

📗 journal-of-secrets Follow

#maybe hes in love with you

what the hell is wrong with you.

[wraithdance]

Good Boy [Part 2/?]

CW: Mentions of canon childhood trauma & abuse, ptsd depictions, awkwardness, Afab!Reader, I’m a dirty liar there will be more parts of this so enjoy the calm before the storm or whatever. This is apart of the Stray Dogs series

Simon is put on leave.

He’d received a nasty hairline break in his wrist after a fall out of a moving car during a recent op. (He’d been pushed out really but semantics didn't matter in the end because he'd gutted the man that had done it.) Price had nearly come to blows with him when he threatened the medic who signed off on his medical leave. Simon had been escorted off the property with strict orders to not return until he was cleared.

The cast is uncomfortable, the sensation of his bare fingers out while in public sends the talons of anxiety coursing through his body. So, he stays in his bare flat. The silence is loud and suffocating, not even the occasional echoes of his neighbors or the drone of a forgotten Manchester United game helps against the heavy weight of isolation.

After a week he’s spiraling in the dark of his own home. Stray lights bounce off the walls from between the cracks of his blinds, sending him into wide eyed paranoia. He had begun seeing things that weren’t there. Shadows moving to embrace him like a burial shroud, movement from the corner of his eyes. Nothing there when he points his pistol at the corners. He can’t sleep for long before the sound of the dull thunk of dirt on a coffin locks his body into paralysis.

When Johnny calls to check in Simon’s teeth are chattering uncontrollably from the chills that wrack his body. He manages to get through the call by grunting and humming when necessary. Johnny takes it as Simon still being upset about the forced medical leave.

‘No good to anyone wit’ yer hand like that LT.’ MacTavish says with sympathy. Simon is silent on the other end of the line.

No good to anyone without a gun in his hand because a dog that can’t be sicced, is not a dog.

He hangs up the phone when Johnny jokes that he thought Simon was invincible, an immortal surpassing the fragility of man.

“Fuck.”

Simon's eyes meet the business card in the mirror as he wipes sick from his mouth. It takes him more than once for his fingers to unclench at his will. The indents from his nails sting as blood rushes back to the digits. He stares at the card for too long before he brushes past the string of texts from Johnny and dials your number.

One ring, two and a third. He hangs up when the call connects. You’re calling back seconds later, he lets it go to voicemail. He’s watching his own eyes dilate in the mirror when you call again.

This time he picks up.

You’re silent and he listens to your breathing. There's a shuffle and he thinks he can make out the sounds of sheets shifting.

“Um? Hi… is this the guy from the pub?”

Simon grunts. “Don't give out your number a lot?”

You laugh despite his flat tone. “Nah, I don’t have anyone who calls me. Just my mum and dad really.” You’re hesitant, he can feel it through the phone like a tangible thing.

“Wasn’ gonna call.”

This makes you laugh again, he realizes you laugh a lot at things that weren’t funny.

“I figured you weren’t after the first week. I’m glad you did though, I still meant what I said.”

There's another lapse in silence before you must realize he won’t assist in driving the conversation.

“Listen, let me show you what I’m working on okay? I’m going to send you an address to a coffee shop and you can show up when you want. I won’t hound you if you don’t.”

“Didn’t give me a time.”

“Oh Yeah! I dog walk in the mornings before the shop opens. I’m there pretty much everyday stealing the free wifi and working on my manuscript, so you can show up anytime and I’ll probably be there.” You laugh again in self deprecation.

His fingers twitch around the phone. Simon thinks you’re too free with your joy. There's a part of him that wants to pluck the mirth from your throat and pocket it inside his own chest for warmth.

He doesn’t promise you anything but you still thank him profusely when he gruffly tells you he’s hanging up.

Your soft good night rings inside his ears for the rest of the evening, it’s louder than the endless quiet or the memories of being buried alive. In the morning when he wakes he squints at the bright light of his phone, clicking on the text thread of your unsaved number. An address and a reminder of your name followed by a smiling emoji.

You’re the fourth contact he saves to his phone.

He shows up after two days. He’d looked at your text for the umpteenth time and pocketed his keys into his jacket, commuting to the building on autopilot. It’s more of an outdoor food court that serves coffee than the coffee shop you described. Simon makes eye contact with you from the entrance of the outdoor patio. Your smile is dampened like you're afraid of scaring him off with your excitement. He’s nearly to the bench you sit on when you suddenly shoot up and throw your hands out to stop him.

“Wait!”

He stops in his tracks. The space in his mind where Ghost exists takes over him like a thick fog as he searches for a threat. His good hand spasms against the fabric of his jeans-covered thigh.

You must realize your error because you grimace.

“I’m so sorry I have a client's dog with me. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t scared or allergic before you saw him.”

Simon is taken aback. His knee jerk instinct is to lash out, ask you if you were an idiot or something else needlessly vitriolic, but he can’t bring himself to with the genuine worry you emote.

The fact that you were concerned enough to check in is an oddity. He’s unfamiliar with being on the other side of care from a woman that wasn’t related to him by marriage or water of the womb. It guts him how easily he wants to lean into it, desperate for the small connection not severed by death.

“Not ‘fraid of dogs,” He rolls his shoulders back, eyes taking in everything but your smile. “I don’ drink coffee either.”

That makes you laugh loudly, you smack a hand over your mouth to cover the giggles that escape. Simon stares down the flickering dance of your irises. You’re unbothered by his leering and instead offer him another grin.

“O-kay! Just let me introduce you to him and I’ll grab you whatever you want okay?” You’re moving before he can say anything.

Despite his objection to being afraid, he still braces himself to be met with a four legged behemoth. The long forgotten dog bite on his right calf sings with phantom pain like he’d received it yesterday and not twenty years ago. His father had let his drunken friends dangle Simon in front of his illegal Japanese Tosa. An eight year old Simon had kicked out in fear and had been mauled by the dog in return. Simon’s mother had sobbed inconsolably at the sight of the deep wounds.

You turn around after a moment of shuffling and he can’t help but to blurt, “Wot the steaming hell is that?”

You’re pouting and holding your free hand over the ear of the pint sized rodent trembling in your embrace. The small elderly chihuahua looked ready to leap from your arms in pursuit of the sweet relief of death.

“This is Sprinkles, he’s my neighbor's dog! Mr. Allens is in the hospital for a bit so I’ll just be taking care of Sprinkles for a few days in the meantime. Do you wanna say hello?”

He grunts, giving you a side eye as you inch closer, “Rather not.”

You huff turning to the mangy mutt with a sad smile. “It’s okay, he just doesn’t understand you like I do.” You tell Simon to sit down while you grab some tea. He’s thankful that you bring Sprinkles with you, uncomfortable with the imagery of the dog meeting its much needed end on his watch.

When you return you hand him his steaming cup of Earl Grey tea and launch into your pitch. Simon makes no plans to drink the beverage instead tapping the digits not in the cast on the paper cup. Sprinkles sits in your lap trembling in his tiny sweater.

Fockin’ hell.

Simon interrupts you mid sentence.

“You want me to pose for a bloody romance?”

You blink “Yep, that is what I’m writing so essentially that's the idea.”

Simon cuts you a look not liking the sass but you return it with a cheeky grin. “I know it's unconventional but when I saw you in the pub I couldn’t help but think you looked like a character of mine. I had to see if you’d be willing to model for me.”

“‘Haven’t even seen my face.” He huffs in disbelief.

Cocking your head you look at him in consideration, taking in the black balaclava and stroking Sprinkles as you do. “Yeah, I figured you were sensitive about it since you’re covered from head to toe. Technically you wouldn’t need to take anything off. I was more so interested in capturing your overall aura.”

Simon doesn’t say anything for a while. Just watches you with narrow eyes. You’re mid sip when he asks you to read the manuscript for himself.

“Ack!”

He’s mildly impressed that you manage not to sputter tea all over the dog. Your eyes burn with tears from the effort to not choke to death. “W-why would you want to read it?!” you’re squeaking with wide eyes.

He gives a half shrug, warmth pattering at his chest. “‘Didn’ hear you say anything about payment so thought I might see what’s the fuss. Got a reputation and all so I can’t just agree to anything.”

The look you give him is unimpressed. “Are you being funny? I can’t really tell and I’d rather you just say no rather than tease me.”

He leans back, raising his arm to rest near you on the top of the bench. You glance at the closeness of his gloved hand but he ignores the pointed look.

“Serious as a heart attack. I wanna read it before I give you an answer.”

There's a moment where he thinks you’ll say no, he’s expecting it, but you set your shoulders back and tip your chin up at him. “Fine. You can read it, I don’t mind whatsoever.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” you pop the ‘p’ in the word. “Absolutely fine with it. I encourage it actually, fair is fair and all.”

He snorts out a dark chuckle. “Right.”

You ask for his email address and Simon gives you an encrypted email containing a string of numbers. You make a joke about him secretly being a spy that he doesn’t laugh at. It doesn’t bother you any, you continue chuckling to yourself as you press send.

Simon watches you pause in hesitation as you gather the half dead dog and your belongings. You’re chewing on your bottom lip in thought stroking Sprinkles whose eyes are half lidded in your arms.

“Wot?” He asks gruffly, startling you.

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly. “I was just wondering… can I sign your cast?”

Simon’s eye twitches.

“Why would you wanna do that?”

At his tone you squint your eyes at him. “Because that’s what friends do?”

Simon wants to say something snarky around the lump in his throat. Condemn you for assuming they were friends after meeting only once prior. The urge fizzles out when you give him a startled expression.

“Has no one ever signed your cast before?”

No.

He’d broken many bones in his life starting from the age of childhood. Tommy had tried to sign his leg cast once when they were teenagers, he’d earned a broken nose from their father before he’d been able to finish scrawling out the second ‘m’ in his name. He’d never been close enough to anyone else to be asked.

In his reverie you’ve rifled through the tote back at your arm, shifting sprinkles on your hip. You procure a sharpie and hold it up like a trophy.

You approach him cautiously waiting for his objection.

When you’re standing toe to toe with his army grade boots you flick your eyes to the cast and his covered face. “So… Can I sign?”

Simon shifts on the bench, neck tensed. After several beats he looks away and lets out a gruff ‘fine.’ You don’t give him a chance to change his mind.

When you’re finished you pop up with a satisfied smile, slipping the cap on to the marker. “There, all done!”

Simon says nothing. He lumbers to a stand that causes you to stumble back. He watches your flickering eyes and the waver of your smile.

“Okayyyy… I have to get this one home now so just let me know when you want to meet?”

You wave enthusiastically at him and walk away. You only get a few feet before you stop and turn around. Simon watched as you take Sprinkles or in hand and wave it as well. “Say bye to Sprinkles!”

He cuts his eyes at you. “I’m not sayin’ goodbye to the bloody dog.”

You pout and shrug, whispering something to the dog as you go. Simon stands in place for several minutes watching you retreat.

Bloody Hell.

At home on his couch he pops open a can of ale with one hand taking a long gulps. Simon opens the email attachment you sent him, momentarily distracted by your blocky letters on his cast and the lopsided smiley face drawn in sharpie. He squints at the pages before him in his lap trying to make sense of what he was reading.

His eyebrows twitch when he reaches fifty pages in and realizes you’d sent him written porn.

“Wot the bloody hell.”

[drdemonprince]

can i ask for some sex advice? im a bisexual trans guy, i’ve been with cis women and had hookups with a cis guy where he just went down on me. i’m generally attracted to all genders, but sexually i find myself turned off/repulsed by penises and cum so i’ve only pursued hookups with ppl with vulvas (so far cis women and other ftms) or situations where i don’t have to interact with the penis. totally fine with trans women and femmes who are post-op, etc. i’ve just been worried that i’m gross/transphobic/a chaser? even though im bi i feel like a shitty person for not being into dick.

Hey, thanks for the question. I think it is a good thing to be asking oneself. I think that even if you were to conclude that your attitudes were transphobic, I don't think the solution would be pushing yourself to have sex you didn't want to have or trying to force yourself to "get over" the associations that you have. That won't work, and it's not your fault for having them. What matters is how we treat people, not what fleeting thoughts and emotions we might have privately, which is part of why it is so annoying for cis people to act as if they are persecuted for having a "genital preference" or whatever. The problem isn't their feelings. It's their exclusionary, cruel, often violent actions and the words they express publicly.

I think it's worth contemplating that many trans femme people have absolutely no desire to use their penises during sex, or can't because of various medical issues, and do not produce cum that looks anything like the way most cis men produce cum. How would you feel about a trans woman who does have a penis using a strap-on on you? About you two fisting each other? About you using a hitachi magic wand on her? How do you feel when you see a trans guy with a post-phalloplasty cock? Try to reflect on questions like these with curiosity and not judgement.

Maybe you will explore your feelings and find that there are still barriers; maybe for example you wouldn't feel comfortable going down on someone's penis, but would be happy to be fucked with a strap-on by someone who has a penis, or to fuck them. That's okay. Lots of trans women want exactly that kind of sexual encounter anyway. And lots more are open minded and recognize that T4T sex is experimental and free-floating and doesn't have to involve any specific sex acts. Negotiating these things should be done delicately and respectfully, but it is always fine to say "I don't do [xyz]" or "I don't want to do xyz right now."

I relate more to your question that you might know, albeit from a different direction. I have a lot of dysphoria about having a vagina; though PIV can feel good, what I most picture myself as having in my mind's eye is nothing at all between my legs. I hate receiving oral, as I've talked about a lot, but I'm also dysphoric about and disturbed by giving oral to a person with a vagina. I have also experienced a lot of sexual trauma that involved a (typically cis male) partner forcing or pressuring me to have sex with cis women. That's happened to me many times over the course of my life. It's also made facing any pressure whatsoever to have sex with women (either cis or trans) deeply triggering and upsetting to me.

All of my own personal hang-ups and traumas have left me feeling funnily very much like that one line from Saltburn, "Women are too wet. Men are so lovely and dry."

I do get into my head about it being super transphobic of me sometimes. But I have also had fun, carefree, experimental, gratifying, hot sex with trans men with vaginas. I might not be able to eat them out, but there's lots I can do. I can finger them, put my hands in them, eat their asshole, take their strap, suck their strap-on, kiss them, fondle them, play with their nipples, be fucked alongside them, writhe atop a single hitachi together with them, slap their ass, put a dildo in them, whatever. I just don't want to eat them out or have them eat me out, for the most part.

It would be highly understandable if a trans guy felt invalidated by my feeling that way or didn't want to have sex with me given those limits. that's fine. I understand this stuff is fraught and sucks sometimes. I don't talk about my feelings around this topic publicly often because it is so contentious and I don't want feelings to be hurt. But in my heart I'm comfortable with where I am at. I know which limits I have that seem immovable and I don't really want to push them ever again. Having those limits pushed is what traumatized me. At the same time, I know it's not connected in any way to seeing trans men as lesser than cis men, or as less attractive, and I know it's not a barrier to me having sex with trans men if the moment and our interests both align. I'm not a bad person for feeling this way. It's actually really hard to be trans and to be wired this way. But I'm doing the best I can with it to both grow, and not be an asshole, and also to find fulfillment.