#generally the way people have been treating them over the past few months has been gross too

[endlessfuckup]

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[hoshigray]

𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐌𝐄 [& 𝑭𝑼𝑪𝑲 𝑴𝑬] 𝐔𝐏!! | tōji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: It's bad enough you got a crush on your gym instructor, Toji; however, it gets worse when things become too close and personal for this relationship...But who says you shouldn't get a little praise for your hard work?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: personal trainer! Toji x fem! reader - explicit contents; minors DNI - unrequited/crushing » mutual pining - sex in a public space (gym locker room + showers) - shower sex - thigh riding - oral (m! + f! receiving) - ball massaging - face + throat-fucking - breast fondling + nipple play - against a wall + upstanding citizen + standing 69 positions - praise - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - cervix fucking - pet names (angel, baby, doll, dollface, good girl, princess, sweetie, sweet thing) - unprotected sex (doesn't shoot inside tho) - overstimulation - cameos: Haibara and Ino (gym manager and employee) - the reader accidentally walks into the men's locker room (they're a bit dumb, forgive them, lol) - mention of sweat spit and tears.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.4k (i'm about to lose my mind, bro.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: mannnnnn, the way this draft has been collecting dust, it was supposed to be released on Dec!! ofc my first fic back would be for toji lmao. anyways, i hope you enjoy, and tysm for 4.7k y'all are so sweet ;;w;; and thank yeww @ramonathinks for beta-reading, mwah mwah

“That one was weak; do another three.”

“Gahh– …You’re such an asshole, Fushiguro.”

“Heh, like that’s anythin’ new. C’mon, let’s go!”

We’re counting down to the last weeks of the year, and so many people have already promised affirmations for themselves in the upcoming year. In terms of this year, you can’t say much. You’ve done your work, hung out with the same people since last year, and probably learned to spoil yourself more. Maybe another thing you can be proud of is that you crossed some TV series off your “get-to-watch” list, so go you!

Although, besides those minimal things, there is one change in your life that you’ve committed yourself to. One thing that you didn’t expect to be so in tune with throughout the past half of the year. It started as a forced challenge because your friend Miwa needed someone to motivate her to maintain her gym membership. What was once something you’d thought a one-time thing gradually became something you enjoy — something you felt proud doing!

Not only has your knowledge of your body and how to keep it in good shape improved over half a year, but your love for the community has grown more and more. The gym you go to feels like a second home, with many people you’ve gotten to know and befriend along your journey. Even the manager, Haibara Yu, practically treats you like a sibling after seeing you every other day. The same goes for the front desk associate, Ino, who is the goofiest goofball you’ve ever met (not to mention the best drinking buddy). 

But – if you really had to pick – there is one person who has made this experience more enjoyable and worthwhile. “Hahhh!! There, I did them! Aren’t you supposed to be my spotter, not a shit-talker?”

“I’m doin’ my job, aren’t I?” Toji Fushiguro, your gym instructor for the past few months, has been a driving force in your physical journey. With his help, you’ve been disciplining yourself in and outside of the facility, maintaining a good diet, and keeping your body active in a balanced fashion. The gratitude you have for him supersedes all. But above all else, throughout the years, the two of you have gotten pretty close and know a good chunk about each other to call yourselves friends – at least, that’s what you’ve been doing. “Alright, that’s enough lifting for today; time for stretches.”

Aside from a friend, there is something else you refer to him as – something you’d rather die than admit out loud. Toji, your trainer, is your gym crush. Well, your crush in general. 

Can you really blame yourself, though? Look at the man! When you first look at him, his physique alone is enough to keep you staring at him for hours and hours on end. Strong, bulky arms that look like they could pick up five treadmills in one sitting and with veins that decorate up to his forearm can effortlessly grab the attention of the normal eye. He’s wearing his black fitted tee, so tight that it was as if it was vacuum sealed to perfectly showcase the outline of his abdomen, ribs, and pectorals. And it doesn’t help from the back view either; you can’t count how many times you fell into a short trance from admiring his gorgeous back, from his trapezius to his waist. Every time the man flexes his biceps and triceps, all you can do is internally thank the gods for sculpting such a man to be in front of you. And those beautiful thighs and calves shaped from his black leggings and shorts? Damn.

But the thing about him that has you squeak more than a mouse are his eyes. Forest green orbs that can shift into a stern concentration whenever he’s working on a machine or when he’s observing your form and finds whatever needs correcting. Then there are times when they are mellow and soft when you’re speaking with him or when he’s deep in thought about something until you catch his attention. Then he’d throw a small smile at you — your biggest weakness. The scar on his lip being lifted to a curl never fails to put your stomach into knots.

He’s such an attractive man from the first moment you ever laid your eyes on him. You were bound to fall in love with him one way or another. It just sucks that it’s under such a professional relationship that you have to keep this little unrequited love to yourself.

Which is getting harder and harder every day, especially now when the guy is so close to your face when he’s helping you stretch. Oh, dear lord. 

Every time you are done lifting weights, Toji will have you do stretches. He has you do them before and after a workout as they give your muscles time to warm up and straighten from the stress you put on them. So now, as you’re laying on your mat, Toji puts one hand on your right leg to keep it grounded on the floor and his other hand on the back of your left to push it up to your chest. The position has the two of you so close, him being situated between your legs and observing your breathing; it’s so wrong of you to dwell your mind into other things – other raunchier things.

And when he brings both your legs up to your chest, how the fuck are you supposed to calm your heart from exploding!?? You have to close your eyes during all this to not be pulled in by the examination of his gaze under his raven bangs. This is, without a doubt, the best worst part of the workouts. Thankfully, this is the last workout of the week, and the gym is about to close within an hour and a half. 

Toji breaks the suffering silence between you two. “Y’re still stiff; take deeper breaths f’r me.”

Oh, if only he knew how your dirty mind took that sentence. You chew on your lip with a gulp, “Maybe I still have a little energy in me that still wants to exercise.”

That made him chortle. “Is that so? Well, maybe after your stretches, you can get on the stairmaster for a few minutes.”

You gawk at him, only furthering the smirk on his face. “Are you serious!?? You promised we wouldn’t do any cardio until next week.”

“Well, next week is around the corner,” Toji moves your knees a bit to the left, bending them further down to your chest so his face could be a little closer to yours. Your brain almost short circuits at the movement, trying to distract yourself from the fact that his groin is mere inches away from your shorts. “So, since ya got the spirit, be a doll and do a few minutes on the machine, okay? Five minutes.”

Your breathing is so slow that you’re too scared to move. Your lips pressed to a thin line to conceal the quiver, and your eyes don’t dare venture down. You already know your body is going through its own internal turmoil, a throbbing sense occurring in your lower regions the more you keep looking at Toji, who lifts a brow from awaiting your response. Oh, this man is going to kill me.

“…Five minutes.” 

“Atta girl.” With a scoff, he finally straightens himself and places your legs on the mat. Toji then stands on his feet and grabs his bag. “Gonna head for the showers; finish up those stretches and head for the stepmaster. See ya later, Y/n.” And you watch him leave for the men’s locker room, finally having room to breathe. Before you can conclude your stretches with a cobra and child’s pose, you grumble to yourself in a whisper.

Why the hell did I have to fall in love with such a snarky, gruff, older guy like him…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You enter the locker room after completing the instructed exercise. Your mind is dizzy from walking on the step machine for about fifteen minutes, and your legs are mere minutes from turning into jelly. You curse Toji internally for the insufferable torture you’ve stressed on your poor limbs. 

No matter, though; you’re finally done for the evening and can head home to your soft bed. The gym will close soon, so perhaps you could use the locker room showers to freshen up. But then again, after the strain you’ve put on your body for almost two hours, all you want to do is be home and listen to your favorite music. I don’t feel like cooking today…  

Further into the room, you can hear the sound of someone using the showers, indicating you had picked the right idea to head home. You head for the locker side to grab your items to put in your bag before leaving, and it’s then that you hear the water stop running from where the showers are. Oh, shit,  make this quick, Y/n!

In front of you is the locker with the number you’re familiar with — where you always leave your things, like your own spot. You open it only to find….nothing is in the locker? Huh? Where are my leggings? And my phone??

Come to think of it, where’s your duffel bag that you usually leave on the bench against the lockers? You’ve never had a problem with people stealing from you in this place, so how does a bag full of your stuff magically disappear? There is a bag in here, but it’s definitely not yours. And now that you get a good look, you start to notice that the color of the lockers is of a different, darker shade than what you’re usually accustomed to. Wait a minute, am I in the wrong—

“Y/n?”

You go still at the familiar voice. Oh no, please, God, no. There’s no way. Your eyes teeter to the corner as you ever-so-slowly turn to the direction where that voice was coming from. And, of course, it was your personal trainer, who is—OH MY GOD!!!

Toji stands afar on the opposite side of you from the showers, without clothing, his body and hair completely drenched from water. The only thing that covers him is a white towel wrapped around his lower body. His body, which you’re used to seeing being snug tight by his gym clothes, is out for you to see as water trickled down from his clavicle, pecs, ribcage, and abs. For a split second, you take in as much of the image as you can, storing this as it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity in your mind (maybe to fuel more of your erotic fantasies when you go home). But you avert your gaze when your eyes travel down his abs, counting each one until you reach below his belly button, where strays of dark hair become more prominent with a trail down his pelvis and—Okay, stop looking, stop looking!!

“M–Mr. Fushiguro!?” You croak, eyes wide with realization at what you’ve just done. Your dumbass just walked into the men’s locker room without checking first. And to add salt to the wound, your crush is the first person to catch you in the act, “O-Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to walk in here! I’ll get going—“

“No, no, Y/n, calm down,” Toji walks to where you’re standing; a mini-heart attack was about to be deployed until the older man turned to the side to grab for something in his bag. He pulls out a smaller towel. “Ya walked in here on accident, right?”

You gulp, seeing the steam from the shower still leave from Toji’s nude body. “Uhm, yeahhh, I don’t know where my head was at. Sorry…”

The gym instructor scoffs at your apology. “It happens; must’ve been a bit light-headed from the exercise and forgot where y’re at. Heh, guess those five minutes did more damage than I thought.”

“Ahaha, yeah, it was…pretty….dreadful……” Were you distracted? Yup. Because Toji used the towel he pulled from his bag to wipe off the water from his arms and face. You couldn’t help but survey the man’s movements, watching the small white towel brush on his triceps and glide down to his torso. You continue watching the small towel until your eyes drift to the happy trail on his pelvis. Your breathing goes uneven, thinking of more indecent things that connect with the trail of hair and the limb that’s shielded by the towel around Toji’s waist.

“…–ou there…Y/n?” Your name said to you snaps you back, realizing where you are and what you were doing. Your eyes crawl back to Toji’s face, who throws a small smile at you. “Eyes up here, sweetie.” Sweetie?!? If the floor could give way and swallow you, that would be appreciated. “Is there anythin’ else you need to tell me while y’re here?”

No, I’m in the men’s locker room, so I need to hurry and get the fuck out! “Uhmm, n-nope, nothing at all! So…I better get going now. See you later, Mr. Fushiguro!” You turn on the heel of your foot to head for the door, only able to take about five giant steps before Toji stops you again.

“How was it today?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, what now!? You look over your shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“The workout. How was it?”

“It…It was, umm, alright, I guess. I feel like I could’ve done better on the weights.” 

“And why is that?”

Your body turns to have your front fully face him again. “Well, I mean, I was struggling at the last few reps…I’m sure you noticed, too, since you scolded me about it.”

He hums. “Ya know I correct you because, I know, you can do better, right, Y/n?” It was rhetoric, but you humor him with a slow nod. He brings the small towel to his head and dries his damp hair. “I’ve had many clients who come at me with everything they got or burned out before the first two months. But don’t worry, Y/n, I can tell you take pride in what we’re doing, and it’s good to know…” 

His words drown out from your ears. You didn’t mean for it to – you really didn’t. But while Toji was fixing his hair, you snuck more peeks at his body, enjoying his side profile. Admiring the way his arms move and flex, following the rocky silhouette of his abs that lead down to the towel again, you gasp at the dent of something that appears to be between Toji’s legs. Good lord, even with the cotton material covering him, you can still see it and—

“….Y/n.” Oh no, I did it again. You gulp with eyes venturing back to Toji’s face; the grin grew broader than before. “That's twice, sweet thing.” 

“S–Sorry, Mr. Fushiguro. It’s just that you have a...uhhh…” The heat in your ears makes it hard to concentrate on looking at the ground, anything to avoid your instructor’s gaze. “…..areallynicebody—“

“Hmm? I didn’t hear that, sweetie,” Sweetie? Sweetie!? Why'd he call me that? What you should be questioning is why that nickname made your stomach flip. But who are you kidding — if anyone had a crush on their instructor and were called a cute name like that, of course, they’d be as hot as a volcano. “Didn’t catch that, say it fr’ me again.”

“I–I said that,” Oh for fuck’s sake, this is so embarrassing! “You have a nice body…An attractive body, really…” The heat on your cheeks and ears is reaching heights that would have you combust at any moment. It’s what you’d hope for, honestly. It’s bad enough you’re stuck in the men’s locker room for not paying attention; now you’re here admitting to your instructor that you got the hots for him. God, please strike me here and now!

Toji says nothing after you say that, and it has your nerves at an all-time high, wondering if you should wait for his reply or just dash for the door and hope no one sees you leaving the men’s locker room. However, his voice breaks the silence, “I can say the same fr’ you.”

Oh, stop it. “Oh, please, no need to butter me up, Mr. Fushigu—“

“I’m serious.” He shuts down your argument down your argument before you can even finish. “C’mere.”

Why did you do what you were about to do? You could’ve just declined, exited the facility, and headed straight home to wallow away about this entire interaction, maybe find a different gym to form a membership with. But you didn’t. Instead, with downcast eyes, you slowly approached your instructor, who stood behind the locker bench. “Closer,” he says, noting how you’re about two arms length away from him, which you meekly decrease to one. “You don’t think ya got a nice body?” 

The adjacency between you two was too much for you, your face minutes from imploding. Too shy for words, you settle for a nod to give.

“How come?”

For God’s sake, this is not a conversation you want to have now with your crush instructor in the middle of the men’s locker room. “I…Well, Mr. Fushiguro—“

“Toji,” he cuts you off, discarding the small towel to the top of his bag. “Y’re over here tellin’ me I look good when you’re the one lookin’ like you could strike any guy that walks up in this place. Doncha think so?” 

Again, your eyes avoided his toweled figure, focusing on the tiled floor beneath your sneakers. “I guess, but…Toji, when compared to you, I—“

“Then that’s what ya shouldn’t be doin’, who told you to compare y'rself to others?” Toji brings a hand to your chin to make your avoidant peer placed on him, a move you were not mentally strapped in for. “I’m me, and y’re you, right?” 

“Right…”

“And that’s a good thing,” the hand on your chin slides down to the inside of your hoodie, his forefinger sneaking under the band of your sports bra. It makes your breathing stop. “But ya know what else I think?”

“What?” You sounded so low – so tiny – you didn’t know if he could hear you. He then brings his face close to your ear, and you could’ve sworn you almost felt your heart jump out of your throat. His free hand comes around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. The cotton of the towel now brushed your leg, and you could sink into a pool of embarrassment at the gasp you let out.

His voice was hoarse and low, the air from his nostrils grazing the skin of your ear. “…I think y’r body is the sexiest thing I’ve seen.” 

The sentence hit you like a truck, your heart almost giving in to a complete shutdown. “Huh–Ohhhh, wait,” Toji takes a nibble of your ear while his hand slithers your hoodie off of you, freeing your arms and covered chest where he creeps his hand inside next. You whimper at his fingers on your nipples that harden at his grinding touch. “Toji, wait, please wait…Do you really mean—“

“Mhmm, I do,” He coos, and a kiss to your neck nearly has you give way and lose balance; lucky for you, Toji was smart enough to have a leg between yours. “Now that I have you here, I’ll prove it.” 

“We’re—Ahhnnn…But we’re in the men’s locker room,” Toji brings his face up to look at you, your half-lidded eyes locked with his emerald orbs. “Someone could see us…”

Your worries are taken with a caress to your cheek. “Don’t worry about other people when y’re with me. I gotcha, baby.” 

“And I’m…Ohooo, really sweaty…”

“Nothin’ a shower can’t fix.”

And before you refute him again, Toji places his scarred lips onto yours, a shocked moan muffled as he kisses and sucks on your bottom lip. The hand in your bra now positions to the back of your neck, positioning you for him to deepen the kiss once you allow him access to your mouth. And once you kiss him back, all the reins of restraint have been discarded along with your hoodie to the floor.

The sounds of lips smacking get louder by the second, the passion in the kiss unraveling when you bring your hands to cup his cheek and have his face practically glued to yours. And Toji complies, shoving his tongue to tease and play with yours. The hand that was on your waist comes down to your ass for him to grope with the flesh, urging more of your sobs to be taken from him. Is it possible for your brain to turn into mush from a kiss? You’re finding that out now, breaking the kiss to gather whatever air you can before Toji claims your lips again.

The leg you’re riding on is nestled between your thighs, rubbing against the groin of your shorts. With every kiss and hump comes a grind on his leg, and it alleviates the growing ache that’s flourishing in your panties. Shivers travel up your spine and heighten your horniness, this elated feeling so dangerous that you could turn into putty at any second.

Toji lets go of your lips with a heavy pant, breathlessly snickering at his work; turning his cute client into a mess flipped a switch he’s been dying to indulge with. “Mmmm, y’re too fuckin’ cute, baby,” he wipes your mouth before letting you go; you hold back a whine when he removes his warm figure from you and steps back. It’s then that your instructor finally removes the towel that’s been shielding a now-discernible tent. The white towel meets the floor, and you follow his happy trail to meet with his erection, a sight that makes your jaw drop. The older man takes a seat on the bench behind him, and his legs spread out for his dick and balls to be ever-so-present and seen.

“Ya see how crazy you and y’r body make me?” He bites his lip, getting more turned on with you marveling at him and his length. “C’mere, angel, lemme see what you can do.” It takes a good mental slap to snap out of your frozen state and look at the thing you’ve been imagining all these months. Now, when the chance has finally been brought to you, how could you pass this up?  Following Toji’s command, you come close and go to your knees between his legs. 

The sheer size and girth of his length nearly put you in a trance, your eyes taking every detail of his erection before your eyes. Every dent and curve, the prominent veins from the underside, and the oddly pretty pink tip where bits of precum dare protrude from the urethra. Your raised hand has hesitance, yet Toji is quick to assuage your unease, taking your hand with his and wrapping it on his cock. The rough skin on your palm hitches your breath, “Hmmm, oh fuck. Yeah, just like that, princess.”

And there he goes again, egging you on with more cute pet names. Your hand slides up and down along his shaft from the tip to the base, and the sensation of its veins is so raunchy for your overwhelmed fingertips. Toji’s gruff hums to your touches stick to your ears the most, a sound you never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be lucky enough to hear. You want to keep hearing them, want them to be stored in your memory for as long as you can. And when you meekly tease his glans with a tiny lick, the hiss he expresses turns you on even more, so much so that you take the tip with patience and start to suck.

Toji throws his head back to the lockers behind him; the feeling of your tongue rolling around his girth as you inhale his cock is crazy. Fuck, it felt so good – he has to fight the urge to rut into your hollow cheeks and puffy lips. “Hahhh…Mmmm, damn….Ahahaha, ya know how to use that mouth of y’rs, Y/n. Keep suckin’ me off like that, and I’ll—Ohhh! Shit, shit, shiiiit,” he wasn’t prepared for you to take in his entire erection to the hilt. The tightness of your throat around him sends shivers, having to use the bench to grip onto.

You bob your head along his length, a hand accompanying the motions to further the exhilaration. Spit and come wet your palm, yet you’re too focused on the task to care, the haze of your brain increasing every time your lips meet the pubes of his pelvis. The jerk of his hips entails that you’re doing a good job, Toji bringing a hand to the back of your head when you kiss and lick on the head of his cock. You take note, assuming that it’s his weak spot, and continue to suck and tease the tip some more, massaging his testicles which almost had him choke. 

“—Hnnmph! Fuckin’ shit, I can’t…” Toji then has enough of this ribbing pleasure, unable to hold it anymore. With a careful hold on your skull, he stands from the bench and plows your face with his member. The harsh hit of his hips propelling his dick down to the deep crevices of your throat was sudden; the assault on your uvula results in your gag reflex; however, Toji was here to calm you down, “It’s alright, angel, breathe fr’ me.” He caters to you with a mediocre rhythm to the hips, the movement relieving the abrupt stress to your throat as you hum on his cock. You find purchase on his thighs to stabilize yourself while he plays with you orally, dialing up the pumps to your mouth until it reaches an erratic mood. Fuck, it has your head ringing, but the growing twinges and throbs between your legs practically excite you for more. Goddamn, it feels so good. So fucking good. “Jesus Christ—Y/n, I’m ‘bout to cum. Keep swirlin’ that tongue…Nnmmm, fuuck, right there, right there—Ahhhck!!”

His release comes with a few rough hits to your lips, his balls hitting your chin until they’re pressed against it. He pups his load into you, and you take it like a champ, letting the fluid venture down as the girth pulsates around your walls. His choked breathing eventually simmers down, giving it a few long seconds before he steadily removes himself from your warm cavity. The last remnants of his white substance paint your tongue, your saliva coating him. And with a voluntary swallow, you open your mouth again to showcase your clean change.

“Heh, didn’t even have to tell you,” Toji chortles, bringing a thumb to wipe your chin. “Good girl.”

KA-CHA! CREEEEK!!

Wide green eyes shoot wide along with yours, and the both of you go frozen rigid. That was most definitely the sound of a door opening. The door to the men’s locker room, where you are on your knees, in front of your personal instructor, with his dick out for the whole world to see. The blood in your body runs cold, and your stomach drops to the chilly floor. Oh, it’s over. It’s done. Your life is officially coming to an end. Welp, it’s time for me to think of a good suicide note when I get home and—

Pause on that. Because one moment you were thinking of your demise from this discomfiting situation, next you’re being dragged by Toji to the other part of the locker room, the showers. He swiftly opens a curtain and throws you both inside with a close, and the wet tiles soaked to your socks have you cringe, so you take them off.  

“Hello?” It’s a guy’s voice, of course — Ino’s. The young man is probably inspecting the male locker rooms before they close for the night like usual. You don’t dare speak so much as a letter when the footsteps draw closer to the showers, your heart rate spiking to a nervous high, and your breathing shallow. This is worse; now you’re in a confined space, face-to-face with Toji, who is utterly nude, towel left back on the bench. Your eyes locked with his, and your ears to the sounds of shoes entering the plane. “Anyone here? Saw some stuff at the front.”

“Yeah, I’m here,” your expression turns to sheer terror, wide orbs looking at the raven-haired man who spoke. No! Why would you say something!? 

“Hmm? Toji, that you?” Ino’s voice comes closer, in front of the shower curtain that shields you from his field of vision. Your heart is on the verge of dropping to your intestines. “You’re still here? Figured you’d be home by now.”

“Nah, I’m still here. Just about to finish up and head out.” Toji then turns on the faucet, cold peeps of water hitting your sweaty skin, panties, and sports bra. And, of course, it catches you off guard. OH FUUUUUU—  You don’t scream. You can’t. Instead, you shield your mouth and turn your back to Toji after giving him the most outstanding death glare of your life, which the older finds amusement in. You wipe your face from the water, cursing internally at this entire predicament. 

“Oh, okay, cool. I was just worried someone left their stuff on that bench over there. Carry on, and have a good night!” Ino dismisses himself and leaves the showers, and you exhale a silent sigh of relief. Oh, thank goodness…

Toji, on the other hand, sees your relieved state, and he can’t help but grin to himself with what he’s about to do. Moving closer to you, he brings his wet hands to your sports bra and immediately goes to fondling your breasts. A moan sneaks past you at the contact, prompting him to grope you even more. “T–Toji,” the water gradually gets warmer, juxtaposing with his cold fingers. “Stop, we have to leave, this is—Ohooo…” He tweaks your nipples with his forefinger and thumbs, and a leg sneaks in between yours.

“Relax, dollface, it’s just you and me here,” Oh, sweet Lord, you almost fell to your knees when he whispered to your ear and a teasing lick to your helix. “Got ya all to myself, now…” Toji kisses the crook of your neck, his wet hair brushing your cheek while he snakes his hand down into your panties. The way his fingers graze your clit again has you arch your back to him, another hushed shriek when he bullies his way between your folds. 

“Hey, Toji?” Ino’s voice again. Back to anxious stakes now that Toji’s toying with you. Goddamn it, Ino! What are you still doing here!? “I noticed you left your towel on the bench over there. But I also saw Y/n’s hoodie there.” Oh, fuck me!! Shit, shit, shit—"Ohhmph!!"

With quickness, you covered your mouth before your moan caught the ears of the front desk employee. And the reason for that is that Toji pulled down your soaked underwear and gave your chasm a sudden lick. If Ino weren’t back here, you’d give your personal trainer the nastiest kick to the throat you could ever do. But when he inserts a finger inside you, your aggression withered away in seconds. 

“Huh? Ohh, yeah, ‘bout that,” Toji stands back up and continues to finger you, chuckling at the sight of your trembling figure using the wall as leverage. “I saw ‘em before headin’ to the locker room. We talked for a while, but then they said they needed to change and told me to hold their hoodie for ‘em.” He says it so casually, all the while scraping your inner walls with the tip of his forefinger, summoning hushed cries that turn to silent screams when his free hand comes down to playfully pinch and press on your clitoris. God, this is too much torture for one night. 

Ino keeps questioning. “Really? I had someone check the other locker rooms, and she said she didn’t see anyone or anything except for a few personal items and leggings in one of the lockers. I’m guessing those would be Y/n’s, but where could they be?” Little did he know that you were just a curtain pull away from being found, chewing hard on your lip to quash your screams from the erratic swiping on your clit and the curving hits of his digits in your wetness.

“Mmmm, they probably are at another part of the gym or waitin’ for me at the front.” He lies effortlessly, yet his attention is still on you as he removes his fingers from you, the pleasure subsiding from the removal. Instead, he brings his erection in between your folds and humps you, and the feeling of his dick on your lips worsens the throbs in your awaiting cunt. With the heat coming from the shower and your uneven breaths, you’re bound to faint at any moment. 

“Ahh, makes sense. Alright, I’ll try and find them then,” you don’t say anything, just hesitant breaths when you feel the tip of Toji’s cock align and lightly push to your slick-coated entrance. Holy fuck, this is actually happening! Your lips quiver when Toji comes down to your ear to tell you to relax your body from tension, quietly maneuvering you by pulling your lower half to him. You do big inhales and exhales while the man pushes his cockhead to enter your cunt, wincing at the few seconds of pain that accompany each push. “See you later, Toji, and I put your towel on the hood next to your shower for when you’re done. Good night!”

“See ya.” And with Toji’s dismissal, Ino’s footsteps draw farther and farther from where you two are. And the moment you hear the locker room door slam close, Toji pushes the entire cockhead inside of you. Finally, you can squeal out to your heart’s content, balling your fists on the shower wall while your personal trainer wedges his length inside of you and stretches your walls. The girth was definitely something you knew would be an obstacle to accommodate, and it’s worse when your slit keeps clamping around the foreign limb invading inside. Tears begin to swell from the stinging touch, not that they would be distinguished by the shower water hitting behind you and Toji.

“Haahh, ahahhnn, mmmm,” Your wails seep out from your system right as the base of his cock kisses your lower region lips. And after a few seconds, he starts with a slow pace. Knowing that you can feel every dent and vein within you is insane to comprehend; the heat across your cheeks cranks up due to the euphoric sensations. “Ohhhh, my God, Tojiii. I’m so full…”

Toji pecks on your shoulder, “Yeah, sweet thing? I bet so. Just be a good girl and keep grippin’ on me like that, alright? Gonna start movin’ now…” His hips rut into your vagina, pulling his shaft slowly outward and rushing it back inward. Holy shit, it felt so dreamlike — having him actually move inside of you. But it was very much real; having his pelvis meeting the flesh of your ass was proof of such.

A hand snakes down to your clitoris, and a gasp leaves your lips at the brush of his thumb rubbing against it. Your legs tremble at the flick of his finger on your bud, and the pace of his thrusts crank up in speed, making it hard to concentrate on one thing. So many senses are being activated all at once; the shower water raining down on your back, the exhilarating combination of Toji’s dick grinding down on your insides, and the swipes and pinches on your precious clitoris. God, it was all too much. 

“Arch some more fr’ me, princess,” Toji gets up to push your back further down, the walls of your chasm clinging onto him as the more exposed opening gives room for you to be plowed. “Hnnmm, shit, feels so good…Hey, let’s try somethin’ different.”

By the time the last bit of his sentence could be registered, he already had you turned to face him, folding your arms around his neck. You didn’t know what for until he hoisted you up, and then you instinctively grabbed hold for dear life before your back hit the wall, your legs wrapped around him while he held you by the thighs. Toji brings his member back to your labia to insert it back inside, and you two moan at the contact again. Oh, this was different – never have you been lifted like this. And to be elevated by your gym crush, in this connotation, is enough to have you appalled.

But what made your breath hitch the most was Toji’s face being up close and personal. The bangs stuck to his forehead thanks to the shower water; his jet-black hair was wet and slicked. Trails flow down his face, drops of water plummeting from his nose and chin. And – oh, sweet Jesus – those green eyes of his, so striking as if they could pierce right through you. They were piercing through you. He took in your expression just as you were his, eyes filled with wanton desire, and it was all directed towards you – for you. He flashes a small smile, teeth peeking from beneath his scarred lips.

Oh, my God. You turn to the side to hide your face from his gaze; it definitely wasn’t the water that was making your cheeks and ears hot at that moment. But that didn’t fly with Toji. He sneaks into a rut that has you jump on his cock, the new position giving his dick an angle to hit your cervix. Because of that, the jab erupts a shriek you had no preparation for withholding. 

“Heh, aht, aht, don’t do that,” Oh, he knows he’s in control of this entire situation; you can hear it in his patronizing chortle. “Don’t hide that pretty face from me, doll,” he kisses your cheek and trails down to the crook of your neck. “Let me hear you—Aiishhh! Oh, fuuck…” 

Once Toji begins to jerk his hips to you, you dwell into a pleasure that you never knew existed. Toji’s length scrapes your inner walls like crazy, like a euphoric itch. The fact that you’re bouncing on the cock of your personal trainer is scary to comprehend. Having him see you like this, hearing you moan and wail for him, you never felt more exposed in your entire life. And also, him holding you like you weigh nothing and fucking you in the men’s locker room showers?! What the actual fuck!? This is actually so embarrassing – I could die! 

But why would you? The commotion between your legs feels way too good to bring this to a stop – you two are already joined in a union, so why stop? Every stroke to your slit sends a shiver up your spine, clamping onto him every time he brushes up on your sweet spots that make your nerves tingle. And the occasional jabs to your tender cervix? Damn, the stimulation was enough to have you faint with the heat growing tenfold.

“Mmmff, hoohhh, ohhhhh,” your cries are drowned out by the shower, only heard by Toji. Speaking of, this position gives you proximity to observe his expression. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes shut as if he’s in the zone. The huffs of breath he takes with every roll of his pelvis are so hot to the ear that you wouldn’t mind listening to them all day. Anytime the walls of your wetness clamp onto him, he moans and hushed curses at the feeling of you wanting him. He’s an attractive man, but, holy fuck, this was a sight you thought you’d never see in a million years. 

“—Khhhh! Hnmph, ahhhh,” Through the gruff pants, Toji opens his eyes half-lidded, catching you in the moment of staring right at him. You clench onto him; why does this man have to look so fucking sexy!? He smirks, “How we feelin’ now, baby?”

“Hahhh, I–I’m—Ohhh!! Fucking shiiiitt,” you cry out when he slams deep into you, making your toes curl, and your words come out in slurs. “It’s too muuchh, Tojiii, ughhh!! T–Tooo muuuuch…” 

“Ya gettin’ close?” Oh, yes, you were. You could feel it through the trembles climbing up your fibers. Your brows trench at the high, and Toji was mean enough to sneak a pinch to the clitoris without you noticing. Your legs tighten around his waist, and you shake your head hurriedly. He chuckles, releasing your clit from his rough fingers and putting his forehead to yours. “C’mon, angel, I won’t know what you want if ya don’t say it.”

Fuck, he’s such a meanie. You love it so fucking much. You mewl to him, “Pleaseee, Tojiii, I want it so bad!”

He lifts a brow. “Want what?” 

“—To cum!! Pleasepleaseee, I wanna cum on you, I want it—Ahaahhnn!!” Fuck, it’s coming. Almost there. 

That’s all he needed to hear, the grin on his face broadening at your response. “Cum on me, then. I���m right here to catch ya, princess.” His hand returns to your clitoris, pressing down on the delicate button to the point where all he can hear is your sweet screams of lust. His thrusts now get erratically fast, having you rebound to the hilt of his length, the smacks of skin slapping against each other fill the confined space of the shower. And the climb of your aroused high increases until it comes crashing down; you let out one last howl as the electric shocks course through your body, and your release is freed. Your walls squeeze hard onto Toji as you indulge in your climax; him pistoning his cock to your sensitive labia adds to the chilling sensitivity. Your cunt flutters around his cock while you experience your crescendo, your eyes screwed shut to enhance the experience, not aware of Toji watching you ride out your orgasm on him. 

The trembles calm down, the shocks subside, and your breathing descends into a steady rhythm. Throwing your head back, you rest your back against the wall while still in Toji’s hold, using this time to indulge yourself in this moment of clarity. 

Toji lets out a tiny laugh, bringing his face to your neck to suck on it. “That felt good, sweet thing?” You sigh out of breath, nodding to his question. “Hmmm, good. But ya know I’m not done, right?” Your blood ran cold, your body rigid still. Wait, huh? “I let you have your fun, so be a good girl, and lemme have mine.” 

The involuntary twitch of your slit should give you a clue as to how the news hit you, and you can't tell if it'll be him or the shower that will have you melting like a puddle by the time this is over...

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Haibara walks out to the front desk, where Ino hurriedly stuffs his phone back into his pocket, away from his superior’s eyes. Fortunately for the younger man, the older one didn’t see his device. “Hey, Ino, I got a question.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” The associate fidgets with his brown hair under his rolled-up ski mask.

“Have you seen Mr. Fushiguro and Y/n today? Toji told me he couldn’t make it for Monday night, but I haven’t seen Y/n that day or Wednesday.” The older brunette looks around to find any resembling cues, but his eyes see nothing that sparks familiarity. 

Ino blinks before answering. “No. And now that you mention it, I haven’t seen or heard from them since last week…”

Haibara leans on the desk and sighs. “Hope Y/n’s doing all right. Usually, they’d call or shoot a text telling me they couldn’t make it for their appointments with Fushiguro. But this is twice where neither of them show up.” 

“Hmm, can’t say I have an idea.” The other shrugs at his superior’s concerns. “I didn’t get a call or text from Y/n either, so maybe I’ll give ‘em one after my shift. Heh. Let’s hope they didn’t replace us with another gym.” 

With trenched brows, Haibara took offense to the younger brunette’s words. “Cut that out, man! I’d be pretty upset if they just suddenly stopped showing up here. Half a year of coming in and out and getting to know each other, only for them to just vanish like that…At the very least, they could give a call!” He passionately bangs on the front desk, giving Ino a startle.

RING-RING-RING!! RING-RING-RING!! 

The two froze at the sudden ring of the desk phone as if Haibara’s fist magically granted them a call. And by the exchanged glances they shared before Ino picked up the phone, they better hope it wasn’t the call they were expecting. “Hello, this is Golden Gate Gym. My name is Takuma Ino; what can I do for you?” 

“Hey, is that you, Ino?”

“Hey, Y/n!” Ino turns to Haibara, whose eyes share the same perplexity as his. “It’s good to hear from you; where’ve you been? You’ve been MIA for almost a week.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had a little accident and sprained my ankle; I couldn’t come to the gym on Monday and Wednesday.”

“Oh, shit, for real?” Haibara watched the younger man’s tone change to concern, which didn’t help his nerves either. “Sorry to hear about that, but it’s a good call not coming here and taking care of yourself.”

“Yeah, thanks. Is Haibara there with you by any chance?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s right next to me, actually.” Ino takes the initiative to give the darker brunette the phone to speak with the one on the other side of the line. Haibara outstretches his arm to take the phone and put the receiving end to his ear. “Yo, Y/n!”

“Hey, Haihai. I meant to call you Wednesday, but I’m letting you know that Mr. Fushiguro and I are still doing our weekly appointments.”

Haibara sighs in relief internally, giving Ino a thumbs up. “Oh, thank God! You two had me worried there for a second. We didn’t see you guys here and thought you’d be a no-show again.”

“Yeah, sorry for the scare. Mr. Fushiguro found out about it and decided it would be….Haahhh….best for me to do my regimine at my apartment instead…”

“Well, that’s nice of him to look out for you with your ankle. I’m sure he’s doing what he can to—“

“Ahaahhnn!!”

A sudden yelp pops into the call out of nowhere and completely takes Haibara aback from the phone as if it was so out of place for the topic that was taking place. Ino notices it when the darker brunette gives him a brief perplexed look, which the younger shrugs at. “Uhh, Y/n? You busy right now?”

Oh, you were busy, all right. You’re at your apartment right now. Your ankle? Absolutely fine, nothing wrong about it in the slightest. The only change, however, is not being at the gym for this entire week and staying home instead. Why?

How about asking your personal trainer who has you propped upside down, standing up with his hands holding you by your ass, stuffing his face to your exposed cunt which he licks and sucks on. The feeling of his tongue digging through your labia has your hips jerking, but his strong arms exhibit unmoving effort in keeping your wetness in his mouth. His pants down to his knees, and his erect length in your hand and brushing your cheek. This is most definitely not the at-home exercise that Haibara is thinking of.

“…Hello?…Y/n, you there?”

Oh, shit! “Y–Yeah, I’m here! Sorry, my ankle is acting up on me—Ohhhh…Fushiguro’s looking at it for me…” Oh, please, he’s not checking shit; fucker indulging himself between your asscheecks, ravishing your folds like a sweet fruit to his tastebuds.

“Oh! So you two are exercising together right now?” Toji nibbles on your vagina and grazes with his teeth, having you gasp and twitch. His tongue surprising your clit prompts a choked whine. “That’s good to know then! Alright then, see you guys when you’re ready to return to the gym. And tell Toji not to put too much on you, ya hear?”

“—Khhhh, mhmm…I’ll give him an earful for you. See you later, Haibara…”

“Great, see ya. Happy Friday!” 

And with that farewell, you can finally toss the phone down and coo to your heart’s content, biting your lips at Toji stuffing his mouth on your bare chasm; his muffled groans vibrate your lower half like crazy. “Ohhooo!! Ohhhfuckkk, I’m gonna cumm,” your words slur with a suck to your clitoris, your hips bucking involuntarily. “Lemme cum, Tojiiii, I wanna—Ahaaaa!!”

He removes his face from your ass with an exhale as if he was dying for breath. But based on the grin plastered on his face, he wouldn’t mind being in this position for a little while. “Oh, I don’t think so, doll. I don’t think ya deserve to cum in my mouth.”

That was the last thing you wanted to hear right now. “Ahahnn!! You’re such an asshole, Toji…”

He chuckles crudely. “That’s where I’m gonna play with next if you don’t stuff my dick in that pretty mouth of y’rs already. Suck me good; then maybe I’ll let the princess cum all over me.”

Broad strokes from his pelvis rub his dick on your cheek, a reminder of your part of this endeavor that you must partake in. The smell of him overwhelms your nostrils into a pornographic trance, your head pounding just from looking at it. You gulp and take the tip into your mouth, sucking and licking the precum off while your hands glide up and down his shaft. “Good girl, good girl…” Toji goes back to smacking his lips on your folds, moving his tongue in whirlpool motions that have you moaning on his cock. God, it feels so good, so fucking good. You can see yourself becoming addicted to this, and that’s a bit scary seeing this professional relationship drift to something more touchy and personal…

…But then again, there’s nothing wrong with that, right?

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by achumuchi + dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[mellifexfarm]

News

My flock has contracted Marek's Disease.

Since 2019, after I brought home Lyra and Wren, my flock has been a closed flock. Meaning I take biosecurity very seriously, and opted to not bring any new chickens in or allow other poultry-keepers access to the yard where they are kept. The only birds that were added from 2019 until now have been from hatching eggs. There are a select few diseases that can pass from mother to egg, but not Marek's.

But within the past few weeks one chicken displayed symptoms of leg weakness and became unable to walk. I brought them indoors and started treating for vitamin deficiency, since that is by far the most common cause of sudden lameness in poultry. But she didn't get better, and then Lyra started walking unsteadily, and I knew something else was wrong. I suspected something was wrong with my feed and sent off a sample to get tested for mycotoxins, and switched feeds, because I know a lot of people have had issues with that lately. But then one morning I found Moss deceased in the coop, and it all kind of went downhill from there.

Sebrights are known for having extremely low resistance to disease. They are very inbred. It is the reason I lost Kip to fowl pox when everyone else recovered fine. And why all but one (her unnamed cockerel "emo" son) of the members of my flock who are descended from Lyra are affected. But none of the other tiny breeds I have, Seramas or Kikirkis, are known for being particularly disease resistant either. So. I am extremely cautious at jumping the gun and saying they wont be effected.

I sent off Moss's body for a necropsy on monday and got the results today, September 29th.

I do not know how this got into my flock. Our nextdoor neighbor got chickens a few months ago, but our birds don't have any direct contact. That is the only way I can think of.

There is a vaccine but it can only be administered to day old chicks. Vaccinating to prevent this was not an option.

It generally takes 4-10 weeks for the disease to develop after the chicken has been exposed, so it had to have been fairly recent. My flock has not been carrying this sub-clinically.

I genuinely don't know how this is going to go from here. There is no treatment for marek's disease. It is a virus. I have ordered a few herbal remedies with vague studies to back up some kind of efficacy helping reduce the damage the virus does and boost their immunity, but its mostly a crapshoot. The only good news I have with all this is that older birds are somewhat less likely to succumb to this disease. And the fact turkies and pigeons can't contract it.

The only birds displaying symptoms right now are Lyra, and Moss's unnamed pullet daughter.

Lyra is tentatively okay. I have crafted a sling for her, and she has been increasing in mobility over the last few days. She did not ever have full paralysis, so I am hopeful. Her daughter and Mouse, one of the younger keep-back pullets from this summers chicks, are the only casualties so far.

I'll be doing all that I can in terms of supportive care, but if any symptomatic birds get to the point I don't think they will recover from I will be euthanizing them. I will not be selling chickens anymore.

This disease has been a nightmare of mine for such a long time and now it is really happening. I am pretty crushed.

[rubylovessharks]

okok so what about a s/o who has a lot of sexual experience that doesn't seem to be bothered during sex by touch and such bc of how used they are to people just touching them not in the lovely dovey way, but then once they have fallen inlove with Leona they become super sensitive <3

leona is so inlove and i just KNOW that once hes in the fucking mindset hed say all he thinks about. all these 'i love you's and such 🩷

Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader, smut. (its not really smutty i just want soft leona)

cumming inside, reader has(had🤭) a sex related career

Usually you'd never shiver from pleasure during sex. You're used to it from your job. Yet now, for some reason as you lay under your usual patron who's been paying you for a while, you shudder under his touch. For the past month or so he's taken great care of you even after your pay hours. Not just sexually, you heard it in his voice one time as he whispered 'I love you's into your ears and neck, leaving marks all over your body, yet it was never a lie. Here you are again underneath Leona taking his full length in, and after a few good hours of going at it as well. And he's saying it again. "I love you.." he'd cup your face with his hand ".. I've been trying to show you...for a while now...." And he's telling the truth with how he's been treating you. Just a bit more nicely than he would treat others, just a bit more generous to you.

This is the feeling you are feeling right now. Your body immediately becomes sensitive to his touch, oh and he notices. He would like to ask if you're ok but he can see that this is something else. "I can see that the feelings are mutual" and he picks up his pace. Hitting the right places just so that he can see your face showing pure pleasure. And that's when he commands you. "Tell me. Tell me you love me and only me... That you wish to take my hand in marriage.. and be mine." at this point he might be blabbering you're not sure, but it's getting harder and harder to think with a guy like Leona destroying your insides. So what's better than telling him the truth?

"I...I love you! O..only you..yes..!"

Just as you finished your sentence he came, and so did you. Now you two are basking in the afterglow of a few good rounds of sex, and are both really tired. So talking about everything will have to wait until tomorrow morning (which isn't too far ahead-) but one thing for sure is that you'll be quitting your job soon. No need for that when you already have Leona as a (soon to-be) partner, right? That is all you get to think about before drifting off to sleep with a big lazy lion on top of you.

[specialagentlokitty]

Hannibal lector x teen!reader - healing takes time

Hi I love your Hannibal imagines, could you do one where Tern Reader is blind and has a guide dog who loves Hannibal whenever they go back to his office and is very nice - Anon💜

Hearing the door open, you stood up, smiling a little bit.

“Good evening (Y/N), come in.”

“Thank you doctor Lector.”

You walked past him, making your way into the office, heading over to the chairs only to pause just behind them.

“You’ve moved your chairs.” You noted.

“Ah, my apologies, I was doing some organising and had to move that one in order to reach for a pen.”

Hannibal walked over, moving the chair back into its place for you, and you placed your hand on the back of it.

You walked around so you could sit down.

“Your office is looking as tidy as always.”

He chuckled slightly.

“I see you still have your humour.”

You grinned a little bit, realising the hold of the harness you were gripping on to.

“I see you also brought Charlie. Is he doing better?”

“Charlie break.”

You heard the jingling of his tags and harness and he bounced around the office, jumping up and down.

“Yeah, he was just sick for a couple of days. The vets said it was nothing to worry about.”

Hannibal nodded, looking at the dog that was running about his office happily up and down.

“Charlie come.”

At the sound of his name and a command he bounded over to Hannibal, sitting down in front of the psychiatrist.

Hannibal took the harness off and set it aside, pulling a treat from his pocket to feed to the dog.

It was one of this groundwork’s that was laid down when you first came to see him as a patient, while in your session Charlie could do whatever it is he wanted to do, Hannibal could interact with him and give him treats.

“And how are you? I understand you were having some trouble sleeping the last time that we spoke.”

“Same old I guess, but that’s just life. Not that I’d know if I was sleeping or not, everything all looks the same.”

He hummed a little bit, looking up at you.

Your vacant eyes looked just past him, your hands resting in your lap.

“Have you been taken the medication that your doctor prescribed for you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Charlie laid down at Hannibal’s feet, and the man reached down to pat the dogs head a times before he sat up again.

You leant back in your chair, tilting your head up to stare straight up at the ceiling.

“Because if I go to sleep then the memories come back, and I don’t want them to come back. If I take the medication I’m stuck there and I can’t get out.”

“Have you tried any of the methods I gave you in order to help?”

“Didn’t work.”

He nodded slightly.

“What is it that scares you about your memories (Y/N)? What exactly is it that you see when you close your eyes to go to sleep?”

You frowned a little bit.

“Everything I guess… I.. I can feel it all again… and it feels so real…”

“Do you feel everything?”

“I feel that car slamming into me.. and I.. I remember the panic just before too…”

Hannibal nodded his head.

“We’ve been through this a few times now, but you never told me exactly what happened before the accident.”

You sighed slightly.

“I was just crossing the street, like I did every single day, and then it felt like my head was going to explode…”

“Then what happened?”

“I.. I couldn’t see… I.. I mean I had limited sight anyway but I could still see.. then I just.. I couldn’t.. then the car hit me..”

“You were in a coma for months, had to learn to walk again and adjust to your newfound blindness all at the same time.”

You nodded your head.

“How are you are learning to walk around without Charlie? Are you able to get around your home?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m scared…” you mumbled.

Hannibal moved, and you turned your head towards him.

You couldn’t see him of course, but it was habit, through all the years that you had done it, looked at people.

Hannibal knew this of course, so he generally tried to sit in one spot during the sessions to keep you from trying to guess where he was.

“Recovery is a slow progress, especially after you had been through so much, a hit and run as well as the loss of your sight all in one night is a lot for anybody to deal with, let alone a teenager.”

“I should’ve known better… they told me not to go out…”

“You keep blaming yourself, you had no idea that you were going to lose your sight that night (Y/N), none whatsoever. When you left your home you could still see objects and lights in front of you, you still had enough sight to be able to get through everyday life.”

You shrugged again.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Of course, go ahead.”

“Why do you keep me in your care? I’m not exactly the victim of a crime, or a criminal.”

“One could argue that you are a victim of crime. You were originally assigned to my care after your incident because the person responsible for hitting you was on the run from the FBI. The man in charge of that particular deemed it his responsibility for your recovery.”

You slowly nodded your head.

Hannibal moved again, leaning down to pet Charlie as he got up to go chase a ball Hannibal had tossed across the office for him.

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“Well, perhaps I simply just enough spending time with Charlie. He is fast becoming my favourite patient.”

You laughed a little.

“Sounds like you’re his new favourite psychiatrist so that’s fair enough.”

Hannibal chuckled a little bit, and he stood up.

“I know you have you concerns about walking around without Charlie. You fear there will be another accident.”

“Yeah…”

You heard the sound of some things being moved.

“Can you stand up for me?”

You did as he asked.

“Take a step for me (Y/N).”

You reached your hand out for the harness, an automatic response at this point when you were going to walk.

“No, you don’t need Charlie for this. Just a single step.”

You took a deep breath.

“I.. I can’t..”

“You can, you’ve walked around my office many times with Charlie, you know the layout of my office.”

“You moved things, I heard you.”

“Yes, I moved some of the furniture out of your way. All you have to do is take one step, that’s all.”

You shook your head.

“There is absolutely nothing in this office that will cause an accident, just like there is nothing in your home that will cause an accident.”

You took a shaky breath, and you heard Hannibal walked over to you.

“Put your hands out for me.”

You raised your hands and held them out.

“Is it okay if I take your hands?” He asked.

You nodded.

Hannibal took them, holding them very carefully and gently.

“If I take one step back, will you follow me?”

“I.. I need Charlie doctor Lector…”

“No, you don’t need Charlie. You have me. Can you trust me?”

“Yeah..”

Hannibal smiled, and he took a step back, so you took one forward, and he took another back, making you take another forward.

Hannibal could feel you shaking, so he stopped walking.

“Are you afraid?”

You nodded.

“What’s making you so afraid?”

“I.. I don’t want to get into another accident… I don’t want to feel that pain again…”

“You won’t, not here, not at home. All you have to do is take it a few small steps at a time, just like we’re doing.”

“What if I fall..?”

“If you fall here I’ll catch you, I won’t let you get hurt.”

“What about at home…?”

“Well, then you push yourself back on your feet, and you try again. Do you remember the first time you ever rode a bicycle?”

You laughed a little.

“Yeah, it uh.. it didn’t go so well…”

“Did you fall?”

“I broke my arm…”

“Did you stop trying?”

You shook your head.

“Well, this is like riding a bicycle. When you fall you keep trying, until you no longer fall down.”

Hannibal carried on slowly walking around, so you followed him, trusting that he wouldn’t lead you into anything that’ll hurt you.

“I’m going to let go, but I’ll guide you.”

“No, no, no, no please!”

“It’s alright, it’s okay.”

When Hannibal let go you immediately stopped walking, heart pounding as tears burned your eyes.

“Doctor lector please come back..”

“I’ve not left, I’m still here, I promise. Just take a step forward.”

“I can’t..”

“You can, just one step like we have been doing. That’s all.”

You sniffled a little bit, wiping your eyes with your hands.

“If you allow fear to keep eating away at you like this, you’ll always find yourself limited in what you can do (Y/N). I know you can do this, all you have to do is take that first step.”

You shook your head and you heard Hannibal walking.

“I’ll be right next to you the whole time.” He said.

You sniffled a little bit and closed your eyes shut tight.

“We’ll take that step together, on the count of three. Ready?”

Hannibal began to count, and when he reached three, he took a step, and you took a very small step.

Hannibal smiled at you.

“You did it, a small step is still a step.”

Hannibal took your hands back in his, and you gripped them tightly.

“Did you get hurt?”

You shook your head.

“No… but I.. I’m still scared…”

“Fear doesn’t go away overnight (Y/N), it will take time. But I have confidence that in one day you’ll be able to walk around places you feel safe without the help of Charlie.”

Hannibal walked you back to your chair and helped you sit down, and Charlie immediately came over, pressing his head into your hands.

You ruffled his fur, scratching behind his ears.

“Does it get easier?” You asked.

“For some people, for some its rather quick, for others it takes a long time.”

You nodded your head.

“I will be here every step of the way, and in no time I’m sure you’ll have me running races around my office.”

You laughed a little bit, grinning slightly at him.

“You wouldn’t be able to keep up you’re old.”

“How do you know I’m old?” He countered.

You shrugged a little bit.

“I don’t know, I’m good at guessing?”

He chuckled a little bit, clicking his fingers for Charlie to come over and ran his hands over the dogs back as he happily sat down again.

“Healing takes time (Y/N), but you must be willing to put that time in.”

You nodded your head in understanding.

“Can we play that game again?”

“Of course we can, let me set it up.”

You waited wait Charlie leant against your legs while Hannibal set up the domino game for you both.

He wasn’t going to push you anymore on your progress with walking without your guide dog, but he was hoping in future session you would begin to make more progress

[faytelumos]

I'm trying to write a thing (probably only in my head, let's be realistic) and so I have some thoughts?

Sunshine x Grumpy prompts

(specifically a dommy Sunshine and a subby Grumpy, but read/swap these as you will)

Meetings

- They physically bump into each other in the street. Sunshine is trying to gather up Grumpy's stuff and straighten them out, but Grumpy is just trying to get away from Sunshine's overpowering energy.

-> Then afterwards, Grumpy is the one who keeps thinking about the encounter.

- There are no rooms left in the hotel/inn. Sunshine overhears Grumpy all but begging for any kind of room at all, and offers to share theirs.

- Every day, Grumpy walks past Sunshine dancing in a slightly inconvenient place (like a sidewalk or in front of a coffee shop). Eventually, they start watching Sunshine briefly when they come across them. Then, Sunshine makes direct eye contact and motions for them to dance, too.

-> Grumpy may not dance with them, but maybe Sunshine decides to make it their life's mission to tease out the dance moves in Grumpy's heart.

- Grumpy notices Sunshine gently handling a disliked/misunderstood animal. They instantly wonder if Sunshine would be willing to handle them (disliked and misunderstood as they are) so gently.

- People generally assume Grumpy is cruel/brutish in a fight. But when Sunshine sees them being merciful and diplomatic in the face of conflict, their heart goes all aflutter. They must not let this wonderful person slip through their fingers.

Acquaintances to Friends/Lovers

- They know each other only in passing, and Grumpy assumes Sunshine to be a total ditz. But when a fight between strangers breaks out in a tight space, Sunshine rushes into the fray to break it up. (Maybe the sight of Sunshine being strong and capable does something to Grumpy.)

-> Alternatively, it could be an emergency/crisis that Grumpy or another stranger are having (such as choking on something, a severe allergic reaction, or an illness or injury taking a sudden turn for the worse).

- They work together, and Sunshine has been making their way around the workplace day by day, doing something happy and cheerful and everything for each person. Grumpy is dreading the day it's their turn.

*Relationship Intensifies*

- Sunshine is a terrible cook. Grumpy pulls out the apron and shows them a thing or two.

- Sunshine opens up about their dark past during a quiet moment. It is remarkably (even freakishly) similar to what Grumpy went through.

- Sunshine notices that while Grumpy's actions say, "Do not perceive me," their body language screams, "I need you specifically to hold me."

- Over the past few weeks/months, Sunshine and Grumpy have been spending more and more time together. Right as Grumpy starts to feel comfortable opening up, they realize… Sunshine actually doesn't talk about themself. Practically at all.

After Dark

- Grumpy is too nervous/self-conscious to initiate, even though being with Sunshine is all they've been thinking about for the past ten minutes.

-> Sunshine miraculously notices and treats Grumpy so sweetly that Grumpy almost breaks.

->-> Or they do break, and Sunshine's happy to pick up the pieces afterwards.

- Sunshine's "I'll get a smile out of you yet!" attitude shifting into "You're mine and no one will ever hurt you" when things get hot.

- Grumpy's "I refuse to burden people with my presence" attitude becoming "Please, I need every last piece of you" when things get going.

- Grumpy and Sunshine have to switch roles a little when Sunshine drops after they're together.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

“We're all Mad here."

This is the first of a 7-part headcanon series for the Rollo at the Writing Desk blog event; the theme is basically "Rollo pays a visit to each of the dorms, and then chaos ensues". He'll have a chance to reconnect with old enemies friends from Glorious Masquerade, as well as meet new deplorable mages people! First up, an oldie but a goodie... Heartslabyul! (This one is extremely long because there are so many characters to account for 🤡)

A Big Heartslabyul Welcome to Rollo!

His nose is assaulted with the overpowering aroma of roses as soon as he steps foot into the garden. In his hand is an invitation to Heartslabyul: it's the 5th of the month, and therefore, they will be holding a tea party as per the rules of the Queen of Hearts. The guest of honor? Him: Rollo Flamme.

He's immediately flanked by two lines of Heartslabyul students in dorm uniforms, their faces painted with a card suit and trumpets in hand. The brass instruments sound loudly as he passes.

The dorm has gone out of its way to prepare for this occasion: they've strung up lots of flags and lanterns, brought out their best tablecloths and fanciest silverware. The roses are both red and white today too--the colors together, signaling the arrival of a new acquaintance.

Rollo grimaces at the fanfare, the colorful decorations strung up, the sickeningly sweet smells wafting over. It's an ill reminder of Topsy-Turvy Day back home, how all the locals delight in the sin called magic.

Waiting for Rollo deep in the rose garden is the dorm leader and his second-in-command to greet him. Riddle offers a small, polite smile and extends a hand. "Rollo-senpai." (His thinking is, "Rollo-senpai is the headmaster's esteemed guest. Regardless of what happened in the past, we must maintain decorum for the duration of his stay.") Trey nods and gives a slight tip his hat.

Rollo meets them with a stiff smile of his own. His grasp on Riddle’s hand is impersonal, cold. “Riddle-kun and company. I am humbled to be invited to participate in your dormitory’s time-honored traditions.” (It’s a lie, but no one needs to know.)

The celebration begins! Rollo is allowed to sit near the head of the table, and he’s presented with a generous selection of familiar foods: croissants, madeleines, mousses, choux pastries, macarons, tarte tarin… even accursed savarin, the cake he considered the least appetizing.

“I did some research on the City of Flowers,” Trey casually explains. “I heard that’s where you’re from, so I wanted to give you a taste of home away from home.” (And in spite of how much he loathes mages, even Rollo is impressed. “Hmm, most astute. I must say, I commend your diligence.”)

Deuce offers to help Trey serve the guests. He's clumsy as he goes about pouring tea and passing out treats, but he's trying his best! When Deuce gets to Rollo, he attempts to bow in reverence--but ends up smacking his head into Rollo's chin and spilling tea all over him instead!

... Needless to say, Rollo is NOT happy about it, especially not when Riddle intervenes with magic to clean him up against his wishes. Deuce apologizes profusely to him for the rest of the day.

With the abundance of sweets, poor Cater's suffering out here. He makes whatever excuses he can to shove off his desserts onto Rollo, gushing about how "We gotta spoil our guest with Heartslabyul hospitality! Go on, have some of Cay-kun's cakes!"

Riddle offers Rollo a strawberry tart as a sort of... peace offering? Rollo accepts it, but he takes only a small sliver from the whole tart and nibbles on that like a starving man might ration his last loaf of bread. It raises eyebrows, but Riddle wisely chooses to not comment. It doesn't go unnoticed by Rollo, who simply replies, "Everything in moderation."

There's some tension amongst the group, on account of what went down in the City of Flowers having been told to a few select dorm members. Ace in particular is eyeing Rollo suspiciously while he munched on a slice of cherry pie.

"This dorm can barely handle one anger-prone arsonist," he had told Deuce prior to the party, "now we're supposed to deal with TWO? You might as well just set the whole garden on fire to save us some time." (But to Ace's surprise, Deuce actually defended Rollo. "He deserves a chance to redeem himself! If I'm aiming to go from delinquent to honor student, then I should have the same faith in others to change too!")

Whenever Rollo has his back to the first years, Ace makes faces at him or mimics the uptight way Rollo sits—back straight, fingers laced, expression neutral yet stern. When Rollo looks back, Ace returns to acting like everything is totally normal.

Shockingly, it’s Rollo that makes the first faux paus of the afternoon. After the incident with Deuce, he requests coffee in lieu of tea, which earns audible gasps from around the garden. Rollo stares at all the mobs gawking at him as though he has committed a heinous crime. Riddle looks like he's going to strangle a cat. “… Have I said something out of turn?”

Trey intervenes with a fresh cup of tea and tells everyone to relax, whispering to Rollo that coffee is only for birthdays. Really, Trey ends up playing mediator for the entire party.

It's then that Rollo learns that there exists a set of rules penned by the Queen of Hearts herself. Riddle proudly declares that he knows all 810 of them by heart (and that he expects all of his dorm members to do the same to honor the Queen's spirit of strictness). "Oh? And just what might these rules be?" Rollo asks.

Riddle's more than happy to oblige with a looong lecture about the 810 rules. He starts a pop quiz on the spot to test Rollo, and, to everyone's shock, he answers each and every one of them correctly. "I guess you're not student council president of Noble Bell College for nothing," Riddle mutters. "You have an impressive memory." (In truth, Rollo only made an effort to perform well out of sheer spite.)

Cater mentions that he thinks Riddle and Rollo are a lot alike. This riles them both up, and they simultaneously shout, “In what way am I like him?!” (“Ooh, you even share the same thoughts. That’s big twin energy,” Cater laughs.)

While talking over tea, Cater learns that Rollo writes letters instead of using social media. "Eeeeh, there are people that live in this day and age without a Magicam account?! How do you survive..." Cater proceeds to spend the rest of the party chatting him up and trying to convince him to make an account so he can keep in touch (terrible, really--Cater is exactly the type of noisy, frivolous person Rollo detests), all the while Rollo tries his best to dodge questions.

The meal is finished without further (major) incidents--but roughly 15 minutes in, Riddle claps his hands and announces that everyone must leave the table, as per rule 271. Rollo starts to excuse himself, Trey lays a hand on his shoulder and beams. "We need one more player for croquet."

And so Rollo is dragged into playing a round with the Heartslabyul boys. He's told the rules and handed a red flamingo and hedgehog (both of which stare at him dubiously as he handles them as though they're diseased).

On his first turn, Rollo struggles to get his mallet and ball to behave! The flamingo keeps twisting its neck instead of staying straight for his shot, and the hedgehog keeps scampering away!! "Strange, they usually behave so well," Riddle notes. ("They must not like the cartoon supervillain vibes he's giving off," Ace grumbles in the background. "A-Ace! You can't just say that!" Deuce protests. "What if he hears?!")

His hedgehog sneezes when he at last punts it, which brings the game to a screeching halt as all the card soldiers burst out into song. (Rule 304, Rollo lamented. Why can't they be silent like unrung bells?! His blood pressure is rising, his ears ringing. He tries to focus on the match to distract himself.)

Over time, Rollo becomes more accustomed with how to get a control of his mallet and ball--he's back in the game! (It's not that he's particularly competitive, but he absolutely refuses to be outdone by these haughty NRC mages... especially not Riddle, who's smirking at him so smugly!)

Unfortunately for Rollo, he can't beat Riddle despite his best efforts--though he does manage to snag second place, pulling a little ahead of Trey. There's polite clapping from the other players to congratulate them (though a few look worried).

As Rollo is returning his equipment, a horrible realization dawns on him: rule 703: Whoever comes in 2nd place during a croquet match must serve tea to the Queen the next day. He slowly turns to Riddle, whose arms are folded expectantly. "I eagerly await my tea," the redhead tells him.

Rollo feels faint. He dabs at his forehead with his handkerchief in a vain attempt to dispel some of his dread. (It doesn't help one bit.)

Before he's able to leave, Cater pulls in him by the arm, his phone at the ready. "We should totes take a group selfie to commemorate the occasion~ Since you don't have a Magicam account, I'll print up a copy for you to pick up when you drop by tomorrow!"

Rollo doesn't have the chance to protest before Heartslabyul members crowd around him, squeezing in for the photo. It's hard for him to breathe, trapped between all these writhing bodies and surrounded by boisterous laughter.

He catches the eye of Riddle beside him and manages to choke out, "How you manage with this kind of madness every day, I'll never understand."

"It is mad, yes," Riddle says with a knowing smile, "and there are days when my dorm members drive me up the wall and leave me with no choice but to collar them in retaliation. Still... I think that's part of the fun. The chaos is ours to share. It's something I've never experienced in the small world I came from."

"Preposterous. There is no conceivable way anyone in their right mind would be endeared to this."

... Right?

Just as the tendril of doubt makes itself known… SNAP! The picture is taken, forever immortalizing the moment.

[wenumsmol]

0ut 0f Ctrl

Alpha!Choso x Omega!Fem!Reader. A/B/O AU. No Jujutsu Sorcery. No cursed energy. TW: Depression, PTSD, Agoraphobia, Panic Attack, Drug use (reader), reader has a drug dependency, implied past abuse, stalking(?). 4.9k wc. Minors do not interact.

00C Masterlist

Chapter 1 - Data Drop: Unanticipated

You sit in the corner of the dimly lit internet cafe, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the worn-out keyboard. The soft glow of the monitor casts a faint light on your face, highlighting the heavy eyeliner and dark lipstick that have become your armor against the world. Oversized flannel drapes over your frame, offering a semblance of comfort. The cafe is buzzing with low conversations and the hum of computers, a backdrop to your spiraling thoughts. The air is thick with the smell of stale coffee and the faint whiff of something burnt—an unmistakable aroma that clings to the cracked vinyl seats and sticky tables.

Today is one of those days when just getting out of bed felt like a monumental effort. Depression is a bitch with the way it’s got your mind in a constant fog, making it so much harder to function on the most basic of levels. Being an omega without a pack has been taking its toll on you for quite some time. Posing as a beta is even harder since you’re more sensitive to pheromones than other omegas you’ve met. It makes it harder to get an ordinary job, and blending in is a nightmare. Working from home is the only option for you if you want to stay out of sight and out of mind. So you stay holed up in your apartment doing freelance work online and staying away from people as much as possible. And for the most part, it works.

In your mind, being alone gives you more freedom. No one to tell you what to do, no one to answer to. But it’s lonely, too. The ache in your chest never quite goes away, and you’re constantly on edge, hyper aware of your vulnerability as a single omega. Add that to the shitty self esteem issues and general feelings of worthlessness that come along with having been rejected by your previous pack, and you’ve got yourself quite a combination.

You’re used to it, though, and you’ve got your coping mechanisms. Whether they’re healthy or not is beside the point because surviving is surviving. ‘This is the way,’ you think, mocking the Mandalorian mantra as you sift through your emails. It’s a mundane task but it helps keep the worst of your thoughts at bay, among all the other shit you get up to on the internet. When a message from Naoya catches your eye—a reminder of the package that should have been delivered today, your eyes temporarily widen. It’s about fucking time you heard something from the bastard. You click open the message:

Naoya: got a present on the way. keep ur eyes peeled.

Your fingers hover over the keys before you reply:

You: ain't home right now.

Naoya: what u mean? where r u?

You: out.

Naoya: get your ass home then. this shits important

Naoya is a drug dealer. Yes... your drug dealer to be exact. You’ve been getting your supply from him for a few months now. Something to keep the edge off when your anxiety attacks become too much of a problem. It’s not like you can go to a doctor for it obviously. They’d sus out your omega status instantly, then you’d get an ankle monitor and regular visits from government employees who would dictate your lifestyle down to the most minute detail until an alpha selects you from a registry. Something you’ve been trying to avoid because you had enough of being someone’s property.

The whole process is gross and incredibly outdated, treating omegas as if they’re children needing guidance and protection. You’ve had firsthand experience with the kind of arrangement that could go horribly wrong, thanks to your parents — the very source of your traumatic past. Being in a pack is supposed to be a positive experience, but you couldn’t be more disgusted with the way Alphas take advantage of their authority over omegas, using them for sex, breeding, and other vile acts. You refuse to be trapped in a hell like that.

Out of desperation, you turned to the dark web and found an information broker, Dakusuta. They were a useful contact as they had connected you with a drug dealer who delivered with minimal social interaction. You preferred it that way–no reason to leave the comfort of your home. You paid, they provided. It had been going on for months, with you gradually stockpiling your supply and taking doses as needed. It was a convenient service, albeit morally questionable. But hey, what else would you do without it?

Naoya’s insistence strikes you as odd, though. What is he? Your fucking parole officer? If you miss a delivery, it’s usually no skin off his nose. You’ll get it when you get it. But today, he’s adamant. ‘Something’s up his ass.’ The thought nags at you, but you push it aside, focusing instead on the flickering screen in front of you. 

This internet cafe is a couple blocks from home and it took you a lot of mental prep to step outside your door earlier. It took almost two hours of pacing in your genkan and staring at the doorknob before you could actually make it outside. It’s a necessity really. The social media brain rot helps to fight the parasites in you that tell you to do a cartwheel off a tall ledge every moment free of stimulation. Your dumpster posting combined with your regular work is the perfect distraction to keep your nerves in check while you tolerate being in a public space for as long as you can. Thanks to your WiFi being out, you didn’t have the option to stay inside your depression cave if you wanted access to the internet. Coping… All there is is coping. 

Music thrums through your cheap noise-canceling headphones that help drown out any chatter of your public surroundings. The soundwaves of Twilight by bôa keep you calm, the soft tunes filling your ears and seeping out at a quiet volume beyond your personal session. “Your word and my word and her word is...Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.” You sing under your breath, nodding your head and bobbing it back and forth to the beat of the music.

As you open a new browser window to visit a message board and skim through recent posts you miss the way the guy sitting a distance away from you looks in your direction. He stares for minutes on end before he stands up, stretching his arms lazily, and he makes his way over to your table. 

Your fingers move on their own accord, tapping out your feelings in a new post. Your only method of purging rather than confiding in someone who truly knows you. ‘Everyone’s fake anyway. It doesn’t matter,’ you always think, continuing to type away.

He’s a blur in your peripheral vision as he casually invades your carefully constructed bubble, taking a seat right next to you. The only way you sense his presence is a subtle shift in the air around you from his movements, the noise canceling on your headphones doing its job a little too well right now. Awareness makes your fingers fumble over the keys, a momentary pause in your activities.

It takes a few seconds for your brain to register the movement in your peripheral vision, and the sudden intrusion startles you. Your eyes flicker towards the stranger, brows pinched. You don’t remember seeing him sit down and you didn’t smell him coming, so he must be wearing scent blockers because he’s definitely not a beta. He’s far too big for that.

As much as you want to ignore him and stick to your decision to not interact with anyone on your outing, it’s not looking like a possibility. He’s an alpha after all and your damn omega instincts won’t just allow you to disobey any command for attention. Be it intentional or not, you can feel the pull of his alpha telling you “Look at me, Omega.” 

‘Did he sniff me out?’ 

You have half a mind to tell him to fuck off but you can only see negative outcomes from that path of action; for one, any pushback could trigger him to assert dominance over you. It might not necessarily be the most likely thing to happen because you don’t know him or what kind of alpha he is but the truth remains that you know alphas well enough. Your best bet is to play it safe and not cause a scene.

 You glance up at him, a non-committal question mark on your face, and he’s looking over at you expectantly. His lips are pursed like he’s waiting for some response from you, and you realize a little belatedly he said something to you. Your brow furrows ever-so-slightly in confusion while you hesitate for a second or two. When you finally pull your headphones off, he repeats his question.

“bôa, huh? Not bad…” He leans back in his chair, fingers twiddling the metal piece on his hoodie string. His eyes are trained on yours, noting the subtle tension in your body, the hesitation in your movements. He speaks slowly, words deliberate, giving you time to process them and respond. There is no aggression in his tone, and yet your defenses go up automatically.

“You like that kind of music?” he asks, gesturing towards the earphones now hanging around your neck.

“What?” you ask, dumbly, eyes blinking rapidly. Your heart rate picks up speed and you’re not sure if he’s too close or if it’s just your anxiety fucking with your depth perception. Heat rushes your skin and you feel the need to push back your chair to gain a little personal space. It screeches across the floor, and you wonder how long he’s been sitting there. How long has he been staring at you? ‘Is he…stalking…’ Your thoughts fragment, once focused and now reduced to a lag with jitters that feel like a thousand needles pricking your skin everywhere, all at once.

“Twilight, right? ‘Your feelings and mine are all holy and you give me an inner sanctity,’” he quotes the song playing faintly from your headphones,  “My brother used to play that one a lot when we were kids.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he breaks eye contact to glance around the cafe. His nonchalant demeanor contrasts with the obvious tension radiating from you. You don’t like his confidence. It makes you feel that much more unsure of your next moves.

Despite the noise around you, it feels like you and the alpha are in your own domain, the other patrons fading into the background. “I don’t know many people who listen to that kind of stuff these days,” he continues, looking at you once more. “It’s good, though. Nostalgic, even.”  It’s a beat before he speaks again, but his dark eyes remain fixed on you, assessing, measuring your reaction. “You seem a bit tense…”

You swallow thickly, trying to fight the rising panic in your chest. “Sorry, I just...I’m—” 

“Waitin’ for a package?” He cuts you off, glancing down at your phone that lies face up on the table between you. The screen still shows the DM chain you had been looking at. His tone is casual, almost friendly with a hint of amusement in his voice when he adds, “Must be somethin’ real important if you’re checkin’ your messages every five minutes, huh?”

Your eyes follow his line of sight, your anxiety momentarily forgotten. “How’d you...?” You sputter out a few half-formed sentences before trailing off. The ‘who, what, when, where and how’ of the matter are a whirlwind of thoughts assaulting your brain as you shake your head slightly. Your palms sweat at the idea that he might be a cop. ‘This… is bad.’

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, your eyes dart around the cafe, trying to see if anyone else is watching you. No one seems to be paying any attention to you two, but you can’t be too careful. ‘If he’s a cop then he’s probably not alone.’ No one seems to stand out but what the fuck do you know? This isn’t your area of expertise. If anything, nevermind not being the big fish to catch in any drug operation or whatever shady people call it. You’re a tadpole in the mix. No, you’re algae. It’s not your world and you’re just on the outside looking in. You’re just self medicating, not involved in the business.

For the first time since he sat down next to you, you take a good look at him. Eyes scanning over his black acid wash jeans and a black hoodie with the words ‘Truth. In. Every. Byte.’ written in bold green lettering across the front. A black leather jacket and a crossbody messenger bag complete his attire. He doesn’t look like what you assume a narc would fucking look like. Nothing like an undercover cop you’d seen on TV. Your eyes find their way back up to his face, taking in a stunning combination of soft and angular features: a strong jawline, defined cheekbones, and a striking black line slashing across his nose which could either be makeup or a tattoo. His lengthy black hair is gathered into two messy buns, with unruly strands spiking out every which way and middle parted bangs tucked behind his ears. The sight of his sly smile on his lips steals your attention, the hint of a canine pricking their plushness.

‘Oh, that’s dangerous.’ You think, unable to tear your eyes away from him. The alpha is attractive. That much you can tell. It’s not like you to get caught up in the attractiveness of random strangers, but then again, you’re not usually subjected to such intense scrutiny. Let alone an alpha aura like his. Encounters aren’t that common an occurrence either and for good reason. 

He notices the way your eyes rake over him, his smile widening faintly at the attention. Most omegas don’t pay him a second look—the piercings, the tattoos, the unconventional fashion sense—but you’re different. Your gaze is different. There’s curiosity there, a flicker of attraction in your eyes, but also something else. Fear. It’s subtle, but he catches it all the same. He likes that a little bit. It makes for a good chase.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I ain’t here to cause you any trouble,” the alpha says, noticing the way you tense up even further when he calls you that pet name. 

Your reaction to his endearment doesn’t surprise him. He can see the way your body stiffens, your muscles bunching up under your oversized clothes. He takes it all in, filing it away for later. “Relax,” he tells you, his expression a picture of calm. “I’m not gonna bite.” His eyes then roll to the side as he scoffs at his own choice of words and you don’t know if it’s self depreciation or arrogance at play.

‘Like hell he’s not gonna bite,’ you panic internally at the notion. Time dilates, each moment stretching out like taffy letting your anxiety build. Tremors rush through your body, graduating from a subtle shake to an intense quaking. The world around you blurs with a suffocating weight bearing down—

He watches you as you spiral internally. It’s like watching a trainwreck in motion, unable to look away. Despite your trembling frame, you’re holding yourself together surprisingly well. Your teeth beginning to chatter is the only giveaway of the turmoil going on inside your head. Anxiety, he guesses, recognizing the symptoms. He’s seen it before, in himself even. And he only waits, hoping that just like you seemed to contain yourself for as long as you could, you’d recover the same way.

“Hey, hey. Calm down,” he tries, his voice just above a whisper. He notices that you're bordering on a panicked state, and he’s quick to try and ease you out of it, not wanting you to suddenly drop on him.. He extends a hand towards you, slowly and carefully, intending to touch your shoulder but stopping just short of actually making contact.

He lets out a soft sigh. “You need to calm down.” He says, his voice firm and authoritative as he leans in close, his eyes locking on yours. “Breathe.”

And you feel the gentle alpha command deep within your chest, right next to what always feels like a bundle of bees wreaking havoc on your nervous system. His proximity to you is overwhelming, the smell of Oakmoss and violet from his leather jacket filling your nostrils. His eyes bore into yours, demanding your attention. ‘Breathe,’ he said, and you try to, you really do.

You desperately try to inhale, needing more of his alpha scent, but your breath keeps catching in your throat because of how faint it is. The rising panic overwhelms its effects, making you exhale raggedly while your lungs work overtime. A numbness spreads through your lips and you wish he would remove the scent blocking patches from his neck.

After a moment of no change, he swiftly retrieves a small tin from your bag and gives it a shake, confirming the sound of pills clinking inside. Then, he grabs a water bottle from his own bag to set on the table before popping open the tin. With gentle precision, he carefully fingers a small tablet and brings it to your lips. “Open,” another command, his voice soft but firm.

You blink, too focused on your labored breathing to register what he’s doing until you feel the cool surface of the pill against your lips. Confusion and a hint of fear flash through your eyes as you stare at him, but he doesn’t look away. ‘Open,’ he said, and your mouth parts almost involuntarily, the pill sliding in. Your throat feels dry as sandpaper, and swallowing is difficult. He notices that too, and within seconds, a water bottle is uncapped.

With a steady grip, he holds the water bottle against your parted lips. His eyes dart from your face to the bottle, watching you take small sips. “Now, swallow,” he says, a hint of approval seeping through his voice. “Good girl.” 

The cool and soothing water slides down your parched throat, but it does little to ease the tightness in your chest. He’s still there, still hovering close to you, his dark gaze never wavering. The whole thing feels oddly intimate, his presence fighting against the wave of anxiety threatening to drown you. It’s a support that you’ve never had before and you cling to it.

The alpha lowers the water bottle, his hand resting firmly against your trembling arm. His thumb brushes gentle reassuring circles against your skin with unexpected tenderness. “Better?” he asks, his voice still quiet and smooth. Soothing.

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. You’re acutely aware of his touch, of the way his fingers feel against your skin. You reflexively swallow, trying to clear the lump that’s lodged in your throat. As your mind clears you consider the variables. This alpha approached you knowing things about you that he shouldn’t; The package arriving at your place soon and the tin of pills stashed in your bag. He’s not a cop because if he was then why would he give you a dose and not arrest you? 

“Who are you?” You ask, your voice barely above a raspy whisper. Your dilated eyes bore into his. Curiosity fights with caution in your expression as you wait for his answer. 

He smiles faintly, responding slowly. “Names are just words,” he murmurs, his low voice deep and resonant. Delivering his words with a sense of resignation, as if he's simply stating facts rather than engaging with the conversation.

‘Fuck you.’

“Don’t Bullshit me,” you reply immediately, your voice stronger than before. Starting to feel better after his intervention has  some of your usual confidence—long absent due to your depressive state— returning. “I want to know who you are and what you want from me.” The drug is kicking in, making your mind move slowly but it’s helping you focus your faster than usual thought process to a decipherable speed. Yeah this fucker’s stalking you for sure. And it could be paranoia. It very well could be, but nobody knows about your little habit. There’s no one that could know..

He looks at you with a playful smirk and says, “Careful now. That’s not how you say ‘thank you,’ is it?” His tone is lighthearted, but there’s a hint of a warning in there too. He lifts one of his pierced brows, giving you a sarcastic look.

You falter slightly at his comment, realizing he’s right. You do owe him a thank you, but you’re not in a place to offer it, so you keep your mouth shut. 

He shakes his head with a low chuckle, sensing your turmoil. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just fuckin’ with ya.” He releases the grip on your arm and leans back, the chair creaking under his weight.

“I’m just someone who’s lookin’ out for you. Whether you realize it or not, I’m not here to hurt you,” he continues. “There is someone closer to you that does want to hurt you though. Your fairy godfather Naoya’s got you tangled up in some shit that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. But…” he pauses, his thumb worrying his lower lip. “I’m here to offer you a little help…if you want it. You’ll have to follow my lead, though. Do exactly as I say, when I say it. Got it?”

Some goddamn nerve. “What the fuck are you talking about? What’s this about Naoya?” you demand, trying to keep your voice steady. You’re aware that you’re pushing your luck with the way you’re speaking to him but you can’t stop yourself. You don’t like being kept in the dark.

He shrugs, unphased by your hostility. If anything, he finds it amusing. He doesn’t mind that you seem to be a bit of a spitfire. In fact, he finds it kind of cute. Even more so because it reminds him of himself. He sighs softly, his shoulders rising and falling with the motion.

Your eyes narrow as you observe him. ‘I set aside being a chickenshit to come out here. I came out of hiding for some fucking WiFi of all things.’ You’re berating yourself internally.  You glance toward the tin of magic in your bag, fingers itching to reach for it. The cafe’s din recedes into the background, and all you hear is the echo of your own ragged breathing. ‘One more… Maybe one more.’

He notices your eyes flick toward your stash and snatches it from your bag, moving it out of your reach. His movements are so quick that they're almost a blur, and the tin disappears into his pocket before you can even protest.

“Oh, none of that shit, focus,” he warns, his voice low and sharp as he snaps his dexterous fingers twice for your attention. The daring look on his face, a silent reprimand for your attempt to seek solace in a pill. He knows that look you give him in return. He’s seen it before. The temptation to bury reality in a haze of oblivion. He knows how easy it is to slip down that rabbit hole and how treacherous the climb back up is.

His face darkens, slight frustration carving deep lines into his features. His words are an insistent prod reminding you that you’re not sitting here alone. “Anyway, Naoya’s pure shit up an infant’s back on a hot day, if you know what I mean. Been keeping tabs on him, and guess what? He’s been skimming off the top of his family’s shipments and using your address for his little drop-offs—not that you’d notice. He’s slick about it, too—someone else picks up his shit and leaves yours outside for you to find, so you’re none the wiser. Delivery confirmed. And now, he’s cooking up a scheme to throw you under the bus, while he waltzes away scot-free. That Xanax order you placed? Forget about it, it’s not happenin’—Don’t look so fuckin’ sad about it. He’s swapped it for a heap of something stronger, alright? It’s about to land on your doorstep with someone else’s name slapped on it. When Zenin’s men come knocking about their missing product, you'll be the one they find. Not Naoya. You’re just a pawn in this, sweetie. Sorry to tell ya.” He punctuates his revelation with a bitter laugh.

Your breath hitches, taking everything in and feeling sick to your stomach. You don’t even have a personal relationship with this man. It was all business and nothing more than that yet he chose to set you up. ‘Does he know I’m an omega—that I can’t do anything to stop this?’ The Zenins are a widely known criminal Organization here in Japan. You’ve seen them on the news time and time again with headlines and coverage about drug trafficking, omega trafficking, gambling, extortion, loan-sharking, and protection rackets. You name it and they’ve done it. These people are the real deal and if they get their hands on you, it doesn’t take much imagination to figure out which of those crimes will be applied. That’s if they don’t kill you. But who’d let an untouched omega go to waste? It’s like your life turned into a True Crime podcast overnight and you’re being forced to listen on the sidelines. “No… No I—”  

The alpha’s eyes widen briefly when he sees the color drain from your face.

 “I think I’m... gonna go home now.” If he couldn’t read lips he’d have no fucking idea what you just said because although your lips were moving, no sound was coming out. Not a peep.

His gaze sharpens as he sizes you up, clocking the tremors racking your body and the panic returning to your voice. “Nah, you’re not going anywhere,” he declares with finality, shaking his head.

“What’s the point?” you mumble.

“Not happenin’,” he snaps, his voice slicing through your haze of despair. “You’re in no state to handle this alone.” He breathes out through his nose, gaze softening slightly. A flicker of genuine concern breaks through his tough exterior. It’s clear that you’re overwhelmed and on the verge of shutting down. Having you out in the fray on your own is a no-go. His alpha won’t have it.

“Why do you even care?” 

“Because from the looks of it, someone needs to care,” he retorts, his irritation tinged with a hint of desperation. “You’re not thinking straight, and you’re as stable as a house of cards in a hurricane. Trust me, going home isn’t gonna fix shit. Haven’t you been listenin’ baby girl?”

“Then what’s the alternative?” you ask, a touch of defiance sparking in your eyes.

His pupils constrict as he leans in close, his hand cupping your face with a grip that borders on possessive. His fingers splay wide, holding you in place as if he’s determined to imprint his words. “You’re not giving up,” his voice low, urgent. “And you’re damn sure not going anywhere alone. You’re coming with me.”

Your breathing picks up, a warmth swirling in your chest again from the magnetism of his alpha aura. Your omega whines at the back of your conscience, wanting, needing to go with him. You feel a flash of vulnerability that you've been keeping tightly locked away these past few years come to the surface. Your heart threatens to beat in a forbidden rhythm over this interaction and you hate it. You hate that you left your home. You hate Naoya and the info broker that set you up with that bastard in the first place. You hate that you like how his hand feels against your touch starved skin and his intense words you can’t make sense of. That barely there Oakmoss and violet blended scent hanging in the air between you.He’s being tender with you. Why? What is the actual fucking reason? It’s burning you up on the inside. You hate it and you love it and you want to go home.

“You stick with me. You do what I say. And, ideally, you stop popping pills like they’re goddamn breath mints,” he smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s something else there instead… longing? No, that’s bullshit.

“Why?” you challenge, meeting his gaze with fire in your eyes.

“Because I said so, Y/n,” he replies, his tone authoritative, concern etched into every line of his face. 

You want to question the tone he’s taking with you further but all that is pushed aside at the mention of your name. Your eyebrows shoot up at the sound of it. “Who the FUCK are you?” you blurt out, voice cracking with disbelief. You’ve never seen this guy a day in your life and somehow he knows your name, your extracurriculars and the true crime clusterfuck you’re caught in. 

His smirk fades into a serious expression, the lines around his mouth tightening. “I know it’s a lot to take in,” he says, his voice low and steady, trying to bridge the gap between the unknown and your growing panic. “But you need to trust me right now. There’s no time for any more explanations. We gotta get a move on.” His eyes dart around the cafe in quick assessment. “For the sake of your comfort, my name is Choso. But you might know me better as 'Dakusuta’.”

00C Masterlist

[serenescribe]

I’m trying not to take too much space but alas! An idea!

Young Sebek Zigvolt has a favorite toy, a lovely doll with a soft body and pretty looking eyes. How ever the young Zigvolt does not know that his favorite toy holds the shackled and captured soul of a dragon fae.

[✐] ficlet frenzy

Malleus knows not of how long he has been trapped here, only that it has been for far too long.

For what feels like an eternity, he has been imprisoned in a deceptively soft prison, soul shackled to the body of a plain cloth doll. And much like he does not know how long it has been, Malleus also does not recall how he got into this situation; there is a gaping hole in his memories between the faded few memories of his past life as fae, and the new life he spends as a children’s plaything.

He has been tossed around from owner to owner. At first, they were hostile enemies, men who were distinctly aware of what they held in their hands. They jeered at him, throwing him around and laughing at him. Look at him, they’d crow, look how helpless he is! The prince of those blasted fae, now nothing but a silly little toy!

He found out soon after that that even if his faculties were severely limited, he still held a sliver of his former power. And for him, Malleus Draconia, the heir apparent to the throne of Briar Valley, a sliver was all he needed.

But that sliver, though enough to free him from his captors, was not enough to break him out of his flimsy, cloth-spun body. So Malleus had little choice but to be passed from owner to owner, starting with the thief who’d found him while ransacking the decrepit remains of his kidnappers’ house, who sold him to make a quick buck, and continuing from generation to generation of humans. He’d seen many people: an elderly woman who collected dolls; a reckless little girl who kept flinging him into the dustiest places; even a collared feline who kept scratching at him with sharp claws, scooping him up with pointed fangs to drag him from place to place!

But by far, his favourite human has to be none other than the boy named Sebek.

The boy had found him at one of many human craftsmarkets, walking by with one of his parents. He had wandered over and picked him up, and for a moment, Malleus had feared for another several years of being thrown around by yet another reckless child, until he was either sold or managed to whisk himself away with meagre savings of his magic.

But he had been surprised by the careful way that Sebek treated him. From his grip — firm but not tight, barely creasing his clothes — to the way he had talked to him after his parents purchased him from the stall… He’d treated Malleus like a person, showing him the sights around them, asking him if he wanted to look at this or that, happy despite Malleus’ inability to reply. And such behaviour had continued long after they’d gotten home that day, stretching over months and months — being dressed in something other than tattered rags, getting carried around from dawn till dusk, being treated as a friend.

Could Malleus really be faulted for having biases? He’d suggested his own name to Sebek after all, wasting a little of his slow-saving magic on suggesting his true name in a dream. He’d found it a little unfortunate at first, when Sebek boldly declared his name as “MALLIE!” rather than what it actually was, but he soon grew fond of it, regarding it as a friendly nickname he never got the opportunity to receive.

Even to this day, he still knows of no way to escape his horrid circumstances, seemingly bound to the body of a doll for an infinite eternity. And though Malleus does miss it sometimes — the autonomy, the magic, the might and power and influence he commanded through his mere presence alone — he cannot deny the fact that he no longer longs to return to the valley. Not for now, at least; not while he is still here with Sebek.

It feels lovely to be wanted for who he is, and not for the prince he happens to be. Perhaps he shall return to longing for the thorny depths of the valley once he is inevitably sold or given away to yet another owner, Sebek discarding him much like everyone else.

But for now, Malleus shall indulge in a strange luxury he’s never thought he’d come to love: to be engulfed by the innocent love of a child, to be bestowed the imperative role of Sebek’s ever-vigilant companion, to be hugged to death and dressed in soft clothes, listening as the boy regales him with fairy tales of a dragon-slaying prince.

[autistic-ben-tennyson]

as someone who relates a lot to both Anakin and Padme because i grew in a stressfully abusive enviroment (not being allowed to express too honest emotions and fear, having to mask my neurodivergent tendencies, not being able to raise my voice ever or cry or be angry, etcetc) and i was a "gifted kid", and on top of that i'm queer. So for a lot of my teenhood i "attached" *badly* to anything that would remotely give me comfort, mostly objects but also people and friends, it's been quite healing to read your analysis about how "attachments" are presented in SW and how the fandom tends to twists attachments as something toxic and selfish, it's understandable when people don't like him but when everyone runs to say he was evil just for getting attached or feeling "too strongly" about something is quite hurtful

victims should be accountable for the things they do wrong, and anakin outright did so many many horrible bad things, but it's cathartic for me bc he shows how victims of abuse and trauma aren't and can't be perfect, and they react in ways that are inherently affected by the enviroment that shaped them, and in the end, anakin had one of the most famous and iconic returns ever, so it's really important to me, and your analysis are great

Thanks anon. I had a period over a couple months where I was very hardcore pro Jedi/anti anakin which in retrospect was really just to fit in with what was popular on tumblr since all the big SW blogs like Kanansdume/antianakin or GFFA are Jedi apologists. I regret a lot of my past behavior and how I treated some Anakin fans. A lot of Jedi stans like to paint anyone who likes Anakin as a right wing dudebro and it doesn’t help that there are a few people who are that way such as caripr94 or Otnesse. Yet their side isn’t much better. There’s a lot of ableism, victim blaming, and queerphobia rebranded to sound progressive. For all their pseudo-wokeness, a lot of them sound like conservatives when they put the blame entirely on Anakin for his fall and refuse to acknowledge systematic and psychological issues he had because they’d have to accept that the Jedi were flawed and not perfect.

Fandom in general has become a lot more puritanical and moralistic. People insist that you can’t show any sympathy or depth for villains, possibly as an overreaction towards movies like Maleficent or Cruella as well as the rise of Trump, hence why everyone felt Big Jack Horner was refreshing and propping up TOH as the anti SU for killing Belos. The SW fandom is no different. Antianakin has a whole pinned post ranting about not just Anakin but Padme, Ahsoka, Kallus and Crosshair too. People insist you must view Anakin as an allegory for a white boy radicalized by 4chan and Jordan Peterson but one could argue he’s closer to those in the global south who live in poverty and oppression as well as queer people who have to hide their relationships or risk being rejected by their communities.

SW isn’t even close to my top fandom or favorite media but I do post about it if it relates to stuff I do like more like anime or Ben 10. It’s easy to write off a character as just born evil which removes the tragedy knowing that he was a good person at one point and dehumanizing villains allows people to reject the idea that they could become that way. I like a lot of characters who are flawed or abrasive because of trauma or abuse they suffered such as Shinji and Asuka from NGE, Hodaka from WWY, Raven from TT or Homura from PMMM. Anakin/Vader is an interesting character who has been dumbed down to just a “fascist MAGA manchild” by some when, for all my criticism of him, is not what Lucas wrote. As a side note, knowing that all 4 OT Vader actors have passed away is sad. RIP Sebastian Shaw, Bob Anderson, David Prowse and James Earl Jones. May the force be with you all.

[mastcrmarksman]

Cliff Notes Version of Main 616 Verse

Some of these events have happened through plotting, discord, and wire, and why you may not find the threads on my blog.

ZERO Upon clint's return to new york post freefall events and the headcanon/blog lore events of ohio (reason for going sober) [ see this post ]

ONE He has been attempting to go sober, he's had a few relapses and has almost given up a few times, his longest stretch and it'd the one he is on now is five and a half months

TWO He was recruited for the Thunderbolts after several rejections from trying to start a new team or move back out to the west coast

THREE Carol Danvers is his sponsor, who has helped him out and been a friend toward him when he hasn't thought he has had any left. ( @ / danversiism is the Carol )

FOUR Even after the months and time he has dedicated to the Thunderbolts, he still has not felt that it is his team or that they are doing anything meaningful and he has been an unhappy "leader" om probation

SIDENOTE Additionally, I think TBolts 2022 did a shoddy job with the whole PR centric team and in general, it'd a short read with poor attempts at call backs and does not treat clint with respect. So in taking inspiration some other comic events and media at the time

FIVE Roxxon is the parent company of the PR agency that Mayor Cage is using for the Thunderbolts. Helen is a very good PR manager, and perhaps doesn't realize, that Roxxon owns her agency, as Roxxon is generally a corporate evil and anti superheroes, Roxxon had funded the Underage Hero Welfare Act which wasn't a good thing, as it genuinely arrested children / young heroes and vigilantes and put them in "schools" and mistreated them and attempted to brainwash them.

SIX So based on that, you imagine the idea of if Marvel had given Tbolts 2022 an actual plot and cared about the team, if they had perhaps taken an angle like introduce Roxxon since in past few years, it seems we are gearing towards a crossover wild Roxxon takedown event (Tony's new run is literally going to be Roxxon-Stark war. Thor's run has Roxxon trying to slander Thor to the public)

SEVEN While Clint has been quietly back in New York, he encountered a disheveled (for lack of better term) Hank Pym ( @ / pympartic ) and takes him in. Gets Hank to doctors and Doctor Strange, and manages to confirm this Hank alive and Ultron free. Not wanting to alert everyone, due to his own worries about Hank and respect for Hank's wishes, he tells no one about his appearance and takes Hank in. Hank Pym becomes his roommate rent free, and honestly has helped Clint find some stability by having someone living with him. He's kept Hank a secret, letting Hank be the one to dictate who knows he is alive or not

EIGHT Additionally, consequences for Clint's actions, he truly does not own the Bed Stuy building anymore and it's one of his biggest regrets. He does not live in Bed Stuy anymore, his new apartment is a two bedroom in a different neighborhood in Brooklyn arranged by Tbolts PR Manager, Helen, who happens to have a key by the way (canon fact).

NINE The combo of asking Carol's advice and her becoming his sponsor along for the fact, Clint has been living with Hank Pym and seeing him recover from his traumas, has lead to Clint really trying these days, and always managing to get back go sober because he likes being sober after his slips, as well as it has led Clint to opening his eyes with how dissatisfied with the state of the Thunderbolts.

TEN His roommate, Hank, has begun to make contact with more and more of their mutuals friends, letting them know he's alive and doing well amd this eventually leads to Clint getting back in contact with a lot with a more people.

ELEVEN Such as Tony ( @ / overclocks ) whom Clint has since asked for help from and announced he wants to be an Avenger again and is in the process of quitting the Thunderbolts, once he gets out the contract he signed but didn't necessary scruntize over details. Additionally, Tony has been kind enough to offer to help Clint and Hank out by allowing them to move into an old brownstone he still has (since your pr manger/boss having keys to your apartment is a red flag).

IN SUMMARY Clint's sponsor is Carol, he's sober and going on 6 months soon, he is quitting the Thunderbolts, focusing efforts to be Avenger worthy, he's moving into a vacant brownstone Tony owns, his roommate is Hank Pym back from "the dead" and he'd reconnecting with people such as kate bishop ( looks at dani @ / purplearchcr ) , steve rogers ( looks at dean @ / shieldslinger ), as well as making new connections ( looking at Cass spider zombie @ / spiderz0mbie ). Clint's in his recovery and redemption era.

This is in general the details I am working with when I write with everyone, and is my main 616 setting and plotlines I am developing or have had an increased interest in writing. So if you see these mentions in other threads, now you know.

There is going be shipping in this main verse in which Clint and Hank are gonna smooch (aka Pow and I are severely brainrotted over Hawkant. Clint should kiss his friend, should marry the old Ant Man and adopt kids with him).

Yet here's a little disclaimer / reminder. I am still multiship

(I love all my ship partners and the verses we develop 💜💕 shout out to lynn, aurora, archer, rain, rocky, pom, and ce. I love our ships so much i am looking at all of you)

I do have other 616 verses beautifully crafted with other writers/friends and based around my ship partners and our ships, and I have posts for those somewhere, or I will make a new own when I redo my connections page, but hey if you're writing partner you're my bestie and we could develop verses too).

[morgenlich]

What made you want to leave the fandom? (it's ok if you don't want to answer)

so, i've been sitting on this ask all day because in general, i've been wanting to clarify what i mean by functionally leaving the fandom....

i'm not cutting it out entirely (for one thing, all my friends are here lol and i do still love hetalia itself), i will still be running the horror week and retweeting art on twitter and visiting pixiv and that kinda thing. i'll probably end up writing fic and drawing for it again. but.

the fandom over the past few months has become a very hostile place, imo. internet culture in general has been getting worse over the years, so it makes sense. but the way people treat each other here....policing how other people choose to represent the countries, nitpicking over historical details, the general way this fandom collectively talks about race and ethnicity and ignores when jews point out the antisemitism of it....it's a lot. i've been here since 2012, and the past year and past few months have been a lot, on top of everything going on with my life offline.

on top of this, i regularly get nasty anons....people telling me to kill myself, or weird invasive shit like asking for detailed hcs about liet's dick or whatever. individually, none of them really bother me, but cumulatively.....it's a lot. it's a lot to deal with, when you're getting shit like that daily lol.

and i also recognize that i've been contributing to the hostile environment of the fandom. i've been snarky and outright mean, and i am sorry for that. i am, as i said the other day, removing myself from the equation, at least for now.

[antimony-medusa]

So I was reading one of @bonesandthebees latest fic (she has a really interesting fantasy cyberpunk crimeboys au, check it out), and she mentioned in the author's note that she was having some comments all mad at a certain character and like, remember that theyse are all messy characters and they'll make mistakes! So of course I went "oh no" and went to look at the comments, because I'm nosy, and Oh Boy, were there angry comments, and it brought up something that I've been thinking in this fandom, and in general.

I don't think it's particularly useful to divide the world into "abusers" and "victims", where any time someone does something bad they're an Abuser and any time someone suffers they're a Victim. I don't think that helps with narrative analysis and I don't think that helps in real life.

Cause like, in fiction, an awful lot of the time it's not super clear-cut. Sometimes there's an unrepentant domestic abuser and you can safely file them as Bad, narrative wants me to hate that guy, but an awful lot of the time the author is deliberately involving conflict, (which is a staple of western storytelling), and people will hurt each other in small and large ways, because people are messy, but the story is trying to bring that conflict to some sort of resolution and healing (or heart-wrenching lack of resolution), not indicating that one person is horrible and is going to be throw away. People will have conflict and it's just conflict, not abuse. Sometimes people will even be abusive and come back from it because redemption and contrition is a thing but that's real complex for the comment section.

In the case of the fic that is getting all the comments that make me go Oh No (spoilers), character A has been kidnapped and has tried to kill one of his kidnappers, as part of an escape attempt. He's also making friends with his kidnappers because they treat him better than his previous life did, and meanwhile, character B, who is the person who was almost killed, is calling character A a name he's freaking out about— because character A has been ritually divested of his name in a religious ritual that character B thinks is bullshit and character B wants to treat character A like a human being— and character A has really complex feelings about the whole situation! And the comments are trying to divide this dynamic into neat Abusers (they can hate) and Victims (they can support in everything). And like, guys, no, this is intended to be a drama, people will be messy and it's intended to see the journey, your guy can also mess up and he's still a fine person. (Or maybe he's not a fine person but you can still see his humanity, but again, real complex for the comment section.) (Also fic is a banger.)

And in real life, dividing the world into Abusers, who hurt people, and Victims, who never do anything bad, is just a really, really dangerous path to go down. Cause let's be honest, we all mess up sometimes. You have got to be able to cope with the fact that sometimes you can hurt a person and that's A Bad Thing that you should try to fix, but that doesn't make you An Ireperrable Bad Person Who Deserves To Die, and someone else hurting you doesn't necessarily mean that they are The Worst Person Ever To Be Shunned From The Community. I have been genuinely hurt by people who never intended harm and who I repaired my relationship with, and I have genuinely hurt people because I was having a brain meltdown and I've both been forgiven and some people decided not to pick that relationship up again, and both are fine, and in neither case am I irreedeemable, and in neither case am I blameless. People are COMPLICATED.

Sometimes you look back at how you were over the past few months and you have to be able to go "well I was shitty". And then you try to do better. Viewing yourself (or other people) as someone who cannot do anything bad OR as someone who cannot do anything good, is just a dangerous path to go down. People are more complex than that.

I dunno I just think it's a bad path to go down.

[liskantope]

A particular sort of resentment seems to have become the defining characteristic of my generation, a resentment that I would broadly describe as coming from expectations that we were set up with about our economic success in adulthood which overall have not been met. A lot of this resentment is directed towards older generations, particularly the generation that raised us. I've never really felt like a part of that collective resentment and particularly have considered taking it out on older generations to be unfair. I'm not going to go into why here, but I've touched on it in a few other posts over the past few years.

Anyway, briefly we could be characterized as the generation that Resents That Our Adult Situation Doesn't Meet Our Expectations. (This maybe is why some unsympathetically spin us as having a particular issue with selfishness and entitlement.)

However, I've observed in just the last few months that I've ever-so-gradually formed my own profound and slow-boiling parallel variant of that resentment: I feel like I was "promised" something (by my culture's expectations, you might say) about the kind of personal social situation that I would have access to as an adult -- which was treated by default as feasible for any adult who didn't deny it to themself by being a shut-in -- and the kind of world I find myself living in is one where intimate social connections are dramatically less available than they were supposed to be. I was "told" everyone finds a partner and can get married and have children and a close, consistent circle of friends if they like by sometime in their late 20's or early 30's, unless there's Something Wrong With Them or they're obviously Doing Something Wrong, and that is not the reality I live in. And this makes me furious. It's unfair. I haven't always acted with ideal initiative or wisdom over the years, but I don't deserve this. And this feeling eats away at me day by day.

(I do nowadays have some of the resentment at the economic reality as well, now that my professional goals look by the month less and less likely to be reached, but it's mostly my own version of this resentment in the form of "academia is much harsher than I was told it would be and I'm less fit for it than everyone set me up to think". And there is some vicarious resentment at in the economic vain for people I know who are truly struggling. But all this takes a backseat to the social stuff.)

As resentful as I am, though, this feels like resentment at the universe, or maybe slightly more specifically, resentment at society, rather than resentment at any particular generation or group of people. Again I would consider that very unfair: it's not my parents' fault that their young adulthood was in a completely different social landscape, that they don't fully understand what this part of the world looks like now, or that it has come to be that way. And in fact, a lot of the bleak social reality of today's world was created by changing values and norms among my own generation, but those happened in response to wider forces and I don't think that justifies laying the blame on my own cohort either. Certain things stink, and the question is whether or how different groups of us can get together and push it in a different direction.

[redrobbingabank]

Batfam in a Bakery

Alright I’ve been working at a bakery for a month and a half now so I’ve begun envisioning a scenario where the Batfam must go undercover and work at a bakery. 

Jason is the chef. He wakes up at one in the morning(a.k.a. finishes patrol) and comes in to make some of the best food. He makes a lot of recipes he learned from Talia in the League, lots from Alfred, and a few from his mom. Once the boss attempted to tell him that that wasn’t what they served. Jason just glared at him until he went away. His stuff sells better anyway. He’s also lowkey stressed the entire time, and if anyone brushes past him he will SCREAM.

Tim was told that he gets free coffee and. Oh boy. He took advantage of that. Like, at least a pt of coffee is consumed solely by him every day. The worst part is that it’s not even good coffee. No one else can stomach it, but Tim shows up and pours it into like a gallon sized metal water bottle while everyone watches in horror. He really hates talking to people, though, and there’s enough of them that sometimes he hides in the back and does case work. If someone tells him to do something he’ll do dishes, but if he’s forced to serve people he has the best customer service facade.

Dick steals snacks because he forgets to eat, and makes Tim eat snacks because he also forgets. One time, he tried to help Jason. This lead to Jason developing Alfred-like sense for when another Wayne tries to touch a cooking utensil. Dick got flipped over Jason’s shoulder when he tried to grab a whisk. He’s the one Tim and Cass ask to get the plates down for cause they’re too short. 

Damian is too young to legally work. He hides out under the guise of Jason’s ‘cute little brother’. To help, he has taken on the duty of guarding the kitchen from Dick’s help attempts and Tim’s occasional sabotage attempts. He regularly asks Jason to make treats for him to give his pets. If he manages to stop someone in a particularly funny way, Jason will do so. Damian has also beaten up a customer who made a racist remark towards him. The others did nothing but sit and watch...well Jason kind of picked up a knife, Cass stood threateningly behind him, Tim quickly found the guy’s social security number and ‘borrowed’ thirty grand, Steph cheered Dami on, and Dick tripped him on his way out. 

Because she doesn’t talk much, Cass generally just works on keeping the place clean or filling orders that were called ahead for. She’s also got a knack for frosting cookies. Sometimes she enlists Damian’s help, and the two of them can decorate insanely fast. People will swear that she doesn’t exist and the shop is cleaned by magic because she’s just Like That. In fact, some people will return just to see if they can find her. People say that they’ve had their coffee topped off and never seen a thing.

Steph runs customer service point along with Dick. She has a good memory for faces, so anytime she recognizes someone connected to the case they’re working, she signals Tim to note it and get whatever information they need. While getting ready to open, she’s gotten really attached to arranging the display to look pretty. Tim has caught her pouring out his gross-ass coffee multiple times. She also likes taking out the trash and recyclables because, according to her, it’s too hot to be inside for long amounts of time. 

Extras: 

The floor near the sink where they wash dishes is Slippery. Like, take whatever you think slippery means and multiply it by ten. Add two. That’s what it’s like. They have ALL gone down. When it happened, Dick had to go home and climb on the chandelier to reassure himself that he could still be called an acrobat. Tim and Steph have both busted stitches falling. Everytime he’s fallen(6 and counting, Tim’s started trying to film it), Damian has let out a string of swears that make Jason break down laughing and Dick hyperventilate. Cass, of course, is the one exception. She can run on that floor.

Dishwashing water: Jason and Cass will make it so hot that you can see steam and handle it fine. Tim and Dami use the same, but they’re just trying to look cool(the water temp you use for dishes does not in fact make you more or less cool) and can only be in direct contact with it for five seconds or less. Dick and Steph use cold water. They have, several times, tried to quickly wash their hands with the steaming water and every time has led to them falling over because they jumped on the Death Floor. Jason has sprayed Dick with the hot water. Steph has sprayed Tim with cold water. Damian has sprayed everyone with the hot water. When he did it to Cass, no one knows what happened, but when he got back to the Manor, he was soaked.

[noahschnappinfs]

Can't get over the stupidity of the argument "he's privileged so we can do whatever we want to him." When you send death threats and doxx people it's a crime regardless of who it's against. If you want to claim to be against discrimination then maybe don't say it's ok if awful things happen to group A just because you personally don't like group A (for dumbass reasons). Just stop ranking people based on who is worthy of respect. Everyone is. If he's receiving death threats and getting harassed he's a victim. Anyone is a victim when that happens to them. Believing that someones income makes them more or less worthy as a person is awful. It's a crime to do that to someone. You go to jail if you get caught doing that. The only reason people get away with it is because it's hard to track people down on social media and the internet tends to be a lawless void these days. It gets people thinking this attitude is ok when it isn't. Which is why I seriously hope some of these people have to deal with consequences. They are way too bold. If you are comfortable treating anyone like shit, you suck. You aren't a good person. Simple as that. You shouldn't be looking for opportunities to get to harass people. You don't get to ever. Besides that, Noah is gay and Jewish and is apart of 2 marginalized groups of people that absolutely experience harassment and hate regardless of income. His money and success doesn't negate that. He is legitimately experiencing hate for those things and the lack of empathy isn't because he has money. Those people don't have empathy for anyone in those groups, Noah's money just gave them a convenient excuse to cling to to try and make themselves feel like the good guy. People who were making fun of him months ago for saying he was scared as a Jew have no human feelings. He's allowed to be scared to be a part of a marginalized group of people. He got death threats and has very real reasons to be scared. The lack of humanity in these people is so horrible.

we can see a bit of the horseshoe theory here because guess what a dedicated extreme right supporter and a self proclaimed liberal have in common? both can be seen calling noah schnapp the f-word on twitter. at the end of the day, they aren’t better than “the enemy” when you end up using the same tactics with people you don’t like. these people literally have said that they would like noah to get hate crimed, break every bone in his body, lose his job and even hurt himself. there’s a total lack on empathy and that’s also because anonymity gives people free range to do whatever they want because they can’t face consequences as easily as irl.

i agree with you in your points, he’s a jewish gay man and he has all the right to fear for his safety and it’s clear these past few months gave him enough reasons with how people have been treating him.

you know…let’s say money may buy him physical safety by getting security/bodyguard but no money can give him mental peace when he’s got so many people wishing him harm and threatening his life and that’s something people don’t see to get as well. that’s total detrimental to somebody’s mental health and considering this generation is all into protecting mental heath, it’s crazy to see people downplay the impact of the harassment noah’s received.