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minawritesfanfic · 3 months ago

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You are who you eat

Dexter Morgan x Reader

Word count: 2k

Summary: After finding out about Dexter’s after hour hobby you start to investigate him while teasing him from afar that you know what he is.

Part 2

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☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Finding a reason to go up to homicide was easy I had an email come in from the sergeant but I also couldn’t be bothered to deliver the brand new computers to homicide yesterday like I was supposed to. I carried the box out of the tiny office, normally I would’ve struggled to carry something this heavy but hauling around dead bodies was unsurprising a great work out. I used my elbow to press the button for the elevator and waited for it to come down, I heard someone come up behind me and turned to see my mystery man. Boy does he have great timing, I glanced down at his ID and under his photo was his name, Dexter Morgan. Got you, I gave him a polite smile turning around as I heard the familiar ding of the elevator and stepped inside. He stepped inside as well tucking his hands into his pockets, it felt odd being so close to someone and knowing except who they are without them knowing a thing.

His expression was calm but I could tell from the slight fidgeting he wasn’t as calm as he let on. Like freak out by last nights encounter, I mean I would be too. If someone caught me just as I was killing someone and there was a high chance they saw my face, I would be shitting my pants and looking over my shoulder for days. Though I have no plans of exposing his secret because that would mean bringing into the question why I was at the car dealership, why I hadn’t reported it then, or of I didn’t mention that part what was I doing at Ann Cohen’s house that late at night anyways. No excuse I could come up would lose their suspicion so it just seemed far better to not involve myself in it at all, if anything it would be easier to just deal with this Dexter person on my own.

The elevator dinged again as we arrived on the next floor, and we both stepped out with our left foot as if we were synchronized together. Our eyes met again and we awkwardly walked out one after another, I let him step ahead of me and watched as he disappeared into the tiny room in the back of the department whilst I began distributing the laptops to each officer and collecting their old ones. I hadn’t been asked to do that but I figured if I didn’t do it now I would likely be sent to do it anyway, and I didn’t have a reason to come up here twice in a day so it’s not like I needed it as an excuse. Doing it now simply saved me from unnecessary work later on, as I got to the last laptop I found myself at Sergeant Doakes desk. My final task in the homicide department for today, hopefully at least.

“Good morning Sergeant, I got your email what can I do for you?” I said as I handed him the new laptop.

“Morning, I heard you were the person to ask about getting into some encrypted files?”

“I am indeed, you can just give me the device and I’ll get tight to it. Is there a deadline or can I do this at my own pace?”

“No deadline as I’m not sure if they will be anything helpful on there, but please make it a priority.” He pulled a silver Dell mini 9, I set it on top of the others in the box making a mental note to look at it later.

“Alright I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can then, if that’s all I should probably go deal with these.” I said raising the box slightly bringing attention to it.

“Thank you, please get back to me as soon as you can.”

With all my task completed I adjust grip on the box and took one last look around the department before turning to leave, my eyes drifted Dexter’s little hiding spot. I was surprised to see him already looking at me, his eye remained trained on me even as I turned away and walked out the department. A odd chill went down my spine as I recalled the look in his eyes it was empty and unreadable, I had definitely crossed a line today. There was no need to make him suspicious of me just yet, I still had plenty left to learn about him. I stepped inside the elevator and rode it back down to my floor and walked back to my office, and quickly started on my next task.

I decided to ignored the laptop for now and followed through with other requests in the building first, I felt it was better to run around now instead of constantly going back and forth. That way I could work on the things I needed to in the office uninterrupted, so I set off to step up a new computer for the deputy chief, helped track down a suspect using their phone for narcotics, and updating the missing persons website to showcase the recent disappearances. I spent the first half of my day running around and was happy to sit and work in my office until 4pm came around, I sat back in my chair and just took a few moments to breathe. I hadn’t made any significant progress with the laptop and honestly it was starting to frustrate me, I didn’t expect this to be easy but whoever encrypted these files sure as hell knew what they were doing. So instead of frustrating myself further I I decided to find out just who Dexter Morgan was, looking him up in the system I saw he had no priors in the system and seemed to be a relatively stand up citizen, too good of one to be honest. I knew it was a facade, considering I heard him say so, you can’t be a serial killer and not have a facade. I found that you had a sister Debra Morgan, I recognized her name from the news about the ice truck killer, but most importantly I found your house.

At first I considered talking to his sister and befriending her but I needed to stay out of sight for now, it I raise your attention any more than I already have it would be long before I might end up on your table as well. Of course that doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to bother him from a distance, I needed some sort of distraction while I went through his place so I had a friend of mine give him a little surprise. I stepped through the open door of your apartment, I glanced around looking at the layout and simple decor.

“Dexter, you left the door open again honey. I thought we talked about that.” I said as I stepping further inside and found a repair man tiding his tools on the floor. “Oh hello, have you seen Dexter?”

“No, manager let me in. Someone reported a leak.” He said not even bothering to look up at me.

“Oh yeah, I told him to get things checked out I’m glad he followed through. Was everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s in order. You can rest assured there’s no leaks in your boyfriend’s apartment.” He finished packing and began to leave.

“That’s great to hear, you have a wonderful day sir.” He gave me an awkward smile and shook his head as he left.

I shit the door behind him and looked around, so this was Dexter’s apartment. I immediately put on gloves, after my research I realized he was In forensics so leaving behind my finger prints wasn’t ideal. I started by checking the books making sure there was nothing inside or under them, then I checked his desk. I rummaged through the drawers and found nothing but the usual clutter, I decided to check his computer since I was more likely to find something there. I debugged my way through the login screen and got into his computer, on the surface there was again nothing but I kept digging until found it. His search history which stupidly he never clears, I found that he had used a lot of police resources from the comfort of his home. Don’t you know that’s illegal Dexter? Thankfully some of the searches showed the names he looked up, I borrowed one of his pens and a sticky note then began writing down as many of the names I could and the days he searched them. If my theory was right these were likely murderers as well who will all turn up missing shortly after dexter searched them. Once I was done there I ventured into the rest of the house and found it all to be normal, minus the obnoxious chest in his closet which I thought was odd but I didn’t have my lock pick to get into it. There wasn’t much left for me to do so I figured I should probably leave incase Dexter also decides to visit home on his lunch break.

★ ✮ ★

Dexter had been on edge all morning, looking over his shoulder just waiting for the coworkers to swoop in and arrest him. As illogical as the thought was, there was no evidence for whoever saw him to back up their claims. Even if they searched his apartment they would find nothing, but an accusation like that doesn’t go away even if it’s proven false. People would still be suspicious and Dexter certainly didn’t need any more prying eyes when he already had Doakes tailing him everywhere he went. He barely managed to get him off his back last night by popping one of his tires, though hope Doakes truly bought his ‘addiction’ and would leave him alone thinking he was in recovery. Still even though no one came knocking at his door during the night to arrest him, which truthfully only made him more anxious but he tried to rationalize it and soothe his anxiety. Maybe they didn’t see his face, they definitely didn’t know his name, maybe they hadn’t seen much of anything, maybe this maybe that. Nothing was certain and Dexter did not like that, he had been careful to live by Harry’s code and the number one rule was to not get caught yet here he was. With a heavy heart Dexter stepped into his tiny slice of the homicide department and was greeted by Masuka.

“Oh hey Dex, there’s something on your desk waiting for you. It looks like someone has a secret admirer.” He said with his signature laugh.

Dexter quirked a brow and saw it, a brightly colored cupcake with a pin stuck in it that said ‘eat me’. He furrowed his brows and ripped the cupcake in half with his thumbs and found a note inside, ‘Roger was a scumbag, wasn’t he? Your secret admirer’. Dexter felt his blood run cold as he fell back into his seat, whoever it was that saw him knew it was him. He didn’t like this not one bit, he needed to find out who sent this.

“Hey Masuka, any idea who sent me this?”

“I can’t tell you that, the point of a secret admirer is that its a secret.” Dexter frowned but didn’t push it, there were other ways to find out.

Dexter was wrong, terribly wrong, whoever this ‘secret admirer’ was had connections with people all throughout the building. He had been asking all around the station all day but everyone he asked was adamant on not exposing their identity, it was like some sick game and he was losing it. His nerves were eased because at least it seems like they aren’t going to expose him for his dark secret for now, but Dexter didn’t like the uncertainty of not knowing if they ever would. This isn’t what he should be worried about right now, he needed to get ahead of this bay harbor butcher thing before they tied it back to him. It was only a matter of time until Lundy would catch on, but he also needed to work things out with Rita and convince her he was committed to his ‘recovery’. There was a lot more on his plate than he was comfortable with, Dexter felt as if he was starting to drown, if things continued the way they were he was certain he would go insane.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

#minawritesfanfic #reader insert #x reader #my writing #fanfiction #fluff #dexter morgan #dexter moser #dexter morgan x reader #dexter

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rue-dixon · 3 months ago

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This panel is on my mind 24/7. I want more context, I want a mini comic from Kui about it so bad. Also it's hilarious how this is the only time we actually see his daughters in the canon manga.

We probably won't get any more context about it since it most likely wasn't a real situation that happened and just an example. But I wrote a short fanfic inspired but it anyways.

Falin adjusted the glowing lantern next to her, making sure she could see the party clearly as she sat up against the cold brick wall. She shivered from the brisk air before pulling the blanket tighter over her shoulders to combat it. Amber eyes grew heavy as they carefully combed over each of her sleeping party members peaceful forms.

Despite all these uncomfortable conditions, she never minded taking watch for her companions. It made her grateful, able to be useful to them. As well as providing them a good night's rest. Shuro's protests of taking her shifts for her began to get tiresome, however, she appreciated his consideration for her wellbeing.

The night went smoothly, no disturbances until rustling from the smallest sleeping bag caught her attention. Curious, Falin sat up, however she was certain it was nothing to be alarmed over. Watching as Chilchuck rolled around in his sleep. Normally, this would not bother her, but something inside her silently told her to keep a watchful eye on the half-foot.  As she did so, she noticed how seemingly innocent shifting turned to restless tossing and turning. Her worry solidified when his steady breaths turned to small whimpers, and his face contorted and scrunched in an unpleasant way.

Nightmares. She thought, this had happened to Shuro the other night as well. The area they were traveling in seemed to be infested with them. No matter, Falin knew how to deal with them easily. Firstly, she crawled over to where her older brother lay asleep. Gently shaking his shoulder, whispering to him.

"Brother... brother... please wake up."

With a soft groan, Laios' eyes fluttered open. Seeing his sister looking worried above him caused him to sit up.

"Falin, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm alright, it's Mr. Chilchuck, he seems to be having nightmare troubles. Will you watch over me while I go into his dreams?"

Laios turned his attention to Chilchuck now, who lay a decent distance away from the group. He was always like that, kept his distance, and kept conversations to business purposes only. Not that anyone minded, his sore attitude about everything didn't make him the easiest to get along with.

"Yeah, sure, of course." Laios stretched, yawning before he sat up. Following his sister to Chilchuck's bedroll.

Falin carried her pillow under her arm, before gently placing it on top of Chilchuck. Moving it long ways so it wouldn't cover his whole body. She laid her head down, but gently and just on the edge of the pillow. Not wanting to put too much weight on his small, relatively thinner body.

"We should be fine, but keep an eye out just in case, okay?" Falin smiled to her brother, her eyes already feeling drowsy.

Laios nodded, "I got it."

Chilchuck began to break out into a sweat. His teeth grinding together as his body trembled. Falin could feel it through the pillow, which only heightened her worries. Saying a small prayer in her mind that would hopefully bless her with the gift of sleep faster, before finally closing her eyes.

 _____

Man, I'm tired, Chilchuck thought to himself. His boots crunched against the gravel path as he walked the short distance from the main road to his house. The last job he had just finished went sour, causing the party composed of majority strong races to storm out on him. Angry that all the chests he had unlocked for them were empty. Claiming he was holding out on them despite having no reason to. What idiots. None of that mattered now, because he was home.

Although the house he was approaching wasn't the home he created with his wife and three children. It was the home he had grown up in, the one where he lived with his two younger brothers, his mother, and his alcoholic father for a short period of time. The place where his older sister and brother would visit once a year with their own children. However, that realization did not make its way to Chilchuck's mind. It was home. Plain and simple.

As he approached the door, he felt his stomach drop as he saw a small heap of blue and white fabric laying on the door step. The front door ajar, and the figure lay halfway in.  The backpack he carried dropped to the floor as he rushed to her side. His wife. He hadn't needed to see her face to know it was her, the black curls that accompanied the soft blue dress was enough evidence.  He called her name, but got no reply in return. Dropping to his knees, he reached to hold her, to see what had happened. The blood seeping from her stomach was pooling around them, staining his hands forever as he demanded what happened.

"No..." her voice raspy as she could barely keep her eyes open to look at him.

"Wh-what? No- what do you mean no?!" His voice was a blend of panic and rage as he spoke. Confused and now angry as she tried to push him away. Chilchuck had always known he wasn't the world's most perfect husband, but he was not cruel enough to warrant any thought from his wife that he might've been the reason she currently lay in a bath of her own blood.

"The girls..." she managed before choking, couching as blood sputtered from her once pink lips. Now drained of color following the rest of her already naturally milky skin. Her body resembling a talking corpse. With a shaky and weakened hand, she lifted her finger to the door.

All at once, everything clicked into place. The girls. My daughters. My babies.

In an instant he was back on his feet, practically tearing the door down with how fast he entered. Looking around, the whole house looked like it had been raided by orc soldiers that had just returned from war. Dread filled Chilchuck, making his chest pained and heavy as he began to search the house. It was not long until he found what he was searching for.

His three daughters, only teenagers by half-foot maturities, lay motionless on the carpet of the common room. Blood painted the walls like a toddler's personal art project. Cracks and chunks from the material itself had somehow gone missing. However, the first thing he noticed about the crime scene, besides the obvious, was the giant ax lodged into the wall above his kin's head. An ax he knew well to belong to one of the dwarfs in the party that had been enraged with him just a few hours before.  Nevertheless, revenge or who the culprit was was not on his mind. With a limped stride, he made his way to them. Shaking, pained breaths wracking through his body. His knees giving out from the shaking, having to force himself to crawl the rest of the way.

Cuts, bruises, gashes, and what looked to be broken bones littered their once flawless, lively bodies. Streams of blood poured from each of their mouths. Flertom had the most blood on her light-colored dress, slowly seeping into the fabric like a sponge, turning it an unsettling scarlet color. Iconic, her favorite color had been deep red since she was a baby.

"Mei... Fler... Puck..." His eyes widen as his voice broke and cracked.

Unable to take all three of them in his arms, he moved them so each of their heads fit nuzzled into his lap. No tears found their way to his eyes, the panic and pain felt like it had halted all bodily functions permanently.

Trembling hands gently caressed their necks and lower jaws. Testing each pulse as he had done with careless adventurers many times before. Never in his life could he have dreamt of using the technique on his own children. Let alone in their own home, when their biggest crime was simply being of his blood. The cause of their horrid deaths being that he loved them, and that people knew how much he loved them.

Dry sobs broke from him as two delicate fingers moved from girl to girl. Ending at the end of the line with Puckpatti, the realization that he felt nothing under the pads of his finger tips settling. Not even with his heightened senses could he feel even the slightest breath of a pulse.

A strangled cry filled the room as he hunched over. His body draping over them like a blanket. As if he were protecting them from the world, something he had failed to do. Failing to do the most basic promise as a father to his children. Clutching at their clothes in fists as if that would somehow ground him.

The love of his life as well as his babies, the most important things in a thousand lifetimes to him, were just stolen from him. All because of some greedy adventurers who didn't like that he had not rained riches upon them. Something that was not even his fault, they were the dimwits who went against his advice and traveled down passages of the dungeons that had been rummaged through hundreds of times over the years since this dungeon had been founded.

As he mourned, a snowy white dove entered from above. Landing on the floor in front of him. Seemingly purposeful about where it chose to stand. Out of the way of any of the blood and gore around them. Chilchuck slowly looked up, his eyes painfully red as he continued to heave. Him and the peaceful bird made eye contact, part of his felt like it was speaking to him. However he didn't understand what exactly it was saying, but when it rose in the air once more, his previous grief seemed to momentarily subside.  Pulling himself to his feet, he felt inclined to follow. With shaky steps, he followed the dove. Reaching out with a limp hand as if asking it to come back. He was not sure why he felt inclined to follow it, his family had just been slaughtered, but here he was chasing a bird like a mindless fool.

Stumbling to keep up, the pretty dove led him out the door. He was so focused on the dove itself he hadn't realized how far they'd gone. Until everything seemed to be melting together around him. Colors mixing together before falling away completely, leaving behind a white void. The white light around him grew brighter and brighter, his skin feeling warm and hyperaware before-

 He woke up. With a heavy gasp, Chilchuck rose. Inhaling sharply, causing him to cough. He hacked as he looked around the dimly lit campsite. The sight of Falin rising as well, after just lying on his stomach, had only confused him more. Beating his chest before finally catching his breath, he cringed as he realized how sweaty he was. Causing his whole body to be locked in a constant chill.

"What-what the hell.." he called coughing, looking to Falin and Laios.

Without a word, Laios reached under Chilchuck's pillow, pulling out a handful of the clam-like dragons known as nightmares. Before tossing them under his shoe and crushing them.

"Nightmares." Laios sighed, "must've slipped in your pillow when you went to grab water."

Chilchuck groaned, his head falling into his hands as he rubbed his temples. Just great. He knew how Falin dealt with nightmares, therefore, he knew she saw what had happened. The idea that this newer party he had recently contracted with now possibly knew of his family did not ease his racing heart in the slightest. Only causing the possibility of his nightmare becoming a reality. Sitting there, taking a moment to catch his breath. Logic quickly settled his mind. All three of his daughters were grown and out on their own. Each far away, living their own lives. As for his wife, she was also long gone. Off to live with Flertom, whether it was a break or a wordless breakup, he still wasn't sure. However, now was most certainly not the time to dwindle over his strained marriage.

"Thanks.." he muttered, refusing to look Falin in the eyes, partly due to his own shame at the forced show of pure vulnerability.

"Of course." Falin smiled her signature, heart melting smile.

 ________

 The group walked down the long hall way. Laios talking Shuro half to death in the front. Namari trailing behind, bickering with Asivia about something Chilchuck didn't bother to tune into.  Him and Falin walked side by side a short way towards the back, now would be a better time than any. He thought to himself before clearing his throat to catch the young woman's attention.

"Uh- Falin?"

Falin looked down at him, "yes?"

A tingling heat already found his cheeks as he looked to the side, trying to ignore it. "Um.. do you remember what you saw in my nightmare last night..?"

She nodded, "somewhat. I remember the massacre, but not many of the details, like the women's features or the home. I am truly sorry you had to endure that. I should have noticed your discomfort sooner."  The sincerity and guilt in her voice only made Chilchuck more uncomfortable. Coughing again, he put on a voice as if to fake some sort of confident authority.

"Uh well. If you could, not discuss what you saw. I would really appreciate it."

Falin stared at him for a moment before smiling again with her pure smile.  "Of course. In fact, consider the incident completely forgotten." She chirped before turning back to the path.

Chilchuck exiled softly, that was easy. However, this was Falin. He hadn't expected less. Now if it were Marcille who had gone into his dream, he thought he'd rather deal with the entire dream by himself and gladly let the clam feast upon his fears. Honestly, if he were forced to share that scaring mental image with anyone in this particular party, he would've chosen Falin anyway. He believed her words she had spoke to him a moment ago, she would not tell another soul. It seemed even if she did so, it wouldn't be much help to use against him anyway. Relaxing, in a more contempt state now, he couldn't help but still feel a small pang in his heart. Despite how awful the nightmare was, it had made him realize something about himself. Working nonstop constantly, he never really had moments to himself. Which never gave him a clear moment to think about just how much he missed them.

#dungeon meshi #chilchuck #delicious in dungeon #chilchuck tims #chilchuk dungeon meshi #chilchack #chilchuck's wife #dunmeshi #meijack #flertom #puckpatti #meijack chils #flertom chils #puckpatti chils #dadchuck #falin touden #laios touden

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charmercharm3r · 2 years ago

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Can I make a request? Lee Know being a soft dom and possessive with a brat gf. They had an argument, but later meet up at an event. She wore a shoooort dress that barely covers her butt just to get to him and she gets punished when the get home. The brain rot is real >.<

I'm so sorry this took almost a month...it's been a loooong December. hopefully this is worth the wait!

Angels in Bodycons

LMH

Masterlist

wc: 5.2k

warnings: smut, sexual explicit content, dom!minho, angry sex?, orgasm denial, use of toys, handcuffs, masturbation (m), cumshots, reader is a brat, mean nicknames (slut), jealousy?, also fluff sprinkled in there

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.” Minho wasn’t budging. It was the same argument about the same dress every time. He loved it and despised it, the glossy black satin was perfectly shaped to your body and bunched slightly at the hips, accentuating your curves. The sweetheart neckline was lined with lace, he couldn’t pry his eyes away. The only other place he ventured to stare at was the decreasing length, your legs completely exposed and your ass just barely covered. Which was the exact reason Minho refused to let you leave the house wearing it.

“You’re sounding a bit possessive there, babe. It’s my body.” You weren’t supposed to be getting ready for another few hours, hair messy and face bare as you reached into your top to adjust your breasts so they filled the cups nicer.

Minho was supposed to be attending another red carpet event and he was allowed a plus one— not that anyone knew. Dating in his profession is, after all, forbidden. No one needed to know anyways, but having to keep you a secret made him all the more anxious to bring you with him. He couldn’t hold your hand or sling an arm around your waist when someone was getting just a bit too close. Being dressed moderately was the one thing he asked of you during times like these.

“No, it’s our body. Because you’re mine,” he stood from his spot on the bed, coming up behind you and kissing your cheek. Just as he did, he slyly unzipped the back of your dress.

The sweet gesture was just a diversion from his words that you processed a second too late. He was already making his way into the bathroom when you spoke again. “My body is my body, Min.” Bathroom door just slightly ajar, you knew he could hear you.

You stepped out of the dress and hung it, displaying it on the bedroom door. “Sure, of course it’s your body, baby,” he called back. “But this is a big event. I don’t want you to embarrass me by wearing something that looks like you just walked out of a love motel.”

Goosebumps raised against your bare skin, temperature suddenly running hot even though you were just in panties and a bra. You felt uncomfortable in your own skin by his words. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Your voice raised.

Minho kicked the bathroom door open a bit wider, barely peeking at you from over his shoulder as he picked up his shaving cream and razor. “Don’t make that face. You know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t,” you crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed now. “Explain it to me in a way my tiny hooker mind can understand.”

“I never said you were—“

“You didn’t have to.”

“Babe, c’mon. I don’t have time for this now. You know how I feel about the dress. End of story.”

He continued on with his routine, mumbling something about having to get to the company for hair and makeup before going to the event. You sat in your shared bed with the covers up to your neck, almost stewing in petty anger. The conversation about the dress ended the same way every time, there was no winning when Minho was this stubborn.

The goosebumps didn’t fade as you watched him scurry around grabbing what he needed. His words replayed in your mind and only added to your growing temperament. It made you feel small, humiliated, and self conscious. Is that really what he thought of you? Was that the real reason he didn’t want to be seen in public with you?

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with me now? If we get there early, they might have time to do your makeup, too.” Minho offered as he slipped on his shoes.

You hadn’t moved an inch since covering up in bed. “No. Don’t want your hooker girlfriend to embarrass you.” He stopped dead in his movements, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing.

“Please, Y/N. You’re not a hooker and you‘re not an embarrassment.”

He was about ready to leave when you muttered to yourself in anger, “not an embarrassment ‘cus I technically don’t exist.”

“I heard that.” Entirely fed up, Minho almost walked out the door right then. But even through his negative emotions, he made his way to the bedroom to see you off. Coming up to your side of the bed, he leaned in to kiss you. When you didn’t kiss him back, Minho clicked his tongue and grumbled, “fine. Don’t bother coming if you’re going to be like that. See if I care.” And he left.

It had been hours since you last spoke to your boyfriend. Fighting with him was the one thing you hated most, it was tiring and unnecessary. But this was an ongoing issue. If he hated the dress that much, he would’ve thrown it away and not told you. Instead, he ogles you in it and promises to rip it off your body while simultaneously threatening to burn it if you dared to wear it outside the confines of your house. His last parting words sparked what would be the beginning of your worst idea yet.

Pretty, coquette-esque makeup, hair neatly styled, the only thing missing was your dress. The one Minho specifically wanted shredded called out to you. It was screaming for you to put it on and see if he cares. That’s exactly what you did.

You showed up to the event in the dress, adding some sheer tights for the littlest bit of decency possible. You disregarded all the looks you got from strangers as you entered the building and did as told so that you could get in as an artist plus one. Contrary to Minho’s thoughts on the dress, his stylists had another opinion. Befriending them back when you first started dating had since boosted your ego exponentially, they were always kind and supportive. Especially now as you spotted them along the side of the large ceremonial room. You stuck with them, talking about anything and everything as you scanned the crowd. “He’s over there,” one of them mentioned, motioning with her eyes towards your boyfriend and his group members.

They were huddled around their table like a pack of high school boys, laughing amongst themselves when one of them tossed a half empty water bottle into the air and landed straight up. On the far side of the table that faced you, you made eye contact with Chan, who discreetly nudged your boyfriend next to him. Minho shot his head in the direction of his friend's eyes and landed on you. For a moment, he smiled brightly. Then his gaze tracked down and the smile faded. Slumping back in his chair you could see him purse his lips and tongue at his cheek in annoyance.

The displeased expression on his face made you feel vulnerable, heart shaking in your chest a little as you nervously tug the end of the dress down. Perhaps the sudden change in your attitude drew too much attention, the same stylist put her hand on your shoulder and said sweetly, “you look good. Don’t worry about him.” You gave her an apologetic smile.

It was a few more hours of mingling with the hair and makeup group, whom you’d grown accustomed to hanging out with at these events. The few of you found an open table and were chit chatting when someone came up behind you, leaning over your shoulder and saying, “hi, are you new? I’ve never seen you around before.”

The voice was one you didn’t recognize, turning to find a man. He didn’t seem to be dressed as the other idols in flashy clothes but rather a simple dark blue suit. He introduced himself and took the empty seat next to you. Over the course of a few minutes of talking to him, you found out he was a stylist for another group, to which your friends welcomed him happily.

What you didn’t see was your boyfriend boring holes into the back of your head from across the room. If anyone outside of your group had any idea of your relationship, they’d see the steam coming out of his ears.

By the time the end of the night rolled around, you’d only glanced at Minho a handful, each time he was already looking at you with clear anger. The male stylist next to you leaned over to you once more and whispered, “you look amazing.”

Your eyes went wide for a moment, caught off guard. An unknown blush creeped upon your cheeks, “thank you,” was all you’d said in response.

But Minho could see everything. He could see the stranger lingering a little too closely for a little too long, he could see your lips smiling and moving overly enthusiastically, he could see you getting flustered at whatever it was the man was telling you. He watched your little group stand and start to leave for the night. The man put his hand on the small of your back and stayed by your side until it was time for you to part ways. In the minute it took to say goodbye, you never once adjusted the length of your dress, ass practically on display for the entirety of the industry to see.

All the while, Minho did his best to keep a cool demeanor. But his friends were walking too slow for his liking, ultimately taking the lead and striding perhaps a bit too fast for any normal idol to be taking when parting the spotlight.

You were still conversing with some of the other staff when the group walked into the lounge room. Already stripping off his costume blazer, Minho silently made his way over to you and handed the coat to the stylist, shooing her away as politely as he possibly could in the heat of his anger. “Hey baby,” you whispered, smiling sweetly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He backed you against the wall, keeping his voice low.

“Supporting you? Talking with my friends?” You tilted your head up, “you look great, so cute in white.” The tips of your fingers played with the hem of his button up.

Minho grabbed your hand to stop your fidgeting, gaze hard on your face and dead serious. It was hard to keep up the playful attitude when you could feel the heat of his feverish skin. Your smile faded, meeting his stare. Subconsciously you pulled down the hem of your dress, arms coming up to cover your chest. The way he was looking at you now wasn’t your boyfriend, it wasn’t loving or sweet— instead replaced with exasperation and a bone chilling void that took over his usual warm eyes. He didn’t need to say anything else, only barely furrowing his eyebrows and letting the grip on your hand loosen slightly.

He didn’t need to say anything else when you moved towards his spare change of clothes and took his hoodie and draped it over yourself. He didn’t need to say anything as you pulled your dress down as far as it would go. He didn’t need to say anything as you waited for him to be allowed to leave and ordered a cab as soon as possible. Even as the two of you made your way home in silence, his hands in his lap but knees laid against yours, Minho didn’t say anything.

The walk from the outside of your building up to your front door felt both too slow and not slow enough, the bubbling nervousness in your gut as your boyfriend threw his keys onto the coffee table and ran a hand through his neatly styled hair finally burst. Word vomit.

“I— I know you’re mad and I’m sorry for not doing as you wanted but I don’t regret wearing the dress. You might not like me in it but I felt pretty for once! In a room full of beautiful people, I felt pretty and I felt confident, then you look at me like you’re disgusted by me and it makes me feel like shit. But damn it, I felt pretty. So I’m sorry for embarrassing you but I’m not sorry for feeling pretty.” No, not word vomit. Completely and utter annihilation of any waning conviction you might’ve had.

By the time you’d caught your breath, Minho was standing with his hands crossed over his chest and eyes blinking blankly at you. He didn’t even so much as breathe loud enough for you to hear. Silence. Deafening silence.

“Say something,” you pleaded, voice cracking as your throat burned and eyes stung with pressing tears.

But Minho didn’t. Instead, he dropped his eyes down from your face towards your chest that was covered by his hoodie. In a blink, he was standing before you in the middle of your living room and was stripping the garment away. Hardly touching you, his hands spun you by the waist to turn around, gently peeling the straps off your shoulders and unzipping the dress. When it fell to the floor, he moved onto the stockings, taking hold of the waistband and ripping the flimsy material in half so it joined the pile at your feet.

You stood there quiet and self conscious. You knew he was looking at you, up and down, arms coming to cover your bare chest once again. The lacy black panties did extremely little to hide the remaining parts of you, your legs pressing together.

“You think,” Minho’s gentle voice whispered in your ear, “I'm disgusted by you?” You didn’t trust yourself to speak, only nodding and shutting your eyes tightly.

“Stupid baby,” tone of voice mockingly sweet, your skin raising goosebumps as he reached around to caress your forearms. The feeling of his shirt against your naked back made you tense up, but also fold at the heat of his body behind yours. “You were the most beautiful one in the room.”

He interlaced his fingers with yours, slowly pulling your hands away from your chest to leave you entirely exposed. Your breathing became more labored as he let you go only to trail his fingers back up your arm towards your neck, tangling his fingers into your hair. You almost let your guard down at how kind he was being, shuddering when you felt his lips pressing at the junction of your shoulder. And in a split second, Minho tugged your head back by the roots of your hair and latched onto your neck with his teeth. It made you gasp and emit a broken groan.

You could do nothing but ball up your fists and arch your back into him, do nothing but take the harshness of his bruising teeth. The few seconds he’d take to lap his tongue over the raw skin would transmit into his grip in your hair by pulling tighter. His free hand came back between your legs, hooking his fingers under the thin strap covering your cunt and pulling hard. The arousal-soaked fabric rubbed at your clit, not nearly enough for pleasure but just enough for minor relief. There were so many things happening at once, your brain felt hazy and it was only getting cloudier. You didn’t realize you were rutting your hips into nothing but the tightened panties until he let go, moving to tug you by the hip flush against his. Ass slamming into his clothed erection, your brain screamed at you to stay still, stay still and maybe he’ll be nice.

No, you couldn’t. Adrenaline was coursing through your body and it took over your foggy, horny brain. You rubbed against his crotch, hoping to entice him into taking them off. But he didn’t, all Minho did was let you writhe in his grasp and tease yourself over his clothes. Then, raising his hand from your hip, it came back down and collided with your skin. Your back bent at an almost bone breaking angle. He did it again, and once more, slapping the same reaction out of you until you were gasping for air.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t tie you up and punish you until you're begging me to stop.”

His breath was hot against your cheek, if you were just a bit more in your head you wouldn’t have caught that his chest was heaving as heavily as yours.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say.

Minho clicked his tongue, “not good enough, princess.”

Like on a leash he tugged you in the direction of your bedroom behind him, being thrown into the center of the bed and taking off your panties. Instantly, he stole the garment from you and dangled it from the tip of his finger. Minho loomed over you from the edge of the bed, tall and daunting. In a whisper, “are you sure you want this?” Following his eyes to the panties, you nodded shyly. “I need you to use your words, baby. I’m angry but I don’t want to hurt you… too much. So speak while I’m still letting you.”

Sitting up on your elbows and legs spreading, “I want this.” An unreadable smirk disguised as deviance and mischief crept upon his face.

“I won’t stop. You know the word.”

The word in question; catnip– because why else would you be thinking about catnip while he was torturing you unless it became too much? Or three taps onto him or any hard surface that could get his attention. Minho didn’t need to repeat the safeword aloud for you to know what he meant.

When you nodded, he walked around the side of the bed purposefully. He still towered over you as he reached down to caress your cheek, the only moment of saccharine he’d shown you since that morning before he left. And in a split second, the same hand wrapped around the back of your neck and your panties were being shoved into your mouth. The taste of your arousal was more of a turn on than you’d ever care to admit, but Minho knew you liked it. He knew your limits and had every intention of pushing you to the very brink.

Cunt still exposed, mouth full, you watched and waited as your boyfriend reached under the bed for his black box of goodies. He shook it in his hands, the rattling of toys only making your pussy clench in anticipation. Warmth shot through you as he dug around in it, eventually finding what he was looking for and tilting his head in your direction. “You’ve pushed it too far tonight, princess. Don’t these look too appealing?” The clinging of his favorite gadget made your eyes grow wide. Shiny silver handcuffs, not even lined because he enjoyed being able to reminisce.

Minho dangled them the same way he did your panties then unlocked them, setting the key onto the bedside table. Still fully clothed, he manhandled you onto your stomach and hiked your ass into the air. He was rough in the way he forced your head into the mattress and locked your arms behind your back. There was hardly any room for your wrists to move without the cuffs digging into your skin, only enough to not cut the circulation. Even though he explicitly said he wouldn’t go easy, it wasn’t until you tried to tug on the bondage did it really sink in how badly you’d fucked up tonight.

He’d left you in this compromising position for a split second and left the room, coming back with your dress in hand. You could see him over your shoulder toss it onto the lounge chair in the corner of the room that was perfectly placed in your line of vision. Wordlessly, Minho reached into the black box again, not allowing you to see what he pulled out. But you couldn’t take the silence anymore, attempting to speak but muffled by the panties in your mouth. With a sigh, he pulled the gag from your mouth for just a moment.

“Say what you wanna say. Last chance.” He peered at you with shadowed eyes, not entirely the same way he did in the dressing room but nowhere near your boyfriend’s usual kind demeanor. Stoic, stern, horny beyond belief but the need to prove a point much greater than the straining in his pants.

“Talk to me.” Your voice cracked, weary but prepared for whatever he had in store. Minho’s eyes softened for just a second. “Please. Talk to me.” He nodded just once before gently pushing the panties back into your mouth.

The buzzing sound of a vibration filled the tense room, your ass swaying in the air in response. It was completely involuntary, you were no stranger to those sounds. It made you clench around nothing again, cunt puffy and untouched and so desperate.

Without warning, Minho shoved the vibrator into your clit, dull thrum just enough to make your body jolt forward and push your face further into the sheets. Your fingernails dug into the skin of your palms, the stimulation already proving to be more than you anticipated. In fact, it was hardly anything, Minho was hardly giving you anything and yet you were mewling like a cat in heat.

He stood on his knees behind you, caging your legs between his as he held the toy. “Close your legs, slut.” His voice was rough, condescending as he forced your legs shut with his own and entrapping the toy between them. The nickname made you shiver along with the added vibrations throughout your lower half. “If you let go, you won’t be cumming tonight.”

He wanted you to hold the vibrator between your legs, but it was already becoming more difficult to do, especially when he raised the speed by two. It was slightly more than a thrum now, making your muscles clench and body twitch.

You moaned into the fabric, blinking away the painful and pleasurable tears. Minho moved towards the seat with your dress, turning his back to you and picking it up. “Why can’t you just listen to me? Why do you make me punish you?” The sound of his zipper opening and fumbling fabric stood out between your own lewd moans.

Neck and shoulders already aching, you tried to get a better look at him but as you moved the vibrator shifted. It pressed into your clit at a different angle, a better angle that had your body going stiff at the coil tightening in your gut.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare,” Minho ordered, slumping onto the chair. His cock was out, pants down his thighs and your dress in hand. “Keep looking at me, princess.” The vibrations started to feel stronger and not enough at the same thing, the constant stimulation leading you down a dangerous path.

“You’re always pretty– always so damn pretty it hurts.” You did your best to breathe and force your orgasm back, but your request for him to keep speaking made it hard. Slowly, his free hand came down to his dick, just holding it straight up and tightening his grip around the base. “Do you know how hard it is,” Minho reached down to his balls, “to watch you be so pretty and I can’t do a damn thing about it?”

Bringing your dress to his nose, he inhaled deeply, then exhaled and his eyes rolled closed. “And you smell so good. I bet that guy could smell you, too. I almost yelled across the room to get him to back up.” You watched as he stroked his cock slowly, up and down while your body spasmed in restrained pleasure. “I saw the way you blushed, princess. Did he compliment you? Is that where all that fake courage to talk back to me came from?”

The sudden surge of your high nearing made you whine louder, but fell upon deaf ears as Minho continued. “Yeah, that’s what it was. You’re a little praise slut. My praise slut. Do I not make you feel pretty, angel?” Fending off your orgasm and answering him was the hardest thing you’d faced so far, shaking your head and your muffled words turning into a whimper. “No, I treat you so well. The one time I ask you not to do something, you do it anyway. This fucking dress. You looked so gorgeous tonight.” You moaned louder, unable to stop the tears from seeping into the mattress as he started to twist his wrist faster.

If you weren’t gagged, Minho would’ve heard you begging like your life depended on it. With how intent he was at keeping eye contact, it very well could’ve. You struggled to keep your body up and the cuffs jingled every time you attempted to pull your wrist apart. Every time your orgasm passed, it rose quicker the next time around. You were stuck in a torturous state of give, give, give, deny. Repeat.

A grin washed across your boyfriend’s face as he watched your muscles tighten to fight the high. He was proud that you even lasted this long, and usually he would never tell you that, opting to show you. But he learned something new when your toes curled as he called you beautiful again. “Never gonna let you wear this fucking dress again,” his hand around his cock sped up, heaving in your lingering scent on the fabric.

Through gritted teeth and the taste of your arousal licked gone, you managed to coherently whimper, “please.”

A loud chuckle rumbled in Minho’s chest as he stood, taking the dress with him to stand at the side of the bed just out of reach– not that you could’ve touched him anyways.

“Asking so nicely after being a brat all fucking night.” The pace of his hand moved subconsciously at the same as your body writhed. “Will you be good? If I let you cum, will you be my good princess again?” You nodded furiously. He laughed, “yeah, you will. Because you’re mine. Your pretty little cunt is mine.”

You tugged at the cuffs harder, using all your strength to keep you from falling over while Minho thrusted into his hand, keeping your dress pressed to his nose. Another repressed orgasm faded and you had lost count of how many passed. You were humiliated, overstimulated, exhausted, sweaty, and touch deprived. To top it all off, your boyfriend was still making fun of you. And you couldn’t even hate it. You couldn’t be mad because it was exactly what you wanted despite feeling all those things.

His cock twitched in his hand, so close to release. Minho reached over and pulled the panties from your mouth, a string of spit following as he tossed it to the floor. Even with the new freedom, you didn’t speak, not wanting to disobey again.

Teeth biting into his bottom lip, Minho moaned, “tell me you love me.”

“I love you. L– love you more than anything.” It was as true as true can be, but it didn’t ease the now painful knot in your stomach tightening, already knowing you won’t be able to cut it loose.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, only yours. I belong to you,” your voice was as shaky as the vibrator pressed to your raw bundle of nerves.

He seemed to like that answer, his hand tightening and focusing on the tip, swiping the precum with his thumb and spreading it around. “You belong to me,” Minho mimicked, “I own this dress. I own you. Only I get to ruin you like I’m going to ruin your slutty little dress.”

“Please, ruin me.”

The tears and drool made your face glossy, enough to push him over the edge, muttering the permission for you to cum just as he did. Minho took one step closer to you, holding the dress beneath his cock as his warm release shot onto your back. The raw crashing orgasm made your body burn white hot, vision go blank, and all your muscles lock. The vibrator dropped from between your legs, unable to take anymore. The second you relaxed, Minho used the key to free you from the cuffs. Every inch of your body was sensitive to the touch, even more when Minho used the dress to clean his cum off your skin. It made you shiver.

Minho fell to his knees as you toppled to the side, finally face to face. His cheeks were decorated with blush, eyes warm brown that were swimming with adoration. “Did so good, princess,” he whispered, kissing your cheek and brushing your sweaty hair from your face.

He knew not to touch you just yet, still too sensitive for anything other than a few kisses. While your body recovered, Minho stripped his clothes and left them in a pile on the floor, tossing the soiled dress along with it. He gathered wet wipes, water, and icy-hot balm for your muscles. By the time he returned, you wanted nothing more than to hold him, eyes closed and still reaching out blindly for him.

“Min,” you dreamily called out, feeling his presence enter the bedroom again.

“I’m here,” he came over to your side again, placing everything on the nightstand and putting the toys to the side for cleaning later. You only groaned and reached out for him again, feeling his hand in your palm and attempted to pull him closer. “Hold on, baby. Let me wipe you down. It’s gonna be cold.” You didn’t even bother bracing yourself, knowing how warm your body ran that after the initial shock, it’d feel good. And you were right. The coolness of the wet wipe was soothing against your raw pussy, almost moaning again at the sensation. Minho laughed, finishing his duties and moving on to making you hydrate after a few minutes of you fighting him on just letting you sleep.

“One more thing. C’mon, you can do it.” His words of encouragement made you fold and let him maneuver you onto your back. You heard the icy-hot bottle open and close, then the bed dipping between your legs and his big hands gently taking hold of your thighs. The slick of the gel made his gliding palms smooth and the tingling feeling easing your tight muscles.

“You really make me feel like a princess,” you mumbled, half way towards sleep. Minho chuckled at your tired expression, bending over and pressing kisses to your stomach. As he finished his routine and climbed into bed next to you, you found the energy to speak again. “I’ll never wear the dress again. And I’m sorry.”

Arm curling over your torso, Minho pulled you closer, back against his chest. He hummed and peppered kisses over your shoulder and neck, “yeah, it’s kinda wrecked now anyways. I’m sorry, too.”

Sleepily giggling, you rolled over and nuzzled into his chest. The sound of his heartbeat was comforting. Minho held you as gently as possible, but the lingering worry that he was still upset kept you awake. Through the haze, you prodded the subject.

“We’re good?”

“Oh angel,” he responded immediately, arm coming up to hold your head against his chest and pressing a kiss into your hair, “we’re always good.”

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madstronaut · 1 month ago

Text

truth can be stranger than fiction, but sometimes they also hold hands and kiss

I was gunning to post this in September but A Lot of Life™️ happened (and is still happening tbh) so despite me pouting at myself about skipping a month, without further ado - my 24th faficowrimo ramble~

every now and then, the fiction I read and my lived experiences tangle together in my head and coagulate into some interesting dreams...some of my favorites ofc are the smutty ones, what can I say I've always had an active imagination

Some of my beloved fics I note as comfort reads or cathartic reads, depending on how I'm feeling and the nature of the story...this falls squarely under cathartic for me

I will temporarily sidestep the mountain pile of naughty dreams to share of a recurring one that's always left me quite speechless that I have had the gift of dreaming about again brought on, in part, by the latest read of Service Dog Johnny by @void-my-warranty in a way that really just leaves me at a loss for words... if you'd like to get emotionally baja blasted (and also tbh once again hear me rant about my love for fanfic) with me, read on, my fellow taco bell enthusiast & traveler ✨🌮

also I am including this gif because I searched 'taco bell' as a joke and for some unexplainably fucked up reason this was one of the top gifs to show up in the list but also what a double-duty it serves as I talk about SERVICE DOG JOHNNY EH? reality sometimes really *is* stranger than fiction but also seriously wtf is going on here in this gif if you know pls DM me im afraid to google it

I started therapy a few years ago thanks to finally finding someone I trusted/specializing in my trauma cocktail *and* covered by my insurance (to my fellow americans: SHOCKER, I know, anyway fuck US healthcare and this economy but moving on) and I recall describing the early sessions to IRL beloveds/moots with some choice phrases, like:

having a sword tip poking my chest and being asked to walk further into the blade

having swallowed a large sack full of glass shards and instead of trying to remove them, realizing i have adjusted to have the bits piercing out of my body be less noticeable - not very sustainable personally speaking, let's be real

after some hard fucking work, sweat, tears put in I started dreaming about seeing that sword as a surgical scalpel instead, healing instead of harming, and that sack of glass filled with water and oil instead (really wanted to put a squirting/watersports joke here at voidy's expense but this is such a sacred thing to me but wait it's MY sacred thing and I can desecrate it for jokes IF I WANT TO OKAY) making me feel light and buoyant and seeing all my former open wounds now freshly scarred up. I'm honestly tearing up writing this out because I am very fucking proud of how far I have come... all this to say, brutal but rewarding. if you have the opp... 'walk towards the sword' my moots & beloveds 💝🫂

I have since ended regular therapy sessions and only go on the one-off times I really need the extra support, but a question I grappled with for a long time (and sometimes still do!) was "how do I know I'm healed?"

I used to think of healing as this near-mythical - and frankly, unreachable - final destination for me. but I'm learning it's more about the journey and companions along the way and the many signposts on the path marking how far I have come (and that I still have a ways to go). anyway I blabbered on here too long but my point is healing is hopefully a familiar (and necessary) journey for us all in so many ways, and I for one welcome the unexpected companions that help us take another step forward (and catch you when you falter back) *looking at you, fanfic my beloved* and SDJ was such a vivid reminder of all of this for me

I could fuck with concepts like protagonist/deuteragonist/tritagonist (had to look that third one up to see if a term even existed tbh) but the truth is for me, each of voidy's trio are written like living breathing dimensional beloveds to me in how broken and tender and loving and human and flawed and mysterious they are and each of them in their own way are so beloved to me.

I have been reading bell hook's we real cool: black men & masculinity lately (deeply enjoyed her books all about love and feminism is for everybody - i understand she is not free from controversy after having devoured a bunch of her writing but i deeply fuck with her main theories that being rooted and motivated to love and be loved at the core of our humanity needs to involve having our eyes, hearts, minds, ears, and hands open to the experiences of fellow humans, particularly marginalized + POC voices) and one of the passages discussing healing from abuse was very SDJ/simon-coded to me...

"Many males have experienced traumatic sexual abuse in childhood. It scars them for life. And when they receive the message from the culture that real men should be able to endure abuse as a rite of passage and emerge with their sexual agency intact, there is no cultural space for them to articulate that they were sexually abused, that they are damaged and in need of sexual healing."

I will say for myself, the culmination of the trio's journey so far in SDJ, simon in particular - with whom I unfortunately share some of his canon trauma and SDJ-flavored hangups and anxieties - has made me feel so loved and seen, like meeting a good samaritan (or perhaps a service dog johnny) on the road to hold my hand wordlessly saying "you too? me too." and walk part of the journey with me, even for a brief stretch.. a happy accident or eucatastrophe of meeting someone at the right place at the right time like reader and johnny have been for simon in SDJ ❤️‍🩹🫶🌿

I've heard an oft-cited statistic that in a random crowd at least a quarter if not more of the people around you, regardless of gender, have most likely experienced abuse and assault than not. Finding a space to be seen and heard re: sharing about abuse and trauma - and god forbid perhaps even healed? in the year of our lorde 2024? - has in many ways been delegated to avenues that aren't readily available to most, financially and socially and relationally speaking - even nowadays. I'm in my mid-30s and I was only able to afford therapy several years ago, despite finally mustering the courage to start looking after years of patient coaxing and support from IRL beloveds, because my workplace decided to expand our mental health benefits + insurance during covid.

beyond my IRL beloveds who have been absolutely incredible sources of support, I am not even fucking joking when I say fan-motherfuckin-fiction kept me afloat mentally spiritually socially since my madstroteens to help me feel seen, heard, loved, and healed - basically free therapy until I could afford the real thing...but even as I say "the real thing" there has been nothing fucking realer to me than the growth and beauty and joy and catharsis in reading life in its heights and valleys and finding a bit of myself in fanfic...

I've heard it said that the profound is lurking behind the absurd and I am 1000% serious when I say the very cathartic and moving tales and tragedies and romances and adventures and lessons and wisdom in FANFICTION (for CALL OF DUTY!!!!!!!!!!!! no less) is absolutely fucking priceless to me - the world didn't give it and the world can't take it away, as it says somewhere in some good books

these made up stories and characters and scenarios in our heads have held my hand, my head, my heart when I have needed it most - and helped me do so for others - and created the most expansive safe space to explore in a free and nonjudgmental way that I can't really think of a real-world equivalent other than actual therapy or times when I've felt a deeper peace and affection touch me in sacred settings or in nature or maybe playing D&D with my IRLs lol

so yes, I wholeheartedly agree that while some of the loveliest writings are drawn from lived experiences, exploring something new in fiction, like readers exploring sexuality through throuplegate tags ghoap fics or asks about aromanticism... or cathartic healing words and gestures they may have yet to hear or receive in reader's and johnny's stalwart and carefully mapped, but also spontaneous and artesian support and tender care for simon... can have just as real and powerful of an impact on reader & writer as well!

and it can be so clearly seen in the absolutely incredible reblogs, asks, comments, and headcanons and side drabbles shared if you go through voidy's SDJ tags which I also so enjoyed reading alongside the story; it reminds me of ye olden days when I was a rabid LOTR fan and I re-watched the extended versions of the trilogies in multiple iterations via the cast, director, and producer commentaries

ok before I lose my train of thought entirely here because I was supposed to rant about what I loved about SDJ and I've just been adding to this monster of a draft for weeks on end rambleranting on and on about fanfic-

the reader!!!! the reader. I have been brought to tears multiple times by her selfsacrificing affection and deep love for simon, as well as how well she is able to disarm him in the moment with her humor

the humor!!! the fucking weaponized use of humor as character tell and development in this fic... i feel (and personally use) humor as a way of visibly lowering and bypassing the armor and walls we put up around others as if to say 'see? it's safe! I feel safe around you enough to joke around and I want you to know that. i invite you into this safe space in me, with me.' and the way time and again reader, simon, and johnny uses it like a sniper shot is fucking brilliant

a random selection of some of (I write 'some' fully knowing I'm gonna just copypaste the entire fucking story) my favorite lines below:

He’s always been up front with you about his trauma, how he can’t stomach touch unless it’s non-sexual. You’ve always known it would just be only you taking care of your own needs, and it’s something you’re more than happy to accept, because you love him. But how could you even conceptualize doing something like that? Letting someone else touch you when you’re in love with Simon.

Lines like these above is what makes reader so human and real to me. 💋👌mwahmwah exponential chef kisses for your literary cookin voidy💋👌

God, why is he still talking to you like that? It’s really, really hot, but are you allowed to enjoy it? Surely you are.

right there with you dear reader, been there before 😵‍💫

His eyes are practically burning into you with some type of excitement, though he doesn't let the rest of his face betray it. It's only because you know him so well that you see the unusual gleam there, and suspect that if you put your hand on his chest right now, his heart would be hitting your palm in a gallop ... He's interacting with your sexual desire for the first time, running his thumb over the crown of your head and watching you so intently that the orgasm warming your legs is starting to feel unavoidable.

Simon's journey to re-experience sexual desire as safe and healthy and normal again...I do not have enough words 😭😭 anyway brb crying my heart goes out to SDJ simon so much i want to hold his face and dick(WHO SAID THAT) in my hands and cradle him gently and tenderly

“It won’t, love." He waits for your your fingers to find your clit again, and for your eyes to slide shut, and he whispers, "Someday very soon, you’re going to get to cum while you’re bent over the bed, and someone’s hand is keeping your head pressed nicely into the covers. You won’t have to think about anything but staying right there and getting fucked, and you’ll be able to just relax, and take it for as long as you’re meant to.”

SDJ simon, like many of us, also seems to find refuge and safe sexual expression in fantasy 👀👀

Simon just smiles at you in that warm way, the slight curve of his mouth that doesn’t have even a hint of malice or dishonesty behind it. You’ve grown to trust it implicitly.

🥹🥹🥹 this is so tender and lovely. mwah mwah mwah I would attack with so many cheek kisses for simon and voidy ✨

“Dinnae misrepresent me to your woman. I’ve had my share of romance.” “Learned that word on the way here, did you? You know you’re supposed to keep your eyes on the road.”

I fucking live for simon and johnny roasting each other 😂😂😂

The look of adoration he’s giving you sends a burst of fuzzy pink warmth through your chest.

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

“Simon,” you gasp, and then frantically backtrack over your mistake. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean— oh-hhh my god.”

I looooved loved loved loved loved loved this slip of the tongue. one word speaks volumes <3

It’s glaringly obvious how wet you are, the bits of your underwear that stick to your ass as he works his hand against your cunt.

ok I just want to say THIS IS SO REAL AND SO GODDAMN ANNOYING I HATE THAT FEELING LIKE THE OCEAN IS GIVING MY A WEDGIE where all my sometimes sensory issues girlies (gn) at

You figured out early on in the relationship that he loves affectionate threats of violence.

me, recalling DMs with voidy: yes, yes this is also voidy

“He was just offered a shag, of course he is.”

😂😂😂

That gentle touch happens again, this time sending a wash of awareness though you, forcing you to look away from his eyes. You’re not allowed to feel like this when he’s touching you. This is forever off limits, that interested tingle between your legs. Stop it, he’s just being sweet...“You’re turning me on,” you whisper. It’s what you’ve always done, any time he’s inadvertently touched you in a way that your body perceived as sexual. You always let him know, let him cut it out before it makes him feel a certain type of way. The last thing you want to do is find secret, perverted enjoyment in moments that would trigger him if he knew.

sometimes I call reader 'saint' in my head, because I can't think of a better word to sum up her patience, love, sense of self-sacrifice, near catholic levels of guilt for feeling anything remotely self-focused, and desire to focus wholly on others' well-being before her own...and alternately, a saint is also usually a two-dimensional flat figure, devoid of needs and wants, there to absorb all the negative emotions and give, give, give...surely not a life fit for a regular-degular human girlfriend, dear reader 👀

This has never happened before. He’s never pushed himself this far, standing between your legs like this when you’re in your underwear. Why he’s doing it now, you can’t fathom, but this is his struggle. You have to trust that he won’t hold it against you if he gets too far past his limits.

me, screaming and gesticulating wildly: you can't fathom THAT SIMON LOVES YOU AND WANTS TO PUT HIMSELF OUT THERE FOR YOU TO TRY AND MEET YOU WHERE YOU'VE RETREATED LKE YOU HAVE DONE FOR HIM????

You know that’s not true. If anything, the deflection leads you to believe that he’s protecting Simon, like he told him something personal.

something I find so interesting and perhaps a tad relatable - reader is a fucking psychic sometimes when it comes to reading others' intentions and feelings, and yet overly sus and cautious when it comes to seeing into herself (now why does that sound familar oh FUCK ITS-A ME, MARIO-)

He feels safe enough to touch himself with his friend here, but not when it’s just you? You glance back down to Johnny, heart galloping and anxiety expanding in your lungs as you make some unfortunate mental leaps. Why did Simon choose Johnny for this? How can he be so very confident that he’ll take care of you? Has he done this before? Is this a��thing they do? Simon gets a new girlfriend, and Johnny gets free sex?

I've said this before somewhere but I theorize Johnny's presence for Simon make him feel safe for & from himself and sidenote: as a card-carrying woman I do not fault reader at. all. when it comes to her anxious spiral of thoughts here re: some men and their triflin ways

Maybe it’s just the post-nut clarity talking, but you realize for the first time that the reason isn’t because you want to keep him at arm’s length, it’s because you think you don’t deserve it. This whole arrangement has felt like you’re living someone else’s life, someone who’s worth being looked after like this. It’s not something you’ve ever experienced before, and it feels so unsafe to venture into something new. It feels comfortable and familiar to decide that you can’t allow yourself to fully experience Johnny, that you must ration him instead, nibbling on little bits so you don’t grow too accustomed to the taste. You’ve been subconsciously depriving yourself, as if maintaining your unmet needs is crucial to making sure you don’t grow beyond the person you’ve always been.

All of this + reader's reaction to perceiving crying as bad versus cathartic... early 20-something madstronaut, is that you

I have also wondered at the cost of arguably a huge part of herself (I believe we can and do change and accept ourselves and each other in and for love, kind of like moving but in tandem and rhythm, like a dance, but I'd argue reader in choosing simon and his particularities as her dance partner has also chosen to metaphorically tourniquet one of her limbs to do so) if maybe she is also crying out of personal grief and confusion as well. That razor-sharpness of post-nut clarity is too real... after deciding to give up her sex life as she knew it before for simon, then now suddenly exploring getting it back, and the whiplash of emotions while in an intense feedback loop of orgasms? gurrrrllll I would be bawling too, high-five

You think back over Johnny’s endless patience, how considerate and soft he’s been with you. How he went so slow the last time, giving you time to mentally prepare to be penetrated, making sure every touch was comfortable and enjoyable. And you consider for the first time that maybe Johnny isn’t just Simon-by-proxy for you. Maybe in a way, you are that, for Johnny.

mmm, ghoapcrumbs WHO SAID THAT

Also honestly I love me some unreliable narrators (reader here imho isn't unreliable in her perspective being false or wrong but rather her deep deep love and devotion for simon can be almost blinding to other important perspectives like her own to also consider at times..) sometimes I just want to take her by her shoulders and stare her down and peptalk her aggressively just saying in increasingly louder volume "YOU ARE ALSO WORTHY OF LOVE, RESPECT, CARE, AND AFFECTION - THE SAME LEVEL, NOT NECESSARILY THE SAME WAY, YOU GIVE TO SIMON - AND THAT IS PERFECTLY FINE AND VALID"

Nine minutes and change later, you make the last turn and smile to see Johnny in sweat-soaked running clothes, propped up against a lamppost like he’s trying to pretend he’s there on purpose.

😂😂😂 "pretend he's there on purpose" WHO'S THE FUCKING DOBBER NOW

Johnny makes an acknowledging grunt and limps towards your car, and you swear his face looks a little more flushed than it was a minute ago....“Nah. Thanks for the lift.” Stubborn, and definitely embarrassed.

oh look, pot, meet kettle...just two fucking dobbers (affectionate) who give like they have an infinite gaming glitch but hiss like those tiktok cats at the vet when they discover they *gasp* have their own needs

Johnny leans back on the couch to really look at you for the first time today, and it’s your turn to feel embarrassed. You feel like he’s somehow seeing more of you than is comfortable, and it makes you look away, towards the bright sky out the window. “I should be getting back,” you deflect, tugging the keys out of your pocket. “I switched phones with him, and he might not like that when he wakes up.”

I can't explain how much I fucking love this first dynamic between reader and johnny sans simon. feels like watching a knifefight where their knives are their inability to just receive disguised as their sense of generosity and they keep holding themselves hostage hoping the other gives in/runs away lmao. also i'm re-reading this in later drafts and I have no idea if this makes sense sooo I apologize in advance for my latenight ramblin

You kiss him until you’re in love with his mouth...

🥰🥰🥰

also the flashback to their meet-cute (meet-wrestle?) is once again INCREDIBLE!!! as sex/touch-averse simon is, their body language speak volumes in those split-second matching responses to each others' reactions with the pendrop and the arm-wrestle tie. those magnetic "we click right away" interactions you have with certain folks is absolutely intoxicating

Simon’s not looking in your direction, but you can feel the ghost of his attention somehow, making you feel scrutinized and out of place here. You haven’t felt in place in so long, it’s like an ache in your chest.

I shivered at how good this line is!!!!! THE GHOST OF HIS ATTENTION- mmmpfffhhh

She proudly presents you with Simon’s number, scrawled in blue pen on her palm. And there, below it: “You have lovely eyes”

my very first crush/love in high school also told me "I had lovely eyes" over AIM, made me very nostalgic 😂😂 Also can I just say laney you a real one; you went out of your way to go to bat for our girlie despite striking out yourself, a true sister indeed, pouring one out for you tonight

The sizzle of the onions begins to die as he closes the distance, and you shriek as he scoops you up into the air with a, “Where’s your fuckin knife now, you little ankle biter?”

i live for their horny-adjacent playfights

You wind back as far as you can, furiously smacking Simon’s ass with one solid hit, and you’re rewarded by his pained grunt and a satisfying sting to your palm.

fucking screeeeching

So, apparently Johnny is one of those absolute pieces of shit who can pick up any fine motor activity after the second or third try.

I hate to expose myself like this but...*high-fives johnny*

It’s subdued now, in a way that would almost make you wonder if they’d been fighting about something, except that Simon still seems awfully relaxed. As he entwines your fingers, you realize it’s Johnny who’s bothered. Johnny, who's never bothered about anything, is now staring blankly at the TV, his eyes unmoving even though the players are darting across the field.

once again fascinated by the dynamic duos of this trio!!!! I told voidy once I read SDJ sometimes as a mystery/drama because I'm constantly edged kept in suspense about our trio's next moves and motivations

His fingers skim your jaw. “I don’t think you know… sort of… seeing how brave you are with all this. How much it helps.”

my GOD. this plus my audible gasp when Simon finally touches reader sexually in ch. 10....beyond being incredibly sexy I also was very moved at the two (plus one) reaching this milestone and I have hornycried MULTIPLE times reading this fic

Everything these guys do feels sexy right now, and what’s worse is that Simon is sitting right across the table from you, and he’s thinking about you. It’s like he’s hit that sweet spot where he’s not so much in his head anymore, but he’s still a little turned on from what happened. You can feel it in his gaze, how it keeps wandering down the line of your shirt collar, keeps tracking the motion of your fingers while you hold your straw to drink.

Being aware of anothers' attention and lust has got to be one of the most intoxicating and powerful feelings in the world 🥴

“Johnny,” you whine, desperate to get him to stop hurting himself. You need to stop enjoying this, you need to focus on his pain, but he’s making you forget yourself. He’s fucking you and holding your hand to the bed, and despite your best efforts, he’s making you need to cum. He’s making you hate your own pleasure, as it brings him more and more pain.

the absolute deepdive into reader's psyche here in this little snippet is just *chef's french kiss*

When you get home that night, you take an everything shower. You paint your toenails and do your hair extra pretty, shave and lotion and basically make yourself as edible as you can be, because your baby’s coming home. Suddenly you’re on your feet, sliding a little in your socks as you rush to meet him. He’s just finished flopping his bag onto the floor when your arms wrap around the most familiar, safe body you know, and then you’re home.

I get strong cuteness aggression vibes whenever I see reader being just absolutely adorable

You barely even comprehend how big he is, with how big this event feels in your heart. So it’s bittersweet, seeing the aftermath of his success. You know it’s got to pain him, losing the control on his body and mind that he holds to such a standard in every other aspect of his life. He could have gone for years more, keeping a tight handle on things, dismissing the trauma and projecting that insecurity onto everyone else in unhealthy ways. But he didn’t. He’s here, unable to even tolerate your touch just yet, with his lungs spasming and his eyes leaking in a way his father would find unforgivable. A grown man, coming to terms with his reality and letting others see his failings, people who love him. People he can depend on, not because of blood relation, but because he’s worked tirelessly to build and earn that deep kind of trust.

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 I basically cry-read this whole chappie and also stopped in my tracks and gasped out loud when simon asked to fuck reader and definitely got out of bed screeching victoriously with joy after they Finally Did The Deed

You gingerly sit up and do your best to keep the cum dripping down your thigh instead of onto the bed. God, that’s Simon’s cum. That’s the best cum in the world right there.

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

You round the corner of the hall, only to see the door still wide open, and your boyfriend with his head bent down, resting on Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny has an arm wrapped around Simon’s head and another around his shoulders, fisting his shirt and holding him tight. “That wasn’t a small thing,” Johnny’s whispering, cheek to cheek with his friend. “That wasn’t a small thing, mate.”

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

I'll be quite honest if SDJ ended here with this incredible milestone I would've still been happy as a clam.. I believe all wins big and small are worth celebratin

It’s kind of weird that you’re here. Technically this is where you live, but all of a sudden you have this feeling of not belonging here, of being unnecessary in this moment. You feel like you’re just outside, looking in on Simon’s journey, without actually being too relevant to the path of it. It could have been anyone, really. Pretty much anybody with a heart would have given him the same kind of love, helped him get to this result. You just got lucky enough to come into his life first, but this would have played out the same with anyone.

reader my sweet READER DID YOU NOT PAY ATTENTION TO MY EIGHT-PART PEP TALK WHITEBOARD POWERPOINT PRESENTATION OF HOW AMAZING YOU ARE? as painful it is for me to read how self-deprecating as she is here...her perspective also betrays truly how deeply she sees and loves simon in how lovable she perceives him to be (and how willing she is to give him the sort of patient, kind, long-suffering commitment and devotion I have heard mused and preached about that someone like simon, nay all of us need and want)

Okay, maybe that’s not entirely accurate. The truth is, you want to get used. You’re not even that horny anymore, you just need to feel like you’re desired and important and useful for something.

👀👀 the way voidy is fucking reading the writing on the wall of my brain/pussy is near psychic to me 👀👀

In a roundabout sort of way, being selfish right now and not worrying about anyone else might be what’s best for everybody. There’s only so much you can give.

Your reflection stares back at you in the mirror, with freshly moisturized skin and slightly tired eyes, and you have this unexpected wave of compassion for yourself. You’re only human. You had a big day, and a significant conversation, and you made it through the hard parts. Things are going to be okay now, because you chose right. You’ve poured yourself into people who actually deserve to have you, and it will all work out somehow in the end.

🫂🫂🫂 i love this so much

He throws his legs over the side of the bed and stays there for a minute stretching his neck out, while you remain where you are, vibrating with anticipation. Finally he sighs and glances over his shoulder at you. “Suppose you’re allowed to get excited.”

the fucking GIGGLES that erupted from me... btw PSA if you haven't deduced it already i am madly in love with droll goofy SDJ simon and his dry-ass humor

You’re limp after that, merely a jellyfish washed up on the beach. Simon thinks it’s funny, keeps lifting your wrist in the air and then letting it flop to the mattress. He can’t even see it, but finds it entertaining all the same.

god THIS FUCKIN SCENE i just fucking erupted in giggles but also teared at simon finding humor and joy and laughter in sex again

The anger is inescapable, bordering on full-on rage, though Soap’s face doesn’t move at all. He keeps it locked deep inside, reminding himself that this is good. This is healthy for Simon. This is what he’s always hoped for, companionship and romance for his large, quiet friend. The jealously is intrusive, and he doesn’t claim it as his own.

If I could I would happily spend hours picking through SDJ soap's brain like the basement book aisles at the strand bookstore.. I had a conversation with an IRL beloved recently about how we are only jealous with the things & people that matter most to us....oh johnny boy, don't be embarassed trying to dodge one of the most common and pervasive feelings known to humanity!!! follow the thread to your interior and let it show you something about yourself 👀 (or hell that's what I try to do when I've felt embarrassed about feeling jealous)

But the thing is, he doesn’t want to fuck anyone else. Everything here is so peaceful, even with the emotional turmoil. He can feel the acceptance in the air that these two have generated, soaking into his skin every time he visits here. Things aren’t okay, and that’s somehow okay. It boggles the mind.

ah what's the phrase, better the devil you know? I also fuck with the "finding comfort and familiarity in chaos" vibes though I am trying not to have that be my baseline norm of late

He hasn’t had a hookup since he started coming here. Far less sex than he’s grown used to, and yet he’s finding himself thinking about it less and less. It’s like the obsession with the chase and the release has finally lost its grip on him, and now the connection is what he finds himself thinking about. Fuck the connection. That’s the part that hurts people, and it honestly doesn’t make sense that he’s still feeling safe about it. It must be because they love each other. It’s a convenient buffer, the reason he decided to go through with this in the first place. The line has been drawn in the sand, and he just has to hope they’ll live up to their end of the bargain.

to this I'll just say my people, my IRL beloveds, are the people who saw and accepted me as I was, for who I am - and all my changing ebbs and flows throughout the years, even at my most broken and awful, and ironically their acceptance and love and care for me while I was at my lowest is what helped me more fully return to and be myself... I believe johnny is experiencing a glimpse of that here now 🥹 I am legally obligated to throw in one of my favorite quotes on this topic which I have mentioned before:

There is a twilight zone in our hearts that we ourselves cannot see. Even when we know quite a lot about ourselves-our gifts and weaknesses, our ambitions and aspirations, our motives and our drives-large parts of ourselves remain in the shadow of consciousness. This is a very good thing. We will always remain partially hidden to ourselves. Other people, especially those who love us, can often see our twilight zones better than we ourselves can. The way we are seen and understood by others is different from the way we see and understand ourselves. We will never fully know the significance of our presence in the lives of our friends. That's a grace, a grace that calls us not only to humility, but to a deep trust in those who love us. It is the twilight zones of our hearts where true friendships are born. - Henri Nouwen

Simon did it. It took years, and an angel of a girlfriend, but he fucking did it. It’s simply indescribable, the burst of hope flaming to life in Johnny’s chest. Good things can happen sometimes out of nowhere. Sometimes, in a random bed in a random city, the universe can push a piece back into place that was missing.

this has to be one of the most beautiful lines of prose I've ever read

You enjoy how safe your body feels with his touch, how it’s no longer a thought in your mind that he’s doing this out of pity. You’ve formed this strange sort of sexual bond, and friendship, and it makes sense to your pussy that he gets to touch it whenever he wants.

ah, thinkin with the puss, we've all been there dear reader *pats the puss sagely* also such a simple sentence but one not to be taken for granted - no matter how hardcore the kink, feeling safety with your lover's touch is so so baseline important and crucial 💯

“Mhmm,” you tell Johnny, drawing out each syllable in a slow, breathy voice. “So sweet, and thoughtful, and you smell really… Mmmm... Really good.” Johnny raises his eyes to the ceiling, inhaling a long, frustrated breath. For what reason, you can’t imagine, because you’re certainly doing nothing wrong.

I am laughing my ass off because since first reading this voidy updated the chapter with the lovely @gorsime's incredible SDJ fanart and please, scroll down to the end of the chappie (ch 17) if you haven't seen it already

The guilt does start to hit a little, as you get dragged onto your actual boyfriendʼs lap, and a less-scruffy mouth presses to your cheek. You're being selfish. You've gotten too used to your wants being met, and you really need to dial it back down to just needs. This is simply a wakeup call, like hello, hereʼs reality, sometimes your own fingers are all you get, and thatʼs okay.

I have wondered just how much of this was loosely choreographed & planned by johnny and simon for dear reader 👀

Up until now, sex with Johnny has been somewhat casual, and you haven’t embarrassed yourself too badly. But things are always different, when it’s Simon. Suddenly your heart’s in it. Suddenly your brain is pushed to the side, and all you can think about are brown eyes and big hands, and being as good as you can possibly be. And you’re unused to the feeling of having Johnny nearby when you’re so focused on giving yourself to Simon.

once again, just deeply touched (and turned on) by the evolution of reader & simon's sexual relationship (good boy johnny)

He watches your eyes while his fingers trail down your belly, and to your utter shock you suddenly feel them on your pussy.

once again fuckin screamingggggggg! sometimes when you're in it for the long haul after seeing someone's borky bits and pieces, you'd be surprised how a bit (or more) of tender, trauma/person-specific love, kindness, care, and unusual paths of healing can have in speeding up the process of recovery...so much so that it can seem like a whiplash when you've resigned yourself to an eternity of seeing yourself/ur beloved as wounded/hurt and suddenly (but really not so suddenly!) you both meet A Healing/Healed version of Them/You - is this 2.0, or someone new? who knows!!!! what an adventure (it is currently 2am on a weeknight and I got work tomorrow as I ramble but I AM ON A ROLL also I made the mistake of telling voidy weeks ago that I thought I was gonna post this and hoo boy i am paying that price)

“Why don’t you go see Johnny?” Simon murmurs, giving your forehead one last kiss. “Get you something better than fingers.” “I think you should let her have something of yours,” comes Johnny’s voice, before you can begin to form a reply. “Cross my heart, I won’t look.”

literally yelled out loud omg HIS DICK? IS IT HIS DICK? HOLY SHIT SIMON'S DICK?????? the first time I read this

Your lungs know it’s happening before anything else does. They expand and then hold, and the next drop of your hips feels so good, as something deep inside you turns itself inside out. With a debilitating roll of sensation, you let out a pained cry and feel your cunt begin to brand itself onto him with pulse after pulse of your release. It streams down your limbs and explodes in your belly, and it’s Simon who’s got you this time.

this is pure poetry!!! also something deep inside you turning inside out and streaming down your limbs has got to be one of the best descriptions of an orgasm ive read tbh ive only reeaally experienced a full-body endless orgasm after a ton of edging (like at least 15 min) which I don't have the patience or stamina for anymore ;-; but I still think about that One Magical Night from years ago when I did achieve this

It almost hurts to cum on something that big, but it’s a good kind of hurt.

🥴🤤🥴🤤 mmm iykyk but also yes, prep prep prep preparation is key

Your hand climbs up to his face, but instead of the rough five o’clock shadow you expect to find, the first thing you feel is something wet. He twists his face away, but it’s too late. You felt that line of dampness on the edge of his jaw. His fingers begin to stroke your hair, so you comfort him too. You run your hand across the muscled line of his shoulder, wishing there was something you could say to make it better. Maybe someday when you’re better with words, you can let him know how it feels to have him connected to you like this, to have both of your hearts wide open and witnessing each other. But all you can do right now is caress his neck and plant a little kiss on the skin you can reach, and whisper that you love him. That he’s doing such a good job, and you see his efforts. You see him.

🥹🥹🥹🥹 AAAAND JUST LIKE THAT I AM CRYING AGAIN GOD THIS HAS TO BE SOME KIND OF NEW UNIQUE KINK IVE DEVELOPED WITH THE EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH OF THE HORNYCRYING OF IT ALL

“Doin’ alright?” he asks, hugging you back because he’s a very nice person.

I am so so curious what soap was thinking as he witnessed this little miracle (which came about in no small part thanks to him, that soap, such a saint he is, so kind and selfless and giving and- *cut off by loud explosion*)

You know now, why he didn’t let you cum before. He let you think he was being mean, in order to give you an experience you never thought you’d have. Johnny gave that to you, for no reason other than he knew it would make you happy, and he was the only one who could. The noise he makes when you take him into yourself is so Johnny. It’s half groan, half breathy laugh, mirroring the way he seems to see his sexuality as a game. He just wants you to play with him, that’s all. A little tug on his hair, a little smile while you kiss him, he eats it up. So you do it. You play with him for the noises, because he likes it. You can’t get enough of him, that’s the problem. Yeah, the sex is fun, and necessary at times, but you just like having him in your house. You like those hands that never hurt you, the sunshine in his voice, those eyes that know when to pretend they don’t see things. It’s just who he is.

that post-nut clarity kickin in for reader I see

“Johnny, I like you.” You just barely catch the way his smile drops away, as you take him into your mouth. He’s in it now. No more flirting, no more foreplay. He’s ready for you to get him to your throat, and let him cum in it.

no noo too much post-nut clarity GO BACK READER GO BAC- 😂

“You don’t get to decide that what people need are the things you want them to need. Tea?”

HAHAHA SIMOOOOOOOON TENSION DIFFUSER EXTRAORDINAIRE

I just want to say, shoutout to all my girlies (gn) who can come from a shower head; that shit is just too laser-focused for me to get off 😵‍💫

The way you’d cried and cried over that. It hurts so fucking bad, missing him the way you do, while knowing there’s really no legitimate reason to feel sad.

no legitimate reaso- GIRL HE TURNED YOU INTO A LITERAL SHOWER HEAD, JESUS HIMSELF WOULD WEEP-

He gave and gave, and in a weird way, it left you feeling used. It feels like he stole something from you, by not opening himself up in return.

✨oh, familiar pathways of coping and perceiving trauma responses, is that you✨

“Alright.” You hold the damp towel to your chest and stand there with a few feet of distance separating you, and give him the truth. “You don’t feel safe with me if Johnny’s not in the picture, and I don’t understand why.”

there's got to be something poetic about reader having this convo while butt nakey

What’s he playing at? He’s just standing there, looking at you like you’re something new and interesting. Like he’s redrawing some kind of perception in his mind, and enjoying the outcome.

not even gonna lie, started crying reading that last line ruminating on how far simon has come... 🥹🥹🥹 so proud of these little freaks (supremely affectionate)

“You’re trying to turn me on, but tough titties, I’m already wet.”

reader is basically horny shakespeare to me 😘👌 fucking love her humor

“You’ll tell me if there’s anything you don’t like.” “I will,” you promise. He brings his mouth down to give you a kiss. “...Even if you think it’s something I want.” “You don’t get to have fun, only me,” you recite with a smile. “Good girl.” You get rewarded with another soft kiss, and a firm circle over your clit. “Might have to fool around a bit, it’s been some years for me.” “I have my appointments cleared for the rest of the night.” “Mmmm.” He takes in a long inhale, curling his finger around the gusset of your underwear to start tugging it off. “I like you.” ‘I like you too, baby.”

ur not crying im crying i mean wait what aNYWAY this is my umpteenth readthru of this because this fucking chapter!!!!! my god I was speechless the first few times around and in some sort of holy awe and pride and joy and deep in the feels from he SEX!!! THEY HAD SEX!!! WITHOUT JOHNNY AROUND!!! (but really, I see and hear echoes of johnny in simon's newly gained sexual confidence around reader 👀👀👀)

“Yeah, stuff it. What I bloody well mean is, I thought we’d have time. Because you and me, it’s… it’s going to be a long thing. And I thought we’d get there eventually, and we have.”

🥹🥹🥹🥹

“I won’t,” you promise, running your thumb across the scars on his cheek that you have to consciously notice to even remember they’re there. He’s just so beautiful. It’s not an opinion, or something you’ve talked yourself into, it just is. Some people will look the same however long you know them, but every now and then you meet a Simon Riley who’s just so wonderful that their face turns into something perfect in your eyes.

I love them both so much 🥹🥹🥹🥹 is this not what love is, how reader sees simon

So apparently post-nut clarity Simon is fucking annoying.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

It makes you wonder if something inside him died tonight. Something other people put there, and you both just decided to kill it, because it was time.

once again...pure fucking poetry that has again, left me hornycrying...and again I'd die happy if this fic ended here. i mean, purely sexually speaking, hast thine service not been fulfilled here, loyal johnny boy 👀

I have a friend whose family used to raise seeing eye/service dogs on her farm growing up (yes yes I know her fam could've be doin numbers on the clock app today) and talked about how the training to weed out which puppos were eligible was clocking the ones who could most suppress their instincts & nature to obey and pre-empt needs in their obedience.... everytime I see one out in public I am always a little in awe of how professional it is but also a little secretly heartbroken at the same time for that little puppo that was trained out of itself so early...maybe projecting a little but sometimes I also feel some type of way at seeing that line boasting that Johnny is the youngest SAS recruit as his claim to fame also why i love 141 AUs so much where they are living their best civilian life untouched by war

He’s talking about something inside him, something that settled wrong in his heart today. He saw something about himself that scared him. Maybe it was something new, or maybe it was old and buried, but it violated his personal code in some way. There’s nothing you can do about that. You can’t reach into his chest and dig it out, as much as you wish you could. All you have are your eyes, looking at him now like he isn’t a monster at all, and he never could be.

this incredible fic is still ongoing but I am reminded in so many ways how powerful a simple word, a gaze, a touch, can be in reaching out to share and extend a bit of healing and love - and if that's too lofty a goal, then just to offer acknowledgement and presence.

I think of how much both reader and johnny and even simon with reader shortchange themselves so much throughout the story so far and yet the fruit of their consistent presence in each other's lives is so fucking masterfully crafted and yielded in the latter chapters in the most cathartically rewarding way. I know I am changed from reading about their tender and patient kindness and humor for each other so really to all the people moaning 'bout throuplegate let's be honest this is more of a polycule if we consider simon, reader, johnny, you, me, and voidy 😂😂😂

I mentioned approximately 17 years ago when I first started writing this ramble on asking, "how do we know when we are healed?"

my therapist and I had long, long chats about 'neuroplasticity,' but I knew it when my heart & mind & body responded to it all, combined with the love and support from my IRLs, by replacing one of my persistent nightmares with a new recurring dream - it's been a while, but I dreamt it again after reading SDJ the first time around, and I woke up smiling and crying thinking of simon & reader & johnny & voidy & you <3

I am sitting in a large patch of sunbeam streaming in through my window. my body, normally covered with blood and torn skin and shiny bits of glass leaking out from my wounds, looks different. As I sit in the sunlight my entire body becomes transparent, like oil, or the clear wax of a long burning candle. I become soluble enough to see all those jagged shards inside me and begin easily plucking them out one by one. I see now it's not just glass but claws, teeth, nails - old memories, but all still leftover and festering inside me. I wonder at the source of this change and notice where my heart would be is a wick, and sitting in the sunlight has lit it aflame. as I watch my body become clearer and clearer, I see the rest of all those shards fall out and my wounds softening, blurring, closing up. I move out of the sun and get ready to venture out. My heart still glows and burns steadily, and I remain solvent. Some people reach out with claws, teeth, nails - and find themselves horribly burned by the hot oil as they swipe harmlessly through me and leave no marks. Some people reach out with open hands and arms, and find themselves softening, melting and old wounds and scars under their skins blurring and closing up. I am envisioning where i used to see broken glass inside me, whole, healing, filled with light and water. Like a sunrise and morning inside me.

all this to say, to voidy, and my fellow readers, and fic writers in general - thank you & I love you, for holding my hand and making my days and night a little bit softer & brighter 💛💚❤️‍🩹🌿✨

my fucking god I really really am genuinely contemplating making an invoice to submit to my insurance so that voidy can be duly compensated for tangibly contributing to my positive mental health and growth this year ✨✨✨ mwah mwah mwah mwah so many aggressively affectionate playfully nonromantic chef's kisses for you 💋💋💋 mwah mwah mwa mawh-[devolves into snoring from writing most of this in the wee midnight morning hours between colds, flus, traveling, tears, conventions, funerals, zooms, trains, planes, podcasts-]

A fuckin timely banger of a read from this morning’s commute:

“A sacrament is when something holy happens. It is transparent time, time you can see through to something deep inside time. Needless to say church isn’t the only place where holy happens. Sacramental moments can occur at any moment, at any place, and to anybody. Watching something get born. Making love. A walk on the beach. Somebody coming to see you when you’re sick. A meal with people you love. Looking into a stranger’s eyes and finding out they are not a stranger’s. If we weren’t blind as bats, we might see that life itself is sacramental.” - Frederick Buechner

🌿🌿🌿 thank you stevie for being my latenight crooner and ramblin companion

youtube

#madstrothought #FaFiCoWriMo #fanfiction #call of duty #service dog johnny #void-my-warranty #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #poly!ghoap #Youtube

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 1 day ago

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🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲 uh huh so helenas totally been hypnotizing them right

Mayyyybeeeeeee

135 or 1k - whichever I hit first:

---

“No,” Buck shakes his head. “No, there are good stories of Huldra. Kind ones. It can’t all be this, okay? We’re going to figure out how you can control it. Shift back.”

“You’re deflecting again,” Eddie says.

“You’re deflecting,” Buck accuses.

“So we both are!” Eddie admits.

Buck laughs a little. “I promise I’m okay, alright? Mostly just scared for you.”

Eddie can’t even be mad about that. He’d be scared for Buck, too, if their positions were reversed.

“Yeah. That makes sense.”

“But, like I said, I think this is manageable,” Buck continues. “I think you can get your life back, Eddie.”

Well, no. Eddie doesn’t think so. Christopher doesn’t want Eddie in his life; Eddie’s life is over.

iii.

The next day, Buck’s hearing aids are ready for pick up. Sooner than he would have thought. Which is great news. Great that they’re ready and he can start adjusting to them. Great that conversation and other things will hopefully be easier.

Not great, though, because he does have a fear. One fairly reasonable fear.

Tommy had said Eddie sounded like a song. But at no point has Buck heard that. What if, with the hearing aids, he can? What if whatever happened to Tommy happens to Buck? Now, he doesn’t think there’s a universe where he tries to force Eddie to do anything. He doesn’t think there’s any magic out there stronger than his dedication to keeping Eddie safe. But… Still. He doesn’t want to be any sort of risk to him. He doesn’t want to upset him. And he certainly doesn’t want Eddie to learn how attracted he is to him. That’s just not a good look when it comes to your struggling straight friend.

Anyway, Buck is afraid of hearing the song Tommy talked about. To be honest, he wants to know what it sounds like. There’s a fairly significant temptation there. But, that’s also a disastrous idea. So no. He’s afraid of it happening.

There’s three scenarios, as far as Buck is concerned. From his research on hearing aids, they help with hearing decibels, not frequencies. There are some things he won’t ever be able to hear again, probably. Some things that he will. If the song is simply quiet, Buck will be able to hear it when he comes back with hearing aids. If it’s a high frequency? Like some sort of dog whistle? He’s in the clear. Unless, it’s all actually just a magically targeted sound, and Buck could hear it any time it’s directed at him. But given that Eddie can’t control it and it happened to Tommy, while Eddie is straight, it doesn’t seem likely. So Buck is banking on the frequency thing.

He tells Eddie as much, before he leaves.

“I don’t want you to be worried when I come back,” he says.

“I’m not,” Eddie says. “I trust you.”

Buck takes a deep breath. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I know.”

“You feeling okay about me leaving?” Buck asks.

Eddie explained how being alone had made him feel physically ill. A feeling Buck does know. But not because it was magically infused in him or whatever. Just because he lacked coping skills.

“Not really,” Eddie admits. “But I’ve got to figure it out, right? I think avoiding it will make it harder.”

Buck nods. “It won’t be long. Don’t open the door to anyone.”

“I won’t,” Eddie promises. “I’ll just wait and… Try not to lose my mind.”

“Like a puppy with separation anxiety,” Buck pats his shoulder.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I thought we settled on you being the whippet?”

“Hmm, well. Only one of us has a tail.”

When Buck leaves, he reminds himself that this really is a good thing. The best thing for him. The thing he needs. He can let go of his anxieties about Eddie for a couple of hours.

🌲

It’s not as bad this time.

Not to be mistaken, it still sucks. It sucks from the moment Buck shuts the door behind him until Eddie hears his Jeep pull into the driveway. But it’s better.

His body still feels the brunt of it, but his mind is clearer. He knows what he’s going through. This isn’t him. This is whatever he is now. Whatever he unwillingly has become. It’s not a weakness of character, but a consequence of circumstance. Eddie can overcome it. He can stay strong.

He lets his brain operate on loop.

This isn’t real pain or illness. You won’t be alone long. Your brain can still be a human brain.

And it works. It works so well, Eddie keeps a handle on himself. He’s still Eddie. Not some desperate, cloying thing.

Then Buck comes home, and the relief is tangible across every cell of his body.

🍂

The first hour or so of having the hearing aids actually kind of sucks. His ears feel weird, unaccustomed to the sensation. Everything is loud. Louder than it’s been in a long time. His head is already starting to ache. He feels overly sensitive. A siren passes him on the drive home and he’s tempted to rip them out.

“It can take a few weeks to adjust,” Dr. Isaacs had told him. And Buck really needs to adjust. So he won’t rip them out like an overstimulated child. But he’s tempted.

He’s honestly relieved when he pulls into Eddie’s driveway. So relieved to be back in a quiet, still space, that he almost forgets about the rest of it. The Huldra of it all.

He walks right through the front door without even considering what might be waiting for him on the other side. He’d texted Eddie and Eddie replied normally. So he’d assumed he was okay. And when he shuts the door behind him now, there’s no song. Nothing. So either Eddie isn’t, like, transmitting it, or Buck can’t hear the frequency. Good. Whatever. That’s totally a good thing.

“Hey, Eddie!” Buck calls out, then winces at the volume of his own voice. Is he always this loud?

#daisies and briars writes #firelight fic

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hyper-voice · 4 months ago

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"I have to confess, I didn't think you'd come back for an encore with Black Fog," Giovanni's robotic voice emerges from the Porygon on the metallic Gallade (Gardevoir?).

"...So, what's the news? I'm trying to grasp the situation from all parties. Koga told me some, but I want to hear from the others. What brought you back?"

The robotic Pokemon approaches. Piers has been given reason to understand this is Giovanni, sort of. Giovanni's conscious, his soul, his something. it's weird. Everything is weird though, so he finds a seat with robo-Giovanni anyway.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, no encores," he gripes as he pushes his bangs back. "I'm still catching all the details myself. For my group.. It was me, Rika, Proton, and Whistle. We got told you were going to die before it actually happened. Sabrina foresaw it or something. It was our job to grab your body before the Black Fog could possess it, and to get the transponder thing on the radio tower. Your body was with that Professor. Oak? The one who made the Pokedex, yeah? We found it, sent you both out."

There's a pause, then he adds, "If you haven't seen it yet, you probably shouldn't. At least let them like.. clean you up first or something. I won't sugarcoat it. You look bad. Also like you gave it hell, which, props. But still really bad."

Now, what brought him back? He's asked himself that a couple of times. It does make him remember to pull out his phone and adjust the scheduled send timer on his message to Kabu. He pushes it out for 48 hours. Hopefully that will be enough to either delete it entirely, or... well.

"I came because I was asked. You may not know me as well as some of these other blokes, but I'm not exactly good at turning down someone asking for help. 'Sides, if it didn't stop here, it'd just keep eatin' the world until it showed up in Galar, and it'd be way too powerful to stop then. Not that that would stop Lee-Lee from trying to do it by himself. Again."

#earth-master #piers vc hey......... dont look at ur body

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soaringonblackwings · 6 months ago

Text

This post is just me being moody after talking to my friend about fanfic. She wanted to know how I dealt with people not reading my stuff. Or why post it anyways if it’s for yourself. It got me thinking on my own experience and how I feel. She was contemplating on making a fanfic but decided against it for now.

This post will be word vomit and venting and incoherent. Enjoy.

This isn’t me fishing for comments no matter how much I’m venting out my feelings.

Honestly that is a trick question to me. Like I put my stuff out there under the assumption that it won’t be read anyways. As I write for dead fandoms or not so popular characters (sometimes a combination of both). Various factors go into people not reading your fic and I get wanting that gratification and interaction but you have to adjust your own expectations sometimes.

Yeah it sucks putting in all this effort and research only to not have any kind of positive feedback. It’s fine to feel discouraged and disappointed about it. I have been disappointed with how my fics have been received and felt discouraged to continue writing anything more. Sometimes I felt like I was just forcing myself to get it done just to say I got it done. Its one of the main reasons I avoid writing multi-chapter stories. I find myself questioning whether it’s worth it to finish the story or not. When I am 4 chapters in and no one has commented and views are low.

I question whether it’s worth it to post a new story when I look back at all of my old and recent fics with zero comments/reviews/kudos and low views and just feel all motivation leave my body. ‘Just keep it to yourself’ are words that ring in my head all the time.

I know you are supposed to create fanfics (and fanart) for yourself but if that were the case no one would post at all what is the point? Don’t bother posting or mentioning it all. There would be no need for fan spaces at all. I like writing and what to share my ideas and hopefully show people a different side of a character.

What learned from my most recent fic series is that you have to be your own cheerleader. It’s sounds depressing but it is absolutely necessary. I love my Crow fix-it series but I absolutely wanted to stop multiple times in the series because it felt like no one liked it or was looking forward to the other parts when I posted about it. At the end of the day I’m proud of the stories and I’m happy that I posted it for others to read. I was shit at being my own cheerleader but I think my love for Crow pulled me through.

To end on a happy note, your fic(s) will resonate with someone no matter what. Even if they don’t say anything. Even if it is years later that somebody leaves the first comment/kudos. Someone out there liked it even without doing those things.

#save #me and my friend have interesting conversations #you are here to have fun first and foremost #try not to get yourself too down in the dumps

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noffy96 · 1 year ago

Text

My second Sun/Moon fic

A follow-up to my other sun/moon fic. Sun and moon finally get their own separate bodies.

Our first day together Apart .

Word count: 4,905

Chapter 1/4 (Complete)

Next Chapter

Summary:

A soft laugh came up from somewhere deep inside his voice box. He wondered how much of his thoughts he had spoken out, or maybe just thought loud enough for his counterpart to hear. It didn’t matter. He was here.

“M-morning…sunshine”

The warmth around him shifted slightly like Sun had pulled back.

“Oh…Moonbeam”

He could hear the worry laced into the voice in his mind. He tried to send something reassuring back, but it felt disingenuous. Seemed he fell apart at the end anyway. He had wanted to be strong enough for both of them

Sun and Moon finally get their new bodies, and this is how they spend those first few hours together

--link here to AO3--

or continue below the read more line

He clutched the plushies closer to his chest. Scanning over the empty room once more. The red lights of his eyes made the chipped yellow paint almost look orange. He had suspected that their last night here would be uncomfortable, now that their whole room was empty. But more than uncomfortable, he was bored. He tried going into rest mode. But it turned out. Doing so standing up was a lot harder than lying down.

They had done it in the past. Before they had made their makeshift bed. Created from all the torn-up pillows and blankets that had been destroyed in the daycare and would get thrown away otherwise. Also, they didn’t have the sentience back then that they do now. Maybe that is part of why it was easier back then. But now all their stuff was in boxes. Off in the hallway connecting to the hidden door in the theatre, ready for them to unpack again after…everything.

He checked their charge. Eighty percent and at least another hour before Sun would wake up. Two hours before they were going down to Parts and Service. For the last time, as the same animatronic.

They knew it was coming for a couple of months, but the exact date, maybe not. But they had been slowly updating their systems to get to this moment. His fans let out a big whirl.

He shook his head, he…they had been thinking about it enough. Sun had worried so much he almost made a permanent groove in their floor with all the pacing back and forth he did. As he tried to keep his hands on his love's shoulders And talk through all his anxieties.

He adjusted the Sun Plush in his arms. Making extra sure it was properly cuddled up to his own plushy. Fingers tracing patterns over both of them for a while. He wondered what that was gonna feel like…hugging Sunny

He had hugged the little stars that had come to the daycare. But hugging a small human would be different than hugging a metal animatronic that was the same height as you. Or at least he hoped they be the same height still.

The early blueprints had at least made it seem that way. But he knew more than anyone that things could get messed up anywhere. As long as they both are okay. He didn’t care what he was gonna look like.

Sun was gonna look amazing though. He was sure of it. Their new techs seemed really excited for them. Talking about new faceplates, sensors, and battery upgrades.

That last one was the reason their room was now empty. The new bodies wouldn’t be able to use their current charging cables. So their room was getting renovated, while they were getting separated.

A lot of things in the Pizzaplex were getting a huge upgrade. Monthly golf was getting a few extra courses. They were adding an extra room to Rockstar Row so that hopefully Bonnie could return when he was finished. Some new signs for several shops. They were even expanding one of the maintenance tunnels so that DJs could get from the west arcade to the main stage and even hold a show there once in a while. And everyone was so happy for the big guy to be able to move around. Even if it was just one room. They were gonna hold a party the first chance they'd get.

But all that renovating meant that the Pizzaplex was gonna be closed for two weeks. And about half of that he and Sun would be out of it as they were getting separated. It was apparently a very delicate world to separate two sentient AIs.

That was not something he was surprised by. But the fact that the new techs took it into account. Was a good sign these new people knew what they were doing. Instead of the crew they had for years, that let them get into a state where he was able to contract a virus at all.

He clenched his fist. Trying to breathe through his emotions. It was because of those people he had lost so much. That he gave into his worst impulses. And amplified his worst fears. He became so terrible to his partner. The one being in the world that understood him.

He shook his head again, the bell of his cap chiming softly. It was fine now. It was because of Sun that they were still around. That he didn’t do anything to any of their little stars. While had managed to contain the virus all to himself so Sun didn’t get hurt. Sun had protected him in return by making sure he wouldn’t ever do something he would never forgive himself for.

He squeezed the Sun's doll's hand. He loved his partner so much, and he was excited to finally be able to tell that to his face.

As nervous as he was that this was happening, he was just as excited. Finally after all this time. He would be able to see Sun. Actually, see him. Looking at him through the mirror was great. But it wasn’t the same.

He couldn’t see it if he flustered Sun and caused his rays to spin. He could feel it. But not see. Unless they were in front of a mirror. And even then, it probably looked different. He doesn’t know what Sun looks like, doubled over in laughter because of a stupid pun he said at the perfect time. Or how he looks when he is trying to calm a kid down. Or does silly dances to make them feel better. He did feel the warmth spread through their chest. The little tingling of sensations of the rays swaying. The way Sun’s AI just beamed with pride and love. But he couldn’t see it.

Now that he thought about it, he thinks that was something he was gonna miss the most. The way he was able to feel Sun’s emotions. The warmth, the security. The love. Just everything. Always there, never far away.

He’d be on his own again. No Sun in his head to reassure him he wasn’t losing his mind again. No more that constant feeling of that warm buzz whenever Sun laughed in their headspace. That the moment he could spiral, Sun was just a breath away. That if Sun was in danger. His protocols would activate and he would be able to protect him and the little stars in their care.

It would be a whole new thing to worry about. He would do his best. He could only do his best. He wasn’t gonna give fazzbear any reason to scrap them. They have gotten too close. No matter what the new staff said, he couldn’t help but feel there would still be people around at the top. Trying to wash away what happened.

And the moment they get out of line. They'll be reduced to nothing. Turned off, never to be turned on again. And those thoughts terrified him too deep in his core. So much so that it made several of his motors skip a beat or two He let out another harsh breath and leaned more into the corner he was staying in.

He tried to stop thinking about it. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if he started spiraling at this point. Sun would probably be all jittery when he woke up. He would need to be level-headed to talk him down it. So that everything would go as smoothly as possible.

His fans kicked up another notch. He was fine. He was gonna be fine. THEY were gonna be fine. They had been told what would happen. How it would happen. And what to expect when they woke up.

And the new staff hadn’t lied to them so far. All their new upgrades went exactly how they said. And when they encounter a small bug or glitch. They were even listened to. But still. They hadn’t had an upgrade this big. Since they got the security updates and after that…came the virus

He started at his hands, His fingers sharper than Suns. It had taken a while to get used to them. The amount of balloons he accidentally popped in that first week of having them. Or getting stuck in the fabric of their little stars' clothes. It had been. A lot. But he learned he could do so much with them. Even if it had taken time. And it turns out he quite likes the security side of their job. The patrolling at night was nice and relaxing. And even if someone sneaked in.

Well, that was just a fun game of cat and mouse. And it felt good to know he was able to protect everybody. Even if nobody noticed it at the time.

He shook his head. He could partially hear Sunny voice scolding him. It hadn’t been that the glamrocks had hated them or not noticed and appreciated what he had done. They had been told not to interact and disturb his patrol. Stay out of his way.

And during the day. It wasn’t like they could stop doing their job. And Sunny hadn’t been allowed to leave the daycare at all. His hand went to his throat. Even though the shock collar had never gone off. The fact it had been there at all was scary enough. The new workers seemed so shocked when they told them. And the first thing they did was remove it. It helped him trust these new people.

The shock collar had seemed like a warning. Step out of line and it will go off. Sun had been terrified it might have gone off as he broke a rule. He also had been to…once upon a time. Then that virus made him more reckless. He had tried to understand the code that was trying to take control of them. And while he hadn’t been able to do anything to stop it. He had learned a lot. Finding loopholes in the rules. And just skirting the rules he found silly

It had been fun, testing the limit of what they could do. Going into the arcade after a patrol to play some of the games they never had a chance to. Even if it had made Sun panic inside their head.

He had ignored his panicked rambling, just happy to do something for himself for once. Eventually, when no repercussions came, Sun started cheering him on instead. It might not have been the nicest way to have gone about it. But they hadn’t been that close at the time, even if he could feel himself start to change. Sun had noticed too. The fact that he had, was one of the reasons he had fallen so hard for his solar counterpart as he did.

That and Sun was just objectively cute. He could see no one truly hating his other half. He was a literal ray of sunshine. Unlike himself, while he loved his job taking care of the kids, was in comparison a lot meaner.

And the virus hadn’t helped, whatever good reputation he had had. Almost thrown away by how manic and scary he had started to act. As even the smallest of broken rules could set him off. It had him see actual red. It had crawled into his code and hurt and tried to burst out. It had changed him on some level. He had always been mischievous. But he found it a lot more fun to scare people nowadays. Especially the older kids who thought they were getting too old for the daycare.

Sometimes a good scare seemed to work better, than just sternly telling some kids to behave. Over, and over, and over again.

Would some of their personality change with this update? It shouldn’t as it was just getting a new body. But what if it did? What if by separating them? They would lose the part of themselves that made them love each other.

He shook his head, that was outrageous. Downright impossible. He knew that. And yet. He looked down at the plushies in his arms. The grins on them, that just like their own never-changing faceplates. Where stuck with their one emotion.

Lately, all feelings had gotten so big. And they both lacked room to express themselves. Drivers for sensors that weren't there. Code still evolving as their sentience did. But with this new body, they should be able to now. But they could hate it. Hate it so much that they'll annoy each other to death. Or what if what he found endearing now would become grating?

He never wants to make Sunny feel bad about himself in any way. Too many of the staff and parents already did that. He'd never forgive himself if he became another voice adding to that.

But what if Sun changed?… What if he lost him? Not in the way that Sun wouldn't turn on again. But slowly they'll drift apart again. That Sun realized that what he had felt hadn't been love after all.

It was a miracle Sun still liked him after the virus. The fact that he was loved by his solar counterpart. Was a wonder in and of itself He wouldn't be able to go back to their old relationship. He had longed for Sun. Even trapped as he was. That Sun had been safe. Was reason enough to keep fighting the virus.

He wasn't about to lose it all again. The thought was terrifying him.

“Moony!”

His visual feed sprang back to life.

He had crouched down at some point. Arms wrapped tightly around himself. The plushie's being squeezed into his chest. Nails slightly digging into his upper arms leaving thin withe scratches into the paint.

His voice box was letting out static sounds of simulated breathing. He tried to reset it. Tried to get everything back under control. It felt like his code had screeched to a halt. And yet at the same time was processing twice as fast.

There was a warm sensation across his entire front.

Sun

Sun was hugging him from within their shared mind. Or at least trying to. His chest mostly felt kinda warm, and something was on his back. But he couldn't tell if that were supposed to be Sun's hands or arms.

Projecting sensations was awkward and weird. But Sun was there. Trying his hardest to send the sensations across. He wondered how long Sun had been awake. How many times had he called to him, and he just didn’t hear it? Just too lost inside his own head

He couldn't see anything. He was just staring across their blank room. His red eyes lit the place. As he slowly realized Sun had switched to murmuring sweet reassures in their mind. He tilted his head slightly as he let that warm voice coax over him.

“I’ve got you okay, Moonlight. We are gonna be okay. We'll be together every step of the way. You will not lose me”

“M-morning…sunshine”

The warmth around him shifted slightly like Sun had pulled back.

“Oh…Moonbeam”

But look at him. He was still jittering all over from his own induced spiral. He shut down his eyes. Trying to reset everything back into working order. But he was interrupted as he felt warm fluttering sensations all over the top of his faceplate.

Sun was leaving fleeting kisses. His own arms reached up as If to hold him. Only encountering air.

Sun wasn't there he knew. He had seen Sun do this so many times. He never had himself. And if felt crushing. To long for that comforting touch and not able to fully feel it.

Did Sun feel this every time he spiraled? How did he deal with that crushing longing? His nails dug further into his arm where he was holding it. Just trying to feel that phantom sensation realized.

“Hey…No...No…Moonie. It is okay. Don't damage your pretty casing. It’s gonna be alright. We'll be together the whole time. Just like you've been telling me. “

Sun was probably trying to hold him tighter. Instead. It just kinda felt like he was pressed more around him. And it made another glitched laugh come from his voice box. With his software still all scrambled, and hearing Sun’s worried voice. He spoke something he had wanted to say for a while but didn’t dare cause he didn’t want to worry Sun further.

“I’m scared….I am so fucking scared Sun”

He heard Sun softly gasp in his mind. Yet that surrounding heat didn't pull away. It seemed to only increase. He wondered what it would feel like. He would likely be squeezed to death. It would be kind of nice honestly.

“Moon…”

It sounded so heartbroken. It made him shiver. The metal of their exoskeleton slides together. Making a harsh sound as it ground together. The next words tumbling out of his mouth without his permission

“I can't lose you again”

He whispered. And there was a terrible shameful feeling crawling all over him. He was supposed to be the stronger one. He had been holding Sun through every part of this. Even as his own fears started to build. It would be okay though, cause the promised outcome was something they had both been longing for. They had agreed to this. It just…now that it was here, really happening.

The thought that he could lose the one he loved more than anything. It was making his wires twist. Felt like cables were in all the wrong ports. Because he couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t control a thing. He had to leave his fate in the hands of humans. That could just so easily have lied to them again. Done everything to get them to comply.

It was funny. Normally Sun was the one that would worry themselves sick. Thinking of the worst outcomes. And when those had solutions somehow came up with ten more. He had talked with him about every single one. Why this was a good idea. Why he could trust the new people? Everything.

Yet now all that logic had flow out the window. The only thought that ran through his code was that he be all on his own again. Something trying to hurt him, something trying to hurt Sun.

They’d promise each other they would never let that happen again.

And now they were trusting their entire beings over to some humans, just so they could finally be their own separate bots.

“Moondrop…I….”

Sun's voice sounded staticky, the same way he did as he was upset. and his music box in their chest comes to life, letting out a few awful distorted sounds. The closed thing he could get to a sob.

“My precious Moonlight. I know you're scared….I am too… I am so…f-....fu-…fu-....Oh, come on!”

He let out a small giggle. Sunny trying to get over the profanity filter for his sake was so endearing. Of all the things to almost make the sunny animatronic try and break it. It of course would be to reassure him.

He could almost see the pout on his partner's face. His nails slowly let go of his exoskeleton as he tried to stifle the giggle trying to come up at hearing his partner's adorable frustrated noises. Suddenly such a silly normal thing, in this insane hurricane of emotions.

“Oh hush Moon, it ain't funny. I am trying to be sincere here!”

He laughed a bit louder, the warmth soothing some of the cold fear that had threatened to consume him

“I know Sunshine…Thank you”

He felt something warm at the bottom of his faceplate. Like Sun was trying to make him look up. It surprised him so much that he jolted back into their visual feed. Only to still see their blank walls.

Was Sun trying to cup his face?

“What I was trying to say. Is that's okay to be scared. Of course, you’re scared! They are gonna go into the core of our beings. And mess with it to separate us. It's invasive, weird, and scary. “

Sun stopped for a moment. And he could feel that anxiety that he had felt coming from his partner these last few months. But especially the last week. Just skyrocket before tempering down again.

“But! But…but…we are not alone this time. It's not just you…or just me going in. We'll be together. Every step. And it's not like last time when no one knows what's happening. The Glamrocks are looking out for us as well now! And! And! All their new big upgrades went fine, right? We can do this. Just as long as we are together. We can do anything Even facing the scariest decision of our lives”

He states into the space where his partner is. The fear wasn't gone. No not by a long shot. But it didn't feel like he was suspended outside his code anymore. Like one wrong step could make him fall apart.

“You’re right. You are absolutely right Sunny “

He felt his counterpart fluster slightly at the genuine praise. Slowly his body felt like it was his own again.

“Thank you…”

He felt Sun shake his head

“No need. Happy to be able to help you for once “

He reached up again. To where he assumed Sun's face would be. It still hurt he wasn't actually touching anything. But he didn't care how silly this looked, it made him feel closer to his other half. And that was most important right now

“ You’ve always done that. “

Sun's rays weren't able to spin in his code. But he could feel them wanting to from behind their faceplate where they were hidden in their little housings.

“Kiss me…please.”

He asked desperately, Wanting that sensation. That feeling of closeness. Sun let out an eager sound. And then he felt that warmth that was so familiar against his ever-present smile.

He stared into the space where he thought Sun’s face would be. Thinking of his faceplate pressed right up against his own. The similar design made it so every part of their face would be touching in some odd way.

But it would feel so good. And he would hold onto his partner's faceplate. His rays probably having been retracted slightly to give his hands some room. His own face threatening to spin in place but held there in gentle hands. And the warmth it was given now. He wished he could blush so Sun could see what this was doing to him

He wished he could change his expression and see what the humans liked about sliding lips together. Then the sensation stopped

He leaned forward, before slowly slumping over as he lost control over the body. And it was Sun's time to take control.

“Whoo…oh ow!”

Sun caught their slumping body just in time. But he scrambled as he heard the yelp of pain. Quickly cutting into their visual feed. Trying to see what might have hurt them. Even though he was still quite scrambled from the sudden switch.

He felt the cord unplug from the back of their head. They had been fully charged.

“You okay Sunshine?”

Sun slowly rose up and rubbed the back of his head

“Yeah… just…tugged a little”

He felt Sun stare around the room. Knuckles knocking together. His own anxieties clearly showing. Before bending down and picking up the fallen down plushies.

“Well….it's time to go…isn't it?”

Both of them were still highly strung up. But he gave a nod. Wrapping his code as much as he could around Suns. Trying to tug at all the sensors for touch that he could reach. So Sun would know he was right there.

Sun walked to the door, into the hidden hallway that led to the theatre. There were all the boxes with their stuff, things they thought to keep for when their new room was finished and could decorate again.

Sun walked to the one open box. And gingerly and carefully put the two plushies inside. Stroking both tenderly before closing it. And taping it shut. So hopefully, truly no one would touch their belongings.

Sun's hands rested on the edge of the box. And he was standing still. Not even swaying in place. The distinct lack of bell sounds.

“ Together.. “

He whispered to Sun. Holding on tighter.

“Together still”

Sun whispered with a nod.

“Forever”.

He promised. And he felt Sun's fluster Happy response as his rays spun. The daycare animatronic slowly made his way out of the daycare to the maintenance tunnels

All the while both of them kept whispering to each other. That they were gonna be fine, they’d gonna be together. And that they loved each other.

So busy with their internal monologue. They were shocked when Sun almost bumped into someone. He shook himself out of their calming mantra. Surprised to see the star of the Plex himself

Freddy

“There you are Sundrop”

He said with a friendly smile as Sun took a step back.

“F-freddy?! “

He noticed something shift behind the big bear and pointed it out to his solar counterpart. Who looked past the big animatronic and see

Everyone

Everyone was here

“What? What are you all doing here?”

Sun asked, surprised

“We here to wish you luck of course!”

Chica chirped happily. And a different kind of warmth filled their entire system. The other three nodded.

“Yeah. It ain't every day. Someone gets this big an upgrade..so we thought it would be nice for you and Moonman to not be alone” Monthly proclaimed proudly and for once he didn’t snort at the silly nickname. For once it felt kinda sweet.

“And besides we gotta make clear to those maintenance people. That they better not mess up one of our friends”

Roxy cracked her knuckles as she said it. Monty agreed with her as Chica started to whisper something about no violence against the workers. Which Roxanne waved off. Freddy came up and took a gentle hold of Sun’s shoulders.

“The two of you are not on your own anymore. We'll help in any way we can. And are excitedly waiting to see the both of you in a week's time”

Sun's rays were spinning widely even though he was not in control. His music box let out a few notes from their chest. He hadn't expected them to show up. He knew they cared now but this. This he had never expected.

“Everyone…I…no we…thank you so much”

Sun finally said happily.

The doors behind the Glamrocks opened. Behind them appeared their familiar regular mechanic who didn't seem surprised to see everyone here

“So…we all ready to go”

Sun froze up. And he himself wasn't much better. Both of them tried to calm each other down in their shared mind. The others seemed to pick up on their frozen state.

“ I think they need a bit of encouragement “

Chica offered. Coming over to them where Freddy was still holding onto Sun's arms

“I think it's time for one last group hug!”

And then threw herself at Sun and Freddy hugging them both

“heck yeah. Good idea”

Mothy bounted closer and warped his strong arms around them and Roxy joined in from the other side.

Sun let out a surprise gasp. He had not yet been in the middle of a cuddle pile unlike he had been that one time after that one fight they had had. He felt the phantom of it now. And wrapped as close to Sun as he could so he would notice everyone.

Sun was shaking. But he could feel it The happiness crawled through all of their wires. Sun deserved to feel this happy more often. And he made a mental note to see if he could get group hugs to happen more for his partner as well. And he also felt Sun saving this memory in their special folder. Where no employee could access it.

After a couple of minutes. Sun was let go by the others. Though he didn't loosen his own hold. He wasn’t gonna let go. He was gonna stay pressed up against Sunny until they were getting shut down. The mechanic was still patiently waiting.

“A-again..t-thank you. Everyone”

Sun turned to the human

“Ready”

They got some last reassurance clasps on the back and followed the human inside. He kept close as Sun was instructed into the giant metal cylinder. Kept a hold of his code as they were strapped in, pulling into the big computer.

The last thing they sent across before they were shut down was.

“I love you Sundrop”

“And I love you Moondrop”

Next Chapter

#sun/moon #sun x moon #fnaf sun x moon #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #noffy's writing

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too-destiny-panda · 1 year ago

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Wyllvember Day 2: Wyll and Tav/The Devil

A/N:This time I switched Day 3 and Day 2 of @sagscrib 's prompt list to better fit the Wyllweek one by @commander-yinello. Hopefully you guys enjoy and thank you for the feedback on the first one, it warmed my heart that I haven't lost my touch as much as I thought:)

This would have been much, much longer than it already is, but I figured there would be another time for me to elaborate on this relationship. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

WC:820

Ah, how quickly one’s fate can change. Be it through physical or mental changes, it truly puts into perspective how flitting one’s sense of self is in the grand scheme of things. Our minds and bodies ever aging, ever changing. A small cut from a stray cat and your appearance is altered, no matter how small or unperceivable that change may be. The only exception to this is the celestial, fey and fiendish beings, perhaps, and even then, they may pick and choose how to manifest themselves to the mortal eye. And if a mortal soul does indeed at some point decide to drastically change their physiology, be it a druid using their wild shape or a bard deciding that their hair needs a different hue, they do so mostly willingly, and the majority of the time, the change is temporary. Not all are so lucky.

When Mizora enacted her punishment for the breaching of her contract (because it is her contract, no matter how technical one gets), she dragged Wyll Ravengard through the burning river Styx, through the hottest hellfire, and turned him into a devil. Gone was his warm brown eye, replaced by a pool of blood red in a black expanse. His neck was forced to begin to adjust to the curved horns now framing his head like a twisted halo as ridges grew into, and on, his skin, his tongue dividing, ears elongating and nails growing into claws. Where once stood the human Blade of Frontiers, the beloved folk hero, was now unrecognizable to many of his admirers as they cowered at the sight of a devil, crying for their hero to save them from himself.

Such trauma is impossible to overlook. A change so drastic, so shocking, and yet it happened in just a few moments. His entire body changed into one so foreign he almost wanted to believe it to be a bad dream were it not for the weight on his head and the occasional glances from camp members as well as the stares of anyone they met. It is no wonder that the Blade avoided mirrors, for a long while, despite the assurances from their leader and a few others that he was still the handsome Wyll they all knew. It was still too overwhelming, and despite being assured in his choice, having no regrets, it was not something he liked or wanted to think about.

Which is how he found himself alone, with a goblet for company as cheers and laughter, and some singing, rang through the air at the party behind him. He couldn’t bring himself to join them, to walk into that space and bear witness to how conversations turn hushed, and laughter quietens at the sight of him. As the Tieflings, despite knowing it’s just him, feel instinctual fear, drilled into them from Avernus as they regard a devil. So, he doesn’t, choosing instead to spend a night meant for revery in the pits of self-reflection.

When Tav had joined him, he felt both a sense of relief and guilt. Relief that he was sought out, that someone cared, and guilt that his choices were pulling them from a celebration of their victory. As he listed all the reasons why he shouldn’t be seen, they listened patiently, offering soft counterpoints and comforting words where they were needed. He truly believed this night was as good as it could get when they asked if they could kiss him. Their words and facial features feigned confidence as their eyes betrayed fear and anticipation, the corner of their lips twitching in anxiety where they formed a small smile. And he meant to refuse, he should have refused, but he just couldn’t. Not when they looked at him with such sincerity and bashfulness that was beginning to turn into embarrassment and regret as his silence extended for longer than he meant it to. And so, he conceded, deciding that this couldn’t be considered selfishness on his par if they offered, as he leaned in to bestow one single kiss upon their mouth. And oh, what a good decision that was.

Their lips were soft and pillowy. Tav’s kiss was tender, uncertain, as if they didn’t really know what they were doing, but he attributed it to nerves and rustiness. When their fingertips carefully brushed the underside of his jaw, he forced himself to pull away, to put some kind of distance between the two of them, before he wouldn’t have been able to stop. Their giddy smile, heated cheeks and starry eyes made him almost regret that choice, but as they parted ways, both leaving the other some space for their thoughts, he knew there would be a better fitted time for them.

And as he laid down for the night, his dreams already drifting towards the person of his developing affection, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of dancer they were.

#blue writes #blue's ocs #bg3 wyll #wyllweek #wyllvember #wyll ravengard #wyll x tav

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banannabethchase · 1 year ago

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Hi, hello! Prompt: 7. “Is this sexy? I feel like this is somehow sexy”, with c) Locked/trapped in a room together and/or d) Teachers AU, for hangmox? Thank you so much!!

Hangmox!

Rivals of the Year

Content warning: In this fic, there is a lockdown drill, but both characters are aware it is a lockdown. A character does exhibit anxiety around this, but it's not extreme and there's no anxiety attack. Read safely loves <3

...here have a preview of the Teachers AU Sarah put in my head that I now have to write At Some Point (it will not be actually started until Set the World Alight is completed as it is going to be Long. Hopefully no more than 25k but we all know how bad I am at estimating these things.)

Adam enjoys being one of the elective teachers. He usually only gets kids in his journalism class who actually want to be there, running the school newspaper is a hoot and a half, and, well, his hallmates don't suck, either.

His lunch time, absurdly early at 10:45, hits, and he makes his way down the hallway to grab his lunch from the teacher's lounge.

"Cowboy!" yells the man who is somehow both his favorite and least favorite. "How's my fellow teacher-of-the-year candidate?"

"On my way to schmooze more of the study body to vote for me," Adam shoots over his shoulder.

Jon Moxley, or Mox as all the kids and teachers call him, bumps Adam's shoulder with his. "You wish," he scoffs. "Like, fifteen kids take your classes altogether. I'm sure you'll win those fifteen votes, buddy." He claps Adam's shoulder, fingers lingering just a little longer.

Adam hasn't not noticed Mox. He hasn't missed the way Mox's eyes linger a little longer than professional, how his fingertips brush against Adam's hand when they sit next to each other to bitch through passed notes during staff meetings.

He's not willing to risk it, though. First, the union would have his head if he was wrong. And second...well, he's not sure it's possible. "Oh, fuck off. You and your forty-something students have nothing on Matt's kids who love me too."

"Ugh, the fucking drama teacher," Mox groans. "The only reason a Jackson didn't win again is because they were each Teacher of the Year the last two years." He rolls his eyes. "Anyway, we're scheduled for a lockdown drill today. Overheard Jackie in the main office mentioning it to Carla."

Adam goes slightly cold. "Oh."

Mox's eyes go kind and gentle. "Yeah, I mean - I know we're not supposed to know, but I remember what you said last time? About how they make you super anxious." He reaches out and bumps the back of his hand against Adam's. "I didn't want you to be scared."

"That's - that's incredibly sweet, Mox," Adam says.

"Yeah, I told some of my kids I know have similar reactions." Mox says, shrugging.

"I gotta go let Hailey and Jasmine know," Adam mutters. "And Logan. God, I hope Jacob's hear aids are charged..."

"Hey, breathe," Mox says, resting his hands on Adam's shoulders. "I'll go with you, check in on some of my kids who have me in the afternoon."

Adam nods. The two of them make their way down the hallway before the announcements click on, and Adam fills with dread. "Attention, Carter High School," comes the voice of the assistant principal, "we after in lockdown. Shelter, lock, windows."

Adam's about to freeze, but Mox grabs his arm and pulls him into the nearby photography room. Adam's about to mention to Mox that Hook's probably at lunch right now when Mox checks the warnings on the door, sees it green, throws the door open, and then yanks Adam in after him. Almost automatically, Adam pulls the door closed and falls against it.

"Okay," Mox whispers, face impossibly close to Adam's. "This is probably the safest place in the building. You okay?"

Adam blinks. "It's a drill, Mox."

"Yeah, but after the last drill I saw you paler than you usually are. This way, you know where to go if you ever find yourself on your own." As Adam's eyes adjust, he thinks he can see a smile on Mox's lips. "You okay?"

Adam takes inventory of his body. No shaking, no cold fingertips. His heart rate hasn't shot up, his thoughts aren't racing. "I'm okay," he says, sighing with relief. "Seriously, thanks for the heads up." He can't stop his eyes flickering from Mox's eyes, glowing lightly in the red light, and his lips. He thinks the way his heartbeat sped up is completely unrelated to the drill.

"Um," Adam says. He's not sure what he wants to say next. He's not sure what he's about to do.

"Okay, this is gonna be weird," Mox says. Adam can feel Mox's breath on his cheek. "But, like, is this sexy? I feel like this is somehow sexy."

Adam giggles. "Really?"

"I dunno," Mox says. Adam doesn't miss the way his eyes flicker down to Adam's lips. "Just. Dark room, we're alone, we've had that tension since, like, the beginning of the year."

Adam knows exactly what Mox is talking about. The teacher-themed Twister game. The first time Adam had ever really noticed how well Mox fills out a pair of jeans. "Alright," Adam concedes, still in a whisper. "Yeah, I could see how this could be sexy."

"And we're not even in our own classrooms," Mox says. "That would feel a little weird."

"Oh?" Adam says. "What could be weird?"

"I mean, if I kissed you in one of our classrooms, that would probably be pretty weird." He grins.

"Oh, definitely weird." Adam nods. "It's a really good thing we're not in one of our classrooms then."

Mox leans in so slowly it's like he expects Adam to lean away. Adam stays right there.

When Mox kisses him, Adam thinks he's seeing stars, and it's not just the red lights from the dark room behind his eyelids. The weight of it crashes on him like a wave and he can't help but settles his hands on Mox's hips. Mox pulls away, a tiny little smile on his lips. "God, you're cute," Mox laughs quietly. "Is it weird I'm kind of happy about the lockdown? I mean, terrible, reflection of the state this fucked up country is in, but for our personal needs it's not too bad, yeah?"

Adam nods. "I've definitely passed a lockdown in worse settings." He reaches up and adjusts his glasses on his nose. "So would you, um. Do you want to get coffee or something today? After work?"

"I don't know, Cowboy. Think that might be crossing a line."

Adam feels himself blush as red as the lights. "Oh, my god. Right. Sorry. I-"

"Oh, god, breathe," Mox says, settling his hands on Adam's shoulders. "That was a joke. I just kissed you. You asking me out is not over the line." He stares into Adam's eyes, and the urgency with which he whispers is almost comical. "I need to make sure you know it's a joke."

Adam chuckles, quiet. "Okay, yeah. So is that a yes?"

"I'll see you after school, Cowboy." He leans in and kisses Adam again, and Adam settles his hands on Mox's waist. He doesn't know how much time passes, but it's enough for him to jump when the principal's voice comes on the announcements saying, "All clear, Carter High. You may resume the normal schedule."

"You good, Adam?" Mox asks.

Adam nods. "Yeah. Just thinking about how we get out of here looking not like we've been making out in a closet the whole lockdown."

Mox snorts. "I was clearly being an upstanding citizen, and helped you to safety when I saw you were panicking." He grins. "Perfect addition to my teacher of the year pitch."

"Hey!" Adam says. He stumbles a little as Mox pushes the door open. "You can't use this to, like, pad your resume!"

"Why not?" Mox asks, shooting him a grin. "You were in need and, even though you're my rival for the position, I still helped you." He puts his hand over his heart as he opens the door to the photography classroom. "God, I'm such a humanitarian."

"I fuckin' hate you," Adam laughs as they make their way into the hallway.

Mox claps him on the back, hand lingering just a touch longer than it needs to. "No, ya don't."

#HangMox #AEW Teachers AU #Yes it gets a tag #It's literally my next big writing project #*sighs* Why can't I stop #wtf i like wrestling now???#in which sara writes #anxious millennial dreamboat #madly in love with leather daddy jon moxley #driadorim

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kikiiswashere · 1 year ago

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Life Update

Howdy y'all. This is a post I've been meaning to write for a while, and one I alluded to in a previous Tag Game post.

I am self-conscious about how much time it has been since I've posted any original content (IE art, fanart, fanfic, etc.), and I feel compelled to share why.

Last year, at 32, I was diagnosed with Autism and ADHD (Inattentive type). While this has been a revelatory thing to learn about me (and sheds light on so many facets of me I've never fully understood), it has also caused a fair amount of disruption. Namely, trying to behave and maneuver like a neuro-typical person when I have never been that. In light of this discovery, it has felt like my brain and my body are simultaneously in shut-down and overdrive.

I feel the cultural pull of 'perform perform perform produce produce produce' (yay capitalism!) and the aggravation that I "have" been able to behave like that before - albeit at a cost to my mental health and relationships.

Now that I know I am autistic and the mind numbing, body burning way a lot of us are expected to function does not jive with my nervous system, I have hit a wall and in what is known as Autistic burnout. After thirty-plus years of tamping down my mind and body's intuition, they are rightfully rebelling and demanding for a break and adjustment in behavior.

This is one of the reasons I haven't been able to update Children of Zaun in as timely a fashion as I would prefer. I want to write, but the motivation to do so is stuck in executive dysfunction land.

The other piece that is going on in the landscape of my life, is my business partner and I have made the decision to close our studio at the end of this month. There are several reasons for this, but my autistic burnout is among them. It is the right decision, but it is still a hard one to live with.

Hopefully, after we officially close and I have the chance to actually rest in the way my body and brain need, I will be feeling more creative.

Chapter 14 of Children of Zaun is about 1/2 way done, I think. Maybe I'll even post a little snippet for those of you who are bearing with me during these long swaths of time between chapters.

Anyway, thank you for reading! I love you all!

Take care of yourselves, okay?? Okay :)

#personal #life #life update #autistic #autism #autistic burnout #adhd #coz #chidren of zaun

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onegirlatelier · 1 year ago

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August 2023 | Dressing gown based on yukata

I wrote a while ago that I want to post more finished objects here, now that I'm trying to repair my relationship with dressmaking. It's thirty-five degrees Celsius over here and I'm having either covid or a really bad cold, so forgive me if my logic is twisted in places.

------------------~~~~~--------------------

This is a dressing gown heavily inspired/pretty much based on a yukata (a lighter kimono which you wear in the summer, especially to the summer festivals). I've wanted a kimono/yukata for so long, but practicality-wise I was also in need of a dressing gown less warm than my fluffy towel one, and when I saw this fabric I had the idea to make a dressing gown that's basically a yukata but with mods because a) it was a Western fabric, b) I wouldn't be wearing it the traditional way.

I hope it's fine and not culture appropriation...and to be able to defend that, I have watched documentaries on the making of yukata in Kyoto and also examined carefully two websites containing detailed info on how to make an actual yukata. Any changes I made should hopefully be a conscious decision, and this project can be a test run for when I can afford an actual kimono roll of fabric and an occasion to wear it!

That's my reasoning. Now let's move on to the fabric...

Guthrie & Ghani floral stencil print in #navy. 20%linen+80% viscose. I would NOT recommend this fabric for dressmaking unless it's for a rough outer garment. The fabric was very scratchy with linen bits, and I had to manually pull out the prickly bits as well as tumble wash it twice. I don't think it's intended for dressmaking...but I was so excited and realised it too late lol.

To help reduce the scratchiness, the shoulder lining was a cotton/silk blend. I think a thin but sturdy cotton would be a great choice but I didn't have that; I just had a lot of sheer cotton/silk blend leftover from other projects.

The contrasting colour facing (which is not traditional): from a scrap fabric basket of a shop, a cotton/viscose blend. It was a twill weave with that typical smooth powdery finish you get with viscose twill.

Notes/Mods:

130cm on CB instead of the traditional 160cm. A yukata is quite long (equals your height) because you wear it with a triple fold at the waist, called an ohashori. This fold allows the wearer to adjust the length of the yukata i.e. where the hem hits. Since I'm not doing the ohashori, I don't need the extra length.

My fabric would actually only allow an 110cm CB if I were to cut the front and back in one piece (as is traditional), because I had only 2.2m of it. It was not cut on grain, but also there had probably been a bad shrinkage. 110cm was way too short for me. To maintain the flow of the pattern on the back, I decided to add fabric pieces directly to the bottom of the front, because there were more things going on in the front so the pattern was disrupted anyways. This way, the front and back were still largely cut in one big rectangle, which is more recyclable.

There are not separate front strips (okumi) on my gown. Usually there would be, and there would actually be some shaping for the upper body achieved through this seam between the okumi and the front body. I omitted them because a) I wouldn't have enough fabric to match patterns if I had cut them separately, and b) I wanted to reduce weight as much as possible because this fabric was so heavy.

Perhaps most importantly I omitted kise. A kise is when you press open a seam, you don't press it entirely open, but leave about 0.2mm of fabric folding over the seam so that the seam is hidden. This technique is used throughout a yukata. I suppose that this helps protect the seam, since it's easier to reinforce a kise than a seam when it's worn. I omitted this again because of the fabric. Too heavy and bulky.

Since I used a Western fabric, this means I had to use different seaming methods than the traditional ones, because traditionally almost the entire yukata/kimono would be have selvage edges at seams. I could not just anchor down the seam allowance; I had to hide the raw edges neatly.

The shaping of the collar is traditional, but the construction was me. Usually you would use a long strip that's double the width of the finished collar, and fold it. I'm not sure if it's traditionally accepted to have the outer fabric and the lining of the collar cut separately. You would also need a collar reinforcement, which I omitted.

Traditionally you don't cut away any excess fabric on the front (on each side you would have two rectangular pieces of fabrics, the front body and the okumi). You just encase the excess as seam allowance in the collar. This way the fabric remains very recyclable and you can also adjust the collar for another wearer. I think this is truly a great idea, but I had to do some trimmings again to reduce bulk and weight.

Contrast colour for facing. I am pretty sure this should not be happening, because a yukata is supposed to be simple and summer-y. My mind was so dominated by the Orientalist paintings of G. H. Breitner which was a shame but the kimonos themselves were so pretty. Since I'm wearing it just for my pleasure, I added a bit of flare.

Normally, when I deal with raw edges, I whip-stitch with a tiny mark on the right side. This time I tried to do a blind stitch that leaves a tiny mark on the right side and no stitch marks on the wrong side. It is easier than I thought it would be (after lots of practice) and I might be converted.

In two or three places I just could not do a two-fold hem, so I smoothed out the fabric and did a little bit of overcasting.

I had tried the latest way of doing bar tacks and I didn't like it, so I stuck to my usual method.

Just a wide belt for now~I don't think I'll ever make an obi for it, but if this pattern is ever done on silk, I might just make a lined kimono with an obi!

#sewing #sewblr #stories #kimono #yukata

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spanishsenpai · 1 year ago

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Whumptober 2023 - Day 5

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

This chapter isn't my favorite but I hope y'all enjoy anyway.

Read it on AO3 if you'd rather! :D

There wasn’t a window in Aitor’s room/cell. There wasn’t a clock either. He was pretty sure he was getting three meals a day though so it had likely been only a week since he’d been brought here.

It took Waltz another day of starving him and giving him an injection to determine that he wasn’t about to keel over and die. After that, he got a new room, the one he was currently in. There was a mattress with a few blankets and his very own bathroom.

Such luxury. It pissed him off.

Apparently he was doing better than Waltz had hoped for though since he’d attached a heart monitor to him, the kind that he’d been forced to wear like a necklace. If it dipped too low or high Waltz would come in to make sure he wasn’t trying to kill himself.

He’d tried to take it off once, sick of being treated like a child. Waltz had nearly broken his hand and withheld his next few meals. For some reason, he felt it was related to whatever these injections were, he could hardly stand being hungry for as long as he knew he could handle. A day without food felt like triple the time. Not to mention the random headaches he would get now. Waltz never answered any questions about it when Aitor tried to ask.

The marks on his arm were growing in number turning his forearm into an ugly sight of what he assumed was the infection. Even worse, it was all over his rank tattoo. If he got out of here there would be no hiding it. It was all so frustrating and if he thought about it too long, his heart would race and Waltz would barge in to make sure he was alive.

His other arm wasn’t spared either. A couple days ago, Waltz had begun drawing blood from him. Lots of it. Multiple times a day. He could hardly pace around his room before he felt lightheaded and had to sit down which further aggravated the headaches. The food he was given wasn’t really the right kind to replenish the lost blood, not that there was much beef or orange juice left in the apocalypse.

He sighed, trying not to get worked up about it. There was nothing to do but think though. He was so used to being active: patrolling, training, making repairs. There was so much restless energy in him now. Even being forced to lie down lest he pass out, he was tapping his foot on the cold ground.

Hopefully his boredom would be relieved soon. There should be some food coming around this time, if Aitor’s stomach could be trusted with that sort of thing. Maybe he’d stop feeling woozy enough to do some sit ups or squats. He was avoiding arm workouts since the injections on his left arm made the muscles incredibly sore.

Aitor sat up as the doorknob clicked. He made sure to have a glare set on his face as Waltz came into the room. The glare deepened when the man lacked a plate of food in his hand.

“What’s this then?” He snapped, standing up on his mattress. “You’ll take all this blood and then starve me?”

Aitor hated that Waltz seemed pleased when he argued with him. “It’s time to get ready for your next dose. Luck for you, I’ll be lessening the time you need to go without food for it. You’re finally adjusting. Soon enough, your body will be able to fight off the added infection without needing to be starved.”

Aitor scoffed. He didn’t want to be here that long.

“You should be pleased. Most of my subjects don’t make it this long, especially not with as much functionality as you.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

As usual, Waltz didn’t answer. Aitor threw his hands up, frustrated. “So what? You came all the way here to tell me that?”

“We’ll be making repairs to the generators, so you will stay outside until the repairs are done.”

Outside? Aitor’s eyes widened. He hadn’t imagined being able to see it again so soon. He wasn’t about to complain though.

“Well? Let’s go,” Waltz called.

Aitor was too eager to see the sun to be annoyed. The fresh air would hopefully help curb his jittery nerves. As he approached the door, Waltz grabbed the back of his shirt before leading him away. Aitor bit down the insults he wanted to bark, not wanting to lose this opportunity, besides Waltz wouldn’t be affected by any attempt he made to get away.

He was led down several flights of stairs. All the hallways were empty which surprised him a bit. Where were all the Renegades he’d heard outside his room?

The thought was wiped from his mind as they approached a set of double doors with sunlight shining through them. As he stepped outside, he had to cover his eyes as he was blinded for a minute. It didn’t take long for him to recover and take a deep breath of fresh air. There was a slight sour smell he didn’t recognize but it didn’t matter.

They could fix that generator forever in his opinion.

His earlier question about the Renegades was answered now though. Quite a few of them were out here, patrolling and talking around a fire. It was then he realized this was a bandit camp. He looked at the surroundings, finding he didn’t recognize these buildings. Where the hell had they taken him?

Waltz was still pulling him along. Aitor, to his endless frustration, was getting tired. He was still recovering from the latest blood drawing. He kept questions to himself though. There would be time to curse Waltz out later and he’d walk as far as he needed to to stay out here longer.

Where they ended up almost made him want to turn around and go back to his cell. He’d been led down a set of stairs to a garden rooftop that was about 5 meters shorter than the surrounding ones. It wasn’t very big and the top was covered in chicken wire. The only entrance or exit was the set of stairs they’d taken to get down here, which was blockaded by metal doors they had installed.

It was a glorified cage. He bristled as he looked up and saw some Renegades had already gathered to stare down at him from above.

“You will stay here. Try to escape and they,” Waltz gestured above them, “will tranquilize you.”

“I’m not a fucking zoo animal!” He finally snarled.

Waltz stared down at him. “We can always skip this part and go right to the tranquilizers.”

Aitor choked down the reply he wanted to give. This was fucking demeaning but at least he was able to experience being outside. He scoffed, crossing his arms, and glared at Waltz.

The man had the audacity to look pleased. “Thought so. I’ll collect you before dark.”

He left then, locking the metal doors behind him. This was ridiculous. With all these Renegades around, where would he go? Did Waltz really think he was capable of escaping after struggling down the stairs?

Whatever. He was here now. He set to exploring this little garden. The ground was mostly dry dirt and weeds but there were occasional patches of flowers and a bench to sit on. The surrounding buildings were also tall enough to see from here so he was able to watch the small amounts of movement from the infected in them. There was more to entertain him here than his room at the least.

He sat down next to a patch of long grass and plucked pieces of it to tie together. He was too shaky to run laps around this area but he’d seen some of the Bazaar folk weaving grass and thought he could remember enough to make something.

His stomach growled after sitting there long enough to have made a small grass square. He rolled his eyes. He shouldn’t feel this hungry yet.

In reality, being hungry wasn’t what was really bothering him. Not when he was faced with having to take another injection. The hours leading up to it, he was tired and weak and after, his body was so sore and every vein seemed to feel like hot lava racing through him. He glanced at the marks on his arm again before tugging both of his sleeves down. He didn’t have to look at it. Maybe the less he did so, the better he’d feel.

When he’d made a grass pad barely big enough to sit on, one that was a little ugly and bumpy, he set it on some dirt and laid back on the ground to use it as a sort of pillow. His arms rested behind his head so he could see the few tall buildings around and clouds passing by.

Aitor sighed. This was almost peaceful. If he could block out the Renegades’ noise he could pretend he was somewhere else taking a quiet moment for himself. He should probably count himself lucky since they seemed to not be interested in him at the moment.

He’d started to zone out while staring at the sky, the occasional bird or one of the Renegades above would have his eyes darting to the movement but it didn’t last. The thing that caught his attention this time though was something much larger than a bird. It almost looked like a human gliding on one of those paragliders the people at the Fish Eye sometimes had. Peacekeeper armor was too heavy to consider trying to adapt to the mode of transportation.

His eyebrows rose as the figure landed on a building and began running on the outside scaffolding. They would glide and climb and run until Aitor realized their destination must be the camp. They jumped to a building right next to the bandit camp and crouched, clearly trying not to be spotted. Aitor wasn’t surprised the Renegades hadn’t seen the figure. They didn’t look up a lot and sounded like they were busy having some kind of brawl.

Aitor squinted up at the person, trying to make out if he knew them. He bolted upright, eyes wide as he began to recognize features. Was that… was that Aiden?

He’d thought Aiden had died with the rest of his squad, an event he had done his best not to think about. That was definitely the Pilgrim up there though. He had his binoculars out and was scouting the camp’s surface.

Surely he wasn't thinking about raiding it? Not by himself?

A small part of Aitor hoped that, yes, he was. He’d seen Aiden do impossible things. He hated Waltz as well so surely there would be an opportunity to escape.

Jesus Christ, Aitor thought, anxious with the potential of freedom being so close. Look here Pilgrim.

He almost stood up, but didn’t want to draw attention to Aiden’s position. He should probably stop staring at him like a kid who’d just seen his first mall Santa. It physically pained him to tear his gaze away though. If he wasn’t watching Aiden then how could he be sure the other was still there?

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply as he brought his knees under his elbows. He needed to calm down. His heart was racing so fast Waltz might-

“What are you doing?” A Renegade screeched, slamming the door closed behind him.

Aitor tensed but didn’t turn around, feigning aloofness. “What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” He snapped.

Multiple footsteps came closer to him until a hand was suddenly snatching his upper arm and pulling him up to his feet. Aitor would forever deny that it made him dizzy to stand so quickly.

“What the hell?” He shouted instead.

“Boss said to make sure you weren’t killing yourself.” The Renegade who’d grabbed him shoved him back to the ground, snickering out how easily Aitor went down.

A growl escaped his throat. As the Renegade reached for him again, Aitor kicked out, catching him in the side of the knee. Quickly he got to his feet as the other yelped and fell.

“Bastard,” Aitor grumbled, dusting off his pants.

The Renegade recovered quickly, standing and pulling out his weapon, his buddy doing the same. Aitor could practically hear them steaming behind their masks.

“I’ll fucking show you,” he screamed, lunging at Aitor with a bat covered in barbed wire.

Eyes widening, Aitor threw himself to the side, just barely dodging as he hit the ground. The Renegade whirled on him again as Aitor scrambled to get to his feet. Fuck, his head. The world spun as he moved.

“Get back here!”

Aitor cried out as the bat made contact with his back, shoving him forward enough that he fell again. The barbed wire tore at his shirt, nicking the skin underneath. There was warmth seeping into his shirt and he was already breathing harder. He couldn’t keep dodging.

Weight appeared on his back before he could form a full thought, shoving his chest into the dirt. He wheezed out a breath, feet kicking against the dirt ground in a sad attempt to get back up. He could tell there was a pair of boots on his back keeping him down. Damn it, he was at the mercy of the two Renegades.

He tried to twist around to get on his back but another boot from the other Renegade landed on the back of his knee, keeping him pinned. Aitor snarled, panic starting to settle in his chest. Even with the soreness in his arms, he tried to lift his torso up, even with the Renegade on him. The needle marks stung as his aching muscles screamed. It didn’t last long though as the Renegade only had to do a small jump to get him to collapse again. Aitor coughed, choking on the dry dust now floating around his face.

“Are you a couple of idiots? Waltz will kill you!” Aitor seethed, finding a little difficulty in getting the words out with the full weight of a grown man on his chest..

Raspy chuckling was his reply. “Fucker thinks he’s untouchable!”

The one not standing on his back slammed his weapon hard into his side. Aitor tensed but bit his tongue to keep any cry from escaping other than a grunt. “Peacekeepers don’t make the rules around here fucker..”

Shit, he should be able to get up! His body was so shaky from Waltz’s fucked up experiments though that Aitor felt as helpless as a lone private in the middle of a hoard. There was no one to help him. No squad. No back up.

He looked at the mask of the Renegade above him from the corner of his eye. Immediately, he clenched it shut to brace as he saw the bat swinging up, ready to come down on him.

The door slammed open.

“Idiots!” Another Renegade shouted. “The boss’ll rip you apart if you break his science project!”

The Renegade above him paused, staring at the one at the door. “The fucker tripped me!”

“And Waltz will take off your legs. Leave him!”

There was a scoff but after a minute, the Renegades climbed off him. Aitor immediately set to getting up, pushing himself away from the group as fast as he could. His arms were trembling from exertion, infuriating him but he knew there was nothing he could win here by attacking.

He coughed as the one he’d kicked pushed him back against the wall, arm pressed against his throat. “Next time i won’t be so easy to get rid of fucker,” he hissed before heading for the exit.

Aitor waited until they’d left to rub his throat, wincing when curling his left hand caused pain to pulse all around the injection sites. He slid to the ground, as the world began to spin, breathing heavily through his nose to try and keep from passing out.

He got off lucky with the appearance of the only smart Renegade. He was so fucking helpless here. He needed to get out.

His eyebrows rose, head snapping up to look at where Aiden had been but the spot was empty now.

Aitor sighed, placing his head back between his knees.

#whumptober2023 #no.5 #Pinned down #dying light 2 #dying light #dying light aitor #dl2 aitor #fanfiction #fic #manhandling tw #cursing tw #needle tw #whump #waltz is here too

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fadingcomputerwitch · 2 years ago

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I posted 1,386 times in 2022

That's 1,380 more posts than 2021!

4 posts created (0%)

1,382 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ambykinns

@patient-amour

@fullmetalfisting

@supernaturaldaily

@nightshadeis

I tagged 1,384 of my posts in 2022

#funny - 302 posts

#supernatural - 193 posts

#cute - 133 posts

#dean winchester - 94 posts

#adorable - 65 posts

#disney - 61 posts

#cat - 57 posts

#kitty - 56 posts

#sam winchester - 53 posts

#bones - 48 posts

Longest Tag: 94 characters

#after covid and after big family decided not to gather because papa was gone there are 9 of us

My Top Posts in 2022:

Realities of a big girl

Personal Rant Incoming:

We like to pretend that as a society we are getting better at accepting people for who they are. Maybe we are. But where I sit and from what I see that isn’t the case. One of my friends has a father who dislikes me (long story short I called him out on some shitty behavior and he did fix those behaviors afterward but has talked trash about me ever since. Although he blames it on how I acted at a fancy restaurant even though I have no prior knowledge, still, on how to act at a fancy restaurant) and right now my friend lives with her dad again. Well on a series of weird events I found myself in the area and my friend had some things for my offspring, so I stopped by. He said no words to me when I was there and since he was on the phone I said no things to him. After I left he apparently told my friend “That is a big girl” which she told him off and that she sees me as only me and that is how he should see me...I tried to not let it bother me because I know he just wants to talk trash

BUT this isn’t like a single occurrence. This happens all the time. Let alone the fact that I hardly eat to begin with. And I have so many other instances running around in my head. Being accused of eating all the food on a trip I took with another friend, being eyed and told nothing in a store would fit me, and just generally being shamed for my body.

All of this while still adjusting to the fact I have PCOS and my journey to have another offspring is going to be more complicated and my WEIGHT might not even be something that I can totally control. But I gaslight myself into thinking that everything is in my head: I’m fat because I am lazy. I don’t need to eat I have plenty of fat. My spouse will eventually leave me a skinnier person, especially as they lose weight. And I want all these thoughts to stop because I know they don’t belong but....I have a million instances where they prove to be true.

Anyway, my friend also said something that night as I ate my first real meal of the day, and it stuck with me. “You deserve to eat” just something that simple. I hear it from others, my spouse and such but at least it adds another voice of reason to combat the bad.

I’m trying to be a better human for my offspring. That includes teaching her fat isn’t a bad word and to love yourself no matter what. I still struggle everyday with the voices and what I was taught, I only hope that I am laying a foundation for my baby to be able to walk the world with their head held high in a way that I have not been able to do yet. I hope that I can make that shine brighter than it ever did for me. And hopefully someday, a little at a time, I will see myself in a better light too.

0 notes - Posted September 9, 2022

You are awesome and sweet and caring towards everyone. You be the best. That be my opinion

I have no idea who this is from or how long it has been sitting in my inbox, but thank you. I kind of needed this today.

0 notes - Posted August 30, 2022

ugh

I told a person I was on Metformin because I have PCOS and it is a recent diagnosis, which sucks since I want more kids. The person replied with ‘Metformin is bad for you’ and why...why would you say that. So I replied with “Yeah and all my bipolar meds are supposedly bad too.” And she was quick to reply with “Yeah super bad.” My response was simply “Not worse than unaliving myself” and I think perhaps I took it too far. But seriously I am sick of this same argument.

1 note - Posted August 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Infertility

I never thought I would be here. My daughter happened so easily without aid. Now I am here with a diagnosis of PCOS and two little bottles to help me make another. This time it won’t be a happy accident. This time will be painstakingly calculated with medicine and a schedule. This time the baby will be made out of timing and plans. Will the passion still be there? Why does this feel like such a big failure? Do I have a right to complain? Some people long for one child and I selfishly want more. Why does this hurt my feelings so much? What if even this fails? What if I do it wrong? What if this is because I don’t deserve more? Am I a good enough mom? Am I good enough? These are all the things I think and feel as I look at those two little bottles.... I will push on regardless and hope that this works. Adjusting to new things are hard. Hopefully I will be with child soon. Waiting is always the hardest thing.

4 notes - Posted October 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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venture-through-the-mist · 2 months ago

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Petals May Wilt (But We Can’t Let Them Wither)

The New War is over. The System is saved, for now. Yet, a new challenge arises, the issue of ‘the Lotus’. With her mind fragmented from Ballas’s abuse, can she begin to coexist with the other two voices that now begin to drown out her own?

Natah and Margulis have been awakened into a world that is distinctly unfamiliar. They are not who they once were—in more ways than one. But who is the third voice sharing their mind, and why is she so uncomfortably familiar—for one of them, at least?

Chapter 3: Atrocious Indoctrination, Altruistic Protection

She was made to temper his obsession, to be nothing but an epigone. Yet, perhaps the Sentinel can one day create her own identity.

TW: There are just a couple warnings that I want to address for this chapter before we get into the story.

Non-graphic mentions of the canon-typical abuse, manipulation, and other nonsense that comes with Ballas’s character. He’s terrible, this is a TW that is going to show up fairly frequently in this fic.

Somewhat graphic, canon-typical violence.

Going along with the point above, there are a few somewhat graphic mentions of injuries. Lotus gets stabbed, and poisoned by the Void. You’ve all (hopefully) all played TNW, y’all knew (at least some of) this was coming.

Identity crisis. I feel like that’s par for the course with these characters, but figured I’d mention it anyways since this is the chapter where it really starts becoming a thing.

I’d also like to add that this chapter is in first person POV. I’ve always written Lotus that way, for whatever reason, so I hope that it isn’t too jarring of a switch from Natah and Margulis’s chapters.

With everything out of the way, the fic begins under the cut.

Can a being truly long for something that they have never experienced? Can one wish for a childhood that was never theirs, for memories that were never theirs to hold in the first place? I was created to fill a niche, formed from the shell of the enemy, and the memories of a woman whose legacy I was doomed to destroy. A woman with too much love for the world she was born into. When I first laid my eyes on her children, I instantly knew why she had died to protect them.

The entirety of my existence, I was living in another’s shadow. I was not given a name. I was simply the Sentient amalgam meant to become ‘Margulis’. But I could not. As naive as I was, that I knew. But…I could adapt my systems to her memories. I allowed her kindness to comfort me. I allowed her strength to fuel my own. Her emotions seeped into my precepts, giving me the ability to connect with her children—my children. Her notes, the painting at her desk, the ancient texts that she adored, all of those taught me her passion for the world around her. It was something that I could use.

Yet, what about the other being, the Sentient Queen? I found myself uncomfortably forcing down any reminders of her existence, adjusting her precepts to better reflect my purpose. ‘Margulis’ was who I was supposed to be. ‘Natah’ was simply the corpse used to facilitate that. Ballas always told me that the Sentients were liars, they were the enemy. They were dangerous. That included Natah. Did that include me as well? When it came time to prove myself useful, I looked upon the Sentient, that thing that called itself my ‘brother’, and with little love in my false heart, urged my children to fight. It was my duty. I was Natah no more.

I never was her, was I?

Was I?

We won the war, but there was still one thing that had to be done. I had to protect my children. I sealed them away, forcing Lua into the Void, exhausting myself in the process. With flaking skin and trembling limbs, I breathed a sigh of relief. They were safe.

I did not mind when I collapsed alone in my ship, my form shifting uncontrollably as my body attempted to adapt to the toxins. I ignored the agony as my skin reformed itself. There was work to do, I did not have time to wallow in my pain. I would survive. I always did.

Centuries passed. I sat vigil, watching as the System fell into chaos. The Orokin were gone, yet I was at a loss. I should have been free…but something tethered me to their teachings. The Tenno began to awaken, and I was the first voice in their ears. They did not remember Margulis. I…found myself uncertain of my feelings on that matter. I lied to them, led them to believe that they and their Warframes were one and the same.

I had to. It was the only way to protect them.

Until my past—Natah’s past—reared its ugly head. One by one, I watched as my children were hunted by that Sentient and his ‘Shadow’. One by one, I watched them awaken from the dream that I had placed them into. One by one, I waited, anticipating the horrific day that the process would go wrong, would drive them mad.

I did this to them. My fear made me blind.

Yet, they persevered, as they always did.

When that horror from my past reared his ugly head, I took the only path that I could bring myself to. It was to protect them, I swore to myself. As my mind was re-written, as I was stripped to my base precepts, to Natah and Margulis once more, as I was made to doubt my own memories, that was my mantra.

It was to protect them.

Protect them.

Protect who?

The Void was to be a welcome escape. Yet, it was not.

Rage and terror, like that which controls a cornered animal, fueled me as I fought that ‘Tenno’—not one of my Tenno, no, it was wrong, somehow—, fueled me as I fought my way, clawing and screaming, back to Ballas, to kill him. My fury, like my fear, made me blind. They were right. I was not strong enough.

The word ‘Master’ rose from my throat with the agony of a thousand blades as I was ordered to slay my child, one of the very beings that gave me purpose. Why did she follow me? I told her to stay away. A part of me shattered every time I saw her wince from my attacks. Yet, she kept trying to reach me, never landing a single blow as she attempted to talk me out of my altered state. Memories flickered back into my mind, reminding me of who I was.

Even that did not deter him. I cared not about each burning beam that punctured my skin. I told myself that I did not feel the searing pain. I only wanted one thing.

Spare them.

Leave them ALONE.

I SAID STOP!

My screech tore through the air, energy discharging from my body, knocking him back. I would not let him harm my children. His focus redirected itself, and determination mixed with the swell of fear collecting in my chest. His words, his insults cut through my mind like the sharpest Hikou, but I only pleaded with my Tenno—my child—to escape.

When I felt the agony from the Paracesis, the great ‘Sentient Slayer’, spread through my torso, I only thought of my children, my purpose. As I fell to my knees, barely comprehending the dampness growing from the jagged wound, my mind stuck on only one fact. I had failed them.

No. Not yet.

Disgust rippled through my mind as I stole my life back from him, as I felt the tissues that had been sliced apart begin to knit themselves back together. I glanced down at my hands, at my appearance.

I was changed.

I did not have a moment to revel in the victory, purple sparks dancing on my fingertips as I forced back the unknown entity that only…laughed in a chilling tone as it watched us. The exertion took its toll, of course. As my senses faltered, as my limbs weakened, unable to hold me steady, I glanced back at my child, smiling gently as I collapsed, as the world went dark.

‘EXPLAIN. NOW.’

The anger in the commanding hiss startles me awake. Why is there another? Who is this being? A rhythm beats steadily against my mind, fragmenting my thoughts with its fury. A quiet, confused hum joins it.

‘What’s going on? Where am I?’

This hum is decidedly less angry than the other, but my child’s voice breaks me out of my mind. She has asked me a question…I answer her to the best of my ability, my words slow, disjointed.

“I…I thought I was…Natah—“ That elicits a spike of anger from one of the voices, distracting me for a moment, though I force myself to continue.

“—…Margulis—“ A confused hum from the other voice, as if I had spoken to her…My mind lights up in realization, finally connecting names to the sudden appearances. I pause briefly before continuing to speak to my child.

“—…L…Lotus…?” The response to that confuses me. How is my identity up to me? It…has never been up to me. I deflect the Tenno’s—no, not the Tenno, something different—question. Just another lie. It is to protect them, I tell myself. The sounds in my mind begin anew, pulling my attention inward once again. It is loud, too loud. They are asking questions that I cannot answer. The sharp-toned one—Natah, I remind myself—hisses in irritation, confused as to what I am doing in her mind. The soft-voiced one—Margulis—agrees…somewhat. My Tenno’s voice is yet another that I cannot drown out, but I find myself unable to fully answer her.

Am I ready?

I…am not one. The realization dawns on me, and as my child poses yet another choice, I find myself at a crossroads. I do not know who I am. I do not know which of my ‘voices’ should lead. Natah screeches, furious. Margulis hums, her tone clearly conflicted, disapproving. Both of them project their opinions in the same instant, and I am at a loss, unable to properly comprehend either. I turn my head towards my child, though I know that she cannot see the plea in my gaze.

Tell me who I am.

I do not know who I am.

Tell me.

Yet, despite my silent conflict, there is a tiny, fractured part of my mind that yearns to be heard, a part that does have a faint idea of who I might be. That same part of me is…relieved that my child seems to be leaving the choice up to me—though I had expected her to want her true mother back. I am not Natah. I am not Margulis. I was created from both of them, but I have been molded into someone else entirely. Perhaps I can be more than what he designed me to be. I am a leader, a protector, a mother. I do not shy away from what must be done, but I do not cause undue torment either. Despite the chaos in my mind, I find my voice oddly tranquil, reflecting false certainty.

“I am the Lotus.”

#warframe #mist’s writing #petals may wilt #warframe fanfiction #warframe spoilers #lotus warframe #natah warframe #margulis warframe #As always this is up on my AO3…y’all know the drill by now lol

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