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a-minke-whales-tale · 17 days ago

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Delusion, Clinical Zoanthropy

I am a clinical zoanthrope. I have schizophrenia. If you have read my posts or blog before this should be no surprise as I am quite open about it. These labels that have been put on me affect nearly every aspect of my life, and greatly affect how I interact with the community. There is often a lot of discussion surrounding ideas of physical identity, delusion and if these things should be acceptable within the community or how to handle these topics.

Length: 3676 words

TW: delusions, reality checking, mentions of medical abuse

The year before last, I had spent quite a bit of time working with another academic to construct a historical materialist analysis of therianthropy. Historical materialism for people who are not familiar is a method of analysing history through the lens of production and class society. In particular, given the apparent wealth of historical therianthropy among “primitive” society, and the narrow niche of modern therianthropy, as well as my own treatment at the hands of the medical system, I wished to understand the origins of the oppression of therianthropic identity. I have to date not completed the project for a number of reasons - limited available literature regarding the transition from pre-class society to slave society particularly regarding religious and spiritual beliefs, personal health and time, and forcing myself to create a complex system of double bookkeeping and analysing my experiences through a materialist lens essentially constantly and forcibly reality checking myself constantly was very taxing.

Although I did not get to the state to write and publish the paper, I did learn a fair bit, and I think the most important concept within this discussion is the concept of delusion and how we define it. There is a common vulgar definition of delusion as believing anything that is not real or not backed by scientific consensus. But then there are many things people believe which is not backed by scientific consensus. While certainly there are people who would say that anyone who believes in ghosts or the Christian God are delusional, nearly half of the people in my country believe in God, however we lack any materialist evidence at this point for such a thing. The state of being identified by others as delusional comes with some pretty serious consequences, it should be noted though that these consequences are not applied to people who believe in God. Similarly, there are times when scientific consensus is simply wrong. Is the man who rejects the inherent inferiority of the [Sub-saharan Afrikan] race because of their skull shape and “thick skin” delusional? We today would collectively say no. For a man in the early 19th century, this would have been scientific consensus even if now we should find such a thought abhorrent. Was he then delusional? (Though some people did try to justify slaves escaping as a mental health condition Drapetomania, and historical terms like madness are often connected to modern terms like delusion and psychosis). I think often modern humans can create an almost religion out of science and progress and belief in their own rationalism - that not only is there absolute objective truth, but they can and do know it all in this particular moment, and that the society they exist within does not effect an impact on their view.

It is important to understand that delusion has a fairly specific definition and caveat when talking in a medical definition. That important caveat is that the belief conflicts, or is not standard, within their culture or subculture. Not only that, the belief must be very fixed and firmly set which does not respond/change to the presence of outside evidence. This cultural context is an important factor in the diagnostic criteria for delusions, as well as dissociative disorders like OSDD and DID (it may well be important for other conditions diagnostic criteria as well though I lack experience to speak on that topic).

Delusions -are- very much socially defined. I make the joke often that a rich man hears the voice of God he runs for office, I hear the voice of a spirit and need to be on antipsychotics. There are a number of examples namely in SEA where the experience of transforming into another animal would be considered entirely within the range of normal possibility (though notably with tigers primarily). There are also cultures and practices in which physical transformation is not considered delusion but a normal part of ritual notably among the Xan peoples. Among some Siberian cultures as part of hunting some will take essentially the mind of a wolf. In South Asia there are also recorded practices in which a person’s soul is bonded to and moved to an animal’s body in the night. Most people those reading this might encounter day to day would think these are surely delusions, but for those people, it is just a normal part of life and culture.

Most people here would collectively agree that therianthropy is not a delusion, however from outside the community many easily could argue it. You -are- human, you can look at your body and it and see that it -is- human. If you argue for past lives, there exists no evidence supporting that and no evidence supporting the existence of spirit or plausible explanation beyond hallucination despite many attempts to measure their existence. Nor do you have the instincts of that animal because you are clearly a human, and any "instincts" you might have are phantoms of the mind or attaching to a certain animal as a way to manage your life. However neither of these explanations would be acceptable nor would they convince you that you are wholly and entirely human.

Similarly with transgender identity, people here would collectively agree that is not a delusion. But 60 years ago? Or among transphobes? You are experiencing a delusion. You are obviously a wo/man, and no amount of hormones, [presentation], or [surgery] will change that. We would all collectively say fuck that shit, but you know who agrees under certain circumstances? WPATH in their Standards of Care directly notes among certain conditions of transgender identity as delusion (or at least in their old SOC before informed consent became common). It is common for people with schizo-spectrum disorders and higher level structural dissociative disorders to be denied care, or to face significant pushback. But this can also be true for all sorts of other “less serious” conditions such as austime, adhd, depression etc. This is something I have faced, and who knows how many others have faced it as well.

But what a delusion is very much defined by perspective and culture. It is easy when sitting on the "non-delusional" side of a cultural belief, to believe the order of things is logical. However, when I must construct materialist explanations of experiences, a task for which I am forced as part of double bookkeeping, the differences between my "delusional" experiences, and others "nondelusional" experiences especially in regards to therianthropy is one of degree, not of kind. Do not make the mistake to think that in other scenarios, other cultures, your experiences may be seen as delusions, and in other places, mine as natural and grounded in reality.

My experience as a clinical zoanthrope has left me often feeling quite divorced from the community, that I am separate, unwelcome, or an interloper in what is supposed to be my own community. I have been in the community for a while, but only at certain points felt comfortable to really call myself therian, a feeling which is again waning. There is a strong push constantly against physical identity. Even the most (in)famous phrase in wider culture about therians is the “on all levels except physical I am a wolf”. However this pushback against physical identities, especially from the concerns over P-shifter cults and abuses, created an environment that for me to be tolerated, I would have to constantly “show insight” or really reality check myself, and ensure all the others there knew that I knew my experience was not real and was not like their experiences were (that theirs were real and different). I still often have to do the dance describing my experiences, and even in the terms I use for myself as a clinical zoanthrope is indirectly that same dance.

The therian community often prides itself on how accepting it is. Though to be honest, I really have to question if this is the case. I have always felt unwelcome by the broader community. But so have very many others. It always strikes me that whenever I really share my experiences, how many others really relate to that feeling of not feeling wholly secure or belonging within the community. My orca friend, Ike, has talked quite a lot how they simply did not join the community for so long for feeling unwelcome. Sharing my experiences on a discord server a few weeks ago I learned another member was also a zoanthrope but had never shared it for fear of ostracization. A number of others expressed sentiments of feeling not total included, some for shift strengths, some for things like sexuality, theriomythics often get excluded, etc. Heck, by some accounts even the transition to the term Therian away from Were was an effort to include more people besides just shapeshifters.

Really when you think about it, it is not surprising so many people feel excluded in various ways. Therians have all these lines that you have to sit inside of and not cross to be acceptable to the community. But when you try to actually measure those lines many are not only extremely blurry, but vary person to person. Indeed my own experience is that there are people that do accept me, even if the wider community does not, and that is really the only reason I stayed.

The community has historically for instance a pretty hard stance on delusion and hallucination. The question though is, when does a shift move from being a socially acceptable phantom shift, to an unacceptable hallucination. For me in particular, my sensation of shift goes through a fairly long process of getting more and more intense, but it is also really a quite smooth process. It is like following a colour line, when does ‘blue’ truly begin? The first sensation is often a slight tickling, and very light phantom touch that you can sort of see through the feeling on your body. Beyond that the sensation gets more intense and becomes bothered from having things push against or intersect it. Further it begins to have not only form but colour and texture, but still if I look at the limb I cannot see it, I still see a human limb, though I do not expect it. Further the visual appearance comes in more and more until eventually my human parts are gone, transformed into animal parts I can see and I can touch. When we write it out like this it is pretty separately defined, but in the process this occurs for me, it is very smooth.

After enough quantitative change, there is a qualitative change, but where and when that occurs is hard to say. I think the first two experiences are very common among therians. I think the third experience is also fairly common but that starts to get more and more into the blurry lines, and if you cannot see where that line is you are likely to downplay your own experiences for fear if you say too much, you will be excised or ostracised from the community. But this fear also has the doubly cruel aspect that you can never really know where that line is because many people downplay their experiences to make them palatable, and so though many others might share in these experiences, people simply do not speak of them because they only see either extreme being shared, the particularly minor shifts being accepted, or the extreme shifts being sorted into delusions. I think it creates a false binary from a spectrum of experiences.

So many of these blurry lines exist though. What age can you be taken seriously? What platform do you use? How many kintypes is too many? Theriotypes being too common? Theriotypes being too rare? Are paleotherians acceptable? Are theriomythics acceptable? Can a dragon be a therian? Can an otherlinker or copinglinker have their identity so long it becomes therian? Are beastly animals from fictional settings acceptable or should they be with fictionkind? What sort of sexual and romantic expression is allowable? Is transspecies an acceptable identity? Some of these are blurry, some of them are clear, but they all wiggle around in different ways of some people will find them acceptable and some not. This leads to people self-censoring to the safe answers that they know are acceptable and prevents them really exploring their own identities, but also these questions within the community as it learns and grows and becomes more inclusive. In a certain irony, therianthropes as a community, are actually quite demanding in their conformity while preaching of their acceptance.

There has been a significant push in recent years to give greater levels of inclusion to therians with both delusional identities and physical identities. People are generally more accepting of zoanthropes and at points I have felt comfortable even to call myself therian and not just a member of the community. But there are also a number of additional terms, namely endel and holothere, which cover these experiences. However, something I note often when people talk why I as a clinical zoanthrope can be acceptable, while P-shifters and at times holotheres cannot, still comes down to that I acknowledge my experience as delusion. When I read the experiences of at least some p-shifters and holotheres, often the difference really is not so great, I often see their experiences mimicking or mirroring my own. I do use the word clinical zoanthropy, which on some level does indicate an understanding I know that at least others see my experiences as not real. This is a pretty common feeling among zoanthropes, we use this word, we know the humans think our experiences are not real, but they are incredibly real to us.

The question then is what should be done with us? There is a lot of comment that allowing us in the community to share our experiences or not reality checking people is encouraging delusion. People also say that delusions are harmful and that we should seek medical help. There are quite a few people who even wish to excise or isolate those who are anti-psychiatry and anti-recovery from the community.

If I am forced to analyse my experiences through a materialist and distant lens, it is quite clear my experiences are heavily rooted in delusion. I am a scientist, and there is no means under current knowledge to explain what I experience except hallucination - still I believe it fully. My knowing this is the only logical explanation does not lead me to believe it, to truly believe it inside. I mentioned before I had to give up on projects I did really enjoy because forcing myself to continuously deny my experiences and continuously reality check myself, brought to me very much distress. There are times I have wanted to be reality checked, but for vast part that is the remainder it is really distressing. It is distressing to be told a core part of your identity is not real, to be told the you that exists isn’t the real you, and sometimes see people mourning the “sane you”. Individuals in the community are not going to solve my “delusion” by reality checking myself or others.

Nor will them blocking me from the community or ensuring I do the dance for them encourage my “delusions” away. Delusions are heavily fixed experiences, and though you can encourage them in certain ways (think the example of people making “in your walls” jokes at schizophrenics), us talking about and sharing our experiences with each other and in our own community helps us feel understood and a sense of belonging. There are so few of us to start with, and the community closest to us either often disallows us, or makes us sit at the edge never really able to join. All banning us does is further isolate us, and for many delusions reinforces that we will never be acceptable or tolerable to others and it is best we are alone so we don’t hurt others with our presence.

I cannot speak on every person’s delusions, but I can speak on my own. For the question of if delusions are harmful, I think it often asks the wrong question. Who is it harmful to? Under what framework? Who thinks it is harmful? What does the patient want? I think one could say that my delusions of turning into a whale do harm me. I have trouble to interact with humans, I cannot work a full time job, I struggle in relationships, many nights I lay on the couch stuck for hours simply unable to move. These are all pretty negative things no? But it fails to ask why are these things harmful? A doctor looks through a very human framework and sees that I cannot do the human things and sees that I must have a poor quality of life and these delusions need to be addressed. But I am a whale and it is a core part of me, these things can be distressing, but whales cannot interact with humans the same way two humans would, work a full time job, have relationships with humans, and if you stuck them on a couch they would also not be able to move. This all is distressing and perhaps harmful, but then what other option is there? What the humans offer to me as solution is far worse.

I am anti-recovery, at least for myself. I think it is important to ask what does recovery look like? For me recovery would be to return to the water where I belong. But the humans would certainly say otherwise. For them recovery would look like fitting into and functioning within human society - having a job, a house, a car, a husband, kids, going on holiday, etc. I am not a human and I do not wish to be a human and live among them. However what is worse is how the humans would go about fixing that. I have been locked in hospitals, I have been strapped down, I have been sedated, I have been put on horrible meds that destroyed things I cared about and have often left me a shell of a person (there is a reason they were marketed as a chemical lobotomy). Some things I have gotten better in over time, and I can hold a job for the moment, even quite technical and difficult jobs.

However, the damage done to me from the humans was severe. Although I can talk about being a whale as delusion, the why is really far more impactful and distressing in my life. I was taken from the water, turned human, and am a useful thing for the humans. This understanding of myself as merely a tool and something the humans can do whatever they want with me is the real distressing aspect of my life. For me, the ‘help’ I received at the hospital only strengthened and set this delusion in so much firmer. I can look back at certain experiences, I can see the humans don’t have the technology to do what they did to me, but then I also have those years in the hospital, those years where everything was very apparent and clear and something that others can confirm and it seems to only further make plausible the experiences of the past, and those in the present the fear for what the humans will do to me. I know that I am deteriorating, I am struggling more and more, but nothing the humans offer me will make things better, they will only hurt me more, and if I ask for help, and reject it, they will only see it as proof I need the help more and force it onto me, which will only further reinforce that delusion.

If someone wishes to see a doctor and talk about therian things, I do often warn them of caution for what happened to myself and I do not want others hurt that way. I also urge them to think about what they want as the outcome from that discussion or what they hope will happen. A lot of mentally ill people have been hurt by doctors who thought they knew best, and once something is said, it cannot be undone. However, in the end they are free to decide what they will, and are free to navigate the medical system if they think it will benefit them.

For myself, I struggle to believe that doctors would really help me and instead work to help myself and my cetacean friends so that maybe someday we could swim again and swim forever. That we can fix ourselves and heal. That in time the deep scars across our bodies might start to fade and look like the scars of other captive cetaceans. That instead of surviving merely trying to please the humans to not be hurt, that we might actually -live- and have the life we were denied.

We are still people with agency, agency to choose our own path, to choose what brings us joy, to decide what we want from life, and from our healthcare. Or at least we should be granted that agency. We should not be excluded from the community or forced to dance around our experiences as not real for the comfort of others who happen to lie on the other side of the sane-delusional line, afterall the positioning of that line is very arbitrary and could easily swing to find yourself on my side of that line.

~ Kala

#therian #therian discourse #clinical zoanthropy #clinical lycanthropy #clcz #therianthropy #actually schizophrenic #physical nonhuman #physical therian #reality checking #tw reality checking #tw delusions #tw mentions of abuse #kala discussion

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traveler-at-heart · 22 days ago

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Doctor's In - Part 9

Wanda Maximoff x Doctor!R

Summary: New Year, new... relationship challenges? Sharing a home isn't all fun and games.

A/N: Everyone, please don’t tell me how much you hate where this story is going just because it seems like R will cheat on Wanda. There’s more to the plot and it’s not something I’m doing just randomly, I’m spending time and effort into creating a fic that is a bit more nuanced or at least I hope it is.

Natasha is not a people person.

Which is funny, considering her profession. She’s created a system that allows her to interact with patients as little as possible, and to focus on what she understands best: the human heart.

Not as a metaphor for sentimental stuff, but as a perfect machine.

She’s out of her element now, and considering the stupid drunk that is shouting in the middle of the ER, Natasha thinks it’s better to check if you’re around later.

“Is anybody going to take a look at this?” the man raises his messed up hand, slurring his words. He approaches Natasha, and she busies herself reading a chart. “Are you going to help or not, hot stuff?”

“I don’t work here” she grumbles, deciding that she’ll have to wait for you somewhere else.

“I was hoping you could take care of me. Where are you going? I'm talking to you” he says when she turns to leave, his good hand flying to grab her by the elbow.

Natasha is ready to throw a punch, but she never feels his touch in any part of her body.

“Lay a hand on her and I will strap you to a hospital bed and give you a colonoscopy without anesthesia” you say, surprising him with your strenght. “Now, sir, sit the fuck down and someone will be with you shortly”

“I’ll handle it” Barnes, the new nurse, approaches with his signature frown. He is equally attractive and terrifying, though most of the nurses ignore the latter.

“Thank you” you smile, watching the man become quiet as Barnes grabs him by the shoulder, knowing he won’t be able to say anything stupid to him. “Hi, Nat”

“Hey, stranger” she smiles at you. “I was hoping I’d run into you here”

“Is that why you were wandering the ER? You could just text me” you smile, walking with her to the cafeteria. “My shift ended an hour ago, which is why I wasn’t the one dealing with that asshole”

“Thank you for that, you are such a gentlewoman. I am dissapointed, though. I was hoping you’d stay for our first lesson today”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss it for the world”

Most of the hospital was buzzing with excitement at learning the new surgical technique that had earned Melina Romanoff a Nobel Prize. The exception was Tony, but that was only because he was convinced the Romanoffs had a secret, evil plot to take over. Even Pepper had told me to chill in front of everyone.

You sit at the front, saving a spot for Darcy and follow every word Natasha says. She’s just going over some of the theory and the process of how the research came to be, which is still very interesting to you. Medical research required patience and focus that you did not have, so you had turned your professional development to trauma, as well as search and rescue training.

“We’ll meet on Wednesday to start the first exercises” she finishes the presentation, and winks at you discreetly.

You smile, leaving the conference room, Darcy right behind you.

“What was that?”

“What? Were you expecting exercises from the get go?”

“I meant the wink. Why was she winking at you?” Darcy insists and you shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know. Friends wink at each other. I wink at you!”

“If you winked at me, I’d think you’re having a stroke” Darcy insists, and you have to roll your eyes. “It was flirty”

“Natasha knows about my relationship, we are just friends” you say, eager to finish the conversation.

“I just think there’s something fishy about this”

“You too? Stark got to you, Lewis” you mock, nudging her shoulder. “Come on, it’s all fine. I gotta get home, though, I forgot to tell Wanda I was staying longer”

“I hope she kicks your ass for that!” Darcy says as you run out of the hospital.

“Yeah, yeah”

As you drive home, you stop by the shopping street to get Wanda some flowers. You don’t think she’ll be too upset about you being late, but it never hurts to be safe.

Still, as you park in the driveway, you take a couple of minutes inside your car, looking at your old home in the rearview mirror.

Truth be told… you’re stalling. Though you love everyone inside the Maximoff house very much, you’ve had so much work these past two weeks, and it’s always a bit exhausting to get home and find the kids running around or Pietro complaining about something.

As someone who went from living alone to sharing a house with four other people full time, it was definitely overwhelming to say the least.

You take a last, deep breath and step inside the house, Pietro watching a show while the twins play in the backyard.

“You’re late” he comments.

“Work stuff” is all you say, not feeling in the mood to justify your tardiness to someone who isn’t Wanda.

But, as you enter the kitchen and your eyes meet hers, you can tell she’s also a little upset.

“Sorry, work ran long” you apologize, offering the flowers. She tries to smile and you put them down on the counter. “I really am sorry, Wands”

“No, it’s ok. I’m just behind with the book and the kids were a little difficult today… I could have used your help, that’s all”

I could have used some rest, you want to say, but that won’t help. It’s not forever, you keep thinking. Pietro will get better and move out, and things will be less crowded.

“I’ll be here all day tomorrow, I can take care of anything you need” you promise, saying goodbye to the prospect of a good nap. To keep yourself busy, you take out stuff to make a sandwich, sighing when you notice you’re out of cheese. “Like going to the grocery store, I guess”

Pietro keeps eating everything and by the time you’re home, there’s barely any food left.

“And you’re coming to the twins game on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh” you pause, scratching your neck. “I have to go to the hospital”

“Again? It seems like you’re there all week” Wanda protests.

“Well, yeah, we’re understaffed, between people being sick and others taking time off. I have to go and head the department, it’s my job, Wanda” you say, suddenly not hungry.

Nothing’s enough, you’re not good enough.

“I just… miss you. That’s all” Wanda says, and you sigh, feeling like an asshole.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s always crazy during January, plus we’re doing a new training with a doctor from Boston. Things will settle in a couple of weeks, I promise”

“Ok” she nods, smiling as you approach her, kissing her temple. “But you’ll have to make it up to me”

“I have a few ideas for that, Miss Maximoff” you smile, pulling her against you and kissing her temple. “And none of them include clothes”

“Good” she laughs, standing on her toes to kiss you.

—

You wanted to have a good day, you really did. Wanda needed some work done on her new study so you dropped off the kids and drove to the hardware store, trusting Pietro could be fine on his own for a while.

What really ruined the mood happened on the way back home.

While turning on a busy street, your mother calls and instead of pressing the ignore button, you answer.

“Fuck” you mutter and it’s too late to hang up. “Hey, mom”

Wanda perks up at that, curious about your mother. She has never even heard her voice, let alone watch you have a conversation on the phone with her. She can tell your posture stiffens.

“Hello, Y/N. I missed your call for the holidays”

“Had lots of work” you lie.

“Oh, well. Hope you liked your birthday present” the woman says in a kinder tone and you almost want to laugh.

“Yeah, thanks. Really appreciate it”

“So, I don’t have a lot of time, wanted to let you know we’re flying there next week but we’re just gonna stay for three days. I don’t think we’ll have the time to meet you. Plus, it’s just us family, you know”

“Right” you try to sound disappointed, but are actually tempted to stop the car and dance around the street. “Some other time”

“Just make sure you’re available in case we need anything. It’s the least you can do”

“Of course” you agree, looking out of the corner of your eye at the confused expression on Wanda’s face. “Have fun, say hi to everyone for me”

“Ok, you take care now”

The minute she hangs up, you let out a huge sigh of relief.

“What was that?” Wanda says, frowning.

“Which part, love?”

“Everything! Ok, first of all, the birthday present. What did she get you? I didn’t see anything delivered”

“Wanda, she doesn’t even know where I live. What happened was, someone walked by and she pretended to be nice. She’s always done it” you explain, feeling irritated. All you want is to be happy that you won’t see her, but Wanda is pushing the subject.

“And what about them coming? And not making the time to see you? Just us family? You’re her daughter!”

“Wanda, please, drop it” you plead, parking outside your home and stepping out of the car.

“Why is she like this? Why don’t you call her out on it? And I’m sorry, I just can’t understand someone being so horrible to their own child”

“Wanda!” you snap, slapping the trunk of the car. “I know, she’s horrible. I don’t care if she lies about getting me a birthday present and I don’t care enough about her to call her out for being mommy dearest. I am just so damn happy that I don’t have to be around her anymore, can we please focus on that?”

“I am just trying to understand. You never tell me anything about her” Wanda protests and you can’t believe she’s still talking about this.

“Everything there is to know, you already know, Wanda. What else would you like to learn? That sometimes I went to bed without having dinner because she thought I was getting fat? Or that when I got a summer job and was out too late she only let me sleep on the porch? What other fucking twisted things would you like to learn about that awful woman?”

“I…”

“If I say it’s complicated or I don’t want to talk about it, maybe just listen once. Here” you toss the car keys her way, not caring if she catches them or not. “I’m going for a walk”

You’d do more than walk if you were wearing different shoes and it wasn’t so damn cold. Still, you don’t make it very far, running into a black and white bunny in the middle of the street. None of your neighbors have pet rabbits, not that you can recall.

“Where did you come from?” you say, hugging the little thing and feeling relaxed as it moves its nose and settles in your arms.

“Señor Scratchy!” Agatha yells from her porch, and you turn around.

“I take it he’s yours?”

“Yes, Rio gave him to me. Señor Scratchy, what are you doing outside?” the woman says with a soft voice, taking him back. “I don’t know how he got out”

“Maybe your fence? Let’s take a look” you walk around to her backyard, pointing at an old part of her wooden fence. “Aha!”

“Oh, great. It will take forever to find someone to fix it” she grumbles. “He’ll have to stay inside for the time being”

“I can fix it. It will only take an hour or so” you say, eager to stay out of the house for a bit longer.

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart?” Agatha squeezes your cheek and then slaps it gently. “Just remember, I’m already taken, hot stuff”

“I’m just fixing your fence, Miss Harkness” you wink. “I’ll be back with the stuff we need”

Wanda seems to be in her study when you go back home. The fact that you feel relieved instead of sad for making her hide does make you a little guilty.

Truth is, you’ve never lived with anyone you had a relationship with, and neither did she. Maybe you’re both expecting things to be perfect, and it’s just not realistic. Disagreements are bound to happen when you share a home.

Right?

As you work on Agatha’s fence, you keep thinking about a way to make things work for everyone, because you’ve had a couple of fights with Wanda in the span of two days and you really don’t want to make it a habit.

“Did that fence do something to you?” Agatha interrupts you, handing over a glass of water.

“Huh?” you look up at her, taking it and nodding your thanks.

“You're nailing that wood a little too hard, hot stuff” she says, dragging a garden chair and sitting next to you. “Spill”

Saying it’s nothing won’t stop her from asking, so you keep working and tell her everything that has been going on. How the house feels too crowded sometimes, and work is kicking your ass. It takes a minute, but you admit that Wanda really upset you, questioning why you didn’t stand up to your mother.

“I don’t know, I guess it’s something I’ve always wondered myself. Why didn’t I say something instead of being weak. It struck a nerve when Wanda said it out loud”

“Did she call you weak?” Agatha says, frowning.

“No, that’s me being dramatic” you chuckle.

“Look, it’s what I told you the other day. Not everyone understands it, because most people have a semi functional relationship with their parents. And from the sound of it, Wanda’s were straight out of a sitcom”

“I guess”

“She doesn’t have to understand it. She just has to respect your boundaries” Agatha says and you nod, still thinking about everything. “Have you ever thought about going no contact with your mother?”

“Is that what you did?”

“Oh, honey, my mother’s dead. So unless I pull out a Ouija board, we’re no contact already” she cackles, which makes you laugh.

“I don’t know. If she needs something, I guess I would try to help her. If she was a bad mother, that’s on her. But I won’t be a bad daughter”

“You’re too good” Agatha pats your back, and you smile at her.

“Alright, well, your fence is fixed. Can we call it even with the therapy session you just gave me?” you stand up, making sure everything’s in its place.

“Nu-uh, you owe me” Agatha jokes, taking the bunny out to the backyard. “You’ll be fine. Tú puedes”

“Duolingo?”

“Rio’s been teaching me Spanish. The other stuff I can’t say it to you because it’s dirty and for her ears only” the brunette winks, which makes you blush. “Bye, Y/N”

“Bye, Agatha” you roll your eyes at her antics, feeling better as you walk back home.

You figure it’s better to start working on what Wanda needs, so you carry the stuff upstairs and knock before entering the guest room turned into a study.

“Hey” you say, as Wanda looks out the window instead of working.

“Hi”

“I’ll fix the lights and then adjust your desk, or do you need to work now?” you ask, unsure if she’s also upset at you.

“No, that’s fine. It’s not even important, you should rest, work has been crazy for you” she finally turns, and you can tell she’s trying hard not to cry.

“Hey… come here” you step closer, pulling her into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really sorry for pushing the subject. I can’t imagine someone being so awful to you, and I made you… I should have kept it to myself”

“It’s… yeah. It wasn’t nice and I really don’t like to look back at everything that happened. But I know you didn’t mean any harm, ok? I love you, baby” you kiss her temple, feeling her relax in your arms. “Why don’t you go check on your brother? He’s been too quiet, which can only mean he’s getting into some sort of trouble”

“Or buying more stuff from Amazon. We barely fit here” Wanda grumbles and you laugh, kissing her. “I’m sorry”

“I know. You’ll make it up to me in bed” you joke, which makes her laugh.

“Maybe now that he’s busy…”

In that precise moment, her brother decides to call for Wanda.

“Go” you kiss Wanda again, wishing you had more time just with her.

—

Natasha’s not excited about the day ahead, the only silver lining being that she gets to see you. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. She’s flirting and constantly eyeing you, but nothing’s gonna happen.

Not on a lack of desire on her part. It’s pretty obvious you’re not the type of person who cheats. Pretty ironic, she finally meets a decent woman and you’re already taken.

What does that girlfriend of yours have that she doesn’t? Aside from two kids that adore you. Is the whole housewife thing really that appealing to someone like you?

As she enters the room for the next lesson, Natasha notices you’re sitting a few rows behind. That’s a little disappointing. Still, your eyes follow her every move and she feels a little surge of pride at that.

If only you were single, Natasha might get you to roleplay that teacher-student fantasy she’s had.

Still, as she finishes her explanation, you walk up to her, smiling.

“That was brilliant, Natasha” a brunette doctor walks behind you, and you reach out to stop her. “Hey, come meet Doctor Romanoff, Darcy”

“Pleased to meet you. We’re loving the lessons” she says, not wanting to make small talk. “Y/N, come on. I’m starving”

“Oh, I was thinking we could go out for a bite if you’d like?” you turn to Natasha, smiling.

“I’ve got surgery in half an hour” Darcy says, glaring at you.

“Nat?” you turn to the woman, smiling. “Bishop can take care of the ER for me”

“Yeah, I’d love to” Natasha says, kicking herself over how fast she agrees to doing anything you ask.

“Awesome, I know this great place” you begin saying, but she gets a phone call. Natasha looks at you apologetically, but you smile, while Darcy is pulling at your sleeve and giving her a strange look.

“I’ll only take a moment” Natasha promises.

“Yeah, that’s fine”

“A word, Y/N?” Darcy finally gets your attention back and you frown.

Natasha doesn’t care much about the new doctor, unless she’s also fighting for your attention. She finds an empty room to take the call, shutting the door behind her.

“What is it, mother?”

“How’s the second lesson?”

“Fine. Do you keep a timer on your desk?”

“I just like to know if the study plan I designed is working, Natalia. That way, when we move to the next one, it can be more efficient until we manage a global, scalable solution”

“We? I’m only doing this here and then I’m going back to my research, you agreed” Natasha reminds her, blood boiling.

“This is your legacy too”

“Then how come I wasn’t up there getting the Nobel with you?”

“Natalia, those are insignificant things compared to what we can acheive” Melina scoffs.

“I’m not going to spend another month in a different hospital just because you’re too paranoid about someone stealing your research”

“Fine, then get me a new Head of Trauma for Boston and we’ll consider it even” Melina says. “You know Yelena wants to focus on that, she needs someone who can teach her”

“There are tons of applicants. Choose one from the pile in your desk, Mother” Natasha sighs, knowing where this is going.

“What about that doctor you told me about? You sounded so enamoured last time”

“She wouldn’t move to another city, her girlfriend’s here” Natasha says.

“Girlfriends aren’t wives. Well, even spouses can get divorced. Maybe she just needs to hear the right offer” Melina insists.

“Mother…”

“You’re not resuming your research until you find a new Head of Trauma. That’s final, Natalia” the woman loses her cool, hanging up on her daughter.

Natasha feels so stupid, of course this would happen. Melina never cared about anything other than herself and her accomplishments.

“Fuck” the woman says, kicking one of the chairs. You walk inside that precise moment, jumping at the outburst.

“You ok?” you say, locking the door.

“Yeah. It’s nothing”

You let out a sigh, sitting next to her in the bed of the on call room.

“We can skip lunch if you’re not hungry”

“It’s not that. I mean, I’m not hungry anymore, my mother just pissed me off” Natasha shakes her head, trying to calm her racing heart.

“You got one of those too, huh?” you chuckle. “I’m sorry, Nat, honestly. It’s the worse feeling in the world. Someone who should support you trying to bring you down, and then no one believing you because there’s this collective denial that mothers can be bad people”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. To everyone else she’s a genius. To me, she’s the woman who’s always reminding me how ordinary I am compared to her” Natasha fiddles with her hands, not used to being vulnerable. Not with someone who understands her so well.

“You’re not ordinary, Natasha” you say with so much conviction that the redhead looks up, eyes meeting yours. “And if your mother thinks that, I’m sorry to say that she’s not as smart as I thought”

Natasha laughs, blushing a little at the compliment. You nudge her with your elbow, standing up.

“Want some coffee instead? If you’re not hungry anymore” you place your hand in the doorknob, checking if she’s ready to step out.

“Yeah, sure”

As you nod and open the door, Natasha stands up, reaching for your wrist.

“I… thank you. You’re too kind to me” she says in a low voice.

“I guess I know how isolating it can be. If you ever want to talk, I’m here” you squeeze her arm in return, smiling at her.

Natasha is about to say something else, something probably really stupid, when a voice calls behind you.

“Detka, there you are”

“Wanda? Hi, what are you doing here?” you step out of the room now, looking at your girlfriend. Wanda, however, is focused on the very attractive redhead that follows behind you, noticing you were alone seconds ago

“Am I interrupting something?” she says, eyes not leaving Natasha’s figure.

“What? No, this is Nat… eh, doctor Romanoff. She’s the doctor from Boston who is giving us the course” you explain, looking between both women. Natasha is the first one to give up the staring contest, extending her hand to Wanda.

“Nice to meet you. Y/N has told me so much about you and your boys”

“I’m happy to hear that”

Happy that you know she’s taken.

“So, uh… what are you doing here?” you ask, still thrown off by Wanda’s presence. Ever since Pietro was discharged, she has never been back to the hospital. If you recall correctly, she said she had enough of hospitals for a lifetime.

“I need to talk to you for a second. Alone”

“I’ll meet you in a second” you smile as Natasha walks back to the conference room and she nods. When you turn to Wanda she has a strange look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You never told me she was this pretty”

“Who?”

“Natasha”

“I didn’t notice” you mumble, scratching your neck. “And anyways, that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“Right. I just… I wanted to apologize again for yesterday. And make sure we’re ok. I know these past few weeks have been hard. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to come over and see you”

“Hey, we’re ok” you promise, pulling her by the waist. “I love you, you love me and we have a pretty nice family, don’t we? Even with stinky Pietro”

“I’m trying to convince him to shower daily” she laughs against your lips. It’s pretty clear that he was clean during his hospital days because he got sponge baths.

“It’s either that or hosing him down in the backyard”

“I’d like to see that” your girlfriend laughs and you take her hand, bringing it to your lips. “I’ll let you get back to work”

“Ok, if I can I’ll leave early” you kiss her cheek, squeezing her waist until you’re hand goes dangerously lower. “And maybe we can have some makeup sex”

“Mmhm you’d like that wouldn’t you” Wanda slaps your shoulder. “Go”

But as you wave goodbye and walk up to meet Natasha, Wanda doesn’t miss the look on the redhead's eyes.

She knows it, because it’s the same way Wanda looks at you. And that’s all it takes for her to decide, she doesn’t like the other woman.

—

It’s not as late as you thought, because when you get home everyone’s finishing dinner.

“She lives” Pietro says when you walk in.

“He bathes” you say, noticing his wet hair. “Did Wanda tell you I was going to hose you down?”

He doesn’t get to reply, because the kids jump in your arms.

“My stinky minions! Did you win the game today?”

“No, you have to come to the next one. You’re our lucky charm” Billy says.

“Pinky promise, I will come to the next one” you nod, moving to kiss Wanda. “Hey, gorgeous”

“Moya lyubov” she says and you smile, always loving that accent. “Come have dinner while the kids shower”

“Can you read us a story when you finish?” Tommy asks.

“Of course. Now go with Mom, I’ll be there as soon as I’m done”

The kids cheer as you get a plate and serve some delicious lasagna. Now you really don’t regret coming home early.

“Alright, I’m calling it a night. I’m exhausted” Pietro says.

“From showering?” you joke, but he fake laughs as he pushes his wheelchair away. “Leave your plate, I’ll clean it up”

“Thanks, sestra”

As you eat, you remember to send a text to Natasha, asking if she wants to have lunch with you tomorrow before she heads back to Boston for the rest of the week.

The kids are ready for bed and you walk upstairs, sitting between their beds and reading Dragon Feathers, which was your father’s favorite bedtime story to tell. Billy and Tommy laugh as you make different voices, the way your dad did when he told you the tale.

As soon as you’re done, they settle in bed, and Wanda’s the one who tucks them in, joining you at the door.

“I missed this” you say against her temple.

“I missed you” she agrees, leaning against your side. “Come to my study, I want to show you the drawings I made for the book”

The new working space was starting to grow on Wanda. Even if it was smaller, she had enough room to fit everything she needed, and her view was much better from the second floor.

You admire the sketches she hands you, looking at every detail and stroke of her pencil.

“Could I see you work one day? I don’t think I’ve ever done that, baby” you say, in awe of her talent.

“I don’t know, I might get too nervous”

“Please?” you pout, hoping that will change her mind. Wanda rolls her eyes and leans forward, standing on the tip of her toes to kiss you. Her movements turn more frantic and she catches you off guard when she pushes you against the small sofa, straddling your lap.

“Tell me more about her”

“About who?” you say, completely lost in the way her shirt strains against her breasts.

“That new doctor”

“Natasha?” you blink, trying to form a coherent thought. “Why?”

“Because. You’re working a lot, and apparently it’s next to a very beautiful woman whose name I hadn’t heard up until I saw you walking out of a room together”

“We were just talking” you mumble, more focused on undoing the buttons on Wanda’s shirt. She takes your wrists and pulls them away, forcing you to look up.

“I hope she knows your girlfriend is incredibly possesive and jealous” she whispers against your lips. “Or I might have to remind you who you belong to”

“I haven’t forgotten” you promise, looking at her lips intently.

“Then show me” Wanda says, her nails digging in your scalp. Whatever you were about to say dies in your lips as she kisses you, biting your lip and making you forget your name. You open your mouth, allowing her to explore it with her tongue and you carry her to the desk, pushing away everything so she can sit on it.

Wasting no time, Wanda holds her hips up so you can pull down her pants and underwear, and you kneel, moaning against her center when you begin to eat her out, desperate for her taste.

It feels like forever since you’ve had the chance to worship her body.

“That’s it” she moans as you bite the inside of her thigh, pleased with the way her legs close around your head. “I’m gonna…”

“Hold it”

“No, please”

“Did I fucking stutter? God, you are so impatient” you say, squeezing her throat as you move up, sliding two fingers inside her wet cunt. “Why can’t you just let me fuck you?”

“Oh, God” she says, getting wetter at your words.

“I think you’re the one who’s forgetting her place, baby” you say, hitting her G spot over and over until she can’t speak.

“Fuck” Wanda sighs, biting your neck as she finally gets her release. You kiss her, muffling her moans until her breathing evens out. “I missed that”

“Mhm” you smile, letting Wanda taste herself in your lips. “Come on. Let’s go to bed”

As you get changed and clean up, your phone pings several times.

“Work?” Wanda asks, but you’re smiling as you type.

“Huh? No, not work” is all you say, getting in bed and kissing Wanda. “Night, baby”

“Goodnight” she says, watching the screen of your phone light up again. You don’t notice because you’re already asleep, exhausted.

Wanda has to resist the urge to look at the text you just got.

You’ve never given her a reason to doubt you.

And yet, as she goes to bed, looking at your sleeping shape, Wanda can’t help but feel, there’s a part of you that’s not being honest.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n

326 notes · View notes

r0-boat · 2 months ago

Note

I have a request:

Levi x Mc x Asmo, double teaming, creampie, whatever floats you boat just PLZ I need the mc to be sandwiched in between them-

🌸

aaaaAAAAAAAAA

This is the hardest thing I've ever written.

How the fuck do you make two demons that are least likely to share you fuck you till you pass out...? Alcohol...

Jealous F*ck

Cw: drinking/alcohol, drunk devils, ooc Asmo because he didn't turn anything into an orgy lol, ooc Levi because he didn't straight up murder Asmodeus, degrading, double penetration, Size Kink, slight breeding, creampie, possessiveness, two devils One hole, there's only one-bed trope, etc

Your worst nightmare has come. You could barely handle these two demons on their own, but now here they were in a drunken haze as they pulled you like a tug of war.

It was a good idea in theory to have the kings get together for drinks, in theory.

You've never seen Belphegor sleep in such an uncomfortable position. The moment the alcohol affected his system, He slept like the dead. You hope Beleth comes back to pick him up.

Beelzebub is straight-up gone. Usually, he sticks around with you wherever you are, but it seems like his drunken mind has other plans. He drags Satan and Mammon in together, and they laugh about partying in Abyssos.

Lucifer doesn't drink. You understand that completely He's probably already getting a headache knowing that the kings will be so hungover they'll be asking him for medication later.

That just leaves you with two.

Leviathan, who wasn't fond of alcohol since he would rather not be caught making a fool of himself, was coaxed into drinking. He's relatively the same, all things considered, just weirdly clingy to you now. You tried so hard to pry him off you; He doesn't even say anything, has his arms wrapped around you, attached to you like a barnacle to a ship. Glaring at everyone who came even close to you.

And Asmodeus, who was already shit-faced, giggled and murmured to himself as he lays on the countertop. You don't want to know what his right hand was doing underneath the table.

You wanted to get these two home fast especially Asmodeus, Who seems calm at first, but there's no telling what drunk Asmodeus will do. In this state he was practically a ticking horny time bomb.

Damn you Beelzebub this was your idea in the first place!

You're lucky that some of the bars in Abyssos have rooms. You drag Leviathan by the collar, Asmo follows you complacently like a lovestruck fool clinging to your shirt until you reach one of the rooms. That was until the peace was disturbed when you felt weight lean on you. Asmodeus wraped his arms around you nuzzling into your neck. "Let's share room together darling! I want you so bad."

Leviathan snarled Your hand still on his collar as he grabs you and pulls you to his chest. You could hear a slight slur in his voice "If They share a room with you they might catch an STD! Go fuck yourself!"

Asmodeus, not amused but not entirely surprised by how possessive Leviathan is, smirks. "Oh please. I am as clean as I am beautiful; and besides You think I haven't already done that? You're just mad at that MC doesn't scream your name is loud as they do mine."

Taunting the king of envy was not a good idea. He already feels jealousy bubbling from how good looking Asmodeus was. His mind swirling with thoughts of Asmo stealing you from him. He could not have that. You could see a vein on his head as he snarls "I'm surprised they can even feel anything with your shrimp dick inside them."

You look back and see Asmodeus, his eyebrow twitching... Oh God... You slipped out of Leviathan's hands to talk to The bartender. Only to come back with a blank expression on your face. Both demons look at you with confusion As you finally get the courage to tell them. "There's only one bedroom available..." You squeak. You could hardly believe it either. You read this shit in a fanfiction once. You're not sure if you're blessed or cursed for that trope to become a reality today of all days.

The two Kings looked pissed, at the very notion of having you be in same room as another man. Asmodeus had a rare look of annoyance on his face. Sure, he could just send you to Abbaddon if it wasn't for the fact that he was probably too drunk to use his teleportation magic.

An idea entered his mind, That look of annoyance wiped away into a smirk.

Perhaps instead, he could put the king of envy in his place. The second the two of you walked in, the door to the room was magically locked. Asmodeus grabs hold of you and sits on the bed with you in his lap. The King of Envy's eyes widen as Asmodeus looks back, giving him a smirk. With a hand on your neck and this other slipping underneath your clothes, peeling down just enough for him to see the mark he put right underneath your tummy, which now gave off a faded glow. The mark he gave you was working its magic, making you more sensitive; each small gentle stroke of his fingers gliding underneath your clothes sent shivers down your spine.

Leviathan grits his teeth, seeing the glow of Asmodeus's mark, The fierce look in his eyes focused on you makes you roll your hips against the hard cock underneath you as Levi crawls on top of you his lips immediately going for your neck, He swipes his tongue up before pressing his lips down gently sucking. That gentleness did not last His hand forcefully yanking down your pants and underwear.

Leviathan takes full control as his fingers play with your sensitive parts. Your whole body shakes, gasping and moaning as asmodeus magic make you feel extremely sensitive. Levi's teasing alone could make you cum.

Asmodeus should be mad that Leviathan just took you from him, but honestly, from the way you are shaking and grinding against him, whining and gasping, pleading for more, it was incredibly hot. The king of lust has had threesomes before, but never with another king, in this opportunity sharing you are not was to delicious to pass up.

"grinding against my cock as another man touches you. Such a slut~."

Asmodeus grins Is he buries his face in your hair taking in your scent. Leviathan's brows scrunch as he growls when he feels you grind against his palm.

"You're getting off to this? Worthless whore, One just isn't enough for you is it?" Levi hissed The tips of your fingers pressing against your hole threatening to penetrate.

Asmodeus hums and delight watching your back arch when thick fingers slowly glide inside you. "look how easy they went in. They want this."

"You really are a whore..." Leviathan growls sinking his teeth into your shoulder. "LEVI!" You shriek feeling sharp pain as Leviathan bites down hard enough to leave a mark, his mark.

Asmodeus is a vein demon who would rather not hear his favorite person call out another man's name. Hand clasps over your mouth before fingers invade past your lips. He'll make sure that doesn't happen again. by keeping your mouth stuffed.

Possessive hands and mouths grasping all over your body eager to conquer and claim from leviathan's harsh bites to Asmodeus's soft sucking on your skin.

Asmodeus will not lose again to Leviathan versus cock was already grinding against the curve of your ass He will bully Levi's fingers out of you and replace them with something bigger.

Levi will not lose either You haven't even realized he had taken his clothes off until his fingers left you and replaced of something else.

Sure another demon could just take your mouth. But to them that's second place. Why would they feel your mouth with cum when they could claim you in the most primal way any man could.

If it wasn't for the mark from Asmodeus's magic This would be almost impossible, stretch around two large demon dicks. Let alone have it feel good.

Your eyes roll back as you felt Asmodeus slide inside.

His hand presses against your mouth harder to muffle You're even louder noises as you felt yourself stretched to accommodate another big cock trying to bully its way inside you. Asmodeus hissed in whimpered into your ear feeling the squeeze of you and the throbbing hardness of Leviathan cock against his own shaft.

Leviathan didn't care to react All he was focused on was making you his immediately moving trying to take you from the devil of lusts arms.

Asmodeus, not wanting to let go of you, moved reluctantly until both demons stood up out of the bed, holding you suspended in their arms. Leviathan didn't hesitate to move as soon as he had a better angle slamming his cock deep and hard. With nothing but Levi to grab onto your nails rake against his back Your legs tightening around him But you're mouth still covered forcing to suck on Asmodeus's fingers.

Swept up in lust and the animalistic drive to compete against the other male threatening to take his mate, He moves his hips at the same speed, hands trying to spread you apart to fuck you deeper and faster.

You felt fingers press against your tongue, trying to stop you from saying anything other than a garbled mess. Asmodeus's breath and lips tickle your ear. "You suck my finger so good pretty thing! I want to kiss you so bad!" You could feel the desire in his shaky voice making you clench around the both of them.

If only Asmodeus can remove his stupid hand then Leviathan could kiss you, And damn he wants to. He wants to feel your lips on him. He misses how soft and pillowy they are against him. He's so jealous that Asmodeus has your mouth all to himself when he was generous enough to share your tight milking hole.

"Say that I fuck you better! Say it whore! Say that my cock stretches you more than his! Say that I'm bigger!"

Leviathan snarls again sinking his teeth into your neck trying to go as fast as he can even with his orgasm approaching.

Asmodeus growls pressing his hand harder against your mouth making it harder for you to breathe as you struggle to say anything.

"Don't say that pretty! Call me your husband! Please gorgeous! Tell me that I'm the only man in your life!"

When he finally loosens his hand from your mouth. You struggle to say anything. Whatever you were trying to say just comes out as a garbled mess; as you come around them, milking their cocks together, They also reach their edge coming could, both are cocks squirting so much cum inside you, most of it leaking onto the floor and down your legs. They both stay deep inside you as they emptied their balls as deep as they could.

Hoping perhaps this time one of them will take. Claiming you as his for eternity.

Seeing and feeling your limbs become weak as you threatened to fall their possessiveness subside for a second to comfort and worship you. Leviathan's jealousy still raging inside He didn't hesitate rap his arms fully around you supporting your weakend state. Asmodeus didn't keep his hands off you, neck, nuzzling his face against your neck.

"stop touching them. They had enough of you for one night." Leviathan hissed as he brought you over to the bed His eyes go soft for a second as they lay upon your exhausted form pressing his lips ever so softly against yours before tucking you in bed. Before leaving you to gather his clothes.

When he looked back over he sees Asmodeus an arm underneath you snuggling right against you. He gives him a shit eating smug smile waving his hand goodbye.

That raging green fire boils in Leviathan once again. He was going to leave because the mere thought of staying in the same room as the king of lust and the same man he just had a threesome with pissed him off to no end. But what pissed him off more was knowing what would happen if he was gone leaving you defenseless with that freak.

He grit his teeth throwing his clothes back on the floor before marching over to the bed.

Asmodeus clicked his tongue as Levi snuggled on your side. That Leviathan is as handsome as he is annoying. Squishing his body against you wrapping his arms around you trying to claim as much space on your body as he could.

Asmodeus held you because he loved you and he wants to show it, Leviathan is stubborn to show his love and holds you to claim you as his.

Asmodeus is not afraid like Leviathan, but being has vain as him he will not lose either cuddling closer toward you.

An hour later you yawn your eyes fluttering open. You hadn't even realized what situation you were in until you tried to move. You heard a grown has arms tighten around your form. Your eyes widen looking on either side of you Leviathan snuggling his face against your neck like a teddy bear on the right and on the left Asmodeus laying his head on your chest his hand on your tit...

You were trapped...

And worst of all...

You had to go....

You try again to wiggle yourself free. Smodious crunches his eyebrows groaning and disapproval His hand freeing your tit but wrapping around you.

Fuck!

"please guys... I have to pee..." You quietly plead. Hoping your savior would come soon.

#smut #whb #whb leviathan #whb asmodeus #what in hell is bad #wihib #whb x reader #gn!reader #demon x reader #adult otome game

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mrsparrasblog · 9 months ago

Text

You're losing me pt.2

pt. 1 pt.3

TW: mention of rape, unprotected sex, drinking, blood, violence, angst

The liquor on his tongue didn’t even burn anymore; too much was already in his system, trying to wash down the events of this day. You were the love of his life, the woman he wanted to marry, even though he didn’t know how it would be legal for you to marry all of them. And now, he lost you. The worst part? He can't even remember how it happened. He felt so disgusted in himself in so many ways—disgusted for breaking your heart. God, your look, how you tried to keep your tears in check, broke him. And then his whole body felt disgusted; it felt like a layer of dirt he couldn’t wash away. He scrubbed and scrubbed, but it didn’t go away; the shame still lingered. It felt like someone had taken something from him, but it was his own fault. He must have said yes and bought those drinks. It was his own fault, he told himself over and over again. Normally, he would talk about this kind of stuff with you; you always knew what to say. But you hated him.

"‚‘nother on’," he said to the barkeeper. This was probably his sixth. Johnny knew how he could handle alcohol; he was never that pissed before to not remember a thing. And there she was, the medic, sitting down next to him.

"Hey, Johnny," she smiled brightly, like she didn’t have any worry in her life.

"I ken a dinnae whit yesterday happened bit tis ne'er aff tae happen again."

"Come on, you enjoyed it yesterday."

"I dinnae remember yesterday."

"What a shame."

He stood up, throwing some pounds on the table, wanting to leave, but she stopped him. "Come on, Johnny. I'll help you forget, make you feel at peace again."

"No."

"Then please, let me invite you for a drink as an apology," she smiled sweetly, pushing the drink towards me. Wait, how had she a drink prepared if she sat only for a minute next to me?

"No."

"Please, a drink won't kill you."

"I said no."

"Just one sip, Johnny, and I'll make you feel good how she never could."

"How come ye're sae persistent fur me tae dram this drink?"

"You're silly, Johnny. I'm just being nice," she looked panicked - weird.

While many people thought of him as someone who is just a silly guy who isn’t able to think properly, you told him all over again that he was so smart, smarter than all of them, if someone would just give him the chance to show. And right now, his brain implanted a sick thought on him. "Dinnae tell me ye put something in mah drink."

Her eyes widened. "Of course not," she mumbled.

"Don't lie to me," his hand immediately went to her throat , choking the truth out of her.

"Knockout drugs," she whispered. She was fighting for air as I let her go; the men in the pub already stood up trying to save the poor woman from getting abused by a man.

"You raped me." His shock hit deep; he always thought something like that wouldn’t happen to him. He was strong and able to protect himself. He was the guy who killed people, the youngest man in the SAS, the guy who beat up an officer because he touched a civi. But now, he was the victim.

"Have fun proving it. No one will believe that a tiny girl like me raped the big bad soldier," she laughed, and screamed for help. "Help, this man doesn’t take no for an answer," He was kicked out of the pub; his face was bloody from all the beating.

All he wanted was to reach you, ask your advice, be in the comfort of your arms, telling him all over again how he is a good man, how he is worth everything and not a dirty soldier. But you didn’t pick up; he came to the realization quickly; that no one would believe him.

**Soap:** Please tell me we used a condom.

**Medic:** ;)

Fuck.

————————————————————————————————-

4 am and you still couldn’t sleep; your head was full of thoughts. Why were you not good enough? Why did he do it? So, you made a thing your friends would kill you for. Calling John, you weren’t sure if he would pick up, but he did.

"What's wrong, love?" Source of habit, he thought.

"Why did you do this, John?" you sobbed.

"I didn't mean for it to happen; it was an accident."

"Then why didn't you say sorry?"

"Love."

"Don't fucking call me love. You cheated on me, and you didn't say sorry. You didn't run after me, you didn't apologize," your sobs broke his heart.

"I'm sorry; it was an accident."

"An accident is making a typo, not sticking your dick in a whore."

"I—"

"I hate you, John. I hate you so much," and you hung up. This wasn’t what you expected. Why doesn’t he feel guilty? Why are you not good enough? Why didn’t Simon say something? Why didn’t Kyle come here? Of course, you broke up, but why don’t they care?

If you only knew how Kyle was, blood-covered in the hospital, too many rookies in his way. How Simon was trying desperately to find Soap to see he didn't drink himself to death, and then he would come to you, he told him self all over again. And how the captain didn't leave his office, not even for food.

And how Soap went into John's office, trying to explain to him the truth, only to see a disarranged office, hands covered in blood after he tried to pick up the liquor he smashed at his wall. He never saw his captain so vulnerable, and if Soap didn’t know better, he would have sworn he saw tears.

"Captain, I—"

"You did already enough, MacTavish. Let me have at least one day to mourn over the loss of the love of my fucking life."

"Captain—"

"LEAVE," and he did, he crawled into his bed, knowing he lost everything in a day, the love of his life, his best friend Kyle, his captain, his pride, and safety, and not even Ghost was there.

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grabby-smitten · 3 months ago

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Pinky promise

Subjects: Bunny Hybrid!Xavier x Human F!Reader

Word count: 2.9K

Content: Hybrid AU, fluff mostly, domestic stuff, sprinkles of angst here and there, no beta and not edited, commas placed everywhere, gender-neutral for this part(i think), idk… let me know if i missed anything. Second part has smut and will be posted separately.

A.N: Happy late birthday Xavier and Halloween especial… I guess xD. Two birds one stone?

Your local shelter was always overflowing. new hybrids coming in each week, at least according to their social media updates. It was heartbreaking watching the shelter on your work commute, multiple sounds overwhelmed that side of the street, strong smells on the pavement and everything you witnessed trailed after you to work and back home.

But not once did you step foot on the shelter. Were you scared? Probably. From what your coworkers said, it was extremely hard to care for a hybrid. Very complicated creatures. And expensive. you could barely take care of yourself. Not to mention that you hated social environments and from what you read on the internet; hybrids are social creatures. Alone you were fine… or so you thought.

Yet, you couldn’t just let the older hybrids get— well, you know what they do in most shelters when nobody adopts.

So here you are, waiting in line to fill out some forms and get your first hybrid. Sweat running down your back, and your feet hurting from standing in the same position for far too long. How long has it been since you first stepped in the line? two hours? Three? and the line barely moved.

Leaning to the side, you watched the attendants at the counter seem tired, and their hair sticking to their forehead confirmed your suspicions that the air conditioner wasn’t working as well as it should.

You had enrolled in the adoption program as soon as new spots opened for this term and just your luck with a spot on the special campaign. Besides, trying to speak yourself out of it hadn’t worked. You would give it a try and if things didn’t work out— then you would find a solution.

Today, the shelter was holding that special adoption campaign. Something about not charging the usual fees, the first year of medical expenses free and just one written evaluation to the future owners.

A couple came out of the visiting room with a young dog-hybrid. It was jumping around them and wagging its tail so enthusiastically that it kind of scared you. What if you got a hyperactive one? Your worlds would crash and the inevitable would happen.

Soon you heard your name being called out by one of the shelter workers and it snapped you out of your tragic daydream.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” He asked while reading the papers on his clipboard.

“Yes,” you replied while nodding.

“Okay, let’s see…” the shelter worker skimmed through his papers not really looking at you, “with what you filled the form with, this should be a good match. He’s a bunny hybrid and…” he trailed off, “that’s all we know,” he started to walk and you assumed it was a sign to follow him.

As you walked after the shelter workers, you passed some cages. A few were empty while others were full with more than a pair of hybrids in them. Your hands in fists, not being able to handle seeing such a scene, but you repeated to yourself that you were already doing your part to help fix this broken system. Adopting is a good way to help, you kept chanting in your mind.

“Sedentary lifestyle, doesn’t use much space and no noise, yeah. This should do.” Again, you were snapped out of your thoughts by the shelter worker. Turning a deaf ear to how he described the bunny hybrid, you noticed the door in front of you had the word abnormal painted in red bold letters.

“Hey! Xavier! A cute lady has come to visit you!” The worker banged his clipboard on the door making you jump in surprise.

“Please don’t do that.” The coldness of your voice came unexpectedly. As a reflex, you even raised your hand to try and stop the worker’s movements.

“Sorry, but it’s alright.” He pointed to the inside of the cell-like door. “He never says anything.”

His comment infuriated you to no end. Your insides were burning with rage, but you kept quiet. The faster you’re done with this, the faster you can go home.

You watched him open the door and the acid air from the inside hit you first. The smell triggered a wave of helplessness within you. how could all these be alright to a living creature? You couldn’t… you shouldn’t… but what other things could a normal civilian do to change the new world and its fucked up system?

In all truth, you knew, you dreaded this very moment when everything came crashing down on you, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. You were here and it wasn’t gonna change the whole world but you would, indeed, change someone’s world.

Once inside you grimaced at the unsanitary state of the room. Old food scattered everywhere, a lump of sheets and cloth in a corner, and… no hybrid?

“Ah, he must be under all that,” you heard the worker speak and he began to move towards the big ball of sheets at the corner.

“It’s fine, I’ll do it.” You didn’t want him near the hybrid more than necessary.

Making sure your steps were loud and clear, you approached where you guessed the hybrid would be hiding.

It all happened so fast. One moment you were reaching for the lump of sheets, and the next your hand got pulled under and a stinging sensation palpitated in your palm.

Did… did he just bite you?

Just as fast, you snatched your hand back, cradling it against your chest as you swallowed the yelp you wanted to let out.

“Hey, Xavier?” You managed to sound as calm as possible, “I probably startled you, right? I’m sorry for that… uhmm…” You proceeded to tell him your name, internally praying that the guy outside wouldn’t interfere.

The lump of sheets moved and hope struck you. A blue eye adorned with long dark lashes peeked from a small opening in between the sheets and your heart instantly softened. You saw fear clouding his striking pupil. Forgotten was the small, almost nonexistent, injury in your palm. All you wanted was to calm that vast raging blue ocean in such a small eye.

“I get it,” you said softly, “I practically had you corned and you reacted. I’m not mad, promise,” and you showed him your pinky finger.

Xavier wasn’t sure what to think. What he knew was that you were not one of the usual workers at the shelter and that you didn’t smell like… danger. You actually had a nice scent, different from everyone he had ever met in his long life— nothing overwhelming, it was almost soothing. That’s why he instinctively went straight for your hand. He didn’t even realize when his teeth had nibbled at your palm.

A pinky? That’s what you were offering. Still under the tons of sheets, Xavier wondered what was he supposed to do.

“You can lock your pinky finger with mine if you want,” you explained, seeing his eye suddenly frown and look perplexed at your gesture. “It means a promise has been made.”

The sound of fumbling cloth raised your spirits. Then a pale hand came from under all that and his pinky finger intertwined with yours. He had relented to your words… because it was the first time he was offered a choice. Not forced. Not bribed. No threats.

Convincing Xavier to come out was another ordeal. One that you achieved eventually, after negotiating with a second pinky promise of fresh food.

What actually left you with your mouth hanging open was his height. How come someone so tall was a bunny hybrid? well, the white ball of a tail and his ears sticking from his head were a dead giveaway. But still… he was taller than your average person.

The walk back home wasn't hard. Nothing eventful took place, just two jumpy individuals trying to make it back home without tripping with their own two feet. What a peculiar pair.

Less than an hour of meeting Xavier and you were already protective of your bunny hybrid. Your step might have faltered but your grip on his hand didn’t quiver. You made sure he knew you were taking him somewhere safe and that you didn’t hate his presence.

Such intention was hard to convey, especially when you tried to get him to bathe. Leaving him alone in the bathroom was a waste of time, it only made him panic and built a lump of towels.

So here you stand, in shorts and an old shirt trying to help Xavier shower.

“Xavier, please, just— wait! The water!” And with a push from the bunny hybrid, you came toppling down into the bathtub. Splashing the soapy water everywhere.

He saw your head dive in first as your arms attempted to stop your fall.

“I’m fine! It’s okay!” Moving the wet hair out of your face, you smiled sheepishly at Xavier.

He was taken aback by your reaction. He expected anything but a smile.

The first few weeks went like that. Food? The same. Xavier would panic and throw half of what you prepared to the ceiling and walls and then the rest on you. When you finished cleaning, you would find him under a pile of blankets in the kitchen.

And yes, almost no sounds came from the bunny hybrid. His blue eyes shone with a hurricane of emotions but his voice never expressed them.

You told yourself you had to be patient. All the incidents weren’t really directed at you but at whatever ghost that kept hunting him. Remembering the word painted in red on his door back at the shelter reaffirmed your resolve to give Xavier the chance he never got before.

Weeks became months and things slowly but steadily improved. Xavier no longer had those unexpected reactions and he stopped hiding under blankets and towels— well, almost— he still built those forts once in a while. He seemed more comfortable around you, so much so that he began talking to you.

The first time you heard his voice you almost screamed bloody murder. You still remember it as the night you nearly died of a heart attack.

It was a stormy night, and the electric storm was rampaging for hours now. All lights had gone out, but you were comfortable in bed reading a book with a flashlight. When a deep but soft voice you have never heard before in your life interrupted your night reading. You heard your name come from your door and it slowly opened.

You practically jumped out of the bed, one foot getting caught by your covers and your forehead hit the ground with a thud and a cry. Quickly, your eyes hovered over the side of your mattress searching for the owner of the voice, when your eyes landed on Xavier standing at your door.

“Xavier?” Gathering your thoughts, you realized the voice calling your name in the middle of the dark was his. “I-is there something you need?”

Of course, you were stunned by this new development but you knew that if you didn’t handle the situation accordingly, you would lose this opportunity. Calm and collected were the words you mentally chanted as you slowly stood up with your heart beating wildly in your throat.

“Can I…” he felt his hesitation rising as the hands of anxiety began to squeeze Xavier’s insides.

You send him a look full of warmth, encouraging him to keep going, and the sudden nails digging into his stomach slowly evaporated.

“Can I stay here?” His deep but melodic soft voice traveled to your ears and you felt like crying, but you held everything in. This was about him.

“Sure, Xavier. Let me get you more blankets.” You smiled, storm and the almost-heart attack left in the past. “I know how much you like them.”

A few blankets later and a bunny hybrid wrapped in them like a burrito, you went back to your book. you expected Xavier to just fall asleep. But oh, boy… he had different plans.

“Why are you so kind to me when I have been nothing but trouble to you?” Xavier’s whispers broke the silence in your room.

Closing your book and leaving it on your bedside table, you turned your attention completely to your bunny hybrid who rested comfortably on the pillow next to yours.

“I promised, remember?” You lifted your pinky, “aaand do I need a reason to be kind? Maybe it’s an instinct to be this way, just like you with your blanket forts or I just don’t know how to be mean.” You lightheartedly joked with the last part.

A while passed after your words and you thought your answer had satisfied Xavier. So you got cozy in your bed and closed your eyes, assuming that your first-ever chat with Xavier had come to an end.

And again, he was a bunny hybrid full of surprises. Your assumptions were wrong because that was not the case. Xavier had ambushed you once more. Out of nowhere, he began to speak again.

“That’s not true. I remember you verbally berating the neighbors the other day.” He casually mumbled.

You widened your eyes, startled by his words. “No— that’s— Xavier, they were being too loud and you got scared!”

“I know,” he then turned around and went to sleep. Just like that. Leaving you all dumbfounded beside him.

More than a year together and things were good until they weren’t. Xavier began to behave weirdly around you and it just kept getting worse. He presented fevers, cold sweats, and very abnormal noises at night.

And so you did what you thought was best and called his doctor.

“His heat? Wha– what do you mean his heat?” Your phone nearly slipped from your hand and your eyes almost popped out of your skull at what the doctor was telling you. “But–but the shelter said he never had one before! That he’s too old! I don’t— yes, I understand but—” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “What do you mean the first heat could last about ten months?”

You did not sign up for that… that was… how would that even work?

“Okay, thank you.” A couple of more suggestions from his doctor and you finally ended the call.

Hunched over the bathroom sink, you took some deep breaths before coming out to look for Xavier. You would ask for his consent first and foremost. What the doctor implied in the call sounded awful but you had little to no options. Ten months, the first week should be the worst and then the rest should be manageable with what? Get him a prescription? Suppressant? A mating partner? Gosh… your brain was fried.

“Hey Xav? Are you awake?” You said softly as you opened the door. He had been taking more naps than usual to keep… to keep whatever was happening with his system under control.

He grunted a response from his bed, once again the blanket forts were back in place.

With a heavy heart, you told him what the doctor had said, and instantly you got a strange growl in response.

“Do not use that tone with me,” you lightly reprimanded followed by a soft chuckle on your part. “I get it, really. I didn’t like the options either.”

“The others,” he began to say, voice a bit muffled under all those blankets, “at the shelter, they could withstand their heat. I can too.”

He sounded so sure, but you? From what you heard the doctor say? You doubted it. After all, Xavier was a late bloomer. For whatever reason, be it trauma or lack of nutrients, or feeling unsafe, his body didn’t allow him before. Now, that he has a safe environment? That was a different story.

Needless to say, you were right. Things got out of hand pretty fast.

“Chain me,” Xavier demanded behind his closed door. Blocking your path to his room.

“What? No! Xavier, I can’t—“You banged your fist for the hundredth time. “Just let me in! We’ll find something!” You were desperate. He meant the world to you and vice versa. Both grew to be the one thing each other needed.

“Chain me! That’s what they did with the others.” He kept insisting. “It’s for your own good! I can withstand the week! Just go get them!” Xavier shouted, a desperate look clouded his delicate features.

Your heart broke for him as his pleas traveled through the door. He had never raised his voice before and as tears ran down your cheeks, you made up your mind, nodding, and with pain constricting your chest you went straight to buy a collar and a set of chains.

Hours became days and you couldn’t step into Xavier’s room without breaking into a sobbing mess. You didn’t get the chain, that was too much. Instead, you got just the collar and a harness which did the work just fine.

It was almost done, you told yourself as you paced back and forth outside his door. Only three more days and he would be less affected by his hormones.

Click here! Smut inside! pls be aware! -> PART 2

#omificstags #lads xavier x reader #love and deepspace #lads hybrid au #omi.ds #love & deepspace #fluff #angst #l&ds xavier x y/n #xavier x mc #xavier x you #love and deepspace fanfiction #hybrid!xavier #bunny Xavier

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sepublic · 3 months ago

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Manny Noceda Haunting the Narrative

We all speak of Caleb haunting the narrative, but what of Manny? Perhaps haunting isn’t the exact right word here, for its foreboding connotations; But he’s ultimately an unseen, unheard ghost whose influence can be felt. Whose absence is there, more clearly than others to be honest because we know that Luz had to have a father, it’s not ambiguous for witches like it is for humans.

From the very first scene, we have to wonder where Manny is if he’s not present during Luz’s conference but Camila is; He’s not even present for Luz to be sent off. He’s not mentioned or acknowledged.

But we have the book he gave Luz, the one that Luz is drawn back towards, and it’s what leads her to the Boiling Isles, and motivates her to stay there for her own sake. It’s what motivates Luz to think of herself, when by the second half of the show she begins to refuse that option as inherently selfish.

If Homesick had aired during S1B, we’d have gotten a glimpse of Manny, but specifically, curiously faceless; Until then, Luz sees a parental figure deteriorating from an incurable illness and is obsessed with handling it, offering medical advice to Eda at one point.

And in Yesterday’s Lie, there’s still no Manny or mention of him, but we see glimpses of his body without the face. And then finally, finally we get Reaching Out and realize; He died. There was no divorce, it’s not that Manny is dead to mother and daughter, only literally. He’s still very much alive to them, Luz is worried about paying tribute to him in that episode.

Camila mourns the loss of Manny, someone who was always better at her about being a weirdo, and without him she feels lost, falls back into what society demands of her, and in doing so hurts their daughter. She mourns that she misses him, but Camila can’t depend on Manny to be what Luz needs her to be; She’ll be Manny, for Luz but also herself too. And Luz herself struggles to be the unapologetic Manny as well, and must do it for herself especially.

It’s the way Manny recontextualizes everything about the Nocedas. It’s the way he haunts the narrative himself, because we noticed, we had to, we had to ask where he was. Why is he not there for Luz or Camila, would he support her, is Camila also struggling from his absence? We don’t need his face or voice or an outright flashback to feel and appreciate Manny’s influence (Though I would’ve loved one).

And in a way, it’s like Dana’s own father Thomas Terrace is doing the same; With it being confirmed that Dana’s dad gave her a copy of Pokémon Red before he died, you understand perfectly that Luz is Dana, Manny is her father. Dana still likes Pokémon to this day, she’s done crossover art with Pokémon and her own show.

When it came out, Pokemon was targeted by Evangelicals as evil, it was absurd; And we see the Conformatorium perform similar absurdities in the same first episode where Luz is shown to hold onto her father’s last gift, and her fight with the Conformatorium is her fight with the system that made Luz feel ashamed of Manny’s gift and the profound impact it had on her.

The villain of the show manipulates Luz and makes her think she’s just like him, something Luz acknowledges means being a selfish, destructive force; Unsurprisingly, the villain is a Puritan, the ancestor of evangelicals, who agrees on the similarities but not on these things being evil.

Manny is the invisible ghost unseen, for the same reason as Caleb; And between the two, perhaps Caleb is defined incorrectly when it comes to how he influences things. Because Caleb does not really motivate Belos, Belos always wanted to be a witch hunter before he could claim to be betrayed by Caleb, he did it for himself. He made Grimwalkers but still continues the harm unto and through them that Caleb stood against. Caleb failed to do anything with Belos, tbh, and all that is passed on are empty genes that a racist would obsess over, but never the spirit as Luz did with Manny.

But what about Caleb’s child? Manny is defined as a father to Luz. What about someone Caleb was a father to as well? His unborn child, the ancestor of Eda. Caleb was a wood carver who loved Flapjack, and the Clawthornes had a tradition of carving Palismen. Could it not be implied that Evelyn carried on his unseen and unheard, yet felt love to their child, born after the death? And this love for the isles and magic and Palismen was passed all the way down to Dell, and then Eda.

And it’s Eda who helps Luz, another human, embrace her love for the isles and magic and Palismen. Evelyn’s descendant helps another human. Luz sees Eda in Manny, she’s his successor as someone who’s present for Luz when Camila can’t always be. Eda loves wild magic and her Palisman, gives Owlbert more autonomy than other witches, and helps the Bat Queen arrange Palismen to find new partners. And what goes around comes around when Caleb’s contribution to Palismen, started by Flapjack, helps Flapjack find a new friend and set in motion events that would lead to the Clawthornes’ injustice being rectified.

I’ve seen people argue that Hunter being with Willow makes him a copy of Caleb, but in addition to Hunter’s arc being him not caring what he does or doesn’t resemble… I think maybe the true parallel to Caleb and Evelyn is Manny and Camila; Both came to Gravesfield, the father was a weirdo with an open mind. He died, the mother mourned, but he passed on something to a child, who would eventually pass it on to Luz herself as both stories and families converge.

So Evelyn and Caleb’s child haunts the narrative; They’re Luz in a sense. Manny haunts the narrative too, since the start. He is Caleb, and so he is Eda who carries that spirit. And he is Eda because she carries the spirit for Luz. Manny is Dana Terrace’s own father, who inspired her to keep being a weirdo, which led to this show. So not only is Manny more important to the narrative’s framing and focus as the main character’s father, whose absence motivates both a disconnect between mother and daughter that leads Luz to the isles, but also motivates Luz to stay?

In a way, Manny represents the father of the series, the father of the show that reflects Dana’s own experiences and beliefs. One could say he haunts Dana’s own life, except… Perhaps the word ‘haunt’ is incorrect. Because it has a negative connotation. Perhaps the word is Inspire; Manny may be dead, we may know little of Mr. Terrace or Manny himself. But we can say that Manny lived, because of his impact, his life had meaning and it always will. Something is in motion, so we all know and understand ask what, or who set it that way.

#The Owl House #Manny Noceda #Luz Noceda #Camila Noceda #Dana Terrace #Meta

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lightasthesun · 9 months ago

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i heard there was a HUGE outcry for more codywan fic recs...(@tapemonkey21 & @dontbelasagnax lol) so here I am posting another one

As always please mind the tags before diving headfirst into any fic you read and consider sharing your unbridled joy and unhinged thoughts with the writer in the comment section 😉

Desert Box by br1ghtmouth | 7k words

With a chip in his head that has already caused the ruin for which he was made, Cody finds his way to Tatooine in the hopes of tending to the painful layers of memories left behind in his own silt.

Facile Felicity by br1ghtmouth | 14k words

Primary functions are supposed to be useful: survive against all odds; shield one’s battalion; fight until the very last breath. Cody would prefer anything besides the bleeding heart he’s been dealt.

Or: the General makes plans. Cody follows.

Good man of war by scrapathon 🔒| 16k words

During a medic’s first mission with the 212th, everything goes wrong. In the midst of it all, Cody deals with his growing feelings towards General Kenobi.

Across the path by Threebea O(ThreeBea)| 1k words

Cody is inspecting a cave system. He meets his General.

No. Not his General.

“The pathway,” Obi-Wan whispered. “I understand now. C-Commander, I owe you an apology. I am not your General.”

But Obi-Wan isn't the only one that has crossed over into his universe.

Safe in hand by Threebea O(ThreeBea) | 11k words

Cody ends up where all griefstricken people on the run end up in the galaxy far, far away. He makes a life for himself looking for scrap in the deserts of Tatooine.

He always did have a knack for finding Kenobi's lightsaber.

in the middle before I knew that I had begun by tenderjock🔒| 2k words

Obi-Wan beams at him, feeling unbearably fond. His Cody. His darling. Always looking after him.

Cody’s face is very still, just a few inches above his. Obi-Wan reaches out, touches his scar.

“What are you thinking?” he wonders.

OR: as the war stumbles to its end, Obi-Wan is forced to reassess his relationship with his commander.

Floating on a Starless Sea by shadowmaat🔒| 2k words

A cave-in leaves Cody trapped and badly injured. With another contingent of droids on the way there isn't time to try and dig him out. Obi-Wan is forced to make a difficult choice.

when the jebwa flower blooms by mxartbotboy🔒| 10k words

One year since the end of the war, and Cody still hasn’t figured out what to do about Obi-Wan. With Coruscant struggling to make the transition with the New Republic, Cody already has enough on his plate without trying to untangle the knot that is his feelings for the ex-Jedi. Will the tightly twisted flower bud finally bloom?

love without compromise by mxartbotboy🔒(ch.1) |

Cody has a panicked moment with his General and reveals more than he means to.

grip my hand through the pain by The_Last_Kenobi🔒| 2k words

It's all just happened, and yet Cody cannot stop playing it over and over in his head.

The trek into the hills, the deserted path.

His General standing like a human shield between his battalion and a wall of fire.

Panacea by MissyPup | 4k words

Cody has been falling for his General for two years. Two long, war filled years. But he's been able to stay in control of his feelings by just not acknowledging them.

But having to share a bed with the man he's been daydreaming about for two years makes Cody so tense Obi-Wan decides to give him a massage to help out.

Obi-Wan would certainly be the death of him.

Facula by MissyPup | 5k words

Obi-Wan would only be gone for a few days, Cody could handle that alone. Until his thoughts catch up to him thanks to Beru.

Or: How the Kenobi series should have gone because Cody deserves to be there.

Interrobang by MissyPup | 10k words

“I love you.” Cody blurted out so fast that even he was surprised by it.

Obi-Wan leaned back a bit, enough to touch Cody’s cheek and grin, “I love you too, Cody.”

“Keeping this a secret is hard.” Cody admitted, reaching up to grip Obi-Wan’s robes again. “But I know what would happen if anyone found out… Kriff, Rex found out on his own and I thought I was going to-”

coming full circle by catboydogma 🔒| 5k words

Or: five times Obi-Wan has handed Cody his lightsaber and one time Cody handed Obi-Wan his lightsaber

A Hush Sublime by catboydogma | 10k words

When Master Qui-Gon died, Obi-Wan had known him for half his life. He thought—sometimes, distantly, like the artificial Coruscanti sunlight—that he should have told Qui-Gon more often. They hadn’t needed words in living: Qui-Gon was a man of action more than anything else, and they both had difficulties in unspooling the thick vines of feeling inside their chests enough to speak of them. Obi-Wan had loved Qui-Gon. He’d thought, more than once, that that adoring love, of the Initiate that Obi-Wan still was at heart, had been a sign of a terrible and thorny attachment.

that is that + this is this by catboydogma🔒| 8k words

“Here. Drink, Cody. Come on. Don’t die on me now, not when you went to all the trouble to get out here.”

“Didn’t know,” Cody rasped.

“So I shouldn’t be expecting a cavalcade of Imperial stormtroopers to show up here, then?” The man asked, bland as anything.

The Commander gave this the consideration it was due. “No.” “Forgive me if I don’t immediately believe you.” The man’s voice sharpened, but his grip on the Commander stayed gentle, supporting his head even when it lolled back against his will. “When have I ever let you down?” Cody asked.

The man’s breathing hitched. He set Cody back down against the blankets and retreated to his spot several feet away, blaster and charge pack between the two of them like some strange barrier. “When you killed me,” the man said.

repeat, replay, return by Serie11🔒| 3k words

The last time he saw his General, Cody was ordering him shot off a cliff.

Ten years later, and Obi-Wan is in a bacta tank again. Some things, it seems, don’t change; Cody’s feelings among them.

all the world in my arms by biscuityskies | 5k words

A brief wry smirk flashes across his face, and as Cody meets his own eyes in the reflection of his drink, it softens. If he had to rationalise it, this anxiety most likely stems from the recent developments with the general.

Something's been off about him ever since he came back from the mission to Kadavo.

Compartment Syndrome by elwenyere | 3k words

Cody was lucky, really, that Obi-Wan had lost consciousness during the crash, because otherwise he would never have gotten away with the tender pressure building in his wrist - much less the lance of pain that sliced across his arm every time he adjusted his General’s weight over his shoulder.

I Promise by dontbelasagnax🔒| 6k words

Mace raises an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. He looks over Cody for a solid thirty grueling seconds, evaluating. "Hypothetically," he says in that dry way of his that is nearly impossible to tell whether he's making fun of Cody or teaching him a lesson, "if someone wanted to propose to their partner, they'd bring it up with said partner."

[ OR: Cody has plans. He's going to make a certain Jedi a very happy man. ]

The Lessons Not Yet Learned by meadmeinthemiddle | 23k words

The Force works in mysterious ways. Cody knows this, theoretically, but it all seems so far beyond him that he tends to not pay it any mind.

Little does Cody know, the Force has its claws buried deeper into him than he can possibly imagine - he just hasn't realized it yet.

: (Is to) :: (As) by TamerLorika | 12k words

Cody notices that Kenobi's regard for himself is always clinical and utilitarian. As he ponders a way to break the stalemate, he begins to learn more about the lightsaber that is so often in his hands, and how it relates to the subject of Kenobi's own soul.

for you, only you by dontbelasagnax | 11k words

“What's next for you, my dear, now that you’re a citizen of the Republic?” Obi-Wan tilts his head, expression alight and imploring. “You could get a job and find a place of your own amongst the many levels of Coruscant- or the stars.”

Light Will Prevail by kotekenobii | 3k words

In the aftermath of battle, an exhausted Obi-Wan slips away to watch the sunrise. Worried, Cody seeks him out.

Based on the end of Obi-Wan Kenobi #3.

You're the Only Stim I Need by Captora | 7k words

The five times Marshal Commander Cody brought General Kenobi bad GAR caf and the one time Obi-Wan showed Cody what caf was supposed to taste like.

#codywan #fic recs #if you haven't figured it out by now #I'm the kind of person that will go through your entire history if i liked a fic of yours...and then I'll move on to the bookmarks #thanks kat !#apparently most of these require you to have an ao3 account but considering this is Tumblr....im thinking most of us have one lol #obi wan kenobi #commander cody

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copperbadge · 3 months ago

Note

https://www.wired.com/story/therapy-broken-mental-health-challenges/

I came across this (old) article and it made me think of what you shared about your therapy experience. Would you say your therapy experience worked? It almost feels like you were telling us about how you were A/B testing your way through it.

Yeah, I remember reading that article at some point either before therapy or early on. I don't remember what I thought overall but I do remember being astonished that people expected therapy to help them in six sessions, and that most people report improvement in only 15-20. Not because I think either of those things are unrealistic based on any kind of evidence, but because that's not the expectation I was ever handed when I was in therapy. I was in therapy for nine years as a kid, until I turned eighteen and could legally refuse to go. Not for anything I did, like it wasn't a court order, I was simply put into therapy and wasn't allowed to leave by the adults in my life.

The thing is, because it was mandatory, because at least one of those therapists broke ethical constraints, and because across nine years and three separate therapists nobody caught my ADHD, I have a more complicated relationship to therapy than a lot of people. I still catch myself thinking of things I can't tell my therapist because then she'll have leverage on me. Which is absurd, but it took me a long time to start saying those things to her. I am difficult and private and smart enough to make that a real problem, so it's been a slow process for me.

I also think that article is complicated, because it makes a lot of good points but it also seems at times to confuse therapy itself with the abusive nature of the American healthcare system. So while it's a useful article particularly when it speaks to marginalized peoples' experiences, it may discourage people who could benefit from therapy from doing the work to find a therapist. It's a good article to learn from, but I wouldn't advise people to decide for or against therapy based on it.

(My thoughts on my own therapy under the cut)

I'm still in therapy. It's difficult to measure results. I think I handle interpersonal stress better than I used to, but I haven't been able to find much to help with some of the emotional volatility I experience, and while I've set some good boundaries with family, the process of doing that was and continues to be stressful and upsetting, in some ways harder than simply not having them, so I'm still assessing that. Part of the problem for me is that I don't find cognitive-behavioral therapy useful for what I need, and while I understand there are differences, like 90% of all therapeutic systems boil back down to those techniques. Reality checking, visualizing, physical stimulus responses, mindfulness, as I said once to Therapist, "It's CBT all the way down." I don't respond to many of them and others I was already doing, so *shrug emoji*

At that point, when I realized there was no system that was going to help with my specific problems -- in part because the problems are ADHD related in a way that you can't train your way out of -- we also agreed it was time to try medication. Which felt like a failure, but I know that realistically I looked at the situation as it is, assessed my options, and made an appropriate choice, which is after all what therapy is often about.

So I've been on Clonidine for a couple of weeks. And it's doing fuck-all so far, but it's the lowest dose and there are other options too, so it's an ongoing process.

Outside of frustration with trying to fix problems that I honestly don't think anything but medication will fix, therapy's ok. If nothing else the expectation of it helps me identify actual problems in my life. And like most people I enjoy talking about myself but I also have a lot of struggle around asking for that kind of indulgence from friends, so doing that for an hour in a structured transactional kind of way is easier for me.

Ultimately, there's no real one-size solution that's called "Therapy", so whether or not I have found it useful isn't really material to whether someone else would. Some people use it as maintenance stress-relief, some people need to do deep emotional work, some people are in crisis and need an objective commentator. Sometimes you move from one need to another. Right now I'm in a liminal space because we're trying something new, so it's tough to say. But I'm finding it worth the cost in time, energy, and money, so I'll keep on until I don't anymore.

#sam has adhd #not yet fired from therapy

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cy-cyborg · 9 months ago

Text

Dealing with Healing and Disability in fantasy: Writing Disability

[ID: An image of the main character from Eragon, a white teenage boy with blond hair in silver armour as he sits, with his hand outstretched. On his hand is a glowing blue mark. He is visibly straining as he attempts to heal a large creature in front of him. /End ID]

I'm a massive fan of the fantasy genre, which is why it's so incredibly frustrating when I see so much resistance to adding disability representation to fantasy works. People's go-to reason for leaving us out is usually something to the effect of "But my setting has magic so disability wouldn't exist, it can just be healed!" so let's talk about magic, specifically healing magic, in these settings, and how you can use it without erasing disability from your story.

Ok, let's start with why you would even want to avoid erasing disability from a setting in the first place. I talked about this in a lot more detail in my post on The Miracle Cure. this line of thinking is another version of this trope, but applied to a whole setting (or at least, to the majority of people in the setting) instead of an individual, so it's going to run into the same issues I discussed there. To summarise the points that are relevant to this particular version of the trope though:

Not every disabled person wants or needs a cure - many of us see our disability as a part of our identity. Do difficulties come with being disabled? absolutely! It's literally part of the definition, but for some people in the disabled community, if you took our disabilities away, we would be entirely different people. While it is far from universal, there is a significant number of us who, if given a magical cure with no strings attached, would not take it. Saying no one in your setting would be disabled because these healing spells exists ignores this part of the community.

It messes with the stakes of your story - Just like how resurrecting characters or showing that this is something that is indeed possible in the setting can leave your audience feeling cheated or like they don't have to worry about a character *actually* ever dying. healing a character's disability, or establishing that disability doesn't exist in your setting because "magic" runs into the same problem. It will leave your readers or viewers feeling like they don't have to worry about your characters getting seriously hurt because it will only be temporary, which means your hero's actions carry significantly less risk, which in turn, lowers the stakes and tension if not handled very, very carefully.

It's an over-used trope - quite plainly and simply, this trope shows up a lot in the fantasy genre, to the point where I'd say it's just overused and kind of boring.

So with the "why should you avoid it" covered, let's look at how you can actually handle the topic.

Limited Access and Expensive Costs

One of the most common ways to deal with healing and disability in a fantasy setting, is to make the healing magic available, but inaccessible to most of the population. The most popular way to do that is by making the services of a magical healer capable of curing a disability really expensive to the point that most people just can't afford it. If this is the approach you're going to use, you also typically have to make that type of magic quite rare. To use D&D terms, if every first level sorcerer, bard, cleric and druid can heal a spinal injury, it's going to result in a lot of people who are able to undercut those massive prices and the expense will drop as demand goes down. If that last sentence didn't give you a hint, this is really popular method in stories that are critiquing capitalistic mindsets and ideologies, and is most commonly used by authors from the USA and other countries with a similar medical system, since it mirrors a lot of the difficulties faced by disabled Americans. If done right, this approach can be very effective, but it does need to be thought through more carefully than I think people tend to do. Mainly because a lot of fantasy stories end with the main character becoming rich and/or powerful, and so these prohibitively expensive cure become attainable by the story's end, which a lot of authors and writer's just never address. Of course, another approach is to make the availability of the magic itself the barrier. Maybe there just aren't that many people around who know the magic required for that kind of healing, so even without a prohibitive price tag, it's just not something that's an option for most people. If we're looking at a D&D-type setting, maybe you need to be an exceptionally high level to cast the more powerful healing spell, or maybe the spell requires some rare or lost material component. I'd personally advise people to be careful using this approach, since it often leads to stories centred around finding a miracle cure, which then just falls back into that trope more often than not.

Just outright state that some characters don't want/need it

Another, admittedly more direct approach, is to make it that these "cures" exist and are easily attainable, but to just make it that your character or others they encounter don't want or need it. This approach works best for characters who are born with their disabilities or who already had them for a long time before a cure was made available to them. Even within those groups though, this method works better with some types of characters than others depending on many other traits (personality, cultural beliefs, etc), and isn't really a one-size-fits-all solution, but to be fair, that's kind of the point. Some people will want a cure for their disabilities, others are content with their body's the way they are. There's a few caveats I have with this kind of approach though:

you want to make sure you, as the author, understand why some people in real life don't want a cure, and not just in a "yeah I know these people exist but I don't really get it" kind of way. I'm not saying you have to have a deep, personal understanding or anything, but some degree of understanding is required unless you want to sound like one of those "inspirational" body positivity posts that used to show up on Instagram back in the day.

Be wary when using cultural beliefs as a reasoning. It can work, but when media uses cultural beliefs as a reason for turning down some kind of cure, it's often intending to critique extreme beliefs about medicine, such as the ones seen in some New Age Spirituality groups and particularly intense Christian churches. As a general rule of thumb, it's probably not a good idea to connect these kinds of beliefs to disabled people just being happy in their bodies. Alternatively, you also need to be mindful of the "stuck in time" trope - a trope about indigenous people who are depicted as primitive or, as the name suggests, stuck in an earlier time, for "spurning the ways of the white man" which usually includes medicine or the setting's equivalent magic. I'm not the best person to advise you on how to avoid this specific trope, but my partner (who's Taino) has informed me of how often it shows up in fantasy specifically and we both thought it was worth including a warning at least so creators who are interested in this method know to do some further research.

Give the "cures" long-lasting side effects

Often in the real world, when a "cure" for a disability does exist, it's not a perfect solution and comes with a lot of side effects. For example, if you loose part of your arm in an accident, but you're able to get to a hospital quickly with said severed arm, it can sometimes be reattached, but doing so comes at a cost. Most people I know who had this done had a lot of issues with nerve damage, reduced strength, reduced fine-motor control and often a great deal of pain with no clear source. Two of the people I know who's limbs were saved ended up having them optionally re-amputated only a few years later. Likewise, I know many people who are paraplegics and quadriplegics via spinal injuries, who were able to regain the use of their arms and/or legs. However, the process was not an easy one, and involved years of intense physiotherapy and strength training. For some of them, they need to continue to do this work permanently just to maintain use of the effected limbs, so much so that it impacts their ability to do things like work a full-time job and engage in their hobbies regularly, and even then, none of them will be able bodied again. Even with all that work, they all still experience reduced strength and reduced control of the limbs. depending on the type, place and severity of the injury, some people are able to get back to "almost able bodied" again - such was the case for my childhood best friend's dad, but they often still have to deal with chronic pain from the injury or chronic fatigue.

Even though we are talking about magic in a fantasy setting, we can still look to real-life examples of "cures" to get ideas. Perhaps the magic used has a similar side effect. Yes, your paraplegic character can be "cured" enough to walk again, but the magic maintaining the spell needs a power source to keep it going, so it draws on the person's innate energy within their body, using the very energy the body needs to function and do things like move their limbs. They are cured, but constantly exhausted unless they're very careful, and if the spell is especially strong, the body might struggle to move at all, resulting in something that looks and functions similar to the nerve damage folks with spinal injuries sometimes deal with that causes that muscle weakness and motor control issues. Your amputee might be able to have their leg regrown, but it will always be slightly off. The regrown leg is weaker and causes them to walk with a limp, maybe even requiring them to use a cane or other mobility aid.

Some characters might decide these trade-offs are worth it, and while this cures their initial disability, it leaves them with another. Others might simply decide the initial disability is less trouble than these side effects, and choose to stay as they are.

Consider if these are actually cures

Speaking of looking to the real world for ideas, you might also want to consider whether these cures are doing what the people peddling them are claiming they do. Let's look at the so-called autism cures that spring up every couple of months as an example.

Without getting into the… hotly debated specifics, there are many therapies that are often labelled as "cures" for autism, but in reality, all they are doing is teaching autistic people how to make their autistic traits less noticeable to others. This is called masking, and it's a skill that often comes at great cost to an autistic person's mental health, especially when it's a behaviour that is forced on them. Many of these therapies give the appearance of being a cure, but the disability is still there, as are the needs and difficulties that come with it, they're just hidden away. From an outside perspective though, it often does look like a success, at least in the short-term. Then there are the entirely fake cures with no basis in reality, the things you'll find from your classic snake-oil salesmen. Even in a fantasy setting where real magic exists, these kinds of scams and misleading treatments can still exist. In fact, I think it would make them even more common than they are in the real world, since there's less suspension of disbelief required for people to fall for them. "What do you mean this miracle tonic is a scam? Phil next door can conjure flames in his hand and make the plants grow with a snap of his fingers, why is it so hard to believe this tonic could regrow my missing limb?"

I think the only example of this approach I've seen, at least recently, is from The Owl House. The magic in this world can do incredible things, but it works in very specific and defined ways. Eda's curse (which can be viewed as an allegory for many disabilities and chronic illnesses) is seemingly an exception to this, and as such, nothing is able to cure it. Treat it, yes, but not cure it. Eda's mother doesn't accept this though, and seeks out a cure anyway and ends up falling for a scam who's "treatments" just make things worse.

In your own stories, you can either have these scams just not work, or kind of work, but in ways that are harmful and just not worth it, like worse versions of the examples in the previous point. Alternatively, like Eda, it's entirely reasonable that a character who's been the target of these scams before might just not want to bother anymore. Eda is a really good example of this approach handled in a way that doesn't make her sad and depressed about it either. She's tried her mum's methods, they didn't work, and now she's found her own way of dealing with it that she's happy with. She only gets upset when her boundaries are ignored by Luz and her mother.

Think about how the healing magic is actually working

If you have a magic system that leans more on the "hard magic" side of things, a great way to get around the issue of healing magic erasing disability is to stop and think about how your healing magic actually works.

My favourite way of doing this is to make healing magic work by accelerating the natural processes of your body. Your body will, given enough time (assuming it remains infection-free) close a slash from a sword and mend a broken bone, but it will never regrow it's own limbs. It will never heal damage to it's own spinal cord. It will never undo whatever causes autism or fix it's own irregularities. Not without help. Likewise, healing magic alone won't do any of these things either, it's just accelerating the existing process and usually, by extension making it safer, since a wound staying open for an hour before you get to a healer is much less likely to get infected than one that slowly and naturally heals over a few weeks. In one of my own works, I take this even further by making it that the healing magic is only accelerating cell growth and repair, but the healer has to direct it. In order to actually heal, the healer needs to know the anatomy of what they're fixing to the finest detail. A spell can reconnect a torn muscle to a bone, but if you don't understand the structures that allow that to happen in the first place, you're likely going to make things worse. For this reason, you won't really see people using this kind of magic to, say, regrow limbs, even though it technically is possible. A limb is a complicated thing. The healer needs to be able to perfectly envision all the bones, the cartilage, the tendons and ligaments, the muscles (including the little ones, like those found in your skin that make your hair stand on end and give you goose bumps), the fat and skin tissues, all the nerves, all the blood vessels, all the structures within the bone that create your blood. Everything, and they need to know how it all connects, how it is supposed to move and be able to keep that clearly in their mind simultaneously while casting. Their mental image also has to match with the patient's internal "map" of the body and the lost limb, or they'll continue to experience phantom limb sensation even if the healing is successful. It's technically possible, but the chances they'll mess something up is too high, and so it's just not worth the risk to most people, including my main character.

Put Restrictions on the magic

This is mostly just the same advice as above, but for softer magic systems. put limits and restrictions on your healing magic. These can be innate (so things the magic itself is just incapable of doing) or external (things like laws that put limitations on certain types of magic and spells).

An example of internal restriction can be seen in how some people interpret D&D's higher level healing spells like regenerate (a 7th level spell-something most characters won't have access to for quite some time). The rules as written specify that disabilities like lost limbs can be healed using this spell, but some players take this to mean that if a character was born with the disability in question, say, born without a limb, regenerate would only heal them back to their body's natural state, which for them, is still disabled.

An external restriction would be that your setting has outlawed healing magic, perhaps because healing magic carries a lot of risks for some reason, eithe to the caster or the person being healed, or maybe because the healing magic here works by selectively reviving and altering the function of cells, which makes it a form of necromancy, just on a smaller scale. Of course, you can also use the tried and true, "all magic is outlawed" approach too. In either case, it's something that will prevent some people from being able to access it, despite it being technically possible. Other external restrictions could look like not being illegal, per say, but culturally frowned upon or taboo where your character is from.

But what if I don't want to do any of this?

Well you don't have to. These are just suggestions to get you thinking about how to make a world where healing magic and disability exist, but they aren't the only ways. Just the ones I thought of.

Of course, if you'd still rather make a setting where all disability is cured because magic and you just don't want to think about it any deeper, I can't stop you. I do however, want to ask you to at least consider where you are going to draw the line. Disability, in essence, is what happens when the body stops (or never started) functioning "normally". Sometimes that happens because of an injury, sometimes it's just bad luck, but the boundary between disabled and not disabled is not as solid as I think a lot of people expect it to be, and we as a society have a lot of weird ideas about what is and isn't a disability that just, quite plainly and simply, aren't consistent. You have to remember, a magic system won't pick and choose the way we humans do, it will apply universally, regardless of our societal hang-ups about disability.

What do I mean about this?

Well, consider for a moment, what causes aging? it's the result of our body not being able to repair itself as effectively as it used to. It's the body not being able to perform that function "normally". So in a setting where all disability is cured, there would be no aging. No elderly people. No death from old age. If you erase disability, you also erase natural processes like aging. magic won't pick and choose like that, not if you want it to be consistent.

Ok, ok, maybe that's too much of a stretch, so instead, let's look at our stereotypical buff hero covered in scars because he's a badass warrior. but in a world where you can heal anything, why would anything scar? Even if it did, could another healing spell not correct that too? Scars are part of the body's natural healing process, but if no natural healing occurred, why would a scar form? Scars are also considered disabling in and of themselves too, especially large ones, since they aren't as flexible or durable as normal skin and can even restrict growth and movement.

Even common things like needing glasses are, using this definition of disability at least, a disability. glasses are a socially accepted disability aid used to correct your eyes when they do not function "normally".

Now to be fair, in reality, there are several definitions of disability, most of which include something about the impact of society. For example, in Australia (according to the Disability Royal Commission), we define disability as "An evolving concept that results from the interaction between a person with impairment(s) and attitudinal and environmental barriers that hinder their full and effective participation in society on an equal basis with others." - or in laymen's terms, the interaction between a person's impairment and societal barriers like people not making things accessible or holding misinformed beliefs about your impairment (e.g. people in wheelchairs are weaker than people who walk). Under a definition like this, things like scars and needing glasses aren't necessarily disabilities (most of the time) but that's because of how our modern society sees them. The problem with using a definition like this though to guide what your magic system will get rid of, is that something like a magic system won't differentiate between an "impairment" that has social impacts that and one that doesn't. It will still probably get rid of anything that is technically an example of your body functioning imperfectly, which all three of these things are. The society in your setting might apply these criteria indirectly, but really, why would they? Very few people like the side effects of aging on the body (and most people typically don't want to die), the issues that come with scars or glasses are annoying (speaking as someone with both) and I can see a lot of people getting rid of them when possible too. If they don't then it's just using the "not everyone wants it approach" I mentioned earlier. If there's some law or some kind of external pressure to push people away from fixing these more normalised issues, then it's using the "restrictions" method I mentioned earlier too.

Once again, you can do whatever you like with your fantasy setting, but it's something I think that would be worth thinking about at least.

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fandom-lover2 · 16 days ago

Text

Dirty Mirror

Chapter Two - Holding Tight

Word Count - 2363

-image not mine-

Chapter One - Lost and Found

Chapter Three - Shot of Clarity

Optimus sat in the hospital room, foot bouncing nervously as he waited for news on your condition from June and the doctor.

Ratchet was pacing the room before him, practically pulling his synthetic hair out.

June had brought you here at sunset. It was now morning. Had you been in surgery this whole time? Were you still alive?

No, he couldn’t think like that.

You were alive, because you were strong. You needed to be strong, for him. He needed you to be alive.

Another earthly hour passed before the Nurse finally emerged from within the hospital to update the bots in the waiting room. June made her way to the men, both standing and taking long strides to meet her in the center of the room.

“Well?” Ratchet asked.

“She’s… stable.” June took a moment to collect herself, tears gathering in her eyes. “The damage she sustained is server. Three broken ribs, bruised lungs, shattered collar bone and fractures in multiple parts on her arms and legs. Almost as if she was crushed by a giant hand.”

The nurse looked at Optimus with an underlying rage for a moment before continuing.

“She’s got a gash on her forehead but a few stitches handled that. The biggest concern is the large fracture at the base of her skull. It is close to her vertebral column. It’s honestly a miracle she isn’t permanently paralyzed.” The nurse wiped the tears from her cheeks, taking a deep breath. “I don’t even understand how she managed to get off that table, let alone move.”

The nurse looked back at the Prime and this time didn’t bother to cover the accusation in her glare. “Why was she scared of you?” June asked, crossing her arms and looking at the Prime expectantly.

Optimus ducked his head. That was the same question that had been on his processor since he left base.

“I do not know.” he managed out softly, spark heavy.

“Can we see her?” Ratchet asked, interrupting the tension and guilt.

“She’s sleeping now. The anesthetic from the surgery is still in her system and the doctors are thinking of inducing a medical coma to help her heal. I think it would be best if you both left.”

Optimus closed his eyes. He’d failed, as a guardian and an Autobot, and now the person he cared most about was suffering. And he couldn’t even be there to help you.

“I’ll send updates to Jack and he can pass them along.” The nurse continued.

Then, with a final hateful glance at the Prime, she turned and headed back into the hospital.

Optimus was vaguely aware of Ratchet leading him back toward his alt mode and assumed he drove back to base because the next thing he remembered was sitting on his berth, feeling cold. Finally in the confines of his berthroom, away from prying eyes, he let his guard drop and freely expressed all the emotions he’d tried to keep locked away.

-------

For the next nine days, the base was silent. No chattering kids or music being played from phones and tv blasting the latest show you kids had become obsessed with.

Ratchet tried to distract himself with work, focusing on trying to track down M.E.C.H and make them answer for the pain they had caused the team.

The rest continued with daily patrols and scouting missions, but those no longer felt important.

The remaining children didn’t talk. They just sat on the catwalk, trying to make it seem like they were doing something. Raf spent a lot of time on his computer, also hoping to find the militia group.

Optimus… changed. He wouldn’t leave his berth, not even for Energon. He just stayed hidden in that dark room, frozen.

He’d seen you go through a few of these before. You’d called them ‘depressive episodes’ and while he’d had a few himself, he never understood how yours went on for so long. Yes, he had supported you, but he never understood when you said that it felt like it would never end.

Now he understood. He understood how it felt like to have everything and nothing flowing through his processor faster than he could comprehend, yet having no will to try make sense of the chaotic noise. And for the first time since he met you, he really understood what it meant to see no hope.

How it felt to feel no hunger, no desire to move, tired but not able to rest. He felt nothing but pain, and fear and empty.

The worst part of it all, of all the quiet, was that only one thought seemed prominent in everyone’s minds: Why was the one you had always felt the safest around now the object of your fear?

-------

On the morning of the tenth day of your medical coma, June Darby phoned the base.

Over the course of the past week and a bit, Jack had been the liaison of your condition but he was at school today.

Was the news that urgent that she needed to tell them immediately? The old medic prepared himself for the worst as he opened the comm. “Nurse Darby?”

“She’s awake.”

And then, the called ended.

The only time Ratchet had ever moved so fast on Earth was when he has using the synthetic Energon. Bolting down the halls, he didn’t even bother to knock before slamming Optimus’ door open.

The Prime was sat at the edge of his bed, looking down at his servos with an unreadable expression as silent tears leaked from his optics.

Optimus lifted his helm, and Ratchet’s presence was all the words he needed. Hot on Ratchet’s trail, the older bots transformed and raced out of the base toward Jasper.

June met them at the doors to the hospital, a weak smile on her tired face.

“Tell us everything.” Ratchet requested, eager to get inside and be with you.

“She woke up about an hour ago. She’s obviously in a lot of pain but we’ve given her some morphine to combat that.” The nurse’s face then fell. “She’s still really scared, and won’t talk to anyone about what happened.”

That was not what they were hoping to hear. But you were awake, and that in of itself was something to be grateful for.

“Can we see her?” Optimus asked softly, voice so weak he surprised himself.

The nurse grimaced. “Right now she needs a calm environment so she can heal. Seeing you might trigger her again.”

Optimus’ spark clenched and he dropped his head.

“But Optimus can stand outside while I talk.” Ratchet spoke, starting to make his way into the hospital.

June just sighed in reply, following the bot inside while Optimus trailed behind.

“She’ll need to stay here for a few more days. And once she can leave, she won’t be able to do much alone.”

“Yes well, once she’s back at base there will be plenty of people to help her.”

June stopped outside a room and turned to the mechs. “Are you sure she’ll want to go back?”

Both bots dropped their gazes. The thought had crossed their minds that you might never want to have contact with the team again after what happened to you. They prayed you would come home.

June knocked on the door softly and opened it. The sound of steady beeps that kept track of your heartbeat soothed Optimus’ racing spark just a fraction.

“I’ve got a visitor for you.” June explained, gesturing for Ratchet to follow her inside.

As soon as he came into your view, the beeps picked up speed and Optimus heard the rustle of your sheets. “No, please. He can’t be here.” you tried to scramble back, having no regard for the pain.

It took all of Optimus’ willpower not to charge into your room.

You were so scared, and it broke his spark that he couldn’t comfort you, because for some reason he seemed to be the cause of your pain.

“Optimus isn’t here.” Ratchet lied.

That stopped your movements but the steady rhythm was still off beat.

“I wanted to come see how you were doing.” Ratchet explained in a calm voice, and Optimus heard his friend sit on the chair no doubt placed at the side of your bed.

“Fine.” you mumbled, offering no more.

It was silent for a long while, and Optimus had to clench his fists and bite the inside of his cheek as a way to fight the urge to burst into the room.

“You wanna know what happened.” Your voice was rough, yet breathy at the same time.

Optimus recognized it immediately, this was your ‘holding back tears’ voice.

“Only if you are ready.” June answered.

It was silent a moment more before you took a deep breath and began. “I was in the hanger, and Silas was there. He asked where the base was. I refused to tell him and then he left. It took a while but then… Optimus came.” Your voice broke. “I tried talking to him but… he wouldn’t listen. He just kept coming closer.” A sob left you and the Prime felt his spark fluctuate. “He-he grabbed me and began squeezing, hard. I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t. Then, he threw me at the wall.” You sniffed then, a few unsteady breaths leaving you as you tried to hold yourself together.

“And you’re certain it was Optimus?” Ratchet asked, as confused as the bot in question was.

Optimus had been in the base, anxiously waiting for any information regarding where you were. He had an entire base full of witnesses. So how had ‘he’ attacked you?

Oh Primus.

Just thinking of hurting you made his frame shudder. But then, the fury settled in.

Someone, no, humans who looked like him had attacked you, taking away the sense of comfort and safety he had always given you and twisted it into fear. The energon boiled in his frame as he thought of all the ways he could make those humans pay.

“He looked kinda dirty. And his optics were yellow. But it was him. His frame, his servo, his voice.”

Your words faded away as quiet sobs overtook your body. But that little bit of information was all they needed to understand. Silas had used Nemesis Prime to attack you.

You’d never actually seen the human remake of Optimus so you wouldn’t have entirely know what was happening at that moment when fear filled your body. That didn’t mean your guardian would be able to forget those terrified eyes that stared back at him as you tried desperately to get away from your enemy.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at Optimus again.”

-------

After your… spark-wrenching statement Optimus had gone to the waiting room, trying to drown the world out. He knew Ratchet would be explaining to you about Nemesis, but that wouldn’t change the fact that it was his faceplates you saw when the bot was killing you.

While Optimus waited, he thought back to all the memories he had of you and him. Times when you would lie beside him on a hill somewhere and stargaze, or when you played songs from your phone during outings. His favorite memories were by far when you would teach him of Earth and its people.

It was at those times he didn’t need to be a Prime, because you only saw him as Optimus. He could openly express his emotions and unload the weight he carried. You’d listen without hesitation, keeping your focus solely on him. Those moments would be the ones he missed the most, getting to be himself. But if only being the leader was what you needed, then that is who he’d be.

Ratchet came staggering into the waiting room a long while later, looking lost. He sat down heavily beside the Prime. Neither spoke, not for a long time.

“She’s knows of Nemesis.” Ratchet broke the silence after the weight of it became unbearable. “She understands now that it wasn’t you.”

“I still won’t be going to her.” Optimus voiced his decision.

Ratchet turned to his leader in surprise, but kept his mouth shut. He knew there was no way to convince Optimus otherwise.

“She’s resting now if you want to see her.” The medic said softly, standing. “I’m heading back to base to let the others know of her condition.”

The Prime nodded, watching his friend walk out the hospital and toward his alt mode. Once Ratchet’s ambulance was out of sight, he stood and began making his way to your room.

Optimus opened the door as quietly as possible and slipped in, gasping at what he saw.

It would be quicker to name the body parts unbandaged than those covered in the white cloth. A small tube was connected to your nose, no doubt giving you additional oxygen. The beeping on the machines was once again steady and your breathing was how it usually sounded when you slept. An IV was connected to your arm, giving you a clear liquid.

What Optimus wasn’t prepared for however, was how weak the whiteness of the room made you look. Even with your head turned away from him, he could see how sunken your cheeks were and the dark circles under your eyes, despite the fact that you had been sleeping for over a week.

Looking down at you now, for the first time ever, he saw you as fragile. He didn’t see the strong being who he himself looked up to, but saw the young girl he’d allowed to be hurt because of his inability to protect those he cared for. He didn’t see the human who carried burdens as if they were feathers and smiled in face of danger.

What you had said was for the best. Not being around Optimus would keep you safe. And no matter how much it hurt him, he needed to let you go.

Reaching out a shaking hand, he made a reach to take your own smaller one but stopped. Retracting his hand, he turned and moved back toward the door.

“Goodbye, Little One.”

Tags: @ameryhn

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