#i can read in peace but i also tried really hard to be a real person and make friends w my coworkers ... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burdenandacrop · 4 months ago

Note

Hiii! Can I just say that I genuinely love your writing, I’ve read so many Schlatt writers (and no shade to them,I love them and their work too) but yours just always gets me, also you just seem like a really cool person in general too😭

Anyways I have a submission where reader and schlatt are having a baby and their in the labor room after she has just given birth and reader is just admiring their baby with schlatt, or the opposite where he’s admiring her and their baby, like just a really ‘sun and moon’ by mage tears inspired writing, really calm and sweet and precious moments between the two. Anyways I love you and you’re hope you doing well pretty!!😋😋

all i need.

♡ navigating new life is confusing but beautiful, but it's not a challenge when such sweetness is granted in the human form of him. now you have the fruition of your love, all bundled in cotton.

♡ established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, trying out a new writing style so bear with me, fem reader.

isn't it sweet?

the words fluttered your mind, an amalgamation of poetic words to try and perfectly detail this new found feeling. if you could only piece any string of letters to describe this light souring in your chest. only a heartbeat could be appropriate for this.

her heartbeat. your fingers brushing against the knitted blanket wrapped around her tiny body, attempting to count how many beats her little heart paced a minute. her sweet eyes closed as you gazed at her even tinier face, how could something so small arrange such a huge feeling within you?

the rustling of the near plastic sheet arose as schlatt nudged himself closer to you, you could hear how deep his breaths were. knowing the both of you couldn't have imagined it would feel this way, sure the two of you haven't spoken. it doesn't take words sometimes though, rather a moment. even a moment of silence.

silence can fill so much, especially when it's something like this. you ripped your eyes off of her and turned to him, letting out a huff of air that was a bit too loud for comfort. every sound felt like a ear piercing alarm, the only sound that was tolerable was her little sleeping babbles. you just wanted to drink in the peaceful silence, fearing it would slip right out of your fingers if you blinked.

can i cry right now?

the sentence kept beckoning in the back of his head, it was the only words that felt necessary. how could he be looking at something like this and not feel the need to just, cry. obviously not out of sadness, rather of the reality that he wasn't just a simple title anymore. he brought in life. actual life, with you.

his mind kept wandering on the possibilities, would she get his smile? would she get your cleverness? could she be everything he needed to complete the sore spot in his chest that left aching? he could only pray that he would hand the same gentle love that was left tattooed on his heart from her. even if she'd only been in this world for a few hours, this was the rest of anything ever.

his eyes wandered to the warm morning sunlight beaming onto the edge of the bed, trying not to crack to himself as he realized his daughter was going to be an early bird by popular theory. much different to himself, he looked back to her sleeping state. how the blanket over her cradled body heaved up and down, almost matching the beeps from the hospital's machinery. what a beautiful way to put it, she matched everything now.

he wasn't ever the type to be outwardly sensitive, but it was awfully hard to not be in this moment. he curled his bottom lip in his teeth, the gentle sting as he desperately tried to control his emotions. he wasn't the one who just gave birth, you were. yet somehow, in life's funniest ways, he was the one who had to keep reminding himself that this was real. it was just hard to take in, something that he helped create, could be this wonderful.

don't want to blink.

you couldn't, rather you simply fought not to. the small details of her skin were too remarkable to not gaze at for hours, a small grin creeping on your lips as you realized she had the tiniest birthmark shining on her cheek. it almost matched the little patch of red schlatt would get when he blushed on the side of his temples.

that was the beauty of detail, but it showed how much you loved him. how much you love and were going to grow love for her, as well. you pondered to yourself, the gentle white noise cutting through your ears from the quiet fan. if you could bottle this, you absolutely would. though the thought that this would disappear before you knew it, absolutely ached you.

she was going to grow, learn to smile, or worse ; gain schlatt's attitude. of course, only a playful joke. you could only dream she'd look up to him, look up to you. see you two as the pair you desperately longed for, be the reality that you made your fantasy. that, you could. which made it even all more worth it, your mind reeling at all the things you were able to provide for this sweet girl.

the thought alone was enough to bring your eyes to gentle tears, hoping a whimper from the emotion wouldn't sneak out of your lips. you could've blamed it on the pain medication that was slowly making it's way into your system, but you didn't want that. it would only conclude with you sleeping, you couldn't. you had this, her, him. her and him. all you would need, forever.

i'm not so afraid of it anymore.

he thought to himself, all the talks from his own father. every man he looked up to, all of their words hitting him at once. though, it didn't seem to matter in the moment. the look alone of her was enough to convince his rather bitter mind that he could in fact be something more. he was something more. right now.

he looked back to you, watching as the tears bubbled on your waterline. what a sight to see. he knew he called you beautiful, gorgeous, or whatever compliment he fished out of his brain; but right now he really couldn't come up with a word to best describe how genuinely unreal he found you. the puffiness in your skin from all the physical pressure of childbirth, or how your hair stuck up from all the static around you.

he knew you'd practically bark at him for daring to call you attractive or any synonym of that term right now, but he definitely had the words bubbling up in his chest. just aching to be spilled from his lips that were desperate to cut through the silence, just so you knew how precious he found this moment. even if it meant tearing into the white noise around and looking you into the eyes to just say 'you did a great thing.'

instead, his lips fumbled on his own words. he leaned into your shoulder with the lightest pressure he could give to you, still fearful that you would break like literal porcelain after preforming such a physical work out. "sweet." he whispered, unsure on why he only said the one word. why he whispered it, even. his own soft tone surprised him, he was capable of being so nurturing?

it is nothing short of sweet.

his sudden words caught you off guard, steering your eyes back to him. only being met with the same look you had on your face, perfectly printed all over his. you let the tear trickle down your cheek as you smile fondly at him, unable to even get your words together to reply, but his eyes just screamed, 'i know, i know.'

he sighed out, leaning his forehead to rest gently on the top of your head. being sure to flourish his lips against your head, only way he could properly communicate it. fluttering his eyes shut, knowing the waterworks were going to make their way if he didn't. "i don't think i've loved you more." his words lingered in the air, kissing your head once more, becoming more feverish by the next peck. "than in this moment." his words choked out more.

his eyes squeezed shut as he felt the warmth rush up to his head, they were definitely coming. you tenderly smiled and looked back down to her, seeing her eyes slowly open. her curious eyes looking right up at him, her little forehead crinkling as she desperately tried to figure out, what was that voice i just heard?

"baby, look." you softly cooed, making him lift his head off of you to eye down, being met with her eyes open and darting right at him. that was the final touch for him, seeing how beautiful her eyes looked as they curiously searched his face. his grin growing by the second as he bathed in the silence between the two of them. this was love, right here. this is how love was supposed to be.

eyes like mine, heart like yours.

it was almost like she had a ray of yellow around her face, a perfect ring of promise. her eyes being living proof that life goes on, time is worth waiting, but now time, was well, time. the second her brown eyes met with his own, he realized there wouldn't ever be enough time to bask in her presence. almost a cruel joke, not being able to nurture the moments long enough, cause when you find them ; you wouldn't ever be able to bottle them.

but he had it right now, right in front of his eyes. "hi sweetheart." he cooed out, reaching out a hand to the fold of her blanket. roaming his thumb along the soft knitted fabric, how warm she must've been under all the yarn. her eyes seemed to follow his every moment as he spoke, "i think she recognizes your voice." you whispered out, but her eyes remained fixed on him.

he softly nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat, shakily smiling as he gently patted the wrapped blanket before pulling his hand away slowly. "yeah." he choked out, wiping the tear from his cheek, and attempting to fix his breath. he couldn't be such a mess, especially with you. nor her. "i don't think i can ever thank you enough." he muttered out with a stifled sigh, resting his heavy head onto you. feeling the anchor being lifted off of him.

he didn't have to be strong, this statuette of agility. he was allowed to be clay, soft and warm moldable clay for this new life to form him into this new edge. maybe make his words softer, his eyes seek out kindness more, his fingertips only fix. this was all he could've hoped for, he just didn't know that all along this was he was hoping for ; not until it popped right in front of him.

tired but happy.

you watched the moment occur between the two of them, knowing this was the start of something you wouldn't have been able to even fathom in the past. this wasn't your past though, it was something to prove it has washed away. a silent omen that you did it, you overcame. now rewarded with something so gentle.

her eyes moved to yours, almost startling you. did she feel it? could she even feel what you were? that was the ethereal part of it all, somewhere deep in the atmosphere ; everything in this room knew. even the resting wood in the walls, how the sun shine began to dance on your shoulders, seeing the branches move with the wind. the shadows casting along her dear face.

everything had it's purpose, the doors were open. it was just up to you and him to keep them open, and that answer was quite clear. the simplest yes you could ever say, this was destiny. for once in your life, you thought it ; and genuinely believed it. just by the look in her eyes, you knew. life wasn't a boulder, it wasn't something to waste away focusing on the bitter side. you had these landscapes painted in front of your eyes this whole time, it just took the look in her eyes to help you color them in.

no more grey, no more blandness. your pallet of life was now only going to be consistent of yellow, pink, shades of orange. she was your sunset, he was your cushioned bay window to watch it grow on. maybe some days it'd be purple, or dark. maybe some days you'd even miss the colors change, but you knew you'd be there to watch it none the less, like clock work. how could you imagine something much more meaningful than what was bestowed right in the crook of your arm. real meaning, and it could only age well. the only sting was how long the colors would last, but the hourglass could wait. all you had was now, and that's all the two of you would ever want or need.

author's note : i throughly appreciate your patience with me, i hope you know i lauve you. also . . . how do we feel about the writing style for this ? i hope you love it, even if it's a month late. never forgot about it !! tee-freaking-hee-hee.

#jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n

119 notes · View notes

55sturn · 1 year ago

Text

✮ OH, BABYDOLL.

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis: in which a night of drunken celebration between matt and his best friend turns into something more, something they both yearned for.

warnings: swearing, alcoholic consumption, making out, use of y/n, slightly suggestive (?) touching, pet name [doll], drunk confessions.

THIRD PERSON POV

everyone has someone in their life that they’ll never really get over, whether it be an ex friend, or an ex lover, there’s always going to be lingering feelings for that person. for matt, it was his best friend.

at first he figured that he was only attracted to her physically and sexually because he was pent up. so the day he noticed that he kept checking her out, he sent a text to an ex hookup and got the job done. but the next day, he was backing to wanting her in such an animalistic and carnal way that it was hard to be around without all the blood rushing from his head to somewhere else.

but the longer his attraction went on, the more confused he ended up. he searched for her in every room, after every joke he told in hopes that he’d find her laughing. he began immediately seeking her the moment he’d step into the house after a rough day.

he realized it became something more when he found himself driving to her apartment complex without prior announcement the moment he received good news about his yesterday’s problem project.

he realized it became something more when he crafted journals for his own personal brand based off the journal she carried with her everywhere.

and he realized that he’s never really wanted anyone the way he’s wanted her, and once that was revealed to him, he tried to move on. he dated girls far and few in between, and none of them never really ignited the flame that lay dormant in the pit of his stomach the way y/n did. other girls never stirred up the butterflies that lay peaceful in his chest every time he was away from her.

he realized that he was fucked. he loved you and there no changing that.

so when he began noticing that she seemed so different after starting her new assistant job, he begged her to quit. it changed her into a dull shell of the lively, bright, and happy person she was. he really believed that it had caused her to lose that sparkle in her personality that made her everything he loved, and honestly he loved her regardless, he just missed her bubbly personality. he had noticed that even her eyes seemed dull.

when you called him later in the day, muttering something along the lines of “i didn’t think the day would come but it did and i don’t have to get up at nearly five in the morning tomorrow!” he couldn’t fully make out the words because of how jumbled you become whenever you’re excited.

“doll, you’re getting all jumbled again, can you repeat that?” he hummed, the pet name you knew all too well that still managed to have the tips of your ears turning pink and hot slipping from his lips, sounding sickeningly sweet. he started calling you doll not too long after you guys met, every time he picked you up when he asked to hangout, you’d come out singing babydoll by dominic fike because it was a song you were obsessed with, but the real reason behind was the night you guys met at some party, you were wearing a cropped raglan style baby tee that read babydoll in the iconic bratz font. the sleeves and collar were bright pink, and the text matched.

he felt that calling you “babydoll” made him sound a bit too much like a boyfriend, so from then on, he coined that nickname “doll”, and it stirred up a sweet and delicate feeling in your chest but it also caused your head to fall fuzzy to the utmost dangerous thoughts about your best friend.

but honestly, you were entranced with the sentimental feeling that bloomed in your chest every time he spoke the nickname.

“i said,” you start, dragging out the “a” as you turn on to his street, “that the day where i quit my job has finally come! so i’m outside because we’re gonna go to some bar or club and celebrate. that’s why i told you to get ready earlier and order an uber.”

“holy shit i cant believe you actually did it!”

“same now get the fuck out here!” you giggled, ending the call and climbing out of your car, waiting against the driver’s door as matt stepped outside, making quick strides over to you, and pulling you into a hug as the uber he ordered came into view.

the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, not wanting to talk about too much with a stranger in the car, knowing very well it could fall on the wrong ears when another passenger climbs into that very seat.

you were beginning to question whether or not getting drunk with matt was a good idea, you had been harbouring so many things directed toward him for the last little while, and you were about to combust. you knew that if you had even the tiniest bit of liquid courage in you, your deepest secrets would come tumbling out like word vomit.

as if matt could sense your worry, he placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh as if to say “you’re okay.” and in all honesty, you were both convinced you each had a sixth sense when it came to one another, you could easily read matt and figure out what he was feeling or thinking after a split second of looking at him, and vice versa. your internal spiral was cut short as yours and matt’s favourite club came into view.

you both quickly thanked your uber, giving him a perfect rating before making your way into the club.

“what are we drinking first, doll?” matt hums, however his words fell on vacant ears, you couldn’t stop yourself from zoning out on the way he looked tonight, his shoulders look broad and defined beneath the dark muscle tee he wore, and the pants he paired his shirt with were your favourite pair of anything he owned. they were his black carhartt carpenter pants, paired with his notorious key ring attached to the belt loop, and his white airforces. matt noticed the way you were watching him, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence flow through his veins.

“huh?” you sputter, finally meeting his eyes with your face turning a deep pink, but you were glad the strobe lights in the club were red.

“what are we drinking first?”

“i need a shot of tequila and a vodka redbull.”

“make that two shots, a vodka redbull for her, and i’ll just have a jack and coke.” matt calls to the bartender, having to raise his voice over the loud music and chatter surrounding the bar. once again, as you wait for your drinks, you finding yourself falling into deep concentration, unable to tear your eyes from matt as he leans against the bar. matt turns to hand you your shot, only to find you roughly feeding half of your bottom lip between your teeth, your stare vacant but determined.

“doll, you’re gonna split your lip, stop doing that.” he murmurs, loud enough for only you to hear as he presses his thumb against your lip, pulling it from your teeth, slowly becoming hypnotized by the way it recoils back into its natural pout.

“sorry, the realization of everything is settling in you know?”

“that’s why we’re gonna take our shots, chug our drinks, order more shots, and then dance.”

“matthew sturniolo? offering to dance before anyone else? did i trip and fall into an alternate universe?”

“shut up.” he laughs, downing his shot after clinking his glass against yours, and once again you’re entranced by him, watching the way his adam’s apple bobs slowly as he swallows, finding it incredibly attractive how he hardly makes a face after the shot is gone. before he can meet your stare, you down your shot, followed by your drink, getting rid of both quite quickly, and ordering two more shots for you and matt.

about an hour passes, and you’re both quite tipsy as you dance and scream along to the music, laughing at the moves you both pull out, not caring if anyone sees or judges. but you’re about to tap matt on the shoulder to tell him you’re going to order another, when babydoll comes on. you’re shocked to say the least, it’s not really a clubbing song but you’re thanking whatever being above compelled the dj to play it. matt watches you dance along to your favourite song with a dazed grin, his eyes beginning to become hooded as the alcohol takes over his body.

as you’re singing along, you make eye contact with him and it feels as id the entire world stops, like time was standing still as you slowly gravitate toward him. you’re watching him with through rose coloured glasses as his hands fall to your hips, pulling you flush against him with your hands on his shoulders, and rocking your bodies back and forth. the heat emanating from his palms against your hips and lower back makes your head spin in the best way as you lean in close, your lips ghosting over his as you mumble the words,

“oh babydoll, i cant move on.”

the words almost act as if they’re an unspoken confession, because matt’s nodding along to your words, understanding the underlying meaning behind them. and matt humming the next line, his lips pressing just the slightest bit more against yours, and you’re understanding everything he’s implying.

what started out as an innocent celebration between you two, has now become a flustered mess, your lips are so close, and yet neither of you are ready to cross that line as the next song begins playing, and it’s a raunchy and filthy song, making the moment all the more erotic.

“i need to kiss you, matt.” you whisper against his lips, the torture of having them so close yet so far was causing your head to spin, and you couldn’t wait anymore. and as if to tease you more, matt’s tongue darts between his lips, wetting them, the tip of it brushing ever so slightly against yours. and he couldn’t help smirk as your eyes flutter shut at the smallest amount of contact. and all your self will goes out the window as you hook your fingers around his silver chain, tugging his lips completely against yours, your mouths moving in sync as you reach the moment you’ve been craving since you met matt.

the kiss is sloppy, warm, and extremely hot. it was a mess of clashing teeth, spit swapping, and tangled tongues. matt’s the first to pull away, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth ever so gently, loving the way it bounces back. he loves everything about your lips, the fullness, the shape, and god their shade of pink drives him crazy.

“you don’t know how long i’ve wanted that, doll.” his whispers, his voice think with want and fulfillment as he stares down at you, his left hand moving from your hip to your jaw, his thumb resting against your lip as you smile at him.

“i think i have an idea because i’ve wanted it just as long, matty.”

the two of you don’t break too far apart for the rest of the night, allowing yourselves to sit comfortably in the purgatory of staying the same or indulging in something more that you’ve turned your friendship into. you’re sure to regret letting yourself give so easily into wrecking your friendship with him in the morning, but right now, you couldn’t be bothered, especially not after finally kissing him because right now, all you want to do is keep kissing him. the way his lips fit against yours has almost become addictive, loving the way his lips taste slightly like your lip glass with remnants of coke and rum.

you weren’t sure how you were going to navigate the new change, but what did know was that you were going to be utterly fucked when you wake up tomorrow and remember that you made out with matt.

taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @florcult @flynnriderishot @33sturniolo @sugrhigh @rootbeerworshiper @soursturniolo @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshloveee @fawnchives @cindylcuwho @freshloveforthefit @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi @wronqness99 @sturniolossss @hesvoid3434 @mattsfavwh3re @inlovewithmattstur @melanch0lybby

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo oneshots #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo oneshots

467 notes · View notes

nahoney22 · 9 months ago

Note

might i request f! jedi reader comforting tech after her death as a force ghost as he mourns her?

i saw the rule of 'no major character death' and im not sure if this falls under it, so if it does, sorry! love your stuff

Death Is Just A Word*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Tech X Jedi!FemaleReader

word count: 1.4k

prompts: none

When everything gets too much for Tech, he finds himself entering a forest to relive his stress and emotions. He just didn’t know that his fallen Jedi will be there to meet him.

Warnings: death warning, heavy angst, comfort, reader is a Jedi who has died via sacrifice, mourning, can be a platonic or romantic relationship, Tech fears failure and is emotional, can also be read as gender neutral.

The Marauder was a mess of tension. Failed mission after failed mission, constant arguments over strategy, and a void in the team’s dynamic that no one could ignore. Every time they fell short, Tech felt the sting deeper than he ever let on. The others thought his frustrations were just his usual pursuit of perfection. They didn’t realise it was the gnawing guilt beneath the surface; a guilt that whispered it was his fault you were gone.

You had sacrificed yourself for them a month ago, throwing yourself into the path of certain death to save them all, especially him. Tech had replayed that moment a thousand times. Each calculation, every step, and the single flaw in his plan that led to your choice. No matter how much he tried to logically categorise his grief, he couldn’t find a solution that brought him any peace.

Now, every corner of the Marauder reminded him of your absence. Your datapad still lay in the corner of the cockpit, untouched since that day. No one had dared to move it. It was absurd, really. Tech wasn’t one to let sentimentality interfere with logic, but there it was: an irrational need to leave your things as they were, as if by doing so, he could somehow preserve a piece of you.

One night, it all became too much. After yet another mission gone wrong, with tempers flaring and his mind buzzing with thoughts he couldn’t stop, Tech couldn’t stay aboard the ship. The tightening in his chest, the erratic pounding of his heart—these feelings were new and unnerving. He was usually so controlled, his emotions filed away in neatly ordered compartments, but now they were spilling over in ways he couldn’t manage.

“I need a break,” he muttered, barely audible to the others. He didn’t wait for a response before heading down the ramp and disappearing into the darkness of the nearby forest.

The cool night air felt suffocating as he stumbled deeper into the woods, branches snagging at and clawing at his battered armour. Tech’s mind raced familiar patterns of calculations and probabilities that were now distorted by flashes of grief, anger, and regret. His breath hitched, the sharp ache in his chest refusing to go away. The weight of it drove him to his knees, collapsing against a tree as he buried his face in his hands.

“Why can’t I just… process this?” he whispered to himself, voice trembling with frustration. He was supposed to be the logical one, the one who could solve anything. But how could he solve the emptiness left by someone who wasn’t supposed to be gone?

The forest was silent, save for the rustling of leaves in the wind. And then, something else.

“Tech.”

His head shot up at the sound of your voice. No, it wasn’t possible. He was hallucinating, his mind frayed by exhaustion and grief. But then he heard it again, softer, more familiar.

“Tech, darling. Look at me.”

Tentatively, he lifted his gaze. There, just a few steps away, was your figure, glowing faintly in the moonlight. You looked as you always had—serene, your eyes filled with the quiet understanding that had once brought him comfort. But there was something ethereal, otherworldly about you now, your form shimmering like mist.

He blinked hard, certain he was imagining things. “This this is not real,” he muttered, his voice laced with desperation. “You can not be here.”

“Maybe not in the way you’re used to,” you replied, that familiar teasing lilt in your tone as you fold your arms over your chest. “But I’m still here.”

Tech took a step closer, bewildered. “I was under the impression that only Force-sensitive beings could perceive Force ghosts.”

You simply smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

He stared at you, his mind racing even more, trying to find the answer that fit the parameters of what he understood. But there was no logical explanation, no way to rationalise why he, a mere ‘defective’ Clone, could see you. He was about to press further when the weight of his unresolved emotions crashed over him again, overriding his curiosity.

The confusion morphed into anger as he shook his head. “You sacrificed yourself. You… you did not have to do that. You could have stayed. I would have found another way.” His voice cracked on the last words, frustration and grief intertwining in his chest.

You laughed softly, the sound light despite the tension in the air. “Oh, you’re upset with me? That’s rich. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful?” He stared at you incredulously, his logical mind struggling to keep up with the emotions crashing over him as you teased him. “Do you think I wanted you to throw your life away? We needed you—I needed you!”

Your gaze softened, and you took a step closer, though the distance between you still felt insurmountable. “I made my choice because I care about you all. Because I care about you. It’s what a Jedi does. I am to protect those I care about, even if it means sacrificing something precious.”

Tech clenched his fists, struggling with the reality of seeing you again, with the overwhelming mixture of relief, anger, and loss. “I really miss you,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “I keep trying to carry on like I always do, but nothing feels right without you. I can not focus. I can not summarise reasons as to why the missions have been failing. I can’t-.”

“Not everything can be calculated, Tech. Sometimes, you have to trust what you feel.”

You reached out, your hand hovering just above his chest, over his heart. “I’m still here, Tech. Not in the way you want, I know. But as long as you carry me with you, I’ll always be a part of you.” Your gaze was steady as you met his eyes. “It’s okay to miss me. It’s okay to grieve. But don’t forget that I believed in you—just as you are. You don’t have to solve everything.”

A single tear slipped down his cheek, and for once, he didn’t hide it. “You always had a way of getting under my skin, making me feel things I didn’t think I could,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I never got the chance to tell you what you meant to me.”

Your smile turned wistful. “I already knew, Tech. I always knew.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze turning pleading. “I know it is no longer physically possible, but I wish I could hug you. I never got to when you were alive.”

The pain in your eyes mirrored his as you shook your head slowly. “I wish you could, too. But I’m afraid you won’t be able to feel me.” You looked down at your hand, as if willing it to bridge the gap between you. “This is as close as we can get now.”

Tech’s shoulders sagged with the weight of that truth. He wanted so badly to reach out, to feel the warmth of your presence again, but all he could do was hold onto the memory. “I don’t know how to do this without you,” he admitted, his voice subtly breaking.

“You’re stronger than you think,” you said softly. “Trust in yourself, just like I trusted you all these years. And when it feels too heavy, remember that I’m still right here, where it matters most.” Your hand, still hovering near his chest, flickered slightly, as if you were fading.

He nodded slowly, unable to find the words as he watched your form begin to dim. “I will try.”

Your figure shimmered in the moonlight, a final, lingering smile gracing your lips. “Goodbye, Tech. Until we meet again.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving him alone in the darkness of the forest, the echoes of your words lingering in the stillness. But for the first time in weeks, the silence wasn’t as unbearable. There was a small comfort in knowing that you were still with him, in some way, in the space that mattered most.

As he stood there under the canopy of stars, Tech wiped away the tear that had escaped, a quiet resolve settling in his chest. He wasn’t alone. You had made sure of that, even in death.

And somehow, he found the strength to take a deep breath and walk back toward the Marauder, where the others were waiting. For the first time since losing you, he allowed himself to believe that he can move forward.

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets s @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot t @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @the-bad-batch-baroness @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @lulalovez @green-alm0nd

#tech Tuesday #but make it sad #the bad batch #tbb #tech bad batch #nahoney22 writes #bad batch tech x reader #tech x reader #tbb tech #tbb tech x reader #bad batch #bad batch tech

176 notes · View notes

krispycreamcake · 9 months ago

Text

Laito Sakamaki bf headcanons♤♤

🃏- Ok so uhhhhh let's all just be honest with ourselves

🃏- I really really do enjoy his character and its development, but this man would not exactly be the best boyfriend

🃏- Obviously all diaboys have their extremely toxic flaws, so I'm gonna be as unbiased as I can and give him a worthy depiction

🃏- Depending on your personality and how you've acted towards him, I see him as someone who usually seeks out your comfort in trying times

🃏- It's moments like these where he's so unaccustomed to being vulnerable that he'll have a slight panic attack that you'll betray him

🃏- Luckily however, the more your relationship grows, the less that feeling will be there, but it will definitely take time

🃏- He's definitely asked you to shower with him multiple times, but for different reasons

🃏- Like sometimes he's genuinely so at peace to finally be naked and not hate himself after, or to share something so intimate with you that isn't sex

🃏- Let's be real, sex isn't something special for him, it's just a regular Saturday night

🃏- But knowing that he gets to share it for the first time in his life with someone who he feels safe around, is something he can get behind

🃏- Has you sit on his lap while you both do crossword puzzles together

🃏- Doesn't seem like the type who enjoys making big meals, so he prefers to take you out to eat if it's a special occasion

🃏- Honestly loves talking to you late at night(?) Or morning or whatever it is

🃏- He enjoys the honesty of the conversations and the fact that he doesn't need to see through you, you're just reading to him the pages of your mind

🃏- Watches shows like NCIS, Law and Order, Dexter, etc. He begssss you to watch it with him and catches you up to speed with the episodes

🃏- Realistically, he doesn't always want to cuddle and be in your space. Some nights he just needs time alone for whatever reason and teases you when you get lonely

🃏- Extremely clingy when he's having a hard time keeping his mask on so he tries to play it off as just his normal behaviour (if you know him well enough, you'd immediately catch on)

🃏- Give him well thought out gifts and he'll start planning your future together

🃏- Talks about growing old together and having kids

🃏- Speaking of, you're not dying to old human age on his watch. Whether you want to become a vampire or not, he will turn you into one, you are not leaving his side

🃏- Dry ass texts when he's fully awake and long ass convos when he's about to pass out

🃏- Helps you learn how to play sudoku but will purposely give you wrong tips the first time around so he can flaunt how good he is

🃏- Doesn't understand why you like it when he wears his glasses and insists he looks like an otaku

🃏- Late night walks away from the manor so you both can moon gaze and enjoy the serenity of nature

🃏- One time when Ayato bit you, you insisted that instead of causing drama, he try something more civil (He put laxatives in his Gatorade before a basketball match against another school)

🃏- Also on a related note, really enjoys pranking you and encourages you to prank him back

🃏- For some reason I can imagine him getting really into butterflies and their anatomy. I personally think he has his own sketchbook where he draws them and makes notes on the different species

🃏- Loves to fly kites, he does not care whether you're with him or not, will fly a kite because why not

🃏- Watches mukbangs with you and even chooses the next couple videos

🃏- Jokes about you starting an OF, but had a nightmare that your dream partner found you and whisked you away from him like a prince in shinning armour

🃏- He enjoys playing hand games with you. Yeah idk why I thought about this but it seems to fit

🃏- Enjoys seeing you wear modest clothes. Not because he's picturing the underneath, but he knows you're gorgeous because you can pull being modest AND being naked off

🃏- Wants a Shiba Inu as a pet someday

🃏- He really tries to love you even if he does hurt you from time to time

#diabolik lovers laito #diabolik boys #diabolik lovers x reader #laito sakamaki #anime x reader #ayato sakamaki #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers shu #diabolik lovers subaru #fanfic #dialovers laito #laito x reader #dialovers fandom #diabolik lovers reiji #dialovers #diabolik lovers kanato #headcanon #diabolik lovers fandom #diabolik lovers fanfiction

359 notes · View notes

sharkylad · 2 months ago

Text

SPIRITFARER MID GAME SPOILERS

GO PLAY THIS GAME AND DONT READ IF YOURE INTERESTED IN THIS CUTE ASS GAME

You can hug the NPCs with some gorgeous animations, what more do you want.

ATUL

ATULLLLLL!!!!!

ATULLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!

HE JUST UP AND LEFT IM NOT OKAY

I THOUGHT- I THOUGHT ID GET TO THE END OF HIS QUEST, AND HE'D BE LIKE "I think I'm ready" CAUSE HE GOT TO SPEND A LITTLE MORE TIME WITH FAMILY, AND ID JUST NEVER TAKE HIM, BUT HE JUST DID IT HIMSELF!!!! IM NOT OKAY!!!!!!!!

I was yapping to my girlfriend how he was my favorite, and I love having him on my boat, how I don't wanna let him go.

And I really just liked progressing his quests and appealing to him, so I was just doing progress as normal-

I did have a feeling the party would be the last quest of his- BUT,, I DIDNT THINK HE'D DISSAPEAR IN THE NIGHT,,, I THOUGHT ID BE ABLE TO TAKE HIM TO THE EVERDOOR,,,,

I genuinely went through the 5 stages of grief man.

Stage 0: Doubt. After I made him his chicken I was getting emotional over how much I like having this guy around. And sometime around the dinner, before it or after I can't tell for sure, I was thinking "What if he just dissappear. What I don't get to see him again or hug him" LITTLE DID I KNOW-

Stage 1: Denial. Astrid was the one who broke the news to me. I saw the spirit flower icon pop up, and I genuinely just thought the game was fucking with me. I went in his room and my heart sank. Picked up his flower cause I was still thinking "No way the game let's me pick this up, no way this is actually for real"

Stage 2: Bargaining. I went outside, tried to walk with the other Spirits, none of them mentioned anything. I was at a bus stop, and because Alex is my goat, I've kept the music on- but in a last ditch attempt to maybe help me feel better- I asked him to turn it off. It didn't work.

Stage 3: Anger. I went into a group chat with my besties, and I started just screaming about how insane this was and my devastation, the vigor was a lot.

Stage 4: Depression. In the following hours it was all I could think about and it slowly wore of its energy, but not the sadness with it.

Stage 5: Acceptance. The next day on my way to work and back, I'd just listen to Thunder Harvest, and it would come with such a bittersweet feeling. I'd just think about his little flute playing dance and my heart would warm.

This silly fuckin Frog Guy caused me to go through genuine grief, what did they put into this game-

Stella didn't get to say goodbye either,,, oughhhh...

I read that Atul was based after one of the Dev's uncles, who also suddenly dissapeared. Maybe that's why it feels so genuine.

At least Atul got to feel like he was amongst family...

It really got to me that this cheerful sweet guy, someone who brings others up and is filled with so much love is someone who went the way he did.

There's so many interpretations to his disappearance. I've seen people interprate it as him leaving himself to the Everdoor, to spare you the trip (WHICH HURTS ME GREATLY... CAUSE IMAGINE HES SO FILLED WITH LOVE, BUT DIDNT WANT TO SHOW THIS VULNERABLE SIDE OR HIM... AND JUST... SPARED STELLA THE HARD WORK-)

But I've also seen people read it as him finally being at peace with his life and regrets. And that's what someone needs in order to pass on. And I find that sweet... I hope that's the case. He deserves to be at peace with his life and choices and where he is. I can only hope he was happy in his last moments.

While the grief hit me hard- I am just floored with the great execution of this idea. This is the first time a game mechanic not being what it's supposed to got to me to such a deep level.

It allowed me to expirience such a visceral human emotion that simply would not work if I sent him to the Everdoor. The unability to say goodbye is so heartbreaking and something I think is important to expirience.

#spiritfarer #spiritfarer atul #atul spiritfarer #atul #IM IN PAIN... STILL GRIEVING HONESTLY....#CRAZY HOW THE GAME GOT ME SO HARD I REALLY HONESTLY DIDNT EXPECT #my art

65 notes · View notes

koolades-world · 1 year ago

Note

Hellooo

I really need a fic abt dis rn, my brain is just so 🫨

So, if it's fine, could u do something abt the brothers with an mc who base their worthiness on scores and grades? Like, if mc gets a bad score and grades, they'd constantly feel Worthless and would isolate themselves from everyone. They'd also skip meals and oversleep, feeling like everyone's disappointed at them.

Thank youu!-

hi! yes, of course!

writing this while wearing fake nails that'll hopefully pop off soon haha so if there's spelling mistakes where only one letter missing, that's because i didn't hit the key hard enough with my nail lol

enjoy :)

Mc who bases their worthiness on grades

Lucifer

while he doesn’t pick up immediately, he noticed after you got a bad test score, you’d not be around as much, like meal times

he puts two and two together, and gently confronts you

he offers you help with your work and studying, if that’s what you want, or just his support

either way, you’ve secured exclusive access to his room for peace, quiet, and his encouragement

Mammon

since he spends so much time around you, he catches on quickly

while his bad grades bounce off him, he can see how hard you take it when he tries to joke with you about it to make you feel better

while it’s hard for him to be real with you, he lets you know you’ll forever be the hardest working person he’ll ever know

you’re so resilient and for someone who’s been thrown into a strange world, you’re doing amazing. his late night snack runs always have your favorite in it now

Levi

while you never directly told him, he kind of saw his own self destructive habits in you

at first he’s not sure what to do

does he mention it outright? eventually he got so upset seeing you like that, he blurted it all out

in this, he tells you just how much he cares about you and now he’s a flustered mess

Satan

despite how well he does, he always feels like he's living in the shadow of lucifer and how smart he is. it's part of the reason he picked up reading: to learn and differentiate himself from lucifer

belphie can put him to shame when he just tries and he hates that

he really understands how you feel and is quick to tell you while it’s not abnormal to feel, he understands you

he knows it’s not a healthy habit and he wants to work through it together with you

Asmo

he knows despite outer appearances, not everything can be as it seems

he notices your self care seems to wane around the times you do poorly in class

when this happens, he marches down to your room with a self are lit in hands and demands you relax because he knows you’re so much more than a grade

he just wants you to know to and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you see you how he sees you

Beel

the first time he sees you haven’t eaten in at least a day, he’s quick to offer you something to eat

he’s not sure why you seem to be trying to avoid the question or say no politely

eventually, once he learns, he sweeps you into a giant hug and he lets you know you’re more than just the letter or number attached to your work

he knows you try so hard, and as long as you don’t give up, you’re going to be alright. everyone has their off days and he’s going to do his best to make those days better for you

Belphie

when you begin to join him in progressively getting up later and later in the morning, he knows something is wrong

one morning, after everyone has left, he’ll hop in bed with you and gently talk to you about what’s been going on while hugging you

he offers you help with your work and tells you a grade doesn’t define you in relation to how other see you, especially him

he’s in no place to judge and he knows sometimes all people need is a helping hand from a loved one

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date

340 notes · View notes

scho17 · 7 months ago

Text

@hibiscusseaart

Ren Nohara

Ren and Kks doodles + me yapping ab this AU bc the brain rot has me in a chokehold

close ups so yall dont have to zoom in

I JUST REALIZED THIS WOULD MEAN THAT NARUTO IS TECHNICALLY ALSO THE HATAKE CLAN HEIR URAGHHHH

I NEED TO DRAW HIM WITH ALL THE NINKEN SO SO BADDDDDD

KAKASHI SHARING CLAN LORE BC HE HAS PACK TO CARRY ON HIS CLANS HISTORY AND TRADITIONS BC IT ISN'T JUST HIM ANYMORE SAVE ME SAVE ME

Hatake 'the line ends with me' Kakashi BUT NOT ANYMORE BABY HELL YEAH!! having a spouse and child will do that to you

Now does he really gaf ab tradition? Honestly, probably not but the idea of him not being alone in terms of family/clan is what he deserves (along with a lot of therapy).

HE MAY STILL BE MENTALLY ILL BUT NOT AS BADLY AS THE FIRST TIME AROUND 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Also, the consequences of Naruto having two parents who are both some of the most elite shinobi in Konoha is probably one of the best 'fuck off' deterrents he could have in terms of curbing harassment over his being the nine-tails container.

ALSO ALSO, "I'm gonna be Hokage!" oh and he's wearing those little blue goggles and carrying around the weight of a dead boy's dream without really knowing just how heavy that burden is but still carrying it all the same in the way only optimistic children can. Oh bitch I'm throwing up everywhere. Like yes he's going to bring peace to the shinobi world but he is also giving both his dad's the worst type of heart ache. Seeing doubles because he's so much like Obito but blonde and four times as stubborn.

kkrn trying so hard not to see ghosts in their kid but he's literally a mash up of Minato, Kushina, and Obito. Minato's kindness, Kushina's vitality, and Obito's pure will to be good.

Not saying that ghosts are all they see cause it's very much not. Naruto is still Naruto but sometimes there's that outline of an old memory that just doesn't fade. A little like deja vu I guess. Kakashi and Ren are so glad it's peacetime because even the thought of dandelion blonde beneath a too-big boulder makes breathing that much harder.

I imagine he gets trained an insane amount because both Kakashi and Ren want him to be able to defend himself. Even while it's peacetime, they're shinobi, there's always a risk. So long as Naruto is on active duty he'll always be in danger. With both of his guardians growing up/serving in the third war when they were barely older than Naruto it's practically a given.

Not that I think Naruto would complain about being able to learn jutsu/shinobi skills. He'd probably be stoked about it until he has to spend like four hours straight throwing shuriken and reading survival guides about edible plants. He complains about it. Loudly. mb lil bro half of ninja training is literally just ingraining reflexes and learning the land.

mmm academy-era Naruto going to the memorial stone and ranting about his day to it in the way he's seen both Ren and Kakashi do in the past. That's so cute and sad like "and then Shikamaru slept the whole time but it was supposed to be a GROUP project! Can you believe that!" and Obito is in the bushes nodding his head along like the good uncle he is. (He literally tried to murder Naruto when he was less than an hour old.)

Naruto just talks and talks and talks. About everything and nothing and its probably like the least depressing one-sided conversation Obito has ever heard in front of his grave (looking at you Kakashi, Ren).

I imagine that Naruto kind've treats the stone/Obito's memory fondly. Both Ren and Kakashi talk about him in warm tones and with growing up hearing stories of him it's hard not to feel like he knows him. He's not there, obviously, but if Naruto closes his eyes and imagines that scowling boy in his parent's team photo while he talks it almost feels real. (Honey, you've got a big storm coming.)

To their family, Obito is forever thirteen. He's passionate and has a short fuse. He loves sweets and has eyes and hair darker than the night, he's a sucker for a sob story and helps old ladies with their groceries. Naruto finds it hard not to see a friend in a ghost he's never met.

AA and then post Uchiha Massacre, Naruto just stares at the stone and wonders that if Obito were still here would he be gone too? Man I need to see what's going on in Obito's head during that.

On an unrelated note i wonder where the fuck Jiraiya is in all this. Bro is just out and about doing fuck all as two fourteen year olds take care of his godson and he's running from responsibility😭 i bet he sends guilt money. Ren literally doesn't give a single shit because even if Jiraiya did try for custody he would literally be getting his hands chopped off. No way in hell is Ren letting a pervert like that raise a kid that's a recipe for disaster. The money is nice but Ren could not give less of a fuck ab that mans guilt. Like "oh, you feel bad for not owning up to your God Father title that Minato, my late sensei, entrusted to you? Good."

I need to see Ren and Genma + Anko and Kurenai friendship. They would be a horrible terrible no good amazing friend group. Terrifying when together. Four horsemen of the apocalypse when they have an idea and put their mind to it.

Anyway, what are our opinions on ANBU Ren and Ren meeting 'Sukea' bc that all i've been able to think ab today. Okay, I'm done yapping thanks for listening.

#ren nohara #kakarin #kkrn #obrn #kakashi hatake #obito uchiha #rin nohara #team 7 #naruto #obkkrn endgame bc i need to see them all happy and in love like they deserve

85 notes · View notes

waynes-multiverse · 3 months ago

Text

Lover – Part 2

Series Summary: Free from his past, Ben’s trying to move on and find a little drop of happiness in this new world. But when he finally holds everything he ever wanted in his hands, it threatens to slip through the cracks, and he has to fight one final time with everything he’s got to keep it.

🫡 Catch up here! Sequel to Rehab & Video Games.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language & mature themes, established relationship, Soldier Boy x wife!reader, human!Soldier Boy, angst with a side of hurt/comfort, sickness & generally gross descriptions thereof (the Gen V virus says hello 👋 – with minor adjustments), tw: mentions of euthanasia & suicide, sprinkles of fluff between

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Don't read too much into the whole virus situation, guys. I promise this is a full fix-it, and that annoying little bug is just how we're gonna do that 😜 Come tomorrow, all's well because we all know the V stands for... I do this joke every year, don't I? Never mind! Happy reading! 💕

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 2: Lovesick

Ben’s worried. Y/N keeps saying she’s fine.

They stroll through the supermarket. Benny pushes the cart in front of them, racing down the aisles.

She woke up this morning around eleven o’clock after a thirteen-hour sleep. He’d held a small mirror under her nose several times at night to assure himself she was still breathing. She never woke up. She’d looked so peaceful it had almost been creepy.

She also sweat through her sheets and jittered like a leaf in the wind. He tried to hold her when she was freezing and gave her distance when she was ablaze. In those breaks, he scoured the Internet for answers and tried to keep his frustrations over it quiet with little grunts and a deeply creased brow.

The hard lines on his face are still there, though. They never left.

Ben isn’t entirely clueless, however. Sure, he’s spent some four decades locked away, then came back for a short period of time to a world he can barely understand, only to be put to sleep and experimented on some more for a couple of years. People don’t really expect him to follow the news at this point, and they’re not wrong in their assumption – he rarely ever gives a shit.

But he remembers how she’d given him an update of the world’s dire state when he’d first gotten to the clinic. She’d mentioned a virus – one designed to kill any supes. The plan was to wipe everyone out. Biological warfare, they’d called it. It hadn’t come as a surprise to Ben. He’d seen this all before. Hell, he’d even helped with some of those things back in his glory days.

The virus had been one more reason, one more need for the cure. It had been the perfect deal: If you can’t kill ‘em, cure ‘em. But once that infectious little vial was opened, well, it had been hard to put the genie back inside.

The cure acted as both a vaccine and a remedy against the virus. Soon, the pesky little thing was pushed back but was never quite eradicated. It had eventually slowed its progression but never became any less deadly.

Now, instead of quick and painless, there was agonizing and torturous.

But Y/N can’t take the cure. He might as well kill her this second out of mercy.

When she woke up from her beauty sleep this morning, she admittedly looked better. She said she felt better. Ben still didn’t believe her. She barely touched her food, picked at her breakfast, and ended up only eating the leftover crusts of their son’s toast. He watched her from his periphery as he nursed his coffee in the kitchen, stoically worrying more.

Y/N coughs once more next to him as they pass the frozen food aisle. Ben eyes her cautiously. She’s done it all morning. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to help her or how to stop it. Not even the blue vial could help him fix it. He doesn’t even know if it’s real yet. Is it normal? Is he overreacting?

She coughs again. He shakes his head and bites his tongue.

“You okay?” he checks gruffly, his voice thick with tension and concern, but he already expects her answer.

“I told you not to worry. I’m alright,” she says, her throat dry and her voice coarse. Her words are meant to soothe her husband. She can see the worry shimmering in his juniper eyes. She’s lucky he’s not a supe anymore, or he would’ve gone nuclear a while ago.

And admittedly, she knows she might be in denial. If true, it seems like a cruel trick the universe is playing on her. Giving her all she’s ever wanted and take it away immediately after? It definitely feels like a cosmic joke all the Gods are laughing about.

But deep down, she knows it’s true. She knows she’s screwed, but she doesn’t know how to tell Ben. He’ll lose his shit. She knows he’s not built for this.

She coughs again into a used tissue, which she has stored in her pocket since last night. Her tongue tastes something metallic – copper and iron. And when her eyes land on the white cloth, they notice spots of a deep, scarlet red.

She stops walking then and swallows thickly, her hands trembling as her eyes transfix on the blood. Ben halts as well when he realizes she’s not moving. He sees the panic in her face, sees she’s a lot paler now than the night before. Her skin looks clammy, her eyes red, weary, and dazed as if she had just taken a hard hit from one of his blunts.

“What’s wrong?” Ben asks and steps closer. He cocks his head at her, the creases of his brow now harsh lines. She seems out of it, confused. She doesn’t even seem to understand his question, let alone be capable of answering.

Her mouth opens, but instead of words, she only inhales shakily like it’s the last breath she’ll ever take. Ben barely reaches her fast enough when her eyes roll back into her head till there’s only shining white and her knees begin to buckle.

Ben pulls the knitted wool blanket up to her shoulders and gently kisses her temple. It’s been two hours since she’s fainted in the supermarket, and she’s still burning up.

He caught her just in time before her head hit the linoleum. He shooed away a group of concerned strangers that had gathered around them, assuring them that his wife was fine and just experiencing a minor dizzy spell. He sold it with a humorous eye roll and chuckled the word “women” before grabbing the kid and carrying her quickly out of the store and into the car. If she hadn’t been out cold, he’s certain he would’ve heard several objections to that comment.

Ben knows he can’t take her to a hospital, however. No one knows she’s a supe, and these days, they don’t receive the best treatment – too many bridges burnt after Homelander’s reign of terror. People have become angry, fearful, and distrustful.

Again, he feels a little responsible. He’s sure Soldier Boy had laid some groundwork for that, too.

Softly, the door to their bedroom clicks shut, her phone in his hand as he searches her contacts. His shoulders tense as he reaches the one he needs. His jaw tightens as he holds it to his ear and waits for an answer.

“Hey, I figured you’d call. Already fed up with the wrinkly dick and coming back?” Victoria Neuman’s voice sounds through the speaker, causing Ben’s hair to stand up on its ends.

Chalk on fucking board, he thinks and bites the anger back. He hates talking to that bitch, hates being nice, and hates asking for favors. But he swallows the acrimony down for the sake of his wife.

“It’s me,” Ben grits and feels his jaw beginning to ache. Why the fuck does everything hurt all the time? It’s something he figures he’ll never get used to – every time his back cracks and creaks in the mornings.

“You have exactly five seconds to tell me she’s not locked up in your basement before I make a few calls and let hellfire rain down on you, you decrepit piece of antiquity,” she bites her threat, but Ben can hear the concern in her voice, although he doesn’t give it too much weight. She’s probably faking it like her orgasms.

“Look, I wouldn’t fucking call if it wasn’t serious, you cunt,” Ben snaps and squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing the surge of fury and impatience out of his temples.

His admission causes a beat of silence on the other end. “What’s going on?” Neuman then finally asks and swallows down her own snarky remarks.

Ben licks his chapped lips before pushing the words out. “She’s-… she’s sick.”

There’s another long pause. “She can’t be sick. She’s a supe.”

“I fucking know that.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah…”

They both sigh (and both hate that they have something in common).

“I-… I have the cure,” Ben says and bites down on his tongue immediately after. He doesn’t want to show her all his cards.

“You can’t give it to her. It’s going to kill her,” Victoria reminds him firmly.

“The fucking virus is gonna kill her too, right?” Ben’s eyes drop to the floorboards that hold the solution to all his problems underneath.

“Yeah, it is,” Victoria admits. “What are her symptoms? You sure she’s not just pregnant?”

“I fucking hope not.” There’s a sentence he never expected to say. But– “I haven’t fucking cum inside of her for months.”

“Charming,” Neuman retorts on the other end.

“Wait, do you fucking know something? Did she cheat on me?” The grip around the phone in his hand tightens. Was that why she forgave him so fast and said she believed him?

“Unfortunately, no,” Victoria replies with obvious disappointment. Ben refrains from releasing the sigh of relief he feels. “Believe me, I’ve tried to get her cockdrunk on someone else…”

If Ben still had super-strength, he would’ve crushed the goddamn phone in his hand. Instead of exploding, he closes his eyes and takes a deep fucking breath, though. Ten… nine… eight… Where’s your happy place?

“Why the fuck are you calling me? What do you want?” Victoria’s voice snaps him out of his fatal fantasies of tearing her limbs off one by one.

“What d’you got in your labs? You gotta have a new cure, a new sample, fucking something,” Ben says but doesn’t even know what he’s asking. He’s grasping at straws, hoping to stumble upon an answer.

“If they’d found something, I would’ve already given it to her,” Neuman says.

“You fucking sure about that?” Ben doesn’t believe a drop of what she’s telling him.

“Yes,” Victoria still insists. “Look, before you give it to her, I’ll ask around, make a few calls, okay? See if there’s any possibilities to stop this.”

Ben’s hands tremble, his jaw quivers as he desperately tries to steady himself. “Thank you, fucking hurry,” he forces out in a murmur and immediately hangs up.

Y/N stretches with a grumbling sigh as his hand gently caresses her head. He presses his lips to her burning temple, her weary eyes fluttering open.

“Hey, my love,” Ben says, his deep voice soft as if he’s singing her a lullaby. “How are you feeling?”

She yawns and fights back the sleep in her eyes. “Still tired.”

“You’ve been sleeping for five hours,” he tells her and watches as she curls into the couch cushions with a coughing fit. He lowers down to the carpeted floor, stroking her back till she strenuously takes a breath again. “I think we need to talk about it now.”

Slowly, she meets his gaze, and he sees the fear shimmering in her eyes behind a thin veil of tears. She knows what this is, what her body is fighting, and Ben wonders how long she’s known without saying anything. He guesses she knew right from the start. Sometimes, he forgets he likes to pretend she isn’t really smarter than him.

But then, the fear morphs to determination. She nods, swallowing. “The gun’s in the safe in the closet.”

“I know where the fuck it is,” Ben grits, his brow densely creasing with a mix of confusion and angry suspicion. “What exactly do you think I’m gonna fucking do with it?”

“Shoot me.”

Her eyes are steady and firm, his voice is sterner.

“No.”

The word booms through the living room, threatening to quake the earth and shake books off their shelves.

“Ben–“

“You fucking listen to me, I’m not fucking killing you. End of discussion,” he snaps furiously. She’s not sure she’s ever seen him this angry before – not even when she said they should consider a divorce. Although, this seems to be a different kind of anger – one that cuts deeper.

“Sid shot Nancy,” she says quietly, hoping it appeals to him in some dark, ironic twist.

“She was stabbed, and they could never fucking pin it on him,” Ben shuts her argument down. “Ain’t fucking happening. I’m sorry, but you’re not gonna be the last person on my kill list, love.”

She forces a wry but weak smile. “It’d be a mercy killing. Euthanasia.”

“I’m familiar with the fucking concept,” Ben huffs tiredly. His hand then dives into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a small vial that holds yellow liquid.

Her lips part in shock as her eyes fix on the familiar cure in his grasp. “How long have you–“

“Stole it from that black site while you and that Neuman cunt were busy yapping about policies,” Ben explains. “I also took something blue. Figured I could use it at some point.”

“Still wanna be Soldier Boy, huh?” Her voice sounds almost bitter, mocking. A small part of her has always hoped she’d be enough for him someday. That he didn’t need the fame, the money, and the fake heroics. That he’d love himself enough to not rely on a façade.

“No,” he replies to her surprise and watches her straighten a bit on the couch. “I’d fucking do it for you.”

“I don’t want that,” she tells him firmly, hoping he still remembers her words even when she’s gone.

“I know that. Why the fuck do you think I haven’t done it yet?” Ben says with a raised brow and as much patience as he can find within himself. Chats like these aren’t his strong suit.

“So, this is your idea?” She cocks an eyebrow at the vial in his hand, her look pointed. “You don’t wanna kill me quickly, but you’d rather watch me die in fucking slow-motion?”

“It’s better than nothing,” Ben argues, the lines on his freckled face hardening again. Why does she have to be so fucking stubborn all the time?

Ironically, she thought the same thing about her husband.

“For who? You?! You can’t be that fucking selfish,” she spits and rises from the couch with a shaking head.

“Funny. I was just about to say the same fucking thing to you,” he returns with the same fire.

She thunders into the bedroom and slams the door shut before he hears her rummaging through the closet. Annoyed, he rolls his eyes once the first expletives bleed through.

“Where’s the fucking gun?” she snaps as soon as the door flies open again.

“Already hid it somewhere you won’t fucking find it,” he answers slyly and purses his lips as she storms past him into the kitchen.

She lets out a deep sigh of frustration when she finds both the knife block and drawers empty. “Seriously? Did you fucking baby-proof the house while I was asleep?!”

“Well, if you’re behaving like a fucking baby…” he retorts and patiently follows her frantic steps. “You also won’t find fucking scissors and pills, either.”

“Ironic coming from you,” she scoffs, opening and shutting cabinet doors in the desperate search for something strong enough to put her out of her goddamn misery.

“Yeah, how do you think I knew which shit to hide, huh?” he asks rhetorically and takes a careful step closer, cornering her between counters and appliances. “Would you stop that now and fucking talk to me?”

“You don’t wanna talk to me,” she retorts. “You just wanna fucking pump me full of poison, so you get to feel fucking good about yourself again.”

“You think that’s it? I’m fucking jealous?” He arches a brow and crosses his muscular arms over his broad chest, his offense hiding behind amusement.

“Aren’t you?” she bites back.

“Is that you or the fucking V talking, huh?” Ben has never said it out loud before, but he hated how that blue shit changed her. Sure, it only amplified certain parts of her that he supposes have always been there, but it made her less caring, more arrogant, too.

“It’s me, you asshole,” she snarls.

The look on her face breaks his heart into a million pieces. He almost doesn’t recognize her anymore, and he knows reaching any sense of clarity or humanity within her is impossible at this point.

“You sure about that?”

She doesn’t reply, just shakes her head at him and opens the fridge. Her shoulders still for a second, and Ben knows at that moment she’s found something and is thinking of a plan to outfox him.

His gaze swerves to the full beer bottle that has found its way into her hand. She’s quick when she breaks it forcefully against the countertop, the golden-brown liquid splashing onto the floor. But Ben’s faster and bruisingly clutches her wrist, spinning her to face him. Tears sting her eyes as she fights against his hold. Ben knows she’s not using her full strength on him, though, and is almost curious as to why.

He’s not sure Soldier Boy would’ve shown the same hesitant restraint, even if it had been her.

“What the fuck are you doing? Let me fucking go,” she grits through her teeth.

Ben only shakes his head, his gaze on her stern as he tightens his grip around her wrist.

“You want me to fucking melt you into a puddle?” she threatens.

“Fucking do it,” he challenges her defiantly without a blink of a single eye. “If you wanna do this, you’re gonna have to step over my fucking body first, ‘cause there’s no way I’m letting this hand go unless you drop that fucking bottle. What’s it gonna be?”

Her nostrils flare in sync with the heavy rising and falling of her chest, her glare deadly. Slowly and mutinously, she opens each finger till the bottle crashes to the floor and shatters into sharp daggers at their feet. As soon as his grasp on her loosens, she breaks down and falls into his arms, sobbing against his chest.

He feels a flood of relief rush through his body. Thank fucking God, because he’s totally been bluffing.

He wraps his arms tighter around her, holds her closer, and nuzzles his face into her hair. “I know. It’s okay, sweetheart…”

“I’m fucking scared, Ben,” she cries, and he swallows the thick lump in his throat and forces his own tears back into his skull.

“I know, I know…” He cradles her head, resting his chin on her crown. “You know, admittedly, I’m-… I’m a little scared, too.”

She peels from his chest and meets his forest green eyes, amusement dancing on her lips. “Well, I’m glad you’re not a cold-hearted psychopath.”

Ben curls his lips, cheeks reddening. This is what he gets for opening up. “It’s my job as your husband to take care of you. Be a strong front.”

She rolls her eyes back dramatically and groans into his shirt. “You know, it doesn’t make you less of a man for feeling things.” She teasingly grins up at him. “In fact, I think only guys with the biggest dicks can pull it off.”

His lips tug at a smile. “I know what you’re doing.”

She locks her arms around his neck and pulls herself to his height for a scorching kiss. And Ben can’t fight the feeling this is meant to be their last one.

“Don’t get weird when I’m gone, okay?” she tells him then, and it feels like the beginning of a list of last wishes. “No reverting back to full asshole. No blue shit.”

“Christ, you’re not fucking dying,” Ben replies, his deep voice calm but firm.

“Ben, denial will only make it worse,” she says, her heart cracking at the forlorn look on his face. “You can’t fix this. There’s nothing you can do. It’s okay.”

Ben shakes his head wordlessly, and she knows the conversation is about to be over. There really isn’t more she can do, either.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to bed. You need some rest,” Ben says and already scoops her into his arms before she can respond.

Y/N’s head rests on his broad and bare chest as he holds her tightly in his arms. The skin-to-skin contact seems to soothe her, which is good because he plans to never let her go. If he just keeps her here right next to him, she’ll be fine. She won’t leave him.

She’s talked some when she wasn’t out like a light, but Ben could tell her mind was getting hazy. She talked about her parents and her childhood, something she rarely ever does.

They had never really talked a lot about their respective pasts altogether. They’d covered the basics, but what actually happened didn’t matter as much. They knew they’d both done things they weren’t proud of. But the point of their relationship had always been a clean slate – a fresh start.

She had barely gotten that. She stupidly sacrificed it all for him, and he still wishes she would’ve never done that. He was supposed to die that day with Homelander. It had been his time.

Not hers.

She snores softly in his arms. Her heartbeat is faint, her breathing shallow. An hour ago, it used to be labored, each breath a struggle. She’s so hot he’s afraid she’ll melt in his embrace. He knows she doesn’t have long anymore. He’s running out of time.

Carefully, he stretches his arm to reach for the glistening yellow vial on the nightstand. He pops the lid open and stabs the syringe through the top, drawing it to the brim.

There’s a flicker of hesitation in his green eyes. What if he makes it worse? More painful? What if he kills her?

Victoria’s words ring in his ears. There’s a chance the virus accepts the cure. A loophole, if you will. The cure’s deadly for two-timers, but if they were also infected with the virus, the cure could piggyback on that. One in eighty rats had survived the ordeal before they stopped the trials. Ben didn’t understand the rest of the scientific mumbo-jumbo, but he knows those aren’t great odds.

Still, it’s something.

Ben doesn’t have the luxury to be picky about solutions, though. What he thought were minutes turn to seconds once her breathing stops entirely.

He rolls up the sleeves of the oversized shirt she’s wearing, one of his, and looks for a good angle on her forearm, just below the elbow. He’s not a doctor, he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing or where it should go best, but that one time he did heroin in the 80s, he’d put it exactly there, and it had been fine.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he mumbles into her hair and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

One rough prick through her steeled skin, and the needle is in. He empties the liquid in one swift motion before discarding the used syringe back on the nightstand. He cautiously slides out from underneath her then and ensures she’s lying comfortably on the mattress. He doesn’t want to leave her side, but he knows her powers might short-circuit soon.

Ben remembers the stories from other supes at the rehab clinic – the agonizing pain, the feeling of puking your organs out before the rest follows. Flickers of his own process trickle into his mind. He can’t remember most of it, but he remembers how they’d locked him up in a nuclear-proof prison at some point during the procedure.

For now, he prefers not die by a rain of acid if he gets to pick.

His hand gently caresses her head. He’s not even sure she’s still alive. She might not, and he may have been too late. All for nothing.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers and takes her hand in his. It feels cold and lifeless, but he still tries. He’s not ready to let go yet. He’s not sure he’ll ever be. “I know you can beat this shit like everything else. We’re this fucking close. Just a little more…”

And then, there’s a flicker of something – a weak tap of a finger against his palm. There’s movement behind her eyelids and a twitch of her brows.

“Sweetheart?”

There’s a groan, her hands gripping a fistful of bedsheets as she coils into the mattress, muscles contorting. He gently rubs her back, trying to help her as the pain tears through her.

“Hey, hey, you’re good. You’re alright,” he soothes and feels the guilt bubbling in his stomach. He hates that he did this to her, but he did it for love. The knowledge barely makes it better, however.

“Oh, fuck, Ben!”

She usually screams those exact words for different reasons, and Ben notes the soft tones of annoyance and anger that are lacing her voice.

“Did you give me the fucking cure?!”

Ben draws his lips into tight line and nods. Admittedly, she might not have fully consented to the procedure. But he prefers her furious with him for the rest of her life over dead. Besides, he’s her husband – shouldn’t the decision be his? Like pulling the plug? That’s a thing, right?

“Motherfucking–“

She bites down on her tongue and swallows her curses with some blood as another surge of pain takes control of her body. Her fingernails claw at her forearms as if she’s trying to scratch it out of her system. If Ben could compare it to anything, he’d probably go with a demon exorcism.

“You selfish fucking prick! You can’t even let me die in peace?!” she grits through her teeth, fighting another surge. She feels the nausea too, like a parasite trying to flee its host through her throat.

“Look, I’m fucking sorry, but I had to take the shot, alright?!”

Y/N groans in loud exhaustion, and Ben’s not entirely sure if it’s because of the pain or a little bit because of him, too.

“Ben, you need to fucking leave,” she presses through her lips, her stern gaze finding his.

He can tell by her look that she’s not saying it out of anger. She’s not saying it because she doesn’t want him to stay and never see him again. She says it because she’s trying to save his life.

Again. The fourth time.

Her name falls from his lips, but she shakes her head as she stumbles out of bed and pushes past him towards the bathroom.

“Leave,” she tells him with more urgency. “Close the door. Go now.”

Ben stills with a hand on the doorknob and looks at her. He can’t leave her like this, can he?

“I’ll be fine. I promise. Please go,” she says as if she can read his mind, steadying herself against the cool wall. She can feel it everywhere, trying to escape her body.

His breaths are ragged, his heart is hammering against his ribs. “I fucking love you,” he says through the sting of tears in his eyes. He says it like it’s the last time he gets to say it while she can still hear him.

She sends him a weak smile and mouths, ‘I love you, too.’

And all there’s left then for him to do is staring at a closed bedroom door. And waiting. Fucking waiting…

Part 3: Lovestruck

Ah yes the waiting game 😂🫶 Are you excited for the finale aka the happy end tomorrow? After this, they truly deserve it haha

🩵 Tag List

☕️ Ko-Fi

💭 Talk Dirty to Me

TAGS:

Forevers: @alwaystiredandconfused @lyarr24 @supernotnatural2005 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@thebiggerbear @star-yawnznn @thej2report @misatxox @spnaquakindgdom

@americanvenom13 @lamentationsofalonelypotato

Soldier Boy: @deans-baby-momma @snowayumi

Rehab Series: @nancymcl @sparkydonugh

#lover #rehab sequel #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x wife!reader #soldier boy x supe!reader #human!soldier boy #soldier boy series #soldier boy fic #the boys #the boys amazon #the boys x reader #soldier boy reader insert

77 notes · View notes

amazingmsme · 7 months ago

Text

What About Raspberries?

AN: cuttin’ it close, but still on time! Enjoyed this one more than I thought I would, but I also made it a lil shorter lol. Hope y’all enjoy day 17!

It was a fairly quiet day at the circus, as they were given a rare break from the ceaseless adventures and were allowed the full day to relax. Jax seemed annoyed by this, but everyone else was relieved. For once, a peaceful, calm atmosphere settled over the tent as the circus members milled about.

Jax was taking a moment to get to know their newest addition, asking about her favorite color and food. Not that he shared the same information.

“Favorite vegetable?” he asked, continuing this little game of theirs. Pomni thought for a moment before answering.

“Hm, probably… I dunno, cucumbers?” she shrugged, having never given it much thought before.

“Really? Water with skin, that’s what you’re goin’ with?” Jax taunted.

“Hey, they’re good! What’s your favorite vegetable? Carrots?” she shot back playfully. She could’ve swore she saw the hint of a blush beneath his fur.

“And what the #%$*’s wrong with carrots?” he snapped defensively. She giggled behind her hand as she looked him up and down.

“Oh my God, it is your favorite!” she laughed, and he rolled his eyes with a huff.

“Whatever, real rabbits don’t even eat carrots,” he corrected. “So, favorite fruit?”

“Something juicy like watermelon or a strawberry,” she replied faster than before, having a more solid answer lined up for this question. His ears perked up and he leaned closer, smile stretching across his face.

“Okay, so you like sweet and juicy. Like raspberries.”

“Eh? What about raspberries?”

Jax shifted to a more relaxed, nonchalant position. “Do you like them?”

“Uh, I guess. They’re pretty good,” she nodded in agreement with herself. Jax sat up a little straighter.

“You think so?” If only Pomni had noticed the mischievous glint in his eye, the evil lurking behind his smile.

“Yeah, don’t you?” she asked innocently, looking at him from over her shoulder. She immediately wished she hadn’t. “Uh, Jax?”

“No, I agree! I think raspberries are great! They’re sweet, they make good cheesecake, you can stick ‘em on your fingers- they’re a diverse lil berry, I’ll give them that. But there’s an even sweeter kind of raspberry I think you’re gonna love,” he voice took on a teasing tone. Pomni took a nervous step back.

“N-no thanks, I’m good,” she stuttered, backing up against a large set piece.

“Come on, how do ya know you don’t like it if ya don’t try it?” he goaded. Against her better judgment, Pomni caved.

“Okay… what is it?”

“It’s easier if I just show you.” When she didn’t immediately grab his hand, he made an impatient grabbing motion. “C’mon, you can trust me!”

“I don’t know, can I?” she quipped, not bothering to hide a shy smirk. She felt like she was finally starting to adjust to things. Her sass seemed to throw him off guard, even if just a little. He blinked and shook his head before answering.

“Oh please, I’m like the most trustworthy guy here!” That actually made her laugh.

“Sure, okay,” she said, totally believable.

“That’s it, c’mere!” he growled and lunged for her, managing to scoop her up as she yelled in shock. He carried her squirming body to the nearby couch, sitting down with her stretched across his lap.

“Jax, what the $@%# are you doing?” she cried out, struggling in his arms.

“Hold still, will ya? This is the kinda raspberry I’m talkin’ about!” he exclaimed before taking a deep breath. He pushed up Pomni’s shirt and buried his face into her soft tummy, blowing as hard as he could. She arched her back with a scream of laughter, tugging on his ears to push him away. That didn’t seem to stop him, as he merely brushed her off and took another breath, gearing up for round two.

“Jahahax, dohon’t you dahahahare!” she tried to threaten through her giggles, but it only served to challenge him.

Jax stared down at her like the villain from every fairytale she’s ever read. “Oh, I dare.” And then he was blowing another raspberry, and she was shrieking once again.

“Wow, you sure are ticklish! I think I just found a new form of entertainment,” he taunted before diving back in.

“Nohoho! I-I’ll kihihill you!”

“Not if you did laughing first!” He punctuated his sentence with another raspberry. Pomni was lost to a fit of laughter as she thrashed and giggled in his lap. Every time she tried to answer, he attacked her tummy with raspberries, making coherent speech impossible.

At this rate, she just might.

#tickletober #tickletober 2024 #pomni #jax #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc fic #tadc tickles #tadc tickle fic #ticklish!pomni

64 notes · View notes

lazyyogi · 11 days ago

Note

Hey there!

I enjoy reading this blog. Could you help me find resources or how to just practice loving detachment in relationships. I find uncertainty unbearable and I know it's something that I have to accept and learn. Acceptance, instability, uncertainty is extremely extremely hard for me to deal with. Could you help?

Most people would blame their partner for not making them feel secure enough. You didn't.

By recognizing the real location of the problem—inside you—you’ve already positioned yourself to actually do something about it. Even better, you haven’t made it part of your identity or regard it as just "how I am." You acknowledge the difficulty yet also see it's workable.

So I just want to highlight something you might have overlooked: You’ve already taken some of the hardest, most crucial steps. The kind that most people never even reach. You've taken responsibility.

Now, what's the real issue? It's not what you may think...

You’re not suffering from uncertainty. You’re suffering from your demand for certainty.

You haven't yet found a sense of rootedness independent of external circumstances, so unconsciously you're seeking stability through your relationship. Interestingly, there's wisdom in this intuition, but ignorance misdirects it.

The source of genuine rootedness (peace) is also the source of genuine love. However, this source isn't the object of your love, although we frequently confuse the two. Love originates where it is experienced: within yourself.

Fortunately, you are not the first person to struggle with this problem. There are multiple pathways left by those who have worked through similar circumstances, and there are methods and techniques available to assist you.

Here are a few books I recommend to help you along the way.

First book: The Places That Scare You by Pema Chodron. This is a short book but can be very difficult to read. Not because it is complex but because it is uncomfortable. The book will draw your attention towards all the parts of yourself that make you cringe, that you have tried to ignore. And it will help you to be free despite all of that.

Second book: I would recommend a book by Judith Blackstone, as her teachings will anchor these insights into tangible, embodied experiences. Two of her books come to mind--Belonging Here and Trauma and the Unbound Body. I think either could be helpful, or any of her books really. Take a look and see which speaks to you.

Third book: I always recommend this one because I think it just does a fantastic job of introducing the overall View of Reality in a relatable and discernible manner. The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. I listed this third because I think it would be a nice addition after already reading the first two.

Lastly, some parting advice:

The way forward will be an ongoing practice and process.

Over and over again you will have to choose between comfort and freedom. So long as you choose freedom more often than you choose comfort, you will continue to progress in freeing yourself.

Learn to recognize discomfort as a signal for where inner work awaits.

Your immediate next step is learning how to stay. Our instinct when facing uncertainty or insecurity is to grasp for certainty and stability—often in confused and unhelpful ways. Before becoming free from these struggles, you must first learn to stay present with them. Only then will you truly see them clearly.

May you be free, my friend.

Much love.

22 notes · View notes

squirrelno2 · 3 months ago

Text

Ok so Davrin! I have Thoughts about Davrin.

Because if you’re aware at all of the stuff I write you’re probably aware that I am a big fan of the kind of character who subsumes their own desires and survival and personhood for the sake of being One Thing, whether that’s a living weapon/made to be a soldier situation or just a “I am Your Best Friend first and foremost situation”. It is, uh. Small wonder I end up liking characters of colour the most, since those are the ones most often written with a Purpose in the story who don’t get to expand beyond that Purpose in the narrative, or if they do have that arc that I crave it’s still underrepresented in fanworks so it becomes my favourite and most frustrating niche where I have to create the content I want to see in the world, which is “person who tries to ignore their own needs gets to realise they’re allowed to love and be loved whether or not they’re useful”. Please be aware that while I don’t specifically discuss Davrin’s Blackness in the next few paragraphs it is a large part of why I’m writing this now because it massively changes the way this story gets read, both because people with unexamined biases will gloss over his story and just accept Davrin as being a tool to the story instead of a person and also because those of us who are aware now must consider how to address such a storyline knowing that Black people most of all are reduced in their stories to things and plot points.

So getting back to Davrin in particular I am both obsessed with and frustrated by how he’s written because! His narrative is such a good example of this trope! He is a monster hunter, and to a lesser extent at the start a protector, and from the moment we meet him he is trying very hard to keep himself shut in that box. He downplays any effect he has on the griffons, is upset at the idea of taking care of Assan because that’s what the others are there for, he’s just the sword arm. As time goes on and we do things like, you know, fight an archdemon without getting our Warden buddy killed, he seems so lost and almost devastated to have not died when he was “supposed to” – and this is a man who doesn’t really seem suicidal at all, he has no real desire to die, he just. Expects to. And what he can do to save others is always more important to him than what he could do to save himself. When my Rook walked in there expecting to be overjoyed with him that they were both still around I have to think the gap in emotion was so jarring to both of them, because like. This man has accepted his own death in the face of the “greater good” for so long that he never once made a contingency plan or even wild hope for “what if I don’t die?” And it’s so cool that he and my Rook got to walk hand in hand through danger and decide they deserve to be happy! It’s so cool that you get to potentially get him through the entire game and into a life with open possibilities and who knows what kind of future for the Wardens! That’s my shit!

And while I can’t say I’ll never choose the Grey Warden option for the griffon choice, to me that is so much a metaphor about letting yourself become a weapon vs finding peace and joy that is in line with you as an individual that if I’m playing the game acting on my conscience, not a Rook who’s further from me, I will always choose Arlathan for them. Because that’s so obviously a metaphor for Davrin’s own growth as a character.

This is where it pisses me off, though – too much of that metaphor is treated literally. Davrin doesn’t verbally acknowledge what the griffons’ changing role means for him, and I’m unsure if an unromanced Davrin ever says anything about planning for the future, having only gotten through the game once thus far. The fucking epilogue where all the companions say a little line about what’s in their future and Davrin just mentions the griffons and not his own fucking life??? Like he had a little line about pursuing romance or whatever but again. That’s a romanced Davrin. If he and my Rook hadn’t vibed “the griffons found a new home in Arlathan” or whatever would have been presented as the sole culmination of Davrin’s character arc. I love coparenting a griffon as much as the next guy but we cannot replace the “sword arm” persona with a “griffon daddy” persona as though him subsuming his needs and wants for the sake of Assan is any better for him than doing it for the Wardens. What the fuck.

Anyway short version of all that is Davrin has my favourite kind of story, and griffons are a metaphor for the way Wardens treat themselves. and the POINT of me writing all that is that you cannot approach his story without acknowledging that the fact that he’s a Black man means people who work/ed on both canon and fan content are ready and willing to treat him as a tool in his own fucking storyline for the sake of an animal, and he deserves so much better because holy hell if you’re gonna write a Black man with this kind of “I exist for a Purpose alone” arc you have got to pay attention to what you’re doing. Please. his story involves Assan but it's not about Assan it's about him.

#literally i was thinking about davrin and realised. i like his story for the same reason i like the clones. and fucking flynn from jatp.#it's all people pretending they are only their roles all the way down. don't worry my partner's already psychoanalysed me on THAT #anyway. i'm not an expert in antiracism in storytelling but like. i've been in fandom a looong time.#it sure is interesting how i got a lot more out of his story than it seems like most ppl i saw posting about it did. hmmm.#anyway ASSAN IS A METAPHOR!#dragon age #davrin #da veilguard #datv spoilers #veilguard spoilers #(also: told you i was becoming a da blog for a hot second. buckle up??? maybe???)

27 notes · View notes

nathaniel-underwood-is-an-intj · 1 year ago

Text

Looong rant about chapter 16 Ptolemy's Gate and how being passive can add to the cycle of ab*se.

oof so I just read when Nat goes to see Ms Lutyens and I can't help but be absolutely furious at her??

I know that's maybe a little bit unfair given she's frightened of him as a magician and is obviously angry when she finds out the department he's responsible for, but honestly it kinda brings up the problem with inadvertent bystanders to child ab*se in my mind.

And I'm definitely not blaming her solely for who Nat becomes but it makes me think of all those people in huge child ab*se cases who give interviews to press about all the things they noticed that were wrong but they just...never do anything?

She stood up for him against Lovelace, and when Nat thanked her- "I wanted to say that I know you were trying to save me, and-"

''Yes, and I'm sorry I didn't" Like girl be for real did you really think that alone would undo the years of indoctrination and abuse he's already suffered and prevent years worth of the same in the years to come? And she won't take responsibility - "My job is with children, not the adults they become" and again while it seems harsh to blame her for who Nat becomes, it's so much easier to pass the blame to people who are more directly responsible rather than acknowledging you also play a part.

I think it hurts so much more because it's her specifically- Nat goes to her in sheer desperation, it almost seems like a goodbye- he wants to thank her, tries to set her up in a job that will pay well and struggles to communicate he's trying to help. At this point he thinks Bartimaeus has been summoned by another magician and his birth name will be revealed. He's sure he's about to die and if not he'll be stood on trial and lose everything.

He goes to her because she represents the peaceful moments from his childhood when he got away from his master. He's scared and feeling lost and really it's call for help; but he doesn't ask for anything he just wants to make her feel proud of him- he's looking for that validation that he's been chasing since childhood.

And that shows he still does have that little bit of childhood innocence in him; he thinks she will be proud, thinks she'll see him as the same little boy in the garden gazing up at his teacher in adoration. He can't quite grasp why she's separated the man stood before her from that little boy. Because in that moment the child inside Nathaniel is seeking comfort AND THAT'S WHY it makes me so angry. She's completely given up on him when he's at his lowest ebb, because she doesn't want to be associated with the magician he's become. As if it isn't a massive step in the right direction that he saught her out in the first place- what other magican would bother? I wonder if that's why she reacted so strongly to seeing him again? Before that moment she could go about her life wondering if /pretending her attempt to protect him was enough, and now she realises it wasn't, of course it wasn't, and the image she had of Nathaniel's childhood innocence is completely ruined in her mind.

Or was her contempt for him even grater than Nat realised? She was naturally disgusted by the rhetoric he'd started to repeat from a young age, and gently tried to correct him although she was clearly angry- was she just resigned to the fact that there is little else she could do to change his future? I always thought- couldn't she have looked for him? The Underwood house fire was in the papers and they mentioned the apprentice was being searched for. Did she ever worry about him? Surely something must have been in the papers since- an announcement of new ministers, ANYTHING! Look at how much research Kitty did to find out about Bartimaeus and Ptolemy. I just don't think Rosanna Lutyens cared enough, realistically Nathaniel wasn't hard to find- but he was no longer her responsibility so she could turn a blind eye.

And sadly it's not just her- I know everyone loves Martha Underwood including Nat; but I think her submissiveness to her husband has a negative effect on Nathaniel as well. In AOS when Nat is locked in his room for ages after setting the mites loose, and is forbidden to have any contact with anyone and she won't talk with him. I know she's been told by Mr. Underwood she can't, but it still boils my blood. She's an adult and going along with ignoring Nathaniel because her husband told her to...I can't even begin to imagine the psychological damage that would do to a 10 year old child. (It could be argued she's frightened of the consequences if her husband finds out she's disobeyed him which is fair, he could always be watching through magic- but this is Arthur Underwood we're talking about. He's lazy, oblivious and weak I doubt he'd expend all that energy each day to check up on her.)

And It's even more painful that Nathaniel is often described as fiercely loyal to her and I think to Ms Lutyens as well- he doesn't expect to be treated well by Arthur Underwood but he loved Mrs Underwood and Ms Lutyens so much he started to view them through a rose-coloured lense. He never feels betrayed by either of them, even though they absolutely let him down, because the pedestal he's put them on is too high AND THAT ABSOLUTELY DESTROYS ME.

Would things with Nathaniel have been any different if Mrs Underwood hadn't died? I don't really think so. Do you think she'd see Nathaniel's temper at 14 years old and be reminded of Arthur Underwood? He was awful, absolutely awful to Nat and to her; but he was under so much stress in an underfunded departement, where pressure was being put on him by superiors to accomplish far more than they knew him to be capable of, and he took it out on the easiest target. Nathaniel ends up in exactly the same place and he starts to take it out on the only person around him- Bartimaeus. Would he snap at Mrs Underwood all the time if she were still there? Because he's learnt that behaviour from his father figure, and subconsciously learnt from his mother figure that she'll put up with it. He learnt from the woman he loved so deeply, that if you don't resist, people will walk all over you. So you have to maintain control even if it ends up hurting people you care about because no one will step in to stop the suffering no matter how much you love them, no matter how much you want them too.

It's easy to blame Arthur Underwood and Simon Lovelace and the magicians that actively hurt Nathaniel but I just feel like it's a bit disingenuous not to acknowledge the role of those doing passive harm. It's really mean to say it but even Bartimaeus plays a role- he knows Nat is clinging on to him because he can't 'bring himself to break this last connection' (to his childhood) but instead of bringing it up properly he 'taunts' Nathaniel- a boy who has been taunted for his weakness by his master for years. And even in AOS when Nathaniel tells Bartimaeus he was beaten for the mites incident Bart just kinda shrugs it off. Like I get it, why should Bartimaeus do anything, he's suffered way worse due to the system so he doesn't owe Nat anything right? But from Nat's point of view this is the first and only time he's mentioned to anyone what has happened to him and nothing changes. It's like another lesson learnt: telling someone about it doesn't help. Another nail in the coffin.

And I like all these characters, I feel bad for them. They're all victims of the system, I think the chapter with Ms Lutyens is just the straw that broke the camel's back for me. All of those little opportunities that are insignificant to the narrative over all; the commoners have it worse, Nathaniel is in a privileged position in society, exerting control over others. He's very morally grey, crossing over into objectively bad person territory but I love him with my whole heart and all of those insignificant moments would have been massive to him whether he was conscious of it or not.

And it goes all the way back to the beginning with Nat's parents giving him up to the magicians at 5 years old. I can't get the image of that little boy sat crying all alone in the government building. And he's not going somewhere safer, or somewhere he'll be happier and more loved. Giving your child over to a total stranger, oh he'll be totally fine won't he? He'll grow up to be a magician and far richer than you'll ever be, he'll be happy and comfortable and be grateful he got to grow up in luxury. There's no way a stranger you've never met, who the majority of society is terrified of would ever hurt a vulnerable little kid right? And if they do? Well you aren't responsible anymore, how could you know? What could you possibly do against the magician taking care of him?

Every little thing is another grain of sand tipping the scale. Did anyone else have to analyse An Inspector Calls in school? It feels like that to me- those BIG moments and all the little moments in between that add onto the pile.

And it goes on to cause problems in wider society too- ab*se is so normalised to the magicians, they casually ask Underwood if he hits Nathaniel like it's nothing. Because to them it is nothing, they've all grown up in the same circumstances and are repeating what they've learnt as children. I can't help but feel a little sorry for them all, especially when they aren't looked at through the black and white lense of 'argh these people are the evil arseholes look at how they treat everyone around them, screw these guys.' When we see those little glimpses of humanity like Simon's anxiety with the amulet; looking to his master and father figure Schyler for reassurance, and what's sad is that Nat is "reminded...of his own master's cold impatience" It's clear Simon looks up to his master, wants to make him proud and loves him. But it seems like Schyler has just trained Simon up so he can get power through him later on. I love the little hints of similarities between Simon and Nathaniel; the anxious mannerisms like fiddling with his hair that Nathaniel starts to develop, the way their master's talk to them. Even though they're actively working against each other in AOS and Simon is placed firmly in the baddies category and Nat in the goodies category at this point in the series; these things always hinted to me they had similar childhoods, how was Simon treated? When he had the imp beat Nat into unconsciousness, was it because he'd had the same punishment used against him? Did he know the magicians in the room would do nothing to stop him because no one stopped it from happening to him? Did he ever have a teacher stand up for him only for it to change nothing in the end because all the negative influences were so much stronger? Is the reason he loves Schyler like a dad because he's almost developed Stockholm syndrome? It looks like love because he's never known anything else.

And Arthur Underwood- who doesn't think his upbringing, and being taken away from his family ever did him any harm- doesn't realise the harm done is that he doesn't even know another way of raising Nathaniel, because he was never shown another way. His childhood may also have been filled with people who hurt him and the people that didn't do enough to intervene.

There are so many psychology studies that show children copy everything they see the adults in their life doing. Nathaniel copies the magicians behaviour towards spirits and on a subconscious level I think he copies all the submissive people in his life. How many times does he end up upset and frustrated with the fact he seems to be going nowhere and how many times does he just hope things will be different rather than taking postive action.

I dislike the actions the magicians end up taking but I also find them fascinating to analyse. I tend to prefer villains in media because they're usually slightly more complex individuals and I love to think about how they ended up that way. They can all be seen as victims of their circumstances in a way, despite all the power and privilege they have had terrible and traumatic childhoods, and if the commoners had no valuable worldy possessions at least they had a sense of togetherness; of love and understanding and selflessness. I wonder if the magicians hated them at least partly because of that. Because out in the sea of faces of the commoners talking about nothing important, doing nothing great and noble- could be the parents that abandoned them. And when your life is on the line daily because of working with spirits, and your colleagues want to stab you in the back, sometimes not being responsible for anything important looks good. But you can't leave your life as a magician, it would be too difficult; you have nowhere to go, no real friends, no one who really loves you. So it's better to stay and be a submissive bystander in your own life because it's so much easier.

Doing nothing is doing something- being passive can be just as harmful.

#Oh boy if I was in Nat's life I'd've packed him into a box and shipped him off to therapy long ago #Listen I'm not a magician apologist per se....#But I do find playing devil's advocate for well -written baddies fun #And I am Nathaniells defence lawyer #I will not hear a word said against him #Just stressing that I do in fact like Mrs Underwood and Ms Lutyens I just wish they were a little stronger in sticking up for Nat #and I do hate mr Underwood #Simon lovelace tho.... I quite like him he can have a little space in the therapy box #I have a softspot for him because of the mannerisms that compare him to Nat okay???#Is it obvious I studied psychology at school 😅#Or that I am a huge Nat kinnie😅😅#Please don't hate me for this take #If anyone takes anything from this please let it be children copy everything they see you do including when you do nothing #This is quite tangential #bartseq #bartimaeus sequence #bartimaeus trilogy #bartimaeus #nathaniel underwood #liveblogging

110 notes · View notes