#in my experience is was more scary than it was really dangerous

[severus-snaps]

Not to be overly pedantic on a Wednesday morning (or, it was morning when I started), but I had fun writing this and it got long, so I can only apologise for that.

But Snape being Neville's Boggart and the Trevor Incident are massively overblown by the fandom, along with the rest of Snape's actions as a professor, and I've had a lot of fun writing about why.

Firstly, Boggarts don't naturally assume the form of your greatest fear (emphasis mine):

“It’s a shape-shifter,” [Hermione] said. “It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most.”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” said Professor Lupin, and Hermione glowed.

There's room for the Boggart's own interpretation there. It's Lupin who says "when I let him out, he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears" - which feels more like dramatic effect than objective fact, especially when considering that Hermione almost certainly quoted the textbook and Lupin agreed with her definition - and certainly when we consider what comes next.

Because after that (probably because of the recent toad incident, which I'll come back to, and the even more recent encounter with Snape in the staffroom), Neville throws Snape's name into the ring, and...

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically.

It's a silly, embarrassing fear, and even Neville knows it. What follows is a series of other mostly silly fears - it also includes an eyeball, a severed hand, a rat chasing its tail, a bandaged mummy, and a giant spider. Later, in their exam, Hermione's Boggart is McGonagall.

But both Ron and Hermione have faced worse already, what with Ginny being possessed by Voldemort and Hermione facing a Basilisk. There's a literal murderer on the loose, and it's headline news, but Sirius never becomes anyone's boggart in that class. Ron seems very cold-blooded to be more afraid of spiders than Voldemort posessing and nearly killing his sister - but really, the point of the chapter isn't to explore Ron's (or god forbid, Ginny's) feelings about this. The point of the chapter is that all of the other students have "silly", childish fears which aren't that serious, like monsters they'll likely never encounter, mostly harmless animals, and scary teachers (as someone who used to be deadly and daftly afraid of the idea of zombies and also scared of just about all of my teachers, I get it loool).

But only noble protagonist Harry gets to have "real" fears like fear/dementors/Voldemort, being the protagonist; the kind of fear a more mature character, with real life experience, might have. Unlike whoever conjured the disembodied hand or eye, the banshee and the mummy, he's faced Dementors; they're at the school right now, because a murderer is out to get him, loyal to Voldemort, who also would kill him. Harry's fear is framed as real, reasonable, and mature.

But Neville? Neville's fear of Snape is set at the same level as the eyeball and other monsters under the bed, outright mocked by the narrative, by Neville, and by the class. Yes, he might be afraid of Snape - but exactly like the monsters, Snape's not actually harmed him, and almost certainly never will (unless we want to discuss the likelihood that each of the students have encountered and been traumatised by presumably dark creatures like banshees and mummies, or... a particularly dangerous eyeball. They've not even met Moody yet :P)

It's not a fear like Molly has in the later books of her family dying, nor is it a fear like Voldemort or a Dementor - it's a simple, childish fear that is easy to turn around. Neville, who so often struggles in class, has no trouble at all with the spell here, because it's just so easy for him to imagine Snape in a dress and laugh at him. He's scared of Snape in person, but it's not that deep, especially because Neville is scared of a lot of things through the earlier books - including his grandmother (who also could've easily been the Boggart), the Basilisk (despite being pureblood), Trelawney's predictions in his 3rd year exam, sneaking out at night, Malfoy, and McGonagall.

Later that same book, after "trembling from head to fluffy-slippered toes" as he confessed (very bravely, I thought) to McGonagall that he'd lost the list of passwords, allowing Sirius to break into the common room:

Professor McGonagall was so furious with him she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention, and forbidden anyone to give him the password into the tower. Poor Neville was forced to wait outside the common room every night for somebody to let him in, while the security trolls leered unpleasantly at him.

We don't hear what McGonagall's detention is I don't think, but it could be anything from polishing the trophies in the common room to sending him into a dangerous, forbidden forest in search of a suspected dark creature or wizard that kills unicorns and ultimately turns out to be Voldemort himself - but that's on top of forcing him sit outside his own common room, banning everyone else from telling him the password, and banning him from Hogsmeade. Add to that that McGonagall believes that Harry "fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and- bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble" and "Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too" - it seems even more unfair that Neville and Draco receive the same punishment as Harry, who she believes was deliberately trying to get the others into trouble. That's all pretty harsh, but it's McGonagall, so she gets a pass. Harry feels sorry for Neville, but it's never considered a negative reflection of McGonagall or her fairness as a teacher.

And sure, Neville's a nervous wreck after Snape's detention disembowelling frogs/horned toads for a potions detention in GoF, but look at it from Snape's perspective. He gave Neville that particular detention after melting SIX cauldrons in like... the first week of term. How is Neville even doing that?

"Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn’t you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn’t I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

That's why he's so mean to Neville; he's a menace in Potions, and Snape doesn't know how to deal with the fact that he can't follow basic instructions without relying on another student to do it for him. He punishes Neville by 'threatening' Trevor not for the sake of it, but because it was Snape's version of trying to make Neville concentrate, to care more about the outcome of his potion without having someone else do half the work for him, because that won't get him anywhere in the exams. And Neville can respond to higher stakes, fear, whatever it was, by performing better; he did as part of Dumbledore's Army:

The news of his parents’ attacker’s escape had wrought a strange and even slightly alarming change in him ... he barely spoke during D.A. meetings anymore, but worked relentlessly on every new jinx and countercurse Harry taught them, his plump face screwed up in concentration, apparently indifferent to injuries or accidents, working harder than anyone else in the room. He was improving so fast it was quite unnerving and when Harry taught them the Shield Charm, a means of deflecting minor jinxes so that they rebounded upon the attacker, only Hermione mastered the charm faster than Neville. In fact Harry would have given a great deal to be making as much progress at Occlumency as Neville was making during D.A. meetings. Harry’s sessions with Snape, which had started badly enough, were not improving; on the contrary, Harry felt he was getting worse with every lesson.

I've added the second paragraph only because it was interesting to me, because Harry didn't want the dreams to stop. Under Snape's tutelage, Harry isn't really practicing, he's not applying what he's learnt, he wants to go through the door in his dreams. Snape was sort of correct when he called Harry out for that. And both Harry and Neville are guilty of something I was very guilty of as a student as well: just getting through it, doing the bare minimum, instead of actually engaging with the material, concentrating, and getting the work done well. In theory, Neville could've been excelling all along, even with his secondhand wand and memory issues. He just lacked the proper motivation - or, as McGonagall thinks:

“You cannot pass an O.W.L.,” said Professor McGonagall grimly, “without serious application, practice, and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an O.W.L. in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work.” Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise. “Yes, you too, Longbottom,” said Professor McGonagall. “There’s nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence.”

To an extent, it was Neville getting in his own way - there's no wandwork we're told about in Potions, so we can't blame his wand. Everyone is intimidated by Snape in potions, Snape has a reputation for being mean and grumpy, but nobody else is quaking in their boots at his approach except for Neville, who quakes in his boots a lot. When Snape was absent from the potions exam in OotP, Neville was described as "happier than Harry had ever seen him during a Potions class" - but noticeably absent is the description of Neville doing any better because of it.

And still, every year, even Neville passes potions (unlike Crabbe and Goyle in other subjects: "If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. this time around..."). Umbridge describes Snape's classes as advanced, and Snape fills his Outstanding-grade-only NEWT classes every year - so Snape can't be that bad at teaching. Neville (and Harry) just don't pay enough attention in Potions, and that endlessly annoys Snape, the prickly perfectionist potions professor.

And Hogwarts isn't a modern Muggle school, either - it's a cross between generic fantasy schools, posh schools, and old-fashioned Victorian schools. That's just a feature of the worldbuilding. There's no hand-holding here. Teachers and staff are just sometimes harsh:

“I thought we’d be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he’d — ” “ — tell yer that’s how it is at Hogwarts,” Hagrid growled. “Copyin’ lines! What good’s that ter anyone? Yeh’ll do summat useful or yeh’ll get out. If yeh think yer father’d rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an’ pack. Go on!”

Tone was rather aggressive, but the message was... fine, I guess. If he'd said this to Harry, it probably would've been represented differently - and if Snape had said it, there'd be more accusations of him being unnecessarily mean. But it's Draco, so despite Draco not really having done anything besides being out after curfew, it's totally fair in Harry's eyes to send him to the forest.

Professor Flitwick had dried himself off with a wave of his wand and set Seamus lines: “I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick.”

Played for laughs, but pretty humiliating for a simple, easily corrected mistake. Frame it as Snape doing it instead, and that angle would've been played up.

“Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can’t even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!” Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.

Pretty mean. Again, imagine if Snape had said the same - but because it's McGonagall, it's fine, and never mentioned again.

Sure, Snape is often worse than the others in terms of being mean, or at least is described as being mean most often, but he's by no means alone in it - see again McGonagall's punishments of Neville in PoA and of Harry/Hermione/Neville/Draco in PS, which are far overblown and have potentially dangerous outcomes - compared to Snape's rather tame punishments, which include fewer points being taken than when McGonagall does it, physically safe (if gross) detentions, and the infamous Trevor incident and a detention designed to punish Harry for nearly killing a fellow student (oh, the irony of making Harry's first example being James and Sirius using an "illegal hex" in that context tickles me every time - and Harry already knows that James/Sirius were capable of worse, including probable SA and attempted murder via werewolf that wasn't even an accident, just plain malice).

Anyway, just to add further context to the old-fashioned culture at Hogwarts, the staff were still using physical punishment within fairly recent living memory:

“Your father and I had been for a nighttime stroll,” [Molly] said. “[Arthur] got caught by Apollyon Pringle — he was the caretaker in those days — your father’s still got the marks.”

They only stopped sometime before Harry arrived. Filch has worked at Hogwarts for "a quarter of a century" (per McGonagall) by Harry's final year, and Filch even said in Harry's first year:

Oh yes . . . hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me. … It’s just a pity they let the old punishments die out . . . hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I’ve got the chains still in my office, keep ’em well oiled in case they’re ever needed.

So they presumably had mostly faded out as punishments before or around the time Filch started in ~1973, because he still has the chains and misses using them. For reference, this is what Filch is hoping for the return of in OotP:

“I’ve been telling Dumbledore for years and years he’s too soft with you all,” said Filch, chuckling nastily. “You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stinkpellets if you’d known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I could’ve strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they?

By comparison, preparing potions ingredients as a detention (in the form of disembowelling frogs, toads, or otherwise) doesn't feel like such a bad punishment in the school's eyes. And in a school where this sort of archaic schooling culture is the norm, it is also the norm for teachers to be mean to students who (as they see it) are not trying. So, in an ideal/Muggle/modern worldview, Neville would be identified as needing some additional support for his memory issues; Snape would be supportive and write out clearer instructions, and McGonagall would perhaps gift Neville an enchanted list of the passwords, so that only he could read it.

But that doesn't happen, because this is Hogwarts, and all of the teachers are trapped by genre convention and archaic methods of teaching and discipline that have just barely moved on from physical punishments.

Side note, you should see some of the school reports my mum found of her time in school in the 60s/70s - she was dyslexic, but the teachers didn't know that, and you'd think from their feedback that she was simply trying to annoy them. She and her friend also remember chalk and blackboard rubbers being thrown at disruptive students, canings, and dunce caps for 'stupid' students. For reference, I'm not saying any of this is good; both Hogwarts and real schools have a lot to answer for when considering student wellbeing. But it was considered... fairly normal? Unpleasant, but not surprising or unusual. Which is what Snape's behaviour was, in context - an expression of this era of teaching, wherein he's harsh to everyone, and given half a chance would probably have loved to have used a dunce cap like he possibly witnessed at his Muggle school, as a child himself:

“The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week’s essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get D’s.”

Further to that, Lupin tells Harry that he has "inherited an old prejudice"; Hermione often comes to Snape's defence in the books; and there's no evidence that any of the teachers really mind what Snape's doing. It's just part of the 'charm' of outdated schooling.

There's also no evidence that Snape knew that Neville was the other boy potentially referred to in the Prophecy. Sure, he might've known - but probably not, since neither Voldemort nor Dumbledore are exactly known for being open and honest with their followers. I also think it would be a bit weird if both Bellatrix and Barty Jr knew, and never once mentioned or tried to attack Neville just for the hell of it, despite having the chance - Bellatrix when she tortured Neville's parents but not Neville, and Barty Jr as Moody. If Snape knew, I wonder whether there'd have been a part of the story wherein we find out that Snape tried to convince Voldemort that Neville was the "better choice" of baby to kill, in order to save Lily.

Anyway, Snape was just annoyed that Neville was an absent-minded boy who melted cauldrons, inattentively read recipes, relied on other students, and was a walking catastrophe. He could tell by sight that Neville's potion in the Trevor incident was fine (thanks to Hermione), probably had an antidote ready, and it's not unusual at Hogwarts to test potions and spells on students, pets, and other animals. Snape punished Neville for not doing as he'd asked (concentrating on the instructions) and for disobeying him (by getting Hermione's help). This method of teaching may not be considered particularly effective, nor is it overly kind or supportive, and it absolutely wouldn't fly by modern/Muggle standards - but this is Hogwarts. Boggarts don't represent your most tragic, heart-wrenching fear, just what they think will get you in the moment - and if Snape had really wanted Trevor dead, he'd have left him as a tadpole to dry up and die rather than giving him the antidote.

And none of this matters anyway, because bringing up how Snape behaved as an adult usually only happens to dismiss Snape's suffering as a child. It adds very little to the conversation actually being had, which is that as a child himself, Snape was bullied, assaulted, and almost murdered during his time in school - by a group of boys drunk on their own self-importance who bullied and hexed anyone just because they wanted to, regularly released a dark creature into Hogsmeade and the surrounding area which risked people's lives, illegally became Animagi, and used illegal hexes on fellow students (like Snape) unprovoked - and nobody seemed to do a single thing about it. Or perhaps they did - but in the wise words of McGonagall, perhaps they were pretty useless:

“Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!” said Professor McGonagall tartly. “No, not another word of complaint, Potter!”

Ah, timeless.

Unrelated, but just in case anyone made it this far - I also enjoy the idea that something similar happened to the Draco/Harry/Sectumsempra duel during the Marauders era, and James used Sectumsempra on Snape.

Okay, Severus Snape getting bullied is forgotten because he "bullied" children.

But did you guys forget what the Marauders did to Bertram Aubrey?

They used an illegal hex on him which caused his head to grow twice its original size. (I think it was Engorgio Skullus though I don't think it was ever explicitly said.)

He was likely a Slytherin, or simply didn't come from a wealthy family. Perhaps he was plain in appearance, making him an easy target for cruel jokes. Maybe he had an interest in the dark arts, which earned him the disdain of the popular crowd. Or maybe the Marauders merely disliked him for just existing.

James and Sirius were tormentors and bullies. No great transgression was needed to earn their wrath, simply breathing the same air was often enough motive for them to unleash their cruel antics upon their chosen victim.

When they finally recognize this, they concoct excuses such as, "Oh, maybe he was a future death eater in the making." Do you guys not realise that this was still bullying? It's possible that he didn't do anything wrong, much like how they unjustly targeted Severus in the train.

[genderkoolaid]

tbh my opinion isnt so much that trans men cannot have male privilege. its that the way we understand male privilege is based in cis women, specifically otherwise privileged (esp. otherwise-gendered privilege, i.e gender-conforming/straight/perisex) cis women's understanding of gender as something static and inherent to who you are, rather than something fluid which is, in part, constructed by society and placed onto you separately in every moment.

can a trans man experience (cis) male privilege? yes. can a trans woman? yes. and so can a cis woman! hell, a femme perisex cis woman with a gender neutral name could if she's assumed to be a cis man on a resume. male privilege is not an on/off switch. the idea that it is stems from cissexist understandings of male/female as entirely separate and static categories which everyone can and must be understood through. trans people in feminism are expected to constantly defend and deflect accusations of being Privileged Male Oppressors by promising cis perisex women that our experiences are just like theirs! we don't have any scary opinions that don't align with their worldview! we swear we won't ever make them have to reflect on how being cis+perisex has biased them and potentially made their analysis of gender at all inaccurate! trans experiences are only considered valuable to cisfeminism to the extent that they reaffirm what cisfeminists already hold true. thats why they only ever want to talk about a very simplistic narrative around wages pre/post-transition. its extremely unthreatening to cis people because it presents transness in patriarchy as just going from one cis role to another; it doesn't ask cis feminists to expand their paradigm to include the ways in which trans people are treated as a class and their own complicity in transphobic oppression.

which is why trans men have been getting fucked over by trans-affirmng cisfeminism. because by virtue of having our gender acknowledged, we are expected to forfeit our place in the feminist movement and adopt the role of outsider along cis men*. and its also why trans women and MTX people get fucked over the minute they cannot or refuse to describe their experiences through the one or two approved narratives. cisfeminism cannot tolerate transness-as-transness. it has to be compressed and reduced and diluted into something that fits within a cis-centric framework. we aren't allowed to have nuanced and intersectional conversations about trans men & other trans folks relationship with male privilege, the things we have to sacrifice to there, how fleeting it can be, the fact that for some of us being read as "biologically male" is actively more dangerous than being read as female... if it isn't familiar to cis women, then it means you aren't really oppressed.

*cis men should not be outsiders in feminism either btw but thats another post

[teaboot]

I'm surprised/impressed? by how blase you are about people threatening you at work. A neighbor threatened me last week and it was so scary and I wish I could have had the same kinda response you seem to.

First off, I hope you're safe and okay, that's an awful experience to be familiar with and especially bad that they live so close to you D:

Second, I'm certainly no maverick out here- I've only been doing this a few years now- but I've found that about 99% of threats I receive have very little intent to follow through.

The type of threats I usually receive are typically from:

Someone who's had bad experiences with security or police, in the past. People with hand and face tattoos, homeless folks, people with mannerisms that get them labeled as "sketchy", POC, and people who've been incarcerated all have valid reason to believe I'm out to get them, and may get treated badly elsewhere often enough that they're expecting that. Every time I approach someone, I have to take this into account and do everything I can to signal that they haven't been profiled based on preexisting stereotypes.

Someone experiencing the symptoms of a mental health condition. People with mental illnesses are statistically victims of crime more often than they are perpetrators. That said, I have run into people before whose mental illness can present as aggression- if someone behaving erratically or is known for that sort of thing tells me they're gonna blow my brains out, but I can clearly see they're unarmed, not coming towards me, haven't hurt anyone, and show no intent of escalating, I'm probably not in danger. A few people I've met will see me again in a day or two and will have no problems with me at all.

Someone who is scared, frustrated, anxious, or grieving. Not to excuse violence in any context, but in my experience 99% of people who blow up at me aren't actually thinking about me. Anger isn't so much an emotion in a lot of ways as it is the reaction to another emotion- if someone tells me they're gonna kick my ass, I have to question if there's anything they may be frightened, frustrated, or sad about something else entirely. If I can address and resolve what's causing the anxiety, the anger usually goes away next. If I can't deescalate, my next job is to disengage and make sure myself and others aren't at risk of harm.

People who want something from me. This does not happen often. Maybe they want me to back off, or leave them alone, or let them take something, whatever- maybe they think I'm someone with clearance to use physical force, or they think my flashlight is pepper spray. Whatever it is, once they've made it clear they're willing to act, I back off. Unless they're hurting another person, nothing they want is worth getting stabbed or shot over. And physical conflict is insanely stressful, even for the attacker, so even then whoever threatening me will likely take any "out" I can give- I keep paths of escape clear, stay out of range, keep calm and respectful. Every time this has happened to me, the person has run away when given the chance.

People who genuinely want to hurt me and intend to follow through. Again, this is super uncommon- I think it's only really happened to me once or twice on the job. Yes, it's scary, but I find it helps to remember that they arent after me, they're after the uniform. If someone is coming after me in costume, so to speak, it's not who I am as a person, it's what I represent. And a lot of people seem to think I'm a cop, or see me as a faceless goon, or a past abuser, or an intruder in their life specifically sent to make them miserable. If that's what they believe, there's not much I can do to change their mind except, again, stay calm and respectful and disengage.

I do know how to defend myself to an extent, but again, I don't have weapons or restraints or a vest or anything and I'm kinda small on top of that so really I'm cool with hauling ass if I gotta. If me getting the fuck out of dodge resolves the issue then I'm not above radio'ing HQ from the top of a tree somewhere, that shit is above my pay grade.

TL/DR in my personal limited experience, someone who has told me that they're going to hurt me wouldn't have given me the warning unless there was something I could do to avoid it. Stay calm, don't yell, be respectful, give them an escape route and run if you need to

Stay safe out there, yeah?

[hyperlexichypatia]

This post reminded me of it, but my partner has observed that in contemporary gender discourse, maleness is so linked to adulthood and femaleness is so linked to childhood, that there are no "boys" or "women," only "men" and "girls."

This isn't exactly new -- for as long as patriarchy has existed, women have been infantilized, and "adult woman" has been treated as something of an oxymoron. Hegemonic beauty standards for women emphasize youthfulness, if not actual neoteny, and older women are considered "too old" to be attractive without ever quite being old enough to make their own decisions. There may be cultural allowances for the occasional older "wise woman," but a "wise woman" is always dangerously close to being a madwoman, or a witch. No matter how wise a woman is, she is never quite a rational agent. As Hanna K put it, "as a woman you're always either too young or too old for things, because the perfect age is when you're a man."

But the framing of underage boys as "men" has shifted, depending on popular conceptualizations of childhood and gender roles. Sometimes children of any gender are essentially feminized and grouped with women (the entire framing of "women and children" as a category). In the U.S. in the 21st century, the rise of men's rights and aggressively sexist ideology has correlated with an increased emphasis on little boys as "men" -- thus slogans like "Teach your son to be a man before his teacher teaches him to be a woman."

Of course, thanks to ageism and patriarchy (which literally means, not "rule by men," but "rule by fathers"), boys don't get any of the social benefits of being considered "men." They don't get to vote, make their own medical decisions, or have any of their own adult rights. They might have a little more childhood freedom than girls, if they're presumed to be sturdier and less vulnerable to "predators," but, for the most part, being considered "men" as young boys doesn't really get boys any more access to adult rights. What it does get them is aggressively gender-policed, often with violence. A little boy being "a man" means that he's not allowed to wear colors, have feelings, or experience the developmental stages of childhood.

This shifts in young adulthood, as boys forced into the role of "manhood" become actual men. As I've written about, I believe the trend of considering young adults "children" is harmful to everyone, but primarily to young women, young queer and trans people, and young disabled people. Abled, cisgender, heterosexual young men are rarely denied the rights and autonomy of adulthood due to "brain maturity."

What's particularly interesting is that, because transphobes misgender trans people as their birth-assigned genders, they constantly frame trans girls as "men" and trans men as "girls." A 10 year old trans girl on her elementary school soccer team is a "MAN using MAN STRENGTH on helpless GIRLS," while a 40 year old trans man is a "Poor confused little girl." Anyone assigned male at birth is born a scary, intimidating adult, while anyone female assigned at birth never becomes old enough to make xyr own decisions.

Feminist responses have also really fluctuated. Occasionally, feminists have played into the idea of little boys as "men," especially in trans-exclusionary rhetoric, or in one notorious case where members of a women's separatist compound were warned about "a man" who turned out to be a 6-month-old infant. There's periodic discourse around "Empowering our girls" or "Raising our boys with gentle masculinity," but for the most part, my problem with mainstream feminist rhetoric in general is that it tends to frame children solely as a labor imposed on women by men, not as subjects (and specifically, as an oppressed class) at all.

Second-wave feminists pushed back hard on calling adult women "girls" -- but they didn't necessarily view "women" as capable of autonomous decision-making, either. Adult women were women, but they might still need to be protected from their own false consciousness. As laws in the U.S., around medical privacy and autonomy, like HIPAA, started more firmly linking the concepts of autonomy with legal adulthood, and fixing the age of majority at 18, third-wave feminists embraced referring to women as "girls." Sometimes this was in an intentionally empowering way ("girl power," "girl boss"), which also served to shield women (mostly white, mostly bourgeois/wealthy) from criticism of their participation in racism and capitalism. But it also served to reinforce the narrative of women as "girls" needing to be protected from "men" (and their own choices).

I'm still hoping for a feminist politic that is pro-child, pro-youth, pro-disability, pro-autonomy, pro-equality, that rejects the infantilization of women, the adultification of boys, the objectification of children, the misgendering of trans people, and the imposition of gender roles.

[sillysillygoofygoose]

Older! Boyfriend Toji x Fem Reader pt. 2

MDNI! EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD

CW: weapon play

18+ Headcanons:

Older! Toji, who was definitely a fuck-friend, before he was a boyfriend. At first, it was a once a week occasion, almost like an appointment. Slowly it became twice a week, then four times a week, then almost every night. It became an addiction like no other. He began craving you whenever you weren't with him.

"You free tonight baby? Need to fuck you so bad... haven't seen you in three days, fuck."

Older! Toji who fell first... and swears it was some work of black magic.

"Don't know what you're doing to me, Mama." Toji groans fucking you from behind, watching as a ring of white cream forms at the base of his cock. His hips speed up by the second, realizing that he isn't just feeling lust.

"Tightest, prettiest little pussy I've ever fucked. Sweetest, prettiest girl I've ever met. Put a fucking spell on me."

Older! Toji who is not loud in bed. Sorry to my girls that love the moaners and the whimpering sluts 😔. You'll get groans, grunts, and tons of dirty talk but THAT'S IT.

When you're having make-up sex or when he's angry, he won't make a sound. Just heavy breathing and hard fucking. Kinda scary tbh.

Older! Toji who loves it fucking disgusting. Sloppy, wet, hot, you name it. His favorite thing is to lay down and watch you choke and slobber all over his dick. Chokes you just to have drool spill out of your mouth. Cums all over you, having his seed collect on your shaking body. He's absolutely dead set on making you squirt, training your body as regularly as possible.

Older! Toji who loves experimenting with his knives and handguns in the bedroom. Whether it be pressing his Glock 19 to your forehead while fucking you against the wall, or pressing a blade to your neck while marking you up, he loves the way the danger always makes your breath hitch. Don't worry though, he always takes the bullets out, always uses the dull side of the knife... he'd never be able to forgive himself if something actually happened to you. (When he has basic human empathy 😍🤤)

Older! Toji who first confessed after fucking you raw, going three rounds. He was struck with jealousy after you invited him out to a bar, instead of your apartment like you have been doing routinely for about 5 months. He was having a good time, joking with you, feeling his heart beat a little faster every time your face lit up and your laugh rang out.

Everything was just jolly until some fucking guy walked up to you, introducing himself as Satoru. He began practically begging to buy you a drink, claiming that he's only seen a beauty like yours in a dream about a wild forest goddess he had when he got high for the first time in 9th grade.

Toji rolled his eyes, scoffing at the man who was currently making a fool out of himself. You, on the other hand, found the man's antics amusing, giggling while you allowed him to carry on about his dream, detailing the way the goddess walked towards him, blessing him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he informed you that the scene was an exact replica of you walking into the bar.

By the time you got back to your apartment, Toji was less than pleased.

"Oh, C'mon Toji! It was funny. I mean, you really didn't get a kick out of him?" You pest as he walks in, taking off his size 13 boots.

"Tsk, no. He was a drunken idiot. Goddess my ass, he wouldn't know how to worship you."

That night, Toji fucked you sweeter than he ever did before. You expected to have your insides rearranged the second you walked through the door. Something was different. The air around you felt and smelled different as your breathless moans occupied the room. More tender, more purposeful, more...intimate. He worshipped you head to toe.

Once he pulled out, he uttered three sentences that changed your relationship forever...

"You're mine, I'm yours. I want you, I need you. I love you."

He reminds you of this moment from time to time, repeating the same three sentences. Not after you fuck, but after you make love.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

papa, me want more yandere jjk zombie apocalypse!!!

no pressure tho lol love your writing

Me when someone calls me Papa:

But seriously thank you Hope you enjoy! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Zombie Apocalypse: Yandere Jujutsu Kaisen (3)

1  • 2

When you awaken it’s Nobara and Megumi who retrieve you for another tour

This time taking the time to let you partake in the activities with some of the residents

But it’s all to pass the time before Suguru comes to retrieve you

“Hey (Y/n) we have a few more tests to run and after that, I’ll let you go have fun with Satoru.”

Despite your reluctance to deal with the boisterous man you follow Suguru back to the lab where you first met him in

Chatting about anything you could 

“So I finally wanted to inform you about why you can’t go to the other neighborhood and why you have that wristband.”

“Finally! Even if I can’t be with them I want to see them still–”

“...(Y/n)...I’m so sorry.”

Setting you on the patient table Suguru informs you that your blood is the key to immunity against the zombie disease

Using some advanced technology to find you and put the wristband on you to label you among your group of friends

But that wasn’t all 

Holding you close he confides in you that in separate interviews your friend group had proven to be willing to go to extremes to get their hands on the cure

Said extremes were violent and alarming

all suggesting they’d abduct you and make you a living blood bag for them

It was actually not that far-fetched to you

You knew your friends were loosening their morals

You had to 

Especially after the betrayal from one of your members

It was likely that they may have come off that way

But you wonder if that would’ve applied to you as well

You really had no way of knowing

“(Y/n) I understand that this is difficult to take in…just know that me and Satoru are here for you. We’re going to protect you, no matter what.”

He was holding your chin as he looked into your eyes with promise

Letting him hold you in a hug

Suguru has a hard time holding in a smile that twitches widely on his face

After this Suguru takes the day off joining you to experience the different activities 

Satoru joined you both shortly thereafter

“Yay! My two favorite people are baking so adorably! It’d be a shame if someone came and tickled one of them relentlessly.”

“Sorry (Y/n).”

“Wait what—Ahhhh! Hahahaha!”

They’re pretty persistent when it comes to chasing away the thoughts of your friends possibly being as dangerous to you as they were to the zombies you’d been running from 

Enough for you to miss them when you once again say goodbye to Nobara and Megumi after they lead you to your room 

But before you can completely settle on your bed to sullenly stare at the ceiling the door to your room clicks open

“Heyyo you ready for me to show you what movies we’ve got? Of course, you are! C’mon, sweetcheeks!”

“Hope we didn’t wake you but we figured we’d hate to leave you alone.”

“Uh, thanks, you guys.”

“It’s no problem, the mind on its own is a scary place.”

“Yeah…”

“That’s why we’ll never let you go there! Now are you ready for the ultimate movie night? You’re not going to get a wink of sleep!”

That being said by the time the sun rose you were already resting on the couple your head in Satoru’s lap while Suguru held the rest of your body up

Completely oblivious to the second time the lock to your door opened up 

“You two look cozy!”

“Do not yell someone is clearly asleep.”

“So? I have the key to this door so it’s practically mine too.”

“The urge to decimate you always returns with a vengeance.”

“Ouch so cruel~!”

Suguru groaned and rolled his eyes at the both of them checking if you stirred at all

 while Satoru smiled at the blonde one of the duo only to receive an annoyed push of his glasses

“Nanamin you came back earlier than I expected.”

“Yes, my…partner took a very impulsive approach this time around.”

Suguru figured he’d chime in too, “Mahito did you bring any of them back alive?”

Mahito made a face putting a peace sign up as he posed mocking the anime signage now left as relics of the world before

“What do you think?”

“I don’t necessarily care, it’d just make things easier for them.”

“It is unbecoming of you to lie Doctor Geto.”

“Yeah, I could tell you were just itching to get your hands on those pigs!”

Suguru chuckled reaching to brush his hand against your cheek

“Maybe I was hoping to…enjoy a roast. It’s unfair if you’re the only one to enjoy the results of our labor.”

[melodic-haze]

Hmm i just had a thought about the recent fic w Arlecchino

What if she had a muzzle on w bunny suit🧐

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Arlecchino x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Breeding, size kink, reader has a cock/strap referred to as such

☆ — NOTES: I'm ngl it's been several Arle fics now that idk which one you were on ab but it's okay gwenchana. Anyway you lot really want to breed her huh (same though)

Good luck convincing Arlecchino to wear a bunny suit actually HAHAHA

She'd do anything for you, really she will!!!! She's so dedicated to you—worshipping you in the same way a diety was meant to be worshipped—that it's actually scary for the both of you, how much of a hold you have on her. But she has some reservations about such a risqué bit of clothing 💀

Not like you blame her though, considering how it wasn't usually her style. Lucky for you, however, YOU get special treatment :3 all it takes is one look at the outfit, one look at her and some time and voila!!! She'll concede—hell, she might even surprise you :3

"You're.. you're sure, right? I know you were kinda against it at first—I feel bad if I ended up forcing you into something you-- mm."

A finger was on your lips, the gesture's message quite clear as your beloved spoke amidst your commanded silence, "I'm sure, yes. I admit I am.. apprehensive, but your longing gaze is more than enough to convince me to, ah.. experiment."

"Really..?"

"Yes. You do not take me for my word?"

"No, I do! It's just..." You huffed out a sigh as you gently took the hand on your lip and took it in your own, "I just don't want you to feel as if you were obligated to entertain my every whim."

You see her eyes soften at your concern and she squeezes your hand as a form of reassurance from your often-so-stoic lover, "You should know better than to believe I would ever compromise my own comfort for something like this."

"And besides," she continues, "surprisingly, I've come to enjoy being.. well, your prey of sorts. Perhaps the outfit may elevate the interest to another level, hm?"

You couldn't help but stare at her, boldness practically radiating off of your lover despite the position you both know she truly holds within the privacy of your bedroom walls. Such boldness prompted an imagined flash of images in your mind—blackened hands all tied up, drool escaping her lips within confining barriers, tears escaping as sinful noises of wet skin-to-skin impact echo along with her moans—and you feel something akin to a hot flash within your core.

Ever so observant, her eyes go half-lidded as she looks up at you, her grin a touch sharper than before, "I see that I have awakened your imagination."

"Maybe."

"You need not imagine it, my beloved." Her voice reduces itself to something of a low purr, "All you need to do is command me, and I will do whatever you wish."

"That's a dangerous promise to make."

"Coming from a dangerous woman such as I, I dare say it balances the scales."

I love dialogue lol anyway tell her to do so and she will do it ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️ and next thing you know you're facing a woman much shorter than you've always known her to be, clad in such a revealing outfit and a muzzle to prevent her from biting so much. She had 'protested' against the latter at first, but you both know from the way that she so very easily accepted such a thing that she was all for the extra torture, not being able to make a mark on you (she forgets that her nails'll probably do the job for her anyway LMAO)

When she's laid out 'helplessly' on the bed as you tower over her, when you put your hand on the flat of her stomach and the both of you see the clear size difference, when you look at her and see so much anticipation and carnal lust practically glazing her eyes? Oh god the both of you KNOW you're not going out this room for a WHILE

She is COMPLETELY at your mercy—you can toy with her all you want, alternating between overstimulation and edging her with whatever is at your disposal until she can't take it anymore so she has to actually beg you to fuck her dumb and reduce all trains of thought into mush. She considers begging as below her, and yet she can't help but let out these reluctant pleas that only seem to gain a more.......willing quality with them in due time. Just make sure to torture her until her composure snaps, giving her her own sort of medicine and having her experience her very own mindbreak through overwhelming pleasure

To see this woman, who is so utterly feared to the point where crowds would part for her in fear that she would plunge her blackened hands into their chest and staining them red, cling to you and hump your cock like a bitch in heat is such a harrowing contrast.......but there is certainly that feeling of something more

Perhaps it's the fact that there was the urge to pin her down into a mating press and stuff her silly until she gets kids on her own ☺️ seeing her take all these children in at the Hearth and not having any herself.....why, for some reason you found yourself feeling like you just had to give her some children of her own. She seems to adore them, so whyever not ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

Even as dazed-out as she is, she can see something change inside you as your objective goes from fucking her silly to something a lot more feral. Doesn't necessarily help that, yk, you have her in a bunny suit. And yk how bunnies just love to breed

As much as Arlecchino had tried to tell you to slow down for a brief moment, it's as if all noise has been blocked out from your senses, save for the sounds your lover makes and the sinfully wet noises that are produced as you piston into her again and again and again and again.

You roughly pushed her down into the matress, now damp and messy from a mixture of your bodily fluids, as you made sure to bottom out inside her as quickly as you drew back—the harsh assault on her hole had hit spots within her she didn't even realise you could hit, not to mention the force of your movements being more than enough to easily stretch her out and mold her insides to fit you and only you.

It was obvious that there was no way any mercy was going to be given to her. The Harbinger could only lay there and take everything you give her like some kind of fleshlight, the 'fight' within her long gone (if she even had some left in her to begin with).

God I need to separate these bc I can't just choose one thank yew bc both are very very very VERY good

If you had a dick:

You were so utterly determined to fill her and making sure your seed takes by the end of your session. If it meant basting her insides with white-hot cum and having it all stuffed inside her to the point where it has no where to go but out by force, then you'll cum inside her over and over again until you can't anymore.

And when your hand goes to press down on her abdomen, you can see the mixture of cum inside her practically spray out at the edges. She can't take it anymore, even she says so, and yet you can't help but wonder just why is her pussy still milking you as if her life depended on it?

Because she's greedy.

Because right now, no longer was she Arlecchino—she was your very own rabbit, hungry for your potent seed.

If you're using a strap:

You know of your limitations—without anything extra such as magical means, you cannot actually have her bare your children. But whyever would you let that stop you, especially when you had benefits that more than makes up for your lack of organic appendages?

If you had the real thing then you could stuff her silly until it takes (and even beyond that), but one can easily make up for it in other qualities such as size and shape.

And really, whatever's stopping you from filling her to the brim with artificial cum instead?

The world is your oyster, and Peruere was nothing but your very own porcelain fuckdoll at this point.

I need to breed her every which way idc if I don't have a dick, if there's a will there's a way

When she realises what you're trying to do, she can't help that sudden jolt that completely overtakes her—her hips practically shoot from the bed, pushing your cock in even deeper, before you push her back down while she lets out a silent scream. By GOD the fact you want to breed her, fill her, make sure a child of YOURS growing inside her, making a mark beyond just her skin.........oh it gets her going in ways she never would've fathomed before

By the end of your VERY long and productive session, it's VERY clear you've both fucked like rabbits from the mess all over the place and the liquid practically gushing from her abused hole. After everything, you finally take off her muzzle, only for you to lead her drool-coated mouth all the way down to the base of your cock to clean it up. She doesn't even protest either, easily taking it like a good girl and making sure that she does a good job in cleaning you up and finishing you off. All you need to do is plug her up properly, feeling all the cum stuffed inside her through the small pauch of her abdomen, where her womb is 🫶

"..I had known this was a possible outcome, and yet I cannot help but be surprised by your control, or lack thereof."

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as you rolled on your side, "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me! You just looked so irresistible and before I knew it I just--"

"Don't take my words as a form of reprimand, darling." You feel her hands take your own from your face, her lips finally kissing them—you—after a long time of having it muzzled, "I enjoyed it. You are already aware of my.. likes and dislikes, especially when it comes to the rougher parts of the activity. I gave you control, and you willingly seized it."

"I guess..."

"And besides," she muses with a small smile on her face, "I am.. not necessarily opposed to the thought of it."

"Of what?"

"Getting bred."

A warm flush spreads through your cheeks as you gave her a light swat, "You! You are so shameless! What happened to being polite and cryptic?!"

"Do we really need such pleasantries by this point? Seeing that you were rather determined to take me all for yourself, after all..."

"Oh my god."

A deep laugh rumbles within her, the sound so rare and precious that you'd want to keep it all to yourself, and you can't help but laugh along with her as you bask in the afterglow. When your laughter settles down, the two of you end up with your legs tangled up together as you lay there in companionable silence.

Though eventually she decides to break it, "Shall I go and run us a bath?"

"You can stand after all that? Geez, seems like I did a bad job," you joked.

Arlecchino huffed out lightly with a smile, "No, you've rendered me utterly near-useless—a feeling that I don't usually enjoy. Yet the fact that I don't seem to mind it all that much should show that you are special to me."

You feel that heat in your cheeks again at the proclamation, "Archons, and when I aim to have you all sappy like that in public you don't even dare move a muscle."

"Time and place, dear. Time and place. Now," she questions again, "shall I run us a bath? We can take care of the mess later."

You nodded, "Mm, if you don't mind then. But can we take it together?"

You see her eyes crinkle, the glow that the red crosses within them softening like a tender flame, "Of course. I shall be back in a few moments, then."

She gets up, and you pride yourself for being the reason why your lover temporarily goes off balance from a sudden tremor in her legs before collecting yourself.. and you can't help but stare at the remaining cum staining the sides of the plug and the apex of her thighs as she walks off.

She doesn't take the plug off when you go and take the bath together. Wonder why 😋

[ghost-proofbaby]

my little scaredy cat

request: [anon] i would love to see watching horror movies with best friend!eddie and reader instinctively grabs his arm and hides herself against him and it leads to feelings and confessions haha

warnings: none! except it's unedited, which would be scary if that wasn't 90% of my writing on here lmao

pairing: eddie x fem!reader

wc: 3.1k+

i had a lot of fun busting this one out. it's just so cute and certainly how i wish i was spending my halloween! also, rest assured, i am also eyeing the other request you submitting anon. <3 happy haunting, my friends.

This was such a stupid idea. Such a stupid, stupid idea. 

You’ve always been a scaredy cat. Everyone in your friend group was well aware of it – you loved the idea of Halloween, but your poor heart just couldn’t take most of the frights that came with the eccentric holiday. 

It was fine, most of the time. If anyone had the urge to plan out a day at a pumpkin patch, you were eagerly accepting the invitation. If anyone wanted to bake any sort of sweet treats laced with pumpkin spice or caramel apple flavor profiles, you were already in your car and armed with the perfect recipe to help them. Someone wanted to peruse the decoration aisles of various stores? Wait no more, the perfect shopping buddy could be found in you. You, who could handle most of the trivial and sweet aspects of the holiday. You, who divulged in the more aesthetic side of it all rather than the scary side of it. 

Your distaste of being jumpscared or unnerved by gore and ghouls alike only really caused issues when it came to your best friend, Eddie Munson. 

His taste in experience of the frightful time of year was entirely the opposite of yours. It’s not that he didn’t like decorating caramel apples with you or that he didn’t find your choice in decorations cute, because he did. But he liked the terrifying aspect of it all – he liked the adrenaline rush of fictional danger. 

And friendship, in all its glory, is about give and take, is it not? 

Compromise. That’s what he called it when he’d begged and pleaded for you to join him in a movie night. Because the moment the suggestion fell from his lips, you both knew he had no intentions of watching one of your usual festive movies that only teased about the creatures that crept through the night. PG-13 films that didn’t really do it for him. No, Eddie Munson had insisted you join him for a movie night, and you both knew exactly what kind of movie he intended to play. 

You just hadn’t anticipated the scariest fucking movie you’d ever endured for the boy beside you on the couch. 

“Shit!” 

Your squeak is muffled over by the crescendo of creepy instrumental echoing from the small TV across the room. A cycle had quickly been found during this movie night; the movie would fall eerily silent as a tense scene arrived, you’d tense every single muscle so hard that Eddie could feel you shaking from the other side of the couch, and then once the jumpscare occurred and your small squeals were let out involuntarily, his own laughter would follow. 

“Oh, come on,” he coos a little, leaning closer to the middle of the couch, still a fair distance away from your figure bundled up in blankets that were being used more as shields than anything at this point, “That one wasn’t even that bad!” 

“To you!” you snap, yanking the fabric back down from your eyes only to glare at Eddie rather than look at whatever grotesque was plaguing the screen, “I’m a scaredy cat, remember?” 

And oh, remember he does. In all your years of friendship, Eddie had called you that nickname more times than either of you could count. He never meant it with ill will, but it was easier to tease you than to admit just how adorable he found your small reactions. 

Easier to tease than to admit just how badly he wishes you would seek protection or refuge from him during the scares he put you through. 

His face falls slightly, but he doesn’t let his small grin slip up, not wanting to give himself or his twinge of guilt away, “I’m sorry, kitty cat. C’mere – I can protect you from all the big bad monsters-”

Eddie’s opened arms are only met with one of the pillows you’d stolen off his bed to make the couch more comfortable. It smacks into the center of his chest with deadly aim and ferocious power, making him let out an exaggerated oomph. 

“Fuck you,” you grumble, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders now that the scare had passed. You almost tack on a comment about how he’s lucky you like him, because you would never endure this for anyone else.

Robin had tried. Steve had tried. Nancy had tried. They’d all tried to entice you in the scarier, classic Halloween experiences to no avail. Every offer of going to a haunted house, or attending the premiere of the newest horror movies at the local theater, were shot down before they even finished their sentences. 

Only one person could break your staunch demeanor on your limits. And right now, you sort of hated his guts. 

Eddie softens a bit, watching the way you pout and curl into yourself just a little tighter.

“Sweetheart,” he finally drops the cool guy demeanor, his voice gentle as he leans over with genuine concern, “We can turn it off, if you really want. Hell, if you want me to, I’ll put on something in your taste. Little Shop of Horrors, or maybe Beetlejuice? Those don’t usually scare you.” 

The offer is enticing. But you have a point to prove. 

“No,” you sit up a little straighter, square your shoulders with a little more defiance and faux bravery, “No, you wanted to watch…” 

You pause, and Eddie smiles softly as he supplies the title of his film of choice, “Poltergeist.” 

“Right, yes, Poltergeist. You wanted to watch it, so we’re gonna watch it.” 

Your stubbornness is admirable. 

Even when it falters. Even when another jumpscare has you ever so slightly scooching towards the center of the couch, no longer pressed to the opposite arm from Eddie in defiance. Even when Eddie spreads his legs casually, and you bump your knee into his thigh, the slightest touch bringing immense comfort.  

Once you discover that, it all seems downhill from there. 

A press of a knee against the side of his thigh turns into your side brushing his. Suddenly, the blanket you’d wielded like a weapon becomes shared. Moments where you try to hold up a barrier between your eyes and the screen cause slight disturbances in Eddie’s own vision. And then, it happens.

The thing he’d been diabolically planning for years. The one scenario he’d dreamt of every Halloween season, the one intention he’d held secretly every time he’d put your through endless scares. 

The one touch that could send him into cardiac arrest. 

He almost missed it, it happens so suddenly. One moment, you’re just curling up a little bit closer to him. The next, your arms fully wiggly their way around his bicep, capturing his arm in your grasp as your face buries into his shoulder. He can no longer smell the buttery popcorn or faint chocolate on his breath as you invade his space. It’s all sweet shampoo and subtle perfume that tickles his nose, skin against skin in a quick flush as he can hear the vibrations of your predictable scream against the fabric of his shirt. 

You hardly seem to notice the sudden entanglement of your bodies in all your fear — your knees practically in his lap and your torso clinging onto his forearm for dear life. You’re acting on instinct, seeking out humane comfort without considering what you were doing.

When you do notice, you don’t let go, only slacken your grip. 

“Oh, I-“ you stutter, pulling back slightly to look up at a stunned Eddie, “I’m sorry, that’s- I just- I was scared and-“ 

“It’s fine,” he cuts you off, eyes blown wide, “It’s… it’s fine.” 

It’s more than fine.

His heart races in a way no horror movie or haunted house could incite. Every nerve ending tingles, everywhere his body connects to yours burning in delicious warmth. He wants to spend an eternity like this — you, curled up to him, clinging to him like your holy savior. 

Years, and years, and years of wait pays off. Patience is surely virtue as those big eyes of yours look into his. 

After a couple awkward beats of silence, you whisper, “I don’t think I like Poltergeist.” 

Just like that, you have him laughing again. It’s slow and steady, a gentle chuckle that stirs from his chest in disbelief as he tries to thaw from his shock and yearning.

“You think?” he breathes out, tone not nearly teasing enough to cover up the shakiness. 

He swears he can feel your heart pounding against his shoulder. 

“Don’t be mean,” you start to scowl, slowly unfurling. But he stops you — angles his arm so you can’t slip your arms away as easily as before, tilting his head in closer.

“Mean? I could never be mean to you, my little scaredy cat.” 

“You’re literally being mean as we speak-“

And so, he decides to stop speaking. 

It’s impulsive and an even dumber idea than you enduring such a scary movie to be around him. But you look so fucking cute, his heart is tearing up his throat, and suddenly his lips are on yours in his largest spurt of bravery to date. Even more brave than the time he’d made himself a human shield between you and that dude with a chainsaw at the local haunted house, despite the way chainsaws actually kind of made him shit himself.

You don’t fully reciprocate at first. His lips are pressed hard against yours, tips of noses crushed and eyes fluttered shut, and he starts to believe he’s made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake that just washed years of friendship down the drain. 

Until your hands tighten on his bicep. Until that soft squeeze comes, and it feels like he can breathe again despite sharing the air with you. 

He breaks away for just a second, “I-“

“Don’t be mean,” you repeat your earlier words with entirely new meaning now. He opens his eyes and finds yours already pleading up at his face, glossy and desperate, movie forgotten. 

Those hands once squeezing his bicep let go and move to the collar of his t-shirt. Normally, he’d make a comment about you stretching it out, deforming the perfect fit that took him ages to wear in, but he can’t be bothered to feel anything but delight when you’re tugging him back in for another kiss. 

And the last thing he wants to be is mean. So he kisses you kindly, kisses you with all the care in the world that he had buried beneath his skin since the day he met you. Kisses you like it could scare away all the monsters that wait in the shadows. Like he’d lay down his life to protect you from the very frights he’d been subjecting you to for far too long now. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, pulling back briefly, “Hey.”

This time, his forehead doesn’t leave yours as he pauses the kisses. 

“God, Munson, I’ve waited for this God knows how long, sat through so many fucking scary movies, and you’re really going to-“ 

“Hold on, what?”

He’s grinning so hard, it aches. In his cheeks, in his chest, in the back of his head. Your words sink in and he relishes each syllable, even in your frustration.

“I- Uh,” you pull back suddenly, fingers still loosely tangled in his t-shirt, “I-“

“Enlighten me, sweetheart,” he insists, eyes finally fluttering back open to catch the embarrassment painted plainly across your face. You wear a nearly painful expression that only tightens as you know he’s watching you, “Just how many scary movies have you sat through wanting me to kiss you?” 

“Fuck off,” you sigh out, shaking your head a little, “I mean it. Fuck right off-“

“Cause I could probably give a ballpark number for how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you during them,” he continues on quickly, “Actually, I bet I could count how many times I suggested watching these fuckin’ films just for this moment only to chicken out.” 

Your eyes are open again in an instant. Sparkling with hope and realization of what he was getting at. “Excuse me?”

“Do you really think I’m that mean?” he scoffs, finally reaching up for your hands, surprisingly calm despite the delightful storm wreaking havoc in his chest. He takes your knuckles in his and lets his thumb trail right over them, “No offense, but if I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t have-“

“You like me?” 

Your voice is sweet as honey, bright and drowning out the horror movie still playing. 

He smiles, boyish glint and all, as he confirms, “I like you.” 

You put the first real amount of distance between the two of you since you’d started to cling to him out of fear, almost as if signaling that bravery beginning to bubble over in your chest, “You actually like me?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, I- Well, maybe,” you bite your lip, and he’s suddenly dizzy with the need to capture it between his own teeth, “I just… I always thought you might like someone a little braver.”

His nose wrinkles, hands still twisting yours in his, “Excuse me? I think you’re plenty brave.” 

“Eddie, you’ve said it yourself, I’m a goddamn scaredy cat.”

“So?”

“So,” you persist, shuffling so that your legs fold beneath you and you gain some leverage over him, “You’re the exact opposite. You love scary things. Not even just during Halloween, but year round. And you’re telling me you like me even though I’m a scaredy cat.” 

“I like you because you’re a scaredy cat, thank you very much,” he corrects you immediately, “I love the way you always need me to protect you. I know, I know — not very feminist of me. I’m sorry. It’s just- it’s really fuckin’ cute, y’know?” now that his floodgates have opened, he’s pouring out all the words he’s held back for so long, “And besides, you’re more than just a scaredy cat. You’re also so smart, so beautiful, so funny. Yeah, you scare easily, but you’re also the same person who is the first to put me in my place when I’m being an absolute little shit. And don’t even get me started on all the cute faces you make when you’re talking about things you actually like, or when you’ve been baking with Nance and have flour all over your cheeks-“ 

“Okay, okay,” you stop his rambling before he can embarrass you any further. Any more affection, and your face might end up buried in his shoulder again, “I get it. You like me.” 

It’s quiet for a few moments. The two of you only stare, both smiling stupid, the screams of whatever climax occurring in the movie not even reaching your ears. All you can hear is the echo of his words, of his admission. And all he can hear is the pretty way your breath catches when he gives a small squeeze to your palm. 

It’s nice. It should be more anxiety inducing, it should be more dramatic. Eddie Munson should be absolutely losing his mind right now because he just kissed his best friend he’s been in love with for ages, but he isn’t. Actually, for the first time in a while, it feels as though he’s finally found it — he’s found his mind, he’s found his peace as he’s staring at your shy expression. It just feels right. Like a sigh of relief from the Universe. 

“I like you, too,” you break the silence, unable to meet his gaze, “I mean, you probably already got that, but-“

“Say it again.”

“Huh?”

“I did gather that, but my God, please say it again.” 

Your eyes meet him, and another piece clicks into place. 

Right. It’s so fucking right.

“I like you,” you repeat yourself, a smile beginning to dance on your lips. He can’t help himself — he leans forward and pecks the corner of your upturned mouth, “I like you,” the repetition is music to his ears as he plants a second kiss on your cheek, “I like you, Munson.” 

His peppered kisses mark every inch of skin available to him, making giggles begin to escape you. You even try to hide from his onslaught, but it’s no use. He’s quick to drop your hands and wrap his arms around you, tugging you in close and trapping you against him as each kiss grows more obnoxious. Loud smacking sounds, deliberately leaving spit behind that has you squealing. It’s nothing like the squeaks from when you were watching the movie; these small noises are filled with a little more joy, a little more happiness that only fuels Eddie.

“Eddie!” you try to scold, placing two hands on his solid chest, “Oh my God, stop it. You’re gross.” 

“You love it,” he mutters with his mouth fully pressed to your temple, nose buried in your hair. That sweet, sweet shampoo intoxicating him.

You like him. He didn’t fuck it up. 

You finally go slack in his touch, succumbing and letting him place you in his lap, curled up comfortably as you sigh, “Yeah. Okay, maybe I do. Whatever.” 

“Oh, don’t act all tough now, kitty cat.” 

Your hands are curled back in the fabric against his chest and you share the wonderful ache he had been feeling in his own cheeks and bones as you look down at him with playfully squinted eyes.

When he ducks down for another kiss, you stop him easily, “Nope. First, I have a request.” 

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything. Name it, and it’s yours.” 

“Please turn off that goddamn movie.” 

He throws his head back in laughter that shoots straight for your heart. The kind of laughter that haunts a chilled autumn night as children prance the streets for candy, as teenagers get into mischief in distant bonfire parties, as elderly couples enjoy morning coffees over eerie fog. 

It kind of feels like home. It kind of feels like everything is as it should be, finally. 

“I suppose I can do that for you, my little scaredy cat,” he muses as his head tilts back forward, chest swelling with affection, “Besides, I think I know something we can do that’s a little more fun than watching the Poltergeist.” 

“Oh, yeah? And what would that be?”

His arms tighten around you as he suddenly throws the two of you to lay down on the couch, his body hovering over yours and pick necklace nipping at your chin while he reaches out to click off the TV. The weight of him between your hips feels even better than either of your wildest dreams.

Years. You couldn’t believe it had taken years for this, and neither could he. But patience is virtue, and he probably would have waited another thousand years for this feeling, truth be told. 

“This,” he says boldly once the TV buzzes in sudden silence, dipping down and continuing where the two of you left off. Two sets of lips fit together like the world’s easiest jigsaw puzzle.

It’s safe to say the rest of the night, any further squeaks and squeals you let out aren’t due to ghosts.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @gagasbee @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n

[contentloadingandstuff]

Nilou x Veteran!Warrior!Male!Reader

A/N: Here's something light and hopefully fun to read. Enjoy! CW: None.

When Nilou’s fans come up to her for autographs, they can’t help but cast worried glances at the man next to her. Despite officially being only a bodyguard, the warm smiles and kind looks you exchange with each other have made your love obvious to the people of Sumeru. Nobody mentions it in her, let alone your presence though - they know you’re not someone to be messed with. 

Nobody really knows where you fought, but your more-than-professional demeanor, your grizzled eyes, speaking of experience, make it more than obvious that you’ve seen your share. Your handling of weapons makes you a commanding presence - you hardly ever have to speak to make sure Nilou has as much space as she needs to feel comfortable. 

For your adorable lover, however, your presence is quite the opposite - you’re a guarantee of comfort and safety, and such a cute one at that! She finds it positively heartwarming how you compare to her. You’re a big, strong and scary guy while she’s a tiny and innocent girl. 

Nilou: Hey sweetie, can you… pick me up, please? Y/N: Hm? Oh, of course.  Nilou: W-whoah! Hehe~ It’s like in those fairytales, isn’t it?

You’re her knight in shining armor, and she’s your princess in need of keeping safe and sound. It always gets her heart racing when you remind her just how fragile and gentle she is - as a flower, needing strong hands to protect her from the cold winds. 

Speaking of digits, she really enjoys holding hands with you. Your hands, just like your whole person, are the precise opposites of her. They are big, rough, full of little scratches, scars and other wear-and-tear from your days of campaigns and fighting. They were and still are capable of feats of great strength and violence - she saw how tightly you grip the sword, just as she saw your enemies staggering under your blows. And yet, despite that, you are as gentle with her as can be when you stroke her hair or touch her cheek. 

With your body being as it is, you make for a very safe shelter for her. Nilou would like nothing else than to curl up in your strong, masculine arms, safely away from the threats and dangers of the world. Your body is also very good at heating her up on cold days with how big it is. A perfect pillow, a perfect ladder, a perfect vehicle, a perfect jar opener - she enjoys it thoroughly, and isn’t afraid to show her appreciation of you. 

Whenever you’re shirtless, expect Nilou to always show respect to your scars. They are marks of a warrior, a courageous man who endured wounds and stood tall through adversity. She’ll kiss them gently, and if you allow her, trace her fingers along them with featherlight touches. Nilou would love to learn their stories, but will understand when you don’t want to share them. She knows that these particular ones might have scarred more than your body. 

Nilou enjoys taking care of her big, strong man. She will cook for you whenever there’s a chance, even if you insist otherwise. 

Nilou: Here you go honey! Enjoy~ Y/N: This is wonderful… But you didn’t have to go all this way, you know? I have a pair of hands… Nilou: Hey, don’t mention it. It’s my obligation and my pleasure as your woman to keep you just as healthy and happy as you keep me, right? I think it's just fair, sweetie.

Nilou is very aware that her anxiety regarding leaving Sumeru City is a result of her sheltered life. She’s never really left it - the wilderness is teeming with bandits, Fatui and monsters who would all gladly have a piece of her if the opportunity came. She might have a Vision, but Nilou’s no warrior - she never practiced using it for combat, never had the need to fight, nor is she a very strong girl. With you by her side, however, she feels safe. She knows you’ll keep her way out of danger - she saw you fight, so trust isn’t the sole thing backing up her belief in your capabilities. Nilou truly enjoys walks out in the forest without a care in the world as well as picnics with you. Still, she insists on getting back before it gets dark, and if evening catches you by surprise, you’ll find her gripping your hand and sticking very close to you. 

Kindness speaks through your eyes, but they also betray years of experience and proficiency at fighting. This is the exact reason that Nilou’s manager decided that you’d make a perfect bodyguard for Nilou. Sure, Sumeru wasn’t really known for violent incidents, but you never know. The simple fact that you happen to be her husband is an added benefit as well. Nilou is more motivated, feels safer and is generally happier when you’re nearby. Besides, she only agrees to leave for Port Ormos if you accompany her, which by itself is a big step up from before when she was confined to Sumeru City. Still, other locations are for the future only for the time being.

Y/N: I’m sorry miss, but this is a staff only area. Woman: I am allowed to pass. Nilou: Is everything alright?  Y/N: Yes, Nilou. Turns back May I see proof of this then? Woman: I don’t need to show a grunt like you anything. Do you know who I am? Y/N: No and, frankly, I do not care. Please step back. Woman: I have my methods for types like you! Y/N: leans in And I have my methods of making you into a headstone or a vegetable. You may take your pick.

Due to the nature of your past job, some may see a killer in you, but Nilou doesn’t share their outlook. She might be young, optimistic and innocent by nature, but it doesn’t mean she’s oblivious to what war is. Your stories, as dark and upsetting as they are, only furthered her disdain towards conflict, but not towards you. 

Nilou knows that you cannot expect someone to act humane in an inhuman situation. She knows that the people and creatures you had killed were not killed for your own amusement, but because it was a simple choice between you and them. She does not hate you - she never will. You are just like the thousands of other young men, sent to the frontlines and made to kill monsters or their fellow man without much choice in the matter. 

She does appreciate that the war made you the man of today - a rugged, attractive beast of a fearless man - but she won't ever as much as think of suggesting that the war had a positive effect on you. Saying this wouldn't only be insensitive, but also, sadly, untrue. 

Your experiences left a permanent mark on you. They scarred both your body and your mind. She can see it in your eyes. You haven't fully left the battlefield, left the army, and it is plain to see. You have a set daily schedule, for example. You also keep a sword by your bedside and a dagger under your pillow. “Just in case” you promise, but she knows better than that. 

You have dreams about your past that might come and go, as you reassure her, but seeing you in distress breaks her heart. Nilou was always waking you up whenever a nightmare haunted you, calmly reassuring you that it's okay, that it's all a dream. She grounds you with gentle touches and soft words, expertly bringing you back to reality. At home, you dislike talking about the war, just as you dislike noise, especially metallic in nature. Nilou understands that, and makes sure to avoid rattling kitchen equipment and the like when she's preparing you food, for example. 

Speaking of cooking, and taking care of you in general, it doesn’t bother her at all, partly because of what you experienced. In the last, you have been forced out of your home and into a life of violence and approved murder where every day could be your last. But now you're home - with her. She is your wife, your home, your safe refuge. It's only natural for her to find fulfillment and pleasure in creating a loving retreat for you to rest your weary soul in. 

She is thrilled to help you and care for you, for just one, simple reason. She loves you. 

Thanks for reading!

[forever-rogue]

“just a few more stitches and you’ll be as good as new.” And “you look like you’ve got something to say” with Joel miller🤭 I just know you’ll do this one justice babes

AN | Thank you so much, my love 🥰I hope you enjoy!

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Description of leg injury

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d given people stitches countless times by now. The circumstances surrounding life as it was currently known had you learning how to do stitches from a young age, and by adulthood you were pretty much an expert. But - but - you’d never had any yourself. Surprising, right? Maybe you just weren’t as clumsy as everyone else…or you were just lucky. Either way, there had been no complaints on your part. 

Until now. Suddenly you weren’t feeling so brave as you sat there on edge of Joel Miller’s bathtub as he cleaned the wound on your thigh. Yeah…it had been an interesting series of events that had led to this moment, but here you were. And the cherry on top of it all was that you hadn’t even been doing anything dangerous or scary. All you had done was go on patrol with Joel and gotten snagged on a particularly sharp and jagged rogue tree branch. 

And from there your thigh had been slashed, through your jeans and all. And it hadn’t even hurt - the surprise and shock of the moment had gotten the better of you and the adrenaline kicked in. It was Joel’s reaction that caused you to realize that something had really happened. When you looked down you found a large gash in your jeans and blood flowing down your leg. 

A soft oh was all that escaped your lips before you felt the tears well up and start to run down your cheeks. The pain set in almost immediately and all you wanted to do was curl up and cry and make it go away. Luckily, Joel managed to make it over to you before it all became too much. He always managed to make you feel better and this was no exception. He was at your side and taking your face in his hands to look you over and reassure you that everything would be alright.

And that brought you to your current situation. Needless to say it wasn’t one that you had ever imagined yourself in. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“It’s going to sting a little bit, okay?” he asked softly as he grabbed a clean washcloth and the bottle of rubbing alcohol. You sighed but offered him a small nod as you braced yourself for the pain that you knew was coming. You heard his soft chuckle before he brushed a few rogue locks of hair out of your face, “let me know if it hurts too much.”

“I’ll be fine,” you wished your voice didn’t sound so small and scared but of course, you had to make a continual fool out of yourself in front of Joel. It was like the universe just wanted to push you into confessing your crush on him. But…yeah, that was not going to happen. 

"Alright," he popped open the bottle and poured it onto the cloth and you watched intently as he cleaned the area around the wound before moving onto the gash itself. Joel watched your face as he tried to gauge your pain level. It was a biting sting, no doubt due to how deep the cut was, but you tried to hide it as best as you could. You bit the inside of your cheek so hard you were surprised you didn't experience the coppery taste of blood in your mouth, "its alright, baby. I'm almost done."

You closed your eyes and nodded, but Joel was one step ahead of you, his hand already on your cheek in order to comfort you. He gently shushed you, and as if he possessed some kind of magic power, the pain seemed to dissipate slightly. 

"Is it over?" Your question came out more like a whimper than anything else. You peeked an eye open at him, and found him watching you with a gentle expression.

"Mhmm," he removed the rag and tossed it into the sink. You could feel him scrutinizing your leg; he'd had enough of his own injuries to know more or less what was going on, "can you do me a favor, sweetheart?"

"Of course."

"Take off your pants please," his eyes pinked as he could barely meet your face. You felt like you were burning up immediately and found it impossible to say anything, "I just…you need some stitches. This cut is pretty deep."

"Stitches?" You squeaked out as he grimaced with nodded in the affirmative. After exhaling deeply, you nodded, "yes, o-of course."

Joel took a step back and gave you some space, turning around in order to keep from losing his mind. If he was an honest man, and he was for the most part, he would admit that he'd thought of this moment so many times. Not the whole 'taking care of your injury' thing but the whole 'getting to see you undress' thing. In his mind it was usually a more romantic thing. But this…well. His main concern was getting you taken care of.

"Okay," your voice sounded so small as he turned around to find you sitting there in just your oversized t-shirt and pale pink lace underwear. At least you'd worn some cute panties, "w-will it be okay?"

"Yes," he promised as he tried to focus on the injury rather than the soft skin of your legs. The edges were red and angry, but he knew once everything stitched up and kept clean it would be alright, "you trust me enough to do this?"

"I think you're the only one I'd trust to do this," you confessed gently, causing Joel to hesitate for a moment. You could see the corners of his mouth quirk up, "will it hurt?"

"Yes," you could tell that he hated admitting that it would cause you any sort of pain, "it'll hurt a little bit. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you watched as he grabbed the clean needle and thread. Funny how a home patch job these days had become so normal. When he was ready his fingers danced around your soft skin, "go ahead. The sooner you do it, the sooner it's done."

"If it hurts too much let me know," you nodded and turned your head away. You hoped that by looking to the side you could convince your mind that nothing bad was happening. But as soon as you felt the prick and slide of the needle entered your skin, your body tensed up and a hiss escaped your lips. Joel made a small sound of reassurance, "I know, baby, I know."

You were holding the edge of the tub so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. Joel tried to make it as painless as possible but you were so on edge that you were sure you could feel every little movement, "does it always feel like that? Or am I just a huge baby?"

You hoped that humor would help and tried to focus on the fact that Joel - Joel! - was touching you. You heard him inhale and exhale sharply, a stunted laughter of sorts before he adopted a softer tone, "just a few more stitches and you'll be good as new. You're doing so well."

"I'm acting like a little bitch," you blinked back your tears, laughing ever so slightly, "you don't have to lie."

"I'm not lying," he promised as made a few more movements before stopping, "and now you're all done."

"All done?"

"Yup," He cut the thread and covered up the wound before you could take too close of a look and worry again, "and you took it like a champ."

"Thank you," the pout on your lips was so pathetic and cute at the same time that he was sorely tempted to kiss it away, "it'll be okay?"

"It'll be okay," he taped up the edges of the gauze before moving to stand back up, "I'll check on it again tomorrow."

"You don't have to-"

"It's not up for debate, sweetheart," he was busy washing his hands so he didn't see the ways your eyes widened in response. Your whole body felt like it was on fire.

He looked up in the mirror and caught your eye, offering you a half smile. You returned it the best you could before slowly trying to stand up to put your pants back on. Joel beat you to it, reaching for your hands and gingerly hoisting you to your feet. 

He handed you your pants holding out his arm to you in order to keep you balanced all while pointedly keeling his gaze shifted away.  

"Thank you," you pulled the zipper up and buttoned the jeans, trying to ignore the big hole where the bandage was now peaking out from. You were going to throw then away as soon as you got home, hoping the memory of the injury as well, "for everything."

"Nothing to thank me for," he insisted, "are you going to be okay going home?"

"Considering I live a few houses down I think I'll manage," you managed to tease him in response and that brought a grin to his face, "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow," he promised, "and if you need anything before then-"

"I won't hesitate to ask."

"Good girl."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the next afternoon you hadn't heard from Joel. You were ready to write it off as him being busy, but a small part of you was disappointed as well. Admittedly you did want to see him, even if it wasn't under the best of circumstances.

Just when you'd given up on him, you heard a knocking at your door before it slowly opened, "hello?"

"Joel?" You nearly tripped over your own feet as you almost ran down the stairs.

"Yeah," he made his way over to the bottom of the stairs, smiling lightly as you came down, "easy there, don't want to go and hurt yourself more."

"Sorry," you hopped off the bottom step and looked up at him, trying to keep your composure, "just, I- um. Hi."

"Hi," he took a step back and motioned for you to follow him to the kitchen. He'd been over to your house so many times by now and knew his way around but at the same there was something undeniably sexy about the way he took charge, "c'mon, let me take a look at you."

"Its fine," you promised softly, "really."

"Again, it wasn't a question," he pulled out the chair and you sat down without further hesitation or comment, "how are you feeling?"

"Fine," you promised, glad you wore shorts today and didn't have to pull down your pants in front of him again. He washed his hands before crouching down at your side and slowly removing the bandaging he had so gently applied. You must have made a small sound at the pressure because he stopped immediately and looked up at you with worry, "sorry, it's okay. Preemptively preparing for pain."

He chuckled in response as he finished removing the bandage and appraising his handiwork. You tried to watch his face for any sign that it wasn't okay but quickly got lost as you studied his features instead, "its looking good. It'll be sore for a few days but it'll be just fine."

“Promise?” the question slipped out before you could even really process it. It was more of an internal ponderance but when he gave your hand a squeeze, you relaxed. He looked at you, warm brown eyes staring into your eyes as thought he could see deep inside your soul. The look was so intense that you wanted you to look away,but couldn’t bring yourself to do it. 

“I swear it,” his voice was a raspy whisper that sent shivers running up and down your spine. You wondered if he could hear how fast your heart was beating or feel the way gooseflesh erupted all over your skin. Almost as if he could sense your thoughts, he reached up and touched your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “you look like you’ve got something to say.”

“I-I…” you paused for a moment, opening and closing your mouth a few times, in search of the right words, “umm, I don’t know if you want me to hear it.”

“I’d love to hear anything you ever have to say,” and you knew that he meant it. Joel Miller would never lie to you. Your eyes darted to his lips and you couldn’t help the way your mouth ran dry. You’d always been attracted to him - it wasn’t just the fact that he was incredibly handsome, it was also that he was so kind and caring (even if he never admitted it), and smart, and giving. He had a lot of admirable qualities even if he didn’t believe that or acknowledge it. You’d gladly remind him of that every day if you had, “I was just…I was thinking about how handsome you are. And that I’d really like to kiss you.”

“You sure about that?” his cheeks flushed slightly as you nodded gently, “that’s funny because I was just thinking the same thing.”

“You were thinking about how handsome you are?” you joked causing him to snort as he sighed at you with nothing short of affection.

“Very funny,” in a gentle movement, he took your face gently in his hands and made sure you were looking at him. Your own gaze in response was wide-eyed and innocent at the sudden gesture, “let me ask you again, are you sure about that?”

“Uh huh,” you choke dout but you knew he wasn’t going to take that as an actual answer, “y-yes, I’m sure.”

“May I?” you nodded, instantly knowing where his mind was going. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, something so soft and gentle that it was almost nothing more than a ghost of a kiss. And yet - it felt so utterly perfect. 

When he pulled back, looking at you curiously to make sure he hadn’t accidentally crossed any boundaries. When he realized you were beaming at him, he relaxed and leaned in to kiss you again, this time with more urgency and fervor. 

The two of you only broke apart when you needed a breath of air and Joel pressed gentle kisses to your forehead and cheeks before stopping at your lips. 

“Are you still sure?” if you didn’t know any better you would almost think that he sounded nervous. 

“Positive,” your reassurance allowed him to relax, “in fact, I’m so sure that you could do that anytime you want.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mhmm,” you put your hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze, “but seriously, thank you Joel. For taking care of me.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” and yeah. You knew that was true, and you loved that, among so many other things about him.

“I’d do anything for you too, Joel,” he smiled bashfully in response and you might have fallen a little more for him.

“I know,” this time it was your turn to kiss him. 

And kiss you did, until it was the only thing that either of you thought about. 

Maybe the leg injury wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

[mishy-mashy]

Bruce is actually really attractive, and I have enough reasoning to make a list

He's:

Tall (. Tall enough to hit his head on the vault doorframe)

Long-legged

Has a straight nose bridge

Has high cheekbones (more noticeable in 2nd pic below)

Has a strong jawline

Sharp eyes, but they aren't small (plus eyebags if you're into that)

Overall, he has strong, attractive facial features

Has broad, refined shoulders. You can tell he works out (or he did, when he was alive)

Even has a thick, muscly neck

He has MUSCLE. Is SCULPTED. NOICE. VERY NOICE. (nice arms. Nice shoulders. Nice neck. Nice legs. Nice butt-)

(There are actually panels where you can see some of his muscles. Other than those already shown here, he's got bricky thighs-

-and in the panels where we first get his name dropped, he's got those shoulder blades too-)

The one time we see him smile, and he actually has a scary one

Has small, kinda sharp pupils, and his eyes remind me of a cat. We only ever saw him tense or defensive, so his resting/listening face is really cute

Other than the physical appearance stuff, he also:

Takes shit without batting an eye (patience, knowing it's just how Kudo is, etc)

Kudo being all "Cut the crap Bruce and give it to me straight", after Bruce tests his blood and is rightfully Concerned because they just faced AFO

Put up with Kudo's experimenting and testing over Yoichi's transferable Factor

Did ya'll see the look on Kudo's face when he realized he had Yoichi's Factor/will? Kudo was going to start in nonsense and Bruce just dealt with that.

Also something I noticed when looking back at the images here; Bruce has bandages on his arms in the void. But not when he faced AFO in the sewers.

Were he and Kudo cutting their arms open in their experimenting over Yoichi's theory? Is this why Kudo has two gauntlets instead of his one? Why we never see his bare arms in the void? That he always keeps his arms down so there's no slip?

Is smart enough to run blood tests, plus has enough common sense to pick Shinomori as his successor

He picked a guy who avoids society, has an Ability to detect danger so he can always stay away from AFO, is also a coward so he's never going to go throw himself into danger, even without knowing instinctively he stands no chance, etc.

Meanwhile, Kudo chose Bruce, who he played Hot Potato Yoichi with; but he did also trust Bruce, and put the only pure combative Ability in OFA through Bruce.

These two made their choices based on what they valued and saw the Factor needed.

Is logical, analytical, and calm.

He tried advising Midoriya on their Abilities in One For All, especially his own.

Midoriya then tried ignoring him about using Fa Jin for the first time, but found he was right, thinking: "Dammit!! I had [Lady Nagant] right where I wanted her, but... ugh! The Third was right. My parallel Quirk processes are all screwed up!" (ch. 314).

Plus, when Midoriya fixed his processing mistakes, Bruce was analyzing the way he reached his new conclusion. Pure facts, no bias, very calm, just saying it as it was.

We never see him panic. When he's caught by surprise in the sewers by AFO, Kudo, and Yoichi's little bubble event, he immediately reacts. He doesn't falter, he just knows he has to do something right now.

Was more willing to listen than Kudo to Yoichi's beckon, and probably was just following Kudo's rejection of Midoriya

While we don't see Kudo's face, we see Bruce's eyes when Yoichi calls on his heroes. Bruce was more open and receptive, or at least more impacted.

Bruce was also the one to start talking, while Kudo just kept quiet.

He actually communicates a lot

When Yoichi called them to support Midoriya, Bruce started talking to paint a picture of why they thought the way they did, so Yoichi understood where they were coming from.

(Though he seems to beat about the bush sometimes, since Kudo spoke up to be direct on how they couldn't just put their trust in some starry-eyed teenager. Plus, when Kudo tells him to just tell him what's wrong [double Factors])

When Midoriya first used Fa Jin against Nagant, Bruce came out just to tell him he knew what he was trying, but that Midoriya wasn't ready; and Midoriya found he was right. Midoriya just didn't want to listen to him then.

He asks Kudo for clarification after finding Kudo had two Factors in him after the sewer incident ("Just to be sure, All For One didn't touch you, right?") Kudo knew him well enough to go "stop beating around the bush and tell me", so Bruce was probably gonna start with questions, theories, and trying to understand everything in general, before saying "yeah you have two Factors. Don't know why".

Is strong-willed and loyal.

He followed Kudo, even to death, carrying on the cause he started until it ended with him.

Plus, when talking about how AFO needs a strong will to override OFA's own, we first see Bruce, Kudo, and Yoichi.

AFO couldn't steal OFA because the will was too strong for him, and that was back during Banjo's time. Since Shinomori never actually tried opposing AFO and just hid, we can assume the first Three (Yoichi, Kudo, Bruce) already had an accumulation of strong willpower that made OFA un-stealable. Those three are a strong enough foundation, and the main wills, that the other users just become bonuses.

Kudo, also saying that Midoriya needs allies with the same will and drive as him... hey Kudo, you're talking about yourself and your old allies, aren't you? That's why you look at Yoichi and Bruce when you say this.

Not only is Bruce attractive, but he's got good character. THE END.

[venuscrashed]

demon brothers x gn!ghosthunter!reader

i just started the game so please don’t come at me/ let me know if you guys want more of this au

warnings: based off phasmophobia, no pronouns used

Word count: about 600 in total

More Headcannons

Okay, now imagine the demon brothers with a ghost hunter reader. Who also happens to hunt demons, like in phasmophobia. They wouldn’t know your job at first but once you tell them you can only imagine their reactions.

Lucifer: He would obviously know your job from the start. Although, he was still a bit hesitant to accept you. He was cautious around you, always keeping a close eye on you. Whenever you would grab something he would stiffen but it wasn’t obvious. Later on he would be fine, even joke about it. “MC, is there any chance that you can do your ghost hunting thing on my brothers.” “If you don’t calm down I’ll have MC start an exorcism.” 

Mammon: Was literally like whaaat? Thinks it’s really cool, honestly. “Yeah! That's my human kicking ghost's butt.” Would somehow turn it into a money scheme. He would also cling onto you in haunted houses and such. “The Great Mammon ain’t scared. He’s protecting you because you’re not used to ghosts anymore.” Would totally tag along if you were to do some ghost haunting in Diavolo’s castle. “MC how do you use the glow stick?” “AHHHGHGHH it talked to me!” “Mammon it's a spirit box, it’s supposed to do that.”

Levi: If you stream it he would totally watch it. Would see you when you arrive and be like “OMD you’re that streamer that does ghost hunting!” Instantly becomes your number one fan. Would think you’re really brave considering he can’t talk to regular people. He hides and blushes whenever he sees you be brave…or see you in general. Plays phasmophobia with you, and is really good. He would be an expert at ghost chases and looping. One second into the house “It’s a Yurei. Let’s gag and go.” Becomes more of a professional then you.

Satan: When he first met you he felt some sort of nostalgia, like you two have crossed paths before. It isn’t until he sees your scar or necklace that his cult wears. It’s inevitable that you would come across satanic worshippers and be sacrificed, or be one. Asks you questions and even gives you tips. Gives you full permission to summon him if his cult members mess with you again. Would tag along on your ghost hunters and probably remember all of their traits. “It’s an Oni. The airball event tells me enough.”

Asmo: Again if you stream he would totally watch. Would totally brag about your guys' friendships. Would even post a pic of you two and caption it “Demon x Demon hunter: the best couple” if you two were dating. Would only tag along to act scared and hide behind you just so you can protect him and be brave. “Oh~ MC. It’s scary in here, the ghost keeps scaring me.” “Asmo you're literally a demon.”

Beel: Is like “oh.” He understands why you hunt ghosts but doesn’t really see the point. Would be like “I can protect you.” Would totally watch your streams while he eats, especially if they’re hours long. If he tags along he stays close to you so he can protect you. Would totally be the man in the van. He’s sitting there eating while watching the camera for dots. I feel like he would be good at motion sensors and para mic. Has good intuition to, “It’s the twins.” “Beel we haven't even been here for a minute.” “It reminds me of Belphie and me.”

Belphie: Would hate you more than he originally did. “Did Lucifer choose you to spite me?” Would complain about you for so long “But they’re dangerous.” Once he warms up to you he’ll joke about it. “Can you get rid of Lucifer with your demon experience.” IF he tagged along he would sleep in the van next to Beel. Maybe I would bring you the supplies but nothing past that. Don’t tell him you know but he plays your stream in the background to sleep. If he stays awake he is fully immersed into it and even laughs when you get scared.

[gremlingottoosilly]

[If you need to be mean] chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Konig has a bit of personal time while thinking about you during a mission. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

Fun fact – the sound of blood splattering on the ground is very similar to the sound of hand lotion being squeezed on his hand as he desperately palms his dick at the thought of your legs and the curve of your ass perking from that short skirt of yours. 

Even more fun fact – the way his hands are snapping the enemy's necks are very similar to how roughly he squeezes his cock every time the mere thought of your glossy lips wrapped around that damn pen or twisted in a shy smile appears in his mind. 

Not so fun fact – he is still in the middle of the battlefield, with a huge boner. 

— Sector 3 cleared, sir. 

— Affirm, taking the position on the balcony. Hutch, the breach. 

— On it, sir. Getting company out ‘ere. 

— Horangi, get on Hutch’s sector and help him. 

— Thought I had my break, sir. 

— Scheisse, get on with it!

— Affirm, sir. 

Hutch is in the service of breaking windows – König just hopes that no civilian living in that building would be even more mad at them for doing it than they were before. They aren’t doing much, of course, just saving their lives – but he knows better than anyone how harmful for the reputation it might be. Horangi would help with the extraction of enemy soldiers, and newer recruits would finally have a chance of proving themselves without being a total crapsacks of uselessness. 

They all have their duties and König feels weird for not doing anything particularly important. He kills enemies, of course, he already lost count at how many soldiers he killed once they entered the building with possible threats that are spreaded among the multiple rooms. He gives orders and it’s such a weird motion – he was in charge before, of course. He didn’t get the colonel rank right off the bat, but for the first time in at least 20 years of his service, he feels…bored. Dangerously bored, that kind of bored that makes people do crazy and dangerous stuff just to feel something. 

He might just clear a whole section by himself – he has done it before, he got his first few ranks for being able to kill dozens of enemies while not getting major injuries himself. He almost forgot the rush of bloodlust that a good fight brought him – and he is almost bored enough to not even care whether he would survive this fight or not. Adrenaline is pumping in his head, that urging desire to do something fun is breaking all the doctrines and rules that he obliged when climbing up the hierarchy. 

It’s not really fun, to make your soldiers kill people for you – he would love to do it himself, of course, feel their pulses slowly dying up under his grasp. It’s not really fun, being forced to do everything by the rules, checking if there really are no civilians in these locations, to ask anyone who is not shooting at him immediately, if they want to yield before killing them anyway because they decided to attack him with some secretly holstered weapon. 

He can break his own orders and just eliminate the whole cell by himself – he has done it before already, when he had nothing to lose but his 3 months of experience in the army and some cash that he got from parents when they were still talking to him. It would be fun, really, it might make life worth living again, even for just a second. He picks up his gun in a more productive, dangerous manner, almost falling to the desire to fight hand-to-hand, to see life slowly dying out in their eyes. He can…

There aren’t a lot of things that can really distract him from his bloodlust. The desire to kill, destroy, to do everything in his power to make someone else suffer, pay for the sins of his traumas without knowing shit about it. He never snapped out of it on someone else’s accord before, it was always because he got tired or adrenaline rush washed off from his system. Nothing is able to really calm him down, even the fancy toys his therapist is trying to provide to him as some dumb rituals – breathe, count to ten, please don’t kill everyone in this room because they looked at you funny, all of these useless things. 

There isn't a lot of stuff that comes to mind when he is in battle – except for the desire to kill. But then he thinks of you again, the way you are definitely going to be tight around his cock, probably bulging with outlines of his shaft ravaging your smaller body, how sweet your moans can be while you are screaming his name and making everyone on base know that no, their commander isn’t some sexless and faceless monstrous creature that can never experience human emotions. He thinks of how perfect you would look like under him, begging him to let you cum – and suddenly, even when another enemy is charging at him, feeble attempt to take him by surprise, he isn’t really thinking about how sweet the sound of bullets going through his flesh is. 

Jerking off in the middle of the battlefield isn’t the craziest thing he had done, but he would rather think about your ass in a more comfortable environment. 

— Pick your guts off the floor. 

It’s funny, how the enemy soldier is clenching on his wounds before inevitably falling down. He wants to take some trophy off his body, he seems like an officer of some sorts – and König would gladly bring you a gift. Maybe a finger or an ear – barbaric, of course, but he wants you to understand all parts of his life, not just some lush gifts he can and will also bring you. A perfect girl of his dreams – you and your adorable little smile every time he does something that he almost considered too creepy – would love him for coming home with blood of his enemies on his hands. 

Love of his life – you and that nice pair of legs you have, that would look just perfect on his shoulders as he bullies his whole length inside your body – would adore him for each kill he has, for each life of his enemies that he took. He wants to imagine your face if you knew how dangerous he is – would you be scared? He would calm you down immediately, he would try to be gentle, but you have to know how strong he is, this is the point! 

Love of his life – you and that pretty mouth of yours that he stares all of the time, wondering how cute you would be with lips wrapped around his cock, throat gagging at his shaft – would appreciate him for his job, no matter how many lives he took. You would understand that in order for you not to have to work, he needs to be as strong and capable as possible – he has enough savings and enough paychecks to keep you afloat, making you his adorable little housewife. With kids running around, possibly – he never thought about children before, never had the right time and a right person but with you and your caring nature, creating a little family would be just perfect. 

— Holy shit, sir. Permission to enter? 

Horangi looks at the room in front of him – bodies of enemies laying around, some with knife stabs, some with nothing more than one deliberate bullet. He knows his colonel’s work, he was working with König from his first deployment in KorTac, but this…he would never get used to the way his commander can just throw people around like sacks of apples without a care in the world. He smiles under his mask, appreciating how they won’t have to clean up after. Perks of being a merc, not a member of the actual army. 

— Granted. Don’t slip on blood, sergeant. 

König smiles under his mask and wipes some of the blood that splattered on his hood. Shit, he would have to wash it later – he has spare ones, of course, some of the old ratty shirts he has from that weird rock phase he has at the start of his deployment with mercenaries. His thoughts trails to your body and how adorable you would look in his clothes – you are so much smaller than him, and he is simply too damn big to anyone, so no matter your body type, you would look like an angel in his T-shirt. 

Fuck. 

The thought of simply jerking off in the middle of the battlefield to get off with some tension from thinking about you in his clothes trails on his mind. No one would notice, probably, they are already running faster than scheduled for this mission – and judging by the way he just murdered a whole rooms worth of terrorists while dreaming of your body stretched on his cock, he still has a bit of time for himself. What was this weird shit about taking care of yourself that his therapist suggested? Flower masks? Drinking blood of his enemies? Sipping cheap alcohol while calling it self-care because he can always find a really nice snack in between those perfect legs of yours? 

— Are you alright, sir? Can’t believe you did it by yourself. 

Horangi takes a note of the bulge growing in his commander’s pants and hell no, he isn't going to be a part of this. He appreciates everything that König is doing, he is a great soldier, a father to his men, even though he is barely older than some of them, he isn’t that type of monster that would lead troops to certain death – but Hong-jin won’t take a part of whatever deranged kink he has. He might appreciate it from afar, he might send his condolences to the poor girl that caught his attention – but he doesn’t want to be here when the deranged monster of his commander would want some warm body to bury his dick in. 

Maybe he should get that girl’s number and call her immediately. 

Maybe he should do what a good sergeant is supposed to, and call a graveyard service right away. And some plan B in case the girl would survive. 

— Not broken. What is the situation in other sectors? 

— All good. Hutch broke a computer, sending the data to base now. 

— Think we got the lead? 

— Who knows, sir. They are sneaky bastards. 

Honestly, König wouldn’t be so sad about having to stop in this country for a bit longer. He just needs some more time to court you, to find you a right ring – he knows that he can’t propose right away, mother raised a gentleman who doesn’t want to hurt his bride by forcing her too much. He would possibly need another month, with how rare your encounters are. Fuck, he wants to be with you, find time to at least visit your house at night when you are probably asleep, not even thinking about a silent force protecting you from not just terrorist scum, but anyone who can hurt you. 

You would love something shiny, he knows it – maybe a big diamond in the middle, probably platinum as a metal of choice. He hates how cheap gold looks sometimes, he hates how flashy that is – but he would buy you anything your heart could possibly want. Maybe a necklace, something to remember him buying – you would look adorable with bruises from his grip on your neck, and some delicate charm in the softness of your collarbones. 

Thinking about you on the battlefield only makes his life tighter and his dick harder – he doesn’t want to be indecent in front of his soldiers, so he dismisses Horangi and calls on the comms to finish the mission. 

*** He has enough self-control to not jerk off at the thought of your body in the middle of the mission. 

However, he doesn’t have enough self-control not to jerk off at the thought of your body, glossing in the water next to him as he fantasizes about you two sharing a shower. Not on the base, obviously, even without dozens of naked bodies of his men around him – he technically has a separate shower room, but something about people staring at each other’s naked butts makes their bond stronger, and he tries to be close with his men, so they would stop being so fucking scared of their commander. Even though some recruit already started to prepare funerals for whatever poor girl their colonel has an eye on – mostly because no woman should be subjected to the sheer torture of having sex with…that. 

He enters showers the last, hoping that no one would stare at him this time – having a boner after the mission is normal, adrenaline kicking in, the urge to reproduce making soldiers into a horny bastards, but he still doesn’t want anyone to stare too closely. 

He palms himself at the thought of you with him, helping each other shower – he will buy you some expensive body lotion, stuff that all the girls are obsessed with, as he thinks. He would never tell anyone how much he also likes bath products that smell sweet, like roses or candies – that he visited that extremely bright body shop too many times per months, buying all of this expensive bath bombs to just stare at them and remember that yeah, even the colonel’s apartment on base doesn’t have bathtub and he can’t really use it. 

He thinks about buying a house with a large bathroom – so you can take baths together and indulge in shower sex way more often than a man in his years should. He would love to take you to the mall or something like this, to hold the stuff you bought while you would later for it on your knees in front of him. He would…

König knows that he is big – that he would probably destroy your pussy the first time you two would have sex. You would squirm under him, begging him to take it out – he won’t, of course, you need to learn how to take his cock properly, how to please your future husband as a good girl you are. He will try to be gentle, but the self-control he has is slipping very thin lately – he can’t even sustain the modest thoughts about you in battle, when he is supposed to be worried about saving his life. 

He spread the lotion on his dick – nothing flowery, the fragrance isn’t even distantly sweet, he doesn’t want his soldiers to think of him weirdly for not having a typical manly shower product, of course, he has a bloodthirsty reputation to uphold. He palms his dick with zero gentleness, knowing already that softness isn’t going to cut it out for him right now. He wants to know how you will do it – will you be soft with him, scared of making him feel pain from your actions? Or will you try to be faster, make him beg for release only to tease him more and more, completely subverting the power dynamic you have? He would be alright with everything, as long as it's your hands on his body, as long as you are giving him your full attention. 

He tries to be quiet, not to moan your name – adorable fucking name, how could someone so goddamn perfect even exist on this earth, let alone actually be in his presence. He doesn’t just have a chance with you – he will take you no matter what, knowing exactly what your little smiles and silly giggles left. You might not be as obsessed with him as he is, but he will make you, eventually. He touches himself with roughness, not allowing even an inch of gentleness as he palms his dick, teasing his tip and imagining your hand instead of his. 

He is completely normal and totally not a creep while imagining a woman that is probably twice younger than him. He can be a little bit weird, of course, but you were giving him nothing but the right signals – he already got used to rejection in the past, but something in that adorable look in your eyes told him that you wouldn’t be like his past crushes. He would be embarrassed at liking you so badly, but what can he do if you are just so damn adorable? 

He cums in his hand and thanks god that water is quick enough to wash away the evidence of his shame – he doesn’t want to jerk off anymore, he wants to be with you, as close as possible. You were already seeing each other for more than a week, and if you count your meetings as dates, you would be at third already – and like a good girl you are, you now can have sex with him without looking like a slut. He would wait for you, of course, but every day spent without hearing your voice is making him go crazy. And, well, this isn’t very good for his job performance – as a good soldier and amazing leader, he is obliged to have an obedient little thing on his lap, as a way of making him relaxed. He wonders if there is some government program for that case. *** You think about this guy – König, colonel, fighter with terrorists and a supposed hero in rusty, camo armor. He is so much older than you – you saw the news about him, not really talking about the age, of course, but you did the math already. He can’t be any younger than late thirties, and the thought of having such an older man pinning over you is…scary. And a little bit delightful. Not like you need to have someone as dangerous as him with you right now, you have too much troubles already while living in a terrorist infested country and working at a shitty low wage job without any protection, dating a guy who probably has a girlfriend in each country he got deployed in isn’t something you need. 

You know how military men are like – a bunch of teenagers in adult suits, they are being spoon fed with propaganda about the glory of their arms and have absolutely zero respect for women and the general population. Guy probably already has a wife! She sits somewhere in secret, maybe raising some adorable Austrian kids, all while her husband is doing very unfaithful stuff with other ladies overseas. 

You don’t even like him – you never saw his face and while yes, he is kinda mysterious and it makes you want to do things with him, you are also value your safety and desire not to get used by some rich military asshole who is…actually very shy and can’t even look you in the eyes while giving you money and whispering a bit dirty things in your ears. 

However, you have a really important thing tonight – a really nice guy from the cafe you work at, the waiter from the second shift, asked you out! Not on a date, as he said, but you wouldn’t be against going out to drink with him and possibly taking your relationships a bit further. Dating your coworkers might be the only possibly fun thing you can do at such a devastatingly shitty job as yours, and you are going to turn that into the situationships of a lifetime. 

You are too excited to be out with someone your age to even look around you. 

König, just spending his free time after a successful infiltration op that lasted 3 days – without you, terrible, terrible situations – wasn’t as unaware of your presence. And he already crossed the reasons why he should even let you work at this cafe at this point. 

Maybe, the owner deserves a little visit. Right after the guy you went out with, of course. No one knows who can be a possible criminal, right?  (Comments & asks are appreciated!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ TAG LIST @shigbby @honeeybeezzz @herefornanami-s-cake @pendalikespasta @lucylou302 @yxllowtxpe @sunbathed-sweetgrass @sarah-ardini @teenagegever2k22 @lastwordsofadyingstar @lavenderskye29 @karrotsforyou @inlovewithcodmen @onegami @keithehe @lilahbunny @ameneminimo @beepyboopbop @ms-munchkin @dinonacho @undeadgod

[doberbutts]

Freshly new pet parent looking for guidance: any trade secrets on navigating vet costs? nothing too scary has come up yet w/ my sweet 4 month old kitty. But I figured if there’s some illuminati cheat code to saving some money it wouldn’t hurt to ask someone who knows more than me. Future 800$ spay is going to take a big dent out of my wallet for sure.

Cheat code one: either get pet insurance asap or start putting away money into a savings account that you will not touch ever outside of a pet emergency, whatever money you'd be spending on pet insurance. So if you'd be spending 60 bucks a month on pet insurance, you should be putting 60 bucks a month into that savings account instead if you don't want to or don't have access to pet insurance. When an emergency hits, you'll thank yourself.

Cheat code two: it is going to be very tempting to not keep the cone on her after a spay or really any procedure. Don't take it off. "Aww but she looks uncomfortable" this is the devil talking. Do you understand me? If you don't want to pay for emergency vet bills because she pulled out all of her stitches in 5 seconds flat and now has a portion of her insides sticking out of the incision KEEP THE CONE ON HER

Cheat code three: the safest and happiest kitties are inside cats. Do not let her roam outside. If you want her to experience the outdoors, teach her how to walk on a leash or install kitty fencing or a kitty condo outside so she can be out there safely. Outdoor cats have higher vet bills because outdoor cats get hit by cars, tormented by sick cruel people, poisoned, attacked by other animals, heat stroke, and stuck in machinery. Do you want to rabies quarantine your cat or risk having her head chopped off because she came home with mystery wounds? Don't let her roam outside then.

Cheat code four: *most* indoor cats are fine getting their core vaccines, sterilized, and then brought in only for their yearlies unless they otherwise get sick. Cat-proofing the dangerous aspects of your home, like not keeping lilies or avoiding tinsel decorations, and feeding a good quality food with plenty of fresh water (most cats prefer moving water- consider a fountain! They can be found for relatively low cost!) and lots of safe toys for mental and physical stimulation will keep the majority of your potential vet costs down. Obviously there are things that can happen that are out of our control, like @pangur-and-grim's Belphie, but these things are thankfully not super common.

Good luck with your new baby!

[trans-axolotl]

I think the reason psychosis is always viewed as a crisis by non-schizo effected people is cause neurotypical people are always told and believe that an episode of psychosis is the most terrifying thing that could happen. Like at least from my experience, descriptions, talks, and depictions of psychosis is AS something that's deathly scary to not know (and assumably never again know) what's real and what isn't, some depictions showing any episodes as worse than death. Like obviously that's not true but it stays with people; the telling of "it's the worst thing that could ever happen everytime" and definitely made the first few times I dealt with psychosis and hallucinations a lot worse and a lot scarier

yeah! so much of the messaging around psychosis and schizophrenia is so fucking dangerous because of the way it continually reinforces these ideas that psychosis is always terrifying, life-ending, and the worst case scenario. like that can have materially dangerous impacts on the lives of people living with psychosis/altered states. i think that kind of stigmatizing messaging about psychosis really demobilizes people in our communities and convinces people that they don't have the capability to support their loved ones with psychosis, and instead creates this idea that "professionals" are the only ones who could ever actually support someone through psychosis. and that leads to so much more forced institutionalization, pathologization, violence towards people experiencing psychosis, and just really a lack of the kind of proactive community support that could actually help prevent some kinds of crisis and distress.

i think it also makes it really hard for us, when we start experiencing psychosis/altered states for the first time, because there's really no framework for us to understand and cope with our experiences beyond just "this is the worst thing ever and there's no options for me." i think it creates a lot of forced shame and secrecy, as well as pushing a lot of us into more intense crisis because we have nowhere to go to get support. and like, when you google this half the shit that comes up tells you to call 911 immediately, and when you're someone who can't do that because it's dangerous for you, you're just left with no fucking options or getting pushed into treatment options that don't respect your autonomy.

i wish there was a lot more recognition that psychosis/altered states are something that can happen to anyone, and actually do happen to a lot more people to varying degrees and in different contexts. that psychosis is something that it is possible to live fulfilling and meaningful lives with. that you don't need to be an expert to support someone living with psychosis/altered states. and that there is so many ways of living with psychosis, and that antipsychotics and therapy are not the only options, and should never be a forced option. i also have so many thoughts about how desperately we need informed consent for antipsychotic medications and how fucking mad i am about the amount of information that is withheld from psychotic people about the side effects of our meds, the withdrawal experience, dosages, other options, etc etc etc.

anyway i just really recommend that everyone, whether you're someone who experiences psychosis/altered states or not, learns more about psychosis and do the work to challenge all these internalized myths we learn from society and the psych system. i highly recommend checking out the hearing voices network, and also really recommend Project LETS anticarceral altered states training to learn more ways to help support yourself and your loved ones.

thanks for this ask, i really agree with what you're saying!

[autumnscribbles]

lost | c.b

summary: you convince colby to finally let you join an adventure, but what was supposed to be a fun night takes a wrong turn.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none really? 

a/n: my first colby imagine!!! i absolutely loved writing this and getting back into the fandom so i hope y’all like it! feel free to send more requests :) it ended up being pretty long and probably not my best work but it was so fun anyway!! hope you enjoy lemme know! 

                                                           ~

“Pleeeeease can I come babe?” you begged, pouting as you stood in front of Colby as he was packing his camping equipment.

“Y/n I really don’t want anything to happen to you,” he sighed. “It could be dangerous.”

“I’ll be fine!” you reassured him. “I’ve gone camping lots of times, plus I’ll be with the pros.”

“Yeah man, let her come!” Sam piped up from behind you. You turned around and grinned at him, knowing that he would be on your side.

“Fine,” Colby sighed, planting a kiss on the tip of your nose. “Only because I can’t say no to that face.”

-

You felt a mix of nervousness and excitement as Colby pulled over the car, ready to go set up your camp site. It was also your first time in a Sam and Colby video, and you were excited to have this new experience documented so well.

You guys all began pulling the camping equipment out of the trunk. Thankfully, it was still light outside so you weren’t feeling too spooked yet. You had never had a paranormal encounter yourself but after being with Colby for so long, you couldn’t quite say you didn’t believe in it. You felt yourself feeling jumpy at every small sound, and the boys found it quite amusing.

“Guys, as you can see, Y/n is not used to being in haunted forests,” Sam laughed, pointing the camera at you. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you laughed. “Once I get into the swing of things I’m gonna be tougher than all of you.”

The boys laughed as you began to walk down the narrow path to try and find a good place to set up camp. The boys pointed out a nice area and you all began setting up the tents. You had to admit, you weren’t the best at it, so the boys did most of the work. Once they had set the tents up, you crawled into yours and placed down the sleeping bags, pillows, and backpacks you brought.

“Are you sure you don’t want to all sleep in the same tent, Sam?” you asked.

“Depends how scared I get,” he chuckled. “But if you hear me crawling into your tent in the middle of the night, you’ll know why.”

Once you had set up camp, you guys decided to explore the forest a little. It was starting to get dark, and you felt the eeriness hovering around you. You jumped slightly as you heard a low, growling noise.

“Did you hear that?” you asked, eyes widening.

“Yeah,” Colby chuckled nervously. “Was that an animal or a person?”

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you laughed. “Let’s keep going, didn’t you guys say there’s a cabin in these woods somewhere?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure where it is relative to where we’re standing now though,” Sam replied, looking around as if that would give him a clue.

You walked around the forest for a while, but decided you’d save searching for the cabin another day since you currently didn’t know where it was and it was getting dark. Eventually, you made your way back to the tents and decided to take it easy the rest of the night.

You lay in the tent, Colby’s arm wrapped around you, your hood pulled up over your head to keep warm.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Not too scared?”

“I’m fine,” you smiled. “It hasn’t been too scary yet minus a few weird noises we’ve heard while walking around.”

“We’ll keep you safe,” he smiled, pressing his lips to yours gently. “Try to get some sleep, we have a big day tomorrow.”

You nodded as you curled into him, trying to warm up. The nights felt very cold in the tent, but luckily for you Colby was a great heater when you were cold. You tried not to focus too hard on every little sound around you, and eventually dozed off.

You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing. You jumped slightly, rummaging for it beside you. By the time you found it, the ringing stopped. It was probably nothing. As you tried to go back to sleep, you felt like you needed to pee. You sighed, pulling your shoes on to leave the tent. You felt nervous, and debated waking Colby up, but decided against it. You weren’t going to go far, and it would only take a minute.

You unzipped the tent quietly, walking off just past the tents to go to the bathroom, when you heard a sound beside you. You looked over, not seeing anything in the pitch black. You heard a whisper, and approaching sounds of leaves and branches cracking. You tried to call for Colby, but your voice was only a whisper. When you felt something graze your arm, you took off running. You didn’t have time to scream, or call for Colby or Sam, your instincts told you to just run as fast as you possibly can.

You were out of breath and finally slowed down, but now you had absolutely no idea where you were. Your adrenaline was so high, that you didn’t even take a mental note of how to get back to the camp site. You pulled out your phone, turning the flashlight on to hopefully find the main path again. You felt terrified. You jumped at every small noise, scared that whatever touched you would come back. You started to wonder if there was anything at all, or if your fear made things up. You felt a tear slide down your cheek, feeling stupid. Why didn’t you just wake up Colby? Why didn’t you scream instead of taking off? What if you never got back?

You tried screaming their names, but you had no idea how far you were. If they could even hear you, especially if they were asleep. Your phone didn’t have service now, despite the strange phone call from earlier. You wanted to be strong, so you started walking, hoping to god you weren’t going even further from the boys.

-

Colby jolted awake, unsure what it was that stirred him from his surprisingly peaceful sleep. When he reached over to cuddle you, he was met with nothing but your empty sleeping bag.

“Y/n?” he whispered.

He put on his shoes and got out of the sleeping bag, hoping he’d find you nearby. When he didn’t see you, his heart began racing, his breathing quickening.

“Sam?” he called, running over to his tent and beginning to unzip it.

“What’s going on?” Sam mumbled, still half asleep.

“Y/n’s gone,” Colby said, the back of his throat stinging with the sobs threatening to escape him.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Same asked, suddenly completely awake and alert, grabbing his flashlight and turning it on.

“I-I don’t know. I woke up and she wasn’t beside me and she’s gone,” Colby rambled. “We need to find her.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sam whispered. “We’ll find her. Let’s get some of your stuff and we’ll try to follow the path.”

They began screaming your name as loud as they could, hoping you could hear them and weren’t too far. They didn’t care about anything haunted anymore, all they cared about was finding you.

“Dude what if we don’t find her?” Colby asked, beginning to panic. “I can’t let anything happen to her.”

“We’re going to find her,” Sam said confidently. “We just need to keep looking, she couldn’t have gone too far I don’t think.”

-

Your pace began slowing, the exhaustion taking over you. You hadn’t made any progress from the looks of it. You were starting to give up. You were dehydrated, cold, and pure exhausted.

You fell to your knees, putting your head in your hands as you sobbed.

“Colby!!!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. “Please!”

Your wails turned silent, utter defeat consuming your body. There was no way you could find your way back in the dark like this. Your extreme and utter panic had faded. Your adrenaline had depleted, and you felt your eyes fluttering shut as you rested your head on the cold, damp, floor.

-

“Colby!!!” a faint scream said in the distance.

“That was her!” Colby screamed. “Y/n!!!! I’m coming!!!”

The boys began running towards where they heard the sound. It was faint, but they heard it. They must have been somewhat going in the right direction.

They continued calling your name, Colby wiping tears from his face as he continued to move forward. He couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t. Not until he knew you were safe.

After what felt like hours of walking, Sam came to a halt. 

“Colby...” he whispered, his flashlight aimed towards a form on the ground. It looked like a human...it looked like you.

“Y/n!” Colby screamed, sprinting over to you and shaking you. The worst case scenario briefly flitted through his mind as he waited for you to open your eyes.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting Colby’s in the glow of the flashlight. It instantly woke you up again.

“COLBY!” you screamed, jumping up and wrapping your arms around him, instantly breaking into sobs.

“Oh my god, you’re okay,” he cried as he held you as tight as he ever had. 

“You found me,” you whispered. “I thought I was going to die out here.”

“Of course I found you,” he said, stroking the back of your head. “What happened? How did you get so far?”

“I-I got up to pee and I heard something. Then I felt something touch me and I just started running. I didn’t even think,” you explained, tears streaming down your face. “I was so scared, Colby.”

“You’re okay, baby,” he whispered as he rubbed your back. Sam sat next to you, wrapping his arms around you, too.

You felt so grateful for both of them. They didn’t give up on you when you gave up on yourself. You felt overwhelmed by love not only for Colby, but for Sam too.

“I think we should go home,” Colby said. “We can come back another time.”

“No!” you exclaimed. “This was supposed to be a fun adventure, let’s not ruin it because of this. I’m fine, really.”

“Babe, I don’t think we should-,” he started.

“Really, Colby,” you smiled, placing your hand on his cheek. “Let’s make this the most epic adventure ever.”

“Okay,” Colby agreed. “But promise you’ll wake me up if you have to leave the tent for anything, okay?”

“Promise,” you smiled, kissing him gently.

The three of you walked back to the campsite, hand in hand, finally feeling calm. You had the scare of your life, but you were happy to be back and safe with the boys. Sam decided to sleep in your tent, which made you laugh because you knew it would happen eventually.

Tomorrow was a new day, and what was a ghost hunting adventure without fearing for your life? You thought sarcastically.

You lied down between the two boys, pulling the sleeping bag up to your chin.

“I’m happy to be here with you,” you said. “Even though in that moment I wanted to be anywhere else.”

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days, girl,” Colby chuckled, pulling you closer to him.

He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight from now on, and you couldn’t be happier or feel more safe.