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evansbby · 1 month ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: EXTREMELY HEAVY SUBJECT MATTER, heavy depictions of domestic violence, physical and verbal abuse, NON CON, smutt, major angst, rough, breeding kink, dirty talk, mean Steve, housewife kink, domesticity kink, victim-blaming, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, self-blame.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve was always a great husband. Until he wasn't.

𝐀/𝐍: SUPER DARK. Very angsty. Very heavy subject matter. This fic explores domestic violence. This fic can be triggering so please read warnings beforehand and please do not read unless you have read them.

“Sweetie, come downstairs.”

Steve only has to say it once and it’s enough for you to drop whatever you’re doing and follow wherever his voice is calling you. On this occasion, you switch off the iron and set it aside before straightening your dress and scurrying down to greet your husband.

“I’m sorry, I got wrapped up in my chores,” you explain, helping him take his jacket off before he wraps one strong arm around your waist and pulls you into him. Gosh, he was so big and strong! Steve’s physique always made you nervous and skittish – but in a good way, mostly. Carefully, you link your arms around his neck, reaching up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss.

“You’re still learning,” Steve says after a long, lingering kiss to your lips followed by several small pecks that make you smile. “I don’t expect you to know everything straight off the bat. But for every rule missed, you must repeat it back to me.” His hand slips down to cup your ass through the thin material of your dress, and he gives it a firm squeeze as if to prompt you. “So, what’s the rule, baby?”

“That a good housewife always greets her husband at the door when he gets home from work.” You recite it dutifully, because by now you know all the rules by heart. Steve had made you learn them before you’d got married. You remember the long days of sitting in his lap and repeating each rule after him, and you also remember the soreness of your ass each time you got it wrong.

You never got them wrong anymore.

“Good girl,” Steve praises and you glow. You take his tie off for him, all the while asking him questions about his day. How work was, if anything special happened, if he was hungry. (Of course he was hungry, you knew Steve had a voracious appetite for both food and… other things.) He could eat enough for three men in one sitting – which was probably why he was so big and strong and imposing. And scary. Well, you were definitely scared of him. Sometimes. But you try not to think about that.

“This looks great, sweetheart,” Steve sits down on his place at the head of the table and pulls you into his lap. That was another thing about Steve, another one of his rules. He preferred you in his lap instead of in your own seat – at the dinner table, on the couch, anywhere. Even in the presence of other people, which embarrassed you sometimes but you’d never tell him that. It was one of his rules, and that meant it had to be obeyed, no questions asked.

“Thank you, Steve. I tried really hard to make all your favourites.”

He feeds you and himself at the same time, and now it’s his turn to ask you questions.

“Oh, my day was pretty boring,” you accept the bite of chicken pot pie he feeds you, chewing thoughtfully and trying your best to ignore the way your heart starts pitter-pattering harder. “I did all the chores I was supposed to do, and then I did some shopping. I got us some pretty new bedsheets.”

“That’s nice, sweetie. Did you buy anything for yourself?”

“No. I just came straight home after that, and…” Your voice trails off, and you hope your increased heartrate and clammy palms aren’t showing in your face.

“And what?” Steve blinks, those angelic blue eyes looking at you expectantly.

You shouldn’t lie to him. He was your husband. And it was one of his main rules, after all – you weren’t allowed to lie. And it wasn’t like you’d done anything wrong…

“Well…”

The change in his demeanour is subtle, but it doesn’t escape you how he grabs your arm, his finger stroking against your bare skin as a deathly silence falls over the room, as if he’s awaiting your next words with careful patience.

You shuffle on his lap. Oh, why didn’t you just spit it out the moment he’d come home!? Now he’d think you’d deliberately kept it from him until he’d asked, and-

You take a deep breath, “Th-The car broke down on the way back.”

Silence. You dare to peak up at his eyes to see them impassive, waiting for you to continue. He gently sets the fork down beside his plate, an unreadable expression on his face that does nothing to calm your nerves.

“I don’t know what happened, but it broke down and it wouldn’t move and I…”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

It’s a toneless question, any warmth he’d possessed earlier now gone, and it makes you start shaking even more.

“I tr-tried but there was no service, and I knew you’d be busy, and… and… I’m sorry, Steve, I know I should have called you. I know I’m meant to call you when stuff like this happens, but in that moment I–”

“How did you get home?”

Another question. His voice flat, but the grip on your arm tighter than ever. You gulp.

“L-Luckily there was someone passing by, and they said their auto-repair shop was only five minutes away, and–”

“They?”

Your hands are shaking uncontrollably now, and you clasp them in your lap in a bid to get them to still. Your breathing grows more rapid, you can feel your palms grow sweatier as you squirm under your husband’s deathly calm gaze. You’re too afraid to look directly at him, but you know he’s expecting an answer. For a split second, you consider lying. But the consequences of that notion have you spitting out the truth before you can think about it any further.

“H-He.”

Steve goes deathly still. You hear him inhale sharply, his body tensing up even more underneath you. A part of you wants to burst into tears and run, run, run! But fear has you rooted in place, and even if it didn’t, he’s got a firm grasp on you, and you could never, ever overpower him.

“You got into a car with another man.”

He doesn’t even pose it as a question. No, the words leave Steve’s mouth in a statement of contempt and accusation. Except his tone is still so levelled, so dangerously low and contained.

“N-No! No, Steve, no! He offered to tow the car, and take it back to his repair shop. H-He was fixing it, Steve! And I swear I was only there for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes! I promise, and then I came straight home!” You’re tripping over your words, trying to get your explanation out. The explanation you’d subconsciously been rehearsing in your head all day because you knew it would come to this. You knew the moment that friendly stranger had tapped on your car window and offered his help. But what else could you have done in that moment?

“Steve, I know I should’ve called you the moment I had service, but I –”

“–But you were too busy with the mechanic.”

“No, no, Stevie, it’s not like that at all!” In hopeless desperation for this not to end badly, you bravely lock eyes with him, cupping his face in your hands, “I just didn’t want to bother you, I knew you had an important meeting around that time.” And I was also too scared to call.

His grip on your arm steadily tightens, till you can feel his fingers digging into your flesh. And you can see the vein in his forehead, the way his face is flushed red, the way he’s clenching his jaw, the way his eyes look so dark.

You wince, “S-Steve, please, you’re hurting me.”

“What did you do?”

“H-Huh?”

“In those fifteen, twenty minutes you were at his shop. When you should have been calling or texting me. What did you do?” Steve grips your chin, his thumb and forefinger pressing painfully down on your skin as he makes you look up at him. His expression is unreadable, his tone still low, but you can see that vein pulsing in his forehead. You know what it means.

“Nothing, I promise! I just sat in the waiting area, and…and there was no service, and–”

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not, I swear I'm not, I-"

“You were fucking him.”

The accusation drops like a pin, except it feels more like a car crashing straight into your heart. You feel everything; hurt, panic, but most of all – fear.

And Steve’s eyes are so, so dark, and his words so matter-of-fact. He’s still got a death-grip on you, holding you firmly in his lap while you start shaking violently. Oh no, no, no, no… How could you persuade him that you hadn’t done that? How you could never do that?!

“No, Stevie, I would never! I t-told you, he was fixing the car, I barely spoke to him, I–”

“You fucked him. In the car that I bought for you. And then you thought you could keep it a secret from me.”

He isn’t hearing you. No, he’s going to that place. That place where his eyes turn black and his expression goes all far away, and his anger consumes him to the point where rationality goes completely out the window. And you’d give anything to not be dragged down into his dark place, where your pleas reach deaf ears, where your tears and screams don’t mean a single thing. Well, not until it’s all over.

“I didn’t, Steve, please believe me. I would never cheat on you, never ever. Please, you’re hurting me!”

His fingers clamp down on your upper arm so hard, you know they’ll leave a mark. Another one you’ll have to hide with a meticulous makeup routine and carefully selected clothes.

It takes all your strength to pry his hands off you, and you jump off his lap like a hot poker, slowly backing away as dread fills up your stomach. Dread that increases tenfold the moment he stands up too, up to his full height that makes you cower in total, utter fear.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” his tone is hard now, louder, more biting, and your eyes zero in on his hands as they curl into fists at his side. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”

You continue backing away slowly, acutely aware that he’s stepping forward each time you take a step back. And like clockwork, you know how this goes. Soon your back would meet the wall, and then… Your eyes dart up behind him, up the stairs… Maybe, if you could get to the bedroom in time, perhaps lock the door?

“ANSWER ME!”

You jump, “No, Steve, I don’t! B-But I’m telling the truth. I barely spoke two words to the man, all I did was wait while he fixed the car. Please believe me,” your voice drops down to a broken whisper, “please…”

No talking to other men. It was perhaps Steve’s biggest rule. And it hadn’t always been like that, but slowly, through time, this rule had developed into one that your husband was the most obsessed with. The most angered by if ever broken by you. And what had started out as a little bit of a jealous streak had turned into white hot, obsessive, possession – almost paranoia. He saw red if a man ever looked your way, and God forbid if he thought it was the other way around…

“You’re fucking lying,” he spits out, each word coated in pure disdain that feels like ten stabs to your heart. “Had you been telling the truth, you wouldn’t have hid it from me until I asked you how your day was. You would have told me yourself, but you didn’t. You slept with someone else, and you thought you could fucking hide it from me, didn’t you?”

“No,” you whisper.

It only takes him two strides to get to you. And you’re frozen in fear but it’s like your body goes into fight or flight mode. He lunges at you, and you know he’s going for your throat but by some miracle you dodge him. And then you run, run, run for the stairs. Two at a time, oh you could make it! You’d lock yourself in the bathroom, wait for his anger to subside. You’d done that before, sometimes it would work, sometimes–

You take the stairs two at a time, but Steve’s legs are much longer than yours. He’s bigger than you in every way possible, stronger, faster too. It’s almost laughable how quickly he catches up to you, his footsteps heavily thudding on the floorboards. On the upper landing, and you’re almost at the bedroom door when he grabs your arm and yanks you back, and then–

SMACK.

The first hit always winds you. You never get used to it – his fist connecting with your jaw, the way your head snaps to the side, the ringing in your ear that blocks out all sound for a handful of moments. And then the pain, the numbing paint that’s all too familiar, radiating and spreading like hateful wildfire as you reach up to shield your face.

“Don’t fucking run from me, you little slut.” Steve slams you against the wall before pinning your wrists by your sides. “Look at me, look at me. I’m going to give you one last chance to tell the truth, and you better think very carefully before you speak, and don't you fucking lie to me. Did. You. Fuck. Him?”

A broken sob escapes your lips, a whimper filled with desperation, “N-No.”

It’s almost like he’s donned a mask as his handsome features twist into a snarl, his eyes narrowed to slits and yet you can still see the crazed darkness that consumes them like a cloud of black smoke. His lip curls in what looks to be contempt, and he shakes his head. “You’re a fucking liar.”

His grip on you tightens, if that was even possible, and his eyes flash, and suddenly he’s shaking you violently, your head hitting the hard wall with a thud as you cry and struggle against him.

“How the fuck could you? How could you sleep with him? After everything I do for you!? Answer the fucking question, how could you!?”

You want to defend yourself, tell him that you didn’t, you wouldn’t, how could he possibly believe you could? But you know there’s no point, you know he doesn’t hear anything when he gets like this. No matter how hard you cry, how much you beg and plead with him. He only sees red, never facts. And you’re still in shock from the first hit, so when you open your mouth nothing comes out.

The slap comes out of nowhere, the harsh cracking sound echoing across the hallway and bouncing off the walls as if to mock you. Your head whips to the side, and you’d have fallen down from the sheer force had he not been holding you up with his other hand.

“P-Please stop,” you croak out, finally finding your voice as the tears stream down your face from the pain of it. From both the physical and the mental anguish because you’d truly done nothing wrong! Hadn’t you? Sometimes he made you question yourself with how angry he’d get at you. “Please, Steve, it hurts, I didn’t–”

“Shut the fuck up and stop lying!” Steve roars, shaking you so hard you have to close your eyes because everything’s starting to spin now. “You thought you were fucking slick, didn’t you? Fucking someone else behind my back while I was at work, then coming home and acting like everything was fine, doing your fucking chores like you didn’t just act like a goddamned whore,” he shakes you again, his grip on your shoulders so hard you feel like passing out. “-thinking I wouldn’t’ find out, thinking I’m some fucking idiot who can’t put two and two together. That’s what you thought, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!”

He backhands you hard when you don’t answer, before throwing you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes. Limply, you lay there, half disorientated and half crestfallen because you can’t even find it in you to defend yourself anymore.

He strides into the bedroom before throwing you on the bed, hard. You land with a thud, still clutching your face that blooms with never ending pain. Again, you try to shield yourself, but it’s like a rabbit trying to hide from a hungry lion. A hungry lion fuelled by crazed hatred and contempt. And that’s what hurts you the most – how he looks at you like that. As if you’re the worst person in the world. As if he really hates you and truly believes you’d ever cheat on him.

“You’re mine,” Steve snarls, climbing on top of you and once more grabbing your wrists. “I don’t give a fuck if you think you’re a free piece of ass who can run around town spreading your legs for the first man who looks your way. I own you, you fucking whore, and it’s your fucking fault that I’m doing this now. But you need to fucking learn…”

“N-No, please,” you cry out weakly when he grabs the material of your dress and rips it clean in half. Oh no, not this. Please not this. Not when he was so mad, so violent, not when he had that crazy look in his eye. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t. He wouldn’t be gentle, and it would hurt so much. And you were already hurting so much. “Steve, I’m begging you, please, please, don’t! D-Don’t, I promise I’ll be better! I didn’t cheat on you but I swear, next time I’ll call you, next time I’ll–”

Another slap to your face shuts you up, and your sobs turn silent. Still there, just silent. Filled with dread and anguish and fear for the horrific roughness that is to come. That always came no matter how hard you begged. No matter how careful you were to follow his rules. You always messed up somehow. Oh, you could’ve been better! You should’ve been better and then you wouldn’t be here! And he’d still be nice, and you’d be sitting downstairs eating dinner and laughing, and…

Oh, how did it get to this?

“Everything I do for you, and you throw it all back in my face,” Steve snarls, and he’s so unrecognisable. Like a dark stranger looming above you, pelting out harsh words that he knows will cut deep, twist like a knife straight through your heart. Make you feel like you’re the worst person alive, and certainly the worst wife. Someone who can’t do anything right. Someone who can’t even keep her husband happy.

“I give you everything you could fucking want, I provide for you, don’t I?” He grabs your face with one hand, squeezing so hard it hurts. “Don’t I? Don’t I fucking give you anything you could ask for? And all I want in return is for you to listen to me. Your goddamned loyalty, that’s all I want. For you to fucking understand that you’re my property, that you need to do what I say. And what do you end up doing? Cheating on me like the fucking whore I always knew you were.”

He makes you believe it sometimes. Well, at first you didn’t, but now you’re not too sure. Maybe you were a terrible wife, because otherwise why would he always get so mad? You always tried your best to keep him happy but you never did enough. Did other wives do more than you did? Was that why their husbands never got mad at them? Was that why they were always happy and relaxed? While you walked on eggshells, waiting for him to explode? Maybe he wouldn’t be like this if he were married to a different woman. A better woman. Someone who didn’t make as many mistakes as you did. Someone who didn’t annoy him that much. Someone who kept him happy and didn’t make him so mad all the time that he had to accuse her of cheating. Someone he didn’t look at with pure hatred in his eyes, like he was doing with you now.

Steve kisses you roughly, possessively. Pressing his lips down on yours as if he wants to imprint the feel of them on you, sear it straight into your memory. As if you could ever forget. But it’s the sweet kisses from Steve that you want to remember, not the hate-fuelled way he’s kissing you now. But you just lie there limply, lie there and let him kiss you, let him pull your now tattered dress off you. And you wonder if he can taste the saltiness of your tears, and you wonder if even a tiny part of him cares.

How did it get to this?

“I’ll show you,” Steve mutters darkly, “I’ll show you who you fucking belong to. And it’s all your fucking fault, because you’re gonna feel it. And maybe this time, you won’t fucking forget it.”

You look beyond his shoulder as he unzips his fly and pulls his hard cock out. You look at the tiny speck on the wall, focus on it really hard. Focus on it till your vision blurs, focus on it so you don’t feel the excruciating pain as he forces his huge cock inside you. Focus on it till you can’t feel his hand wrapping around your throat, till you can’t hear the pure hatred hurtling out of his mouth. Maybe if you focused hard enough, it would all go away. Like magic.

It wasn’t always like this.

You remember your first date with Steve, almost a year ago to the day. Your friends had set you up with him, telling you he was only a couple of years older than you. Great looking, had an established career. But a bit shy, a bit reserved, someone who mostly kept to himself. You’d agreed, because you were shy and reserved too, and suggested ice-skating as a first date activity to help, well, break the ice.

And it had been so funny, because Steve couldn’t ice skate for the life of him.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he’d huffed, awkwardly “skating” up to you in the middle of the rink. Except he was less skating and more just dragging his skates across the ice while holding his huge arms out to balance himself. It was comical, because he looked so big and out of place, and yet so cute that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“It just takes a while to get used to,” you’d answered, skating around him before impulsively grabbing his hands in case he fell over or something. And you’d immediately widened your eyes when you’d realised what you’d done, about to drop his hands like hot pokers because you were never this forward on a first date! But Steve had chuckled, keeping a tight grip on your gloved hands and pulling you closer.

“Nope, I just think it’s in my genetic makeup to be bad at ice skating,” he’d said as he’d let you guide him back to the side of the rink where he could hold the railing, and yet he didn’t let go of your hands as he winked. “Either that, or I’m actually a pro who’s faking it just so you’ll hold my hand.”

You’d gone to the Christmas market after that, and Steve had bought you a hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows on top. You thought he’d stop holding your hand once you were off the ice, but he’d held it throughout your stroll through the markets. You’d delicately sipped your hot drink, secretly thrilled at how nice and safe it felt to hold his big, warm hand. How he was so handsome and he genuinely seemed interested in you.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your nose,” Steve had pointed out, and before you could wipe it off, he’d done it for you. And then his hand had stayed on your face, cupping it gently while the market bustled around you, busy as ever but the two of you seemed to be in your own little bubble. And then he’d kissed you, and it had felt so incredibly right. Like coming home from a long, cold day and being met with the warm familiarity of your own house. A house where you felt safe, and content, because in that moment, that’s what he made you feel.

Safe, warm, content, happy.

“I’m never letting you out of this fucking house again, you hear me?” Steve grunts, slapping your cheek not-so-lightly and knocking you out of your reverie. You blink several times, hoping it’s just a dream. But his rough thrusts remind you that it’s not, and your mouth curls in pain as his hand goes back to wrap around your throat. “Not until you learn not to act like such a goddamned slut, not until you learn to fucking listen to me, and be good. This is all your fucking fault, okay? That’s why I have to teach you.”

“St-Steve,” you cry lightly, unable to breathe because of how he’s pressing down on your neck, “I-I can’t… I can’t…”

“Shut up!” His thrusts grow harder, even more unforgiving. And all you can do is lie there and take it, and hope and pray and wish that you were somewhere else right now. With someone else. Or no one at all. His hands, which you’d known to be so gentle once upon a time, are rough as they squeeze and fondle and slap you as if you’re an animal, a toy, something he wants to pound till he breaks. “You deserve this, you little whore. Tell me, was that fucker’s cock worth it? Was it worth ruining what we have? FUCKING TELL ME!”

So unfair. It was so horrifically unfair. Because you’d never think of cheating on him, never ever. You love Steve, despite everything you love him so much. But he didn’t love you. Of course he didn’t. Maybe he had at first, but he didn’t anymore.

What had you done to make yourself so unlovable? What had you done to make him hate you so much?

Again, you think how he feels like a stranger, a stranger who’s hurting you and violating you in the most unforgiving way possible. All while you lie there and take it. And how was this Steve? The very same Steve you’d fallen in love with less than a year ago? The same Steve who’d confided everything in you? Told you that you were the one for him, told you how much he loved you, how happy he was that he’d found you? How was this the same Steve?

You still remember how surprised your friends had been with how close you and Steve had gotten in such a short amount of time. But they’d also been happy, and taken all the credit of course, as they’d set the two of you up.

And you remember feeling so goddamned happy all the time. Happy whenever you got off work and you got to see Steve. Giddy because of how comfortable you felt around him, despite knowing him for such a short period of time. One date turned to two, which turned to five, and before you knew it, you were looking forward to spending nights at his place. Cooking for him, kissing him, climbing up on his roof and talking all night while staring up into the stars.

It was during one of those moments when Steve had told you that you were the first person he’d felt close to in a very long time. He’d told you that he hadn’t had a great childhood, that his parents hadn’t been very nice people. And because of that, he’d run away when he was sixteen and never looked back. He didn’t speak to them anymore.

He’d told you he’d had a girlfriend before, and they’d been together many years until she cheated on him. And he’d squeezed your hand then, looking up at you from where his head had been resting on your lap, and the stars in the sky had reflected in his eyes so brightly, and he’d told you that you were the first person since then that he’d felt connected with, that he’d felt like he could be himself around. That he loved you so much despite the fact he’d only known you a couple of weeks. He loved you so much and so hard, that you were all he could think about. That you consumed him. And he loved that. And he loved you.

So, where did all that go?

That’s what you wonder now, your body jolting from each unforgiving thrust as the man who is your husband fucks you relentlessly, fucks you like he hates you. Tells you repeatedly, again and again that it’s all your fault.

Your fault. Maybe it is your fault. Oh, if only you hadn’t gone out today! If only you’d just stayed at home and been good! Then the car would’ve never broken down, and none of this would have happened, and Steve would’ve been happy. And you wouldn’t have made him upset like how you always seem to do now.

“I’ll make sure you never fucking disobey me again,” he mutters, pushing your legs up and throwing them over his shoulders while you moan in pain underneath him. His cock is a blur, pummelling in and out of you like a jackhammer. And it’s crazy, the very person who’d made you feel such pleasure in the past, could be inflicting so much pain on you now. “I’ll make sure they all know who you belong to the moment they fucking look at you. Fuck, I’ll show you.”

The contempt in his tone kills you over and over again. Makes you think you’ll never be good enough to make him happy. Make anyone happy. Maybe it was you who had ruined Steve, turned him into the monster he’d become. Maybe it was all your fault, your fault that the sweet, caring man you’d met had turned into your worst nightmare. Someone you were so fucking scared of that sometimes you couldn’t even breathe.

“I’ll knock you the fuck up,” Steve grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours, “Maybe then you’ll get it through your head that you’re not the free piece of ass you seem to think you are. And everyone will see who exactly you belong to.”

You whimper, too frightened to protest, your body jolting with each thrust. And it always hurts when he’s this rough, it always burns so bad because of how big he is.

You remember a few months into dating him, when he’d taken your virginity. He’d been so sweet, so gentle. Holding you close and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear while you cried in his arms despite trying to be brave. He’d told you he was big, and that it would hurt and he’d pull out if you wanted him to. But you’d held on to him so tightly that night, because despite the pain, it had been so special to you. And he’d been so kind, so tender, and you’d basked in the glow of being loved. And the pain had been worth it, because you’d felt so close to him, and he’d told you over and over again how much he loved you, how special you were. How you completed him. How you were so pretty, so exquisite, how if he could take all the pain away from you and give it to himself, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Now, he roughly presses his huge palm against your abdomen, and you can see the outline of his cock in your stomach as he continues to jut into you with inhumane force. Each thrust makes the bed rock underneath you, the bedposts hitting the wall with thwack after thwack while you silently lay there, the tears drying up on your cheeks, and yet your whole body still burns with pain from the constant onslaught.

“God fuck, your pussy’s still so fucking tight despite how much of a fucking whore you are,” Steve mutters through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna fill you the fuck up, get you pregnant once and for all so everyone knows not to fuck with what’s mine. And I swear to God, from now on you won’t even look at another man, let alone fuck some hick ass mechanic who’s trying to take you away from me because you’re too goddamned stupid to realise it.”

He hadn’t always so possessive to the point of insanity. Not the way he is now. You remember the old Steve, how he’d see you having innocent interactions with other men and not think twice about it. But slowly and surely, that had changed.

“I don’t like you talking to other men,” Steve had admitted to you once a few weeks into your relationship. “I know it’s irrational but I just hate it.”

“Oh, Stevie, it doesn’t mean anything,” you’d giggled, although you remembered secretly feeling so giddy that he cared enough about you to be jealous. That meant he was serious about you! “It’s you that I want, I couldn’t care less about anyone else!”

“I know,” he’d sighed, grabbing your hands and pressing kisses on them in a way that made you giggle even more. “I guess it’s just something I have to work on.”

But what had started out as simple, innocuous jealousy had morphed into something so much bigger, twisted, and ugly.

It began with a simple request; “please baby, don’t talk to him. I don’t like it.” And you found yourself listening to him, thinking he’d leave you if you didn’t. You distanced yourself from any male friends you had, including co-workers and even your relatives. You couldn’t stand to see Steve upset, and he’d asked you so nicely, so why wouldn’t you listen to him?

After that, he’d made you move in with him. “It’s just easier this way,” he’d assured you, despite the fact that you’d only been going out less than two months, “I feel more comfortable knowing you’re safe in my bed at night, and then I don’t worry as much.”

Then he’d made you quit your job. “I don’t like how those men at your work look at you,” he’d said, “I’ll take care of you, sweetie. You don’t need to work anymore.” And so, you’d quit without a second thought. It’s what had made Steve happy, so why wouldn’t you listen to him?

Then, he’d wanted to know where you were all the time. “I worry about you so much, you have no idea,” he’d told you once when the two of you were in bed and he was holding you close, stroking your hair while you lay on top of his chest. “I need to know where you are all the time, okay? I just… I need to know. And who you’re with. You need to tell me, or else I’ll go insane.”

Constant check-ins, constant texts. You were allowed to go out with your girlfriends, but never past a certain time. And certainly never a holiday or a girls’ trip. He had to know who your friends were, if they had boyfriends or brother, he had to know everything. And you were so in love with him, you hadn’t even realised that maybe it was all too much.

“My ex-girlfriend was having an affair behind my back for one year,” he’d told you quietly one night. One hot August night when the two of you had climbed up on his roof, and he lay with his head in your lap. His feathery lashes fanning his cheekbones, and his face softened by the moonlight, he’d looked like an angel that night. “One whole year, and I didn’t have a clue until the day I caught her. Them. I caught them in my bed.”

You’d listened with baited breath, because Steve never really spoke much about his life before you. Not his childhood, nor his parents who he didn’t speak to. And definitely never his ex-girlfriend.

“I just can’t lose you,” he’d said, staring hard at the dark night sky, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, if you left me. If someone took you away from me, I think I’d die.”

You’d kissed him then, and whispered against his lips, “I’m not going anywhere, Stevie. I love you so much, and there’s nobody else out there for me. Just you. So don’t worry, because you’re stuck with me for as long as you’ll have me.”

He’d sat up and taken you into his arms, hugging you so tight you couldn’t breathe – but in a good way. “Forever,” he’d mumbled into your hair, “I’ll have you forever, and then after that too. I’m never gonna let you go.”

You’d married him a month later in a small ceremony with just your family and some friends. And he’d looked so happy on that day, so handsome and happy and he’d held you close to him the whole night. You were happy too, and thrilled that he was so happy. “Now everyone knows your mine,” he’d whispered in your ear while you two slow-danced, “This is all I’ve ever wanted, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Thank you. I love you.”

“If you ever fucking cheat on me again, I’ll kill him.” Steve grabs your jaw hard, his fingers pressing against your skin until you cry out, ripped away from the safety of your memories and back into the present. “And you too. You got that? I’ll fucking kill you both.”

You’ve cried all the tears you possibly can, and so you just lay there. Limp, shaking like a leaf yet feeling so numb. So numb and alone because he wasn’t your husband. He was a monster, a monster you didn’t even recognise. Your angelic husband warped into a monster because of you, because of you, because of you!

With a grunt, he unloads inside you. His hot cum searing you from the inside out, and there’s so much of it. And he holds you up, with your legs pressed up over his shoulders, spilling load after load of his seed into you, making sure it stays, making sure it sticks.

And then he throws you aside, rising up to his feet and staring at you with blazing eyes. He’s still fully dressed in his suit, while you lie below him in your tattered dress. The one you’d chosen so painstakingly to wear for him today.

With glassy eyes and limbs that don’t move, you watch him as he does up his fly, muttering profanity under his breath. He’s still so angry, you can tell by that vein on his forehead, and the way his fists are balled up by his sides. You hate his fists. They scare you more than anything else in the whole world.

He doesn’t utter another word. Instead, he leaves. You hear him go down the stairs, hear the jangle of the car keys, the slam and lock of the front door.

He was gone.

Your body curls up into foetal position, and you hug yourself hard. It’s the only solace you can give yourself. Everything hurts. From your face, your jaw, your arms, your whole body down to your heart and your soul. Oh, you hate yourself! For being so weak, so pathetic!

But most of all, you hate yourself for making him how he’d become. If only you’d been a better wife, if only you’d been able to make him happy. Good wives didn’t get hit. So maybe this pain was what you deserved.

If only you hadn’t lied about the car…

Oh, the car! The goddamned car! You wish to God you could turn back time. But what could you have even done differently?

You remember feeling a sense of dread the moment the car had stopped working. And it had increased tenfold when you’d taken your phone out to call Steve, only for there to be no signal. Of course, the car had decided to stop working in the middle of nowhere. It was less than ideal, since you had to get home and finish all your chores before Steve got home. Otherwise, he might get mad, and then…

“Hey there, you OK?”

The knock on your window makes you jump, and you find a man peering in at you, a friendly yet slightly concerned look on his face. Oh gosh, Steve would be so mad if I spoke to this man now, you think to yourself. And yet… there’s not much else you can do. Your car won’t start back up, and you don’t know the first thing about repairing it.

“H-Hey,” you roll your window down, trying not to look directly at the stranger’s tanned face. “I’m OK, thanks for asking. My, uh, my car isn’t though. I think. It won’t start up.”

The man nods, “Yeah, that’s why I came over. Saw you on the side of the road and knew you wouldn’t be parked here for no reason.” He pauses, listening to the hum of your engine with a thoughtful look on his face. “I think I recognise the sound. If I could get this car back to my auto-shop, I think I could fix it.”

“Really?” Hope fills your heart before reality comes crashing down. Steve wouldn’t like for you to be going into auto-shops with men you didn’t know. You weren’t allowed to talk to any man unless Steve approved it. And you gulp, thinking how mad he’d be if he found out. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you think about the last time he’d gotten mad at you… No, you couldn’t go with this man, it wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

“I, uh, I think I can get it to start back up myself. Thanks anyways though!” You say with false brightness. But after a few more failed attempts, you slump back against your seat in defeat, and the man chuckles.

“A valiant effort. But as I said, my shop’s only about a mile and a half down that way. And luckily, I’ve got my tow truck with me now. Let me help you, and you’ll be on your way in no time.”

His face softens when he sees the hesitant look on your face, and he runs a hand through his unruly brown hair before fishing something out of his pocket. “Here’s my card, just so you know I’m legit. C’mon, let me help you. I couldn’t possibly leave a lady out here all on her own with a broken-down car that’s an easy fix.”

You bite your lip. His business card did look legit. And after another quick glance at your phone – still no signal – you nod and smile at the stranger. Maybe Steve would be proud of you for taking the initiative and getting yourself out of a sticky and potentially dangerous situation.

The ride to the man’s auto-repair shop is short enough. And he spends the next fifteen minutes fixing your car, all while you sit in the waiting room fretting and typing out texts to Steve that you’re too scared to send. You need to think of the perfect way to explain what had happened with the car, the most delicate explanation that wouldn’t result in him getting mad. Oh, you didn’t want him to get mad! Not when things had been going so well recently, and he hadn’t gotten mad in a long time, and you were starting to believe that he still loved you, and wasn’t annoyed by you all the time, and didn’t hate you, and–

“She’s almost fixed!” The man had announced cheerily, walking into the waiting room and shooting you a bright smile, one that had melted off his face the moment he’d seen the look of worry on your face. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” standing up and smoothening down your dress, you’d shot the man a puzzled look. “What do you mean, almost?”

“Almost as in I need an extra part to complete the fix, but it won’t come in until tomorrow.” The man runs a hand through his wavy brown hair that curls charmingly at the base of his neck. “But don’t worry, she’ll be back home in your driveway by noon tomorrow at the latest. I promise.”

“T-Tomorrow?” your blood runs cold, and it’s insane how your hands start shaking instantaneously. “But it can’t stay here overnight, my…my husband, he’ll find out, and then–”

“Husband?” The man repeats slowly before quickly gathering himself and taking a step back. “Well, ma’am, I’m sure he won’t mind about the car, so long as you’re alright. And don’t worry, I can give you a lift home.”

“N-No, you don’t understand, he…” you swallow harshly, squeezing your eyes shut for a second and clasping your hands to get them to stop shaking so violently, “N-No, he can’t know I was here, he can’t, he’ll…”

“Why don’t you let me speak to him,” the mechanic says slowly, pointing at your phone. “I’m sure I could explain the problem with the engine–”

Your eyes widen in pure fear, “NO! I mean, uh, no, that won’t be necessary. I just, oh God, I-I…” Suddenly, you can’t think straight. If Steve found out you were at this man’s auto-shop alone with him, that he’d spoken to you, that you’d spoken back to him… Oh no, Steve couldn’t find out. He’d get so mad, and he’d hurt you, and then everything would be awful for days.

“Is everything okay, ma’am?” The guy has a look of serious concern painted on his face as he stands before you. He’s tall, tall just like Steve, and looks just as strong too. “I know it’s none of my business, but you look awfully scared.”

You force a laugh that comes out a tad too high-pitched, “I’m fine! I’m totally fine! I just…”

“Let me give you a lift home,” the man says gently, taking a hesitant step closer to you. “I can speak to your husband, let him know it wasn’t your fault that your car broke down.”

“That’s not what he’d be angry about,” your eyes widen when you realise you’ve said too much. “I mean, he won’t be angry at all. Not at all. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

More than him, it seems like you’re trying to persuade yourself.

“I, uh, I’ll call myself a cab,” you say, but the man places his warm hand on your wrist to stop you, and the contact makes you jump. He’s so… gentle. It’s a strange sensation. And then he just… looks at you. For a handful of seconds that feel like ages, he just looks at you with inquisitive blue eyes, as if he’s trying to read you, or at least trying to understand.

“Please, allow me,” finally, he tears his eyes away, and he’s got his phone out and he’s already dialling the number, “the reception here isn’t great, but my phone seems to work through it.”

It’s only later, when you’re getting into the cab, that he grabs your arm once more. Well, “grab” would be the wrong word. He gently placed his hand on your arm as if to stop you, and you hesitate, half distracted by the need to get home before Steve and come up with an excuse about the car, and half curious about what the mechanic has to say.

“You have my card,” he says slowly with significance, his voice lowering to a deep rumble. “Call me tomorrow about your car. Or,” he adds when you start closing the cab door, “if you feel like there’s another reason you should call me, then please just do it. I’m here to help.”

He holds your gaze for a moment or two, a few wayward strands of his brown hair falling over his forehead before he pushes them back. You find yourself forgetting to breathe, before you quickly shake your head and force a smile before looking away.

“Thank you for your help.”

Now, you lie alone on your bed, on your side with your knees up to your chest, shielding yourself and your poor body from whatever lies ahead. You can feel the outline of the mechanic’s card in your dress pocket, and muster up the strength to take it out.

Should you call him? It’s not like you had anyone else. Your family lived miles and miles away on the other side of the country. Steve had moved you to a different state after the wedding, claiming the two of you needed a fresh new beginning to start your new life together. And so you’d left all your friends and family behind without a second thought, loyally following your husband into the sunset because you loved him and trusted him.

You’d made new friends now, but they were the wives of Steve’s friends, and you didn’t know if you could trust them. What if they took Steve’s side? What if they recognised that it was you who’d turned him so awful and mean? That it was you who was the rotten one, poisoning everything you touched because you couldn’t keep him happy, couldn’t be a good wife?

You stare so hard at the card until your vision blurs, and then you stare some more. After a while, your thoughts just cease altogether, and you just lie there. Just wishing you didn’t exist. Wishing you were never alive to begin with, wishing you never felt the immense love in your heart that you still do for Steve. Wishing love never existed and neither did you. That you just disappeared into thin air one day and Steve could move on and be happy and be better for someone who made him better. Someone he genuinely loved and cared for and wanted to be better for.

Someone who so clearly wasn’t you.

You don’t know how long you lie there. Motionless. It’s different this time. In the past, after he’s left you like this, you’ve been able to get back up. Brush yourself off, make yourself pretty again and pretend it never happened. For the sake of both of you, just pretend it never happened.

You remember the first time he’d hit you. It was a month or so after your wedding, and Steve had taken you out to a work party of his. And you’d felt so relaxed, so pretty on the arm of your husband, wearing the dress he’d chosen for you, the jewellery he’d bought you. The diamond earrings sat pretty on your ears, a present from him that very night. He’d come up behind you while you’d sat at your vanity getting ready, and kissed your cheek and told you how much he loved you, how you deserved all the prettiest things in life because you were the prettiest thing in his life.

You’d felt so at ease, being led around by Steve whilst you mingled and spoke with his work colleagues. But his good mood hadn’t lasted as the night had gone on, and halfway through the evening, you’d sensed him go silent next to you. Deathly silent. His grip around your waist had tightened to the point where it was almost uncomfortable, and his jaw was tight too. His lips set into a straight line.

He’d been just as silent on the drive back home, and it was only once the two of you were back in your bedroom, that he’d chose to speak.

“You were getting awfully comfortable with some of the men at the party,” he’d commented while you were undoing his tie.

You’d wrinkled your nose, “What?”

“Don’t say what. You know exactly what I mean.” His tone was cold, colder than you’d ever heard it. Soon, you’d grow used to the tell-tale signs that he was going into that dark, forlorn place he went to when he got like this. But back then, you didn’t really have an inkling.

“D-Did I do something to upset you, Stevie?” You’d asked hesitantly, not knowing what to make of his detached anger. You’d reached back to undo the zipper of your dress. Usually, he did it, but he wasn’t offering to do it then.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone had been so cutting that you’d physically flinched, and when he’d turned back around, his eyes were blazing accusatorily, “You were acting like a goddamned slut tonight, flirting with all those men.”

You remember the insult not even hitting you, because the absurdity of his statement had taken you so far off guard that instead, a giggle had escaped from your lips. An awkward giggle, like you had no idea what to say to such an absurd accusation.

“Do you find this funny?” You’d never forget the look he’d given you then, how he’d strode across the room, how big he’d looked, how scared you’d felt in that one second.

“No, Stevie, I was just–”

The strike had come out of nowhere. Like a clap of thunder, almost. You’d heard it before you’d even felt it. The slap that seemed to reverberate off the walls, except it was his palm against your cheek. The force of it had you reeling, and you’d lost your balance. Crashed against the wall with a thud before you’d fallen down.

You still remember how unreal it all had felt. Like an out of body experience, almost. Surreal. And the pain had bloomed instantly on the side of your face, and you’d looked up at him and he’d looked down at you, a horrified look on his face. He’d held his hand out in front of him, staring at it hard, and the darkness from his eyes had cleared.

Back in the present, and you can’t stop shaking. You feel numb, empty, and yet you can’t stop shaking. You try to think back to the old Steve, the good Steve. The sweet Stevie who was a little bit shy, and yet so charming and witty at the same time. So poetically in love that he’d made you fall for him, hook, line and sinker. The romantic Steve who’d whisked you off your feet and you’d happily followed him into the sunset without a second glance backwards.

Steve. The love of your life.

You just wish he still loved you back.

You don’t know how long you lie there. Seconds, minutes, hours, they don’t mean a thing. Not when this was to be your reality for the rest of your life. Again, you feel the charming mechanic’s card in your hand, but now you can’t even muster up the energy to hold it up.

It’s the dead of the night when he finally comes back. You haven’t moved an inch, but the sound of the front door shutting and the footsteps thudding up the stairs has alarm bells going off in your head.

No, no, no. No more hitting, no more pain. You couldn’t take another slap, you couldn’t, you couldn’t, you couldn’t! In fight or flight mode, you heave yourself up, shaking with fear. The only place you can think of to hide is under the bed. And maybe he wouldn’t care to look for you, maybe he’d stay in the guest room, maybe he’d just leave you alone.

But you see Steve’s shoes as he enters your shared bedroom, and you find that you’re holding your breath. Slowly, he steps inside, and you hear him call out your name quietly. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to be transported away. Far, far away where nothing cruel could reach you, and you could be happy all the time and not have to feel any pain, not ever, ever, ever!

It’s when his fingers wrap around your ankle that you start crying again. But no sound comes out, perhaps because you’re in shock. Or maybe because you’re just too scared. Rigid, frozen in complete fear, you’re limp as he pulls you out from under the bed.

“Oh God,” he whispers as the stark white orange light of the bedroom hits you. “Oh…Oh God… I…” his voice catches, his blue eyes clear and alert, blinking several times as he takes you in. Your poor, quivering body, and haunted, dead eyes that look anywhere except at him.

“I didn’t mean to,” he hoists you up into his lap gently as he sits on the cold floor, a mix of shock and regret on his face as he repeatedly shakes his head, surveying your face, your arms, your shoulders, your stomach, “Baby, I… Oh God, I didn’t mean it, I swear I didn’t…”

You find the tiny speck on the wall once more, and you fix your gaze upon it until it blurs. You're so numb, so far away, and you barely feel his hand as he gingerly touches the bruises and marks he’s left on you. Some old ones, some new. Some that had yet to turn dark and noticeable, some half covered in makeup from before.

Carefully, Steve strokes your face, the same side he’d slapped repeatedly only a few hours before. But the gentleness doesn’t register to you. Nothing does. You stare at the speck even harder, wondering if it was always there.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes, his tone hushed, regretful. Filled with anguish. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I… I got angry, I shouldn’t have got angry but I just…” his voice trails off as he stares hard at his own hand. As if he can’t believe he’s done this, as if he can’t believe that his own hand was capable of doing so much damage.

The speck on the wall seems to get bigger. You wish to God it would swallow you up whole.

“I swear I won’t do it again; I won’t ever hurt you like this again, I swear on my life,” Steve holds you up against his chest, cradles you like you’re a baby. And it feels so alien, to be handled so delicately. He hugs you close, burying his face in your shoulder, and that’s when you hear his voice break, “I won’t do it again, you have my word I’ll never hurt you again. I’m so fucking sorry, oh God, I’m so sorry.”

I won’t do it again. You’d heard that before. That’s what he’d said the first time he’d hit you. That’s what he said after every time. The speck grows blurry.

“Baby, please say something,” he stops hugging you, but still holds you in his lap, his strong arms around you in a way that should make you feel safe but right now you just feel nothing. His voice is thick, “I swear on everything, I won’t lay a hand on you again. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know why I get like that. Everything goes black, and it’s like I can’t think straight and then by the time I can, it’s too late. But I swear I’ll get better, I swear on my life this won’t happen again, baby, just please. Please say something.”

If you painted over the speck, would it still be there? Would it disappear entirely, or would the paint chip off after enough time had passed, and reveal the ugliness once more?

“I’ll go to anger management, therapy, you name it,” he shakes you gently, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones. “I want to get better for you, be better for you. I know I’m not a good man, baby, I know you deserve better and I’ll do anything. I swear, this is the last time I hurt you, okay? Please, just believe me, okay? Just say something.”

Steve stands up with you in his arms, your limbs falling limply down by your sides, your head lolling down too. Almost like you’re not real, like you’re a doll who was alive for a little while but you’re not anymore. You certainly don’t feel alive. You don’t feel anything. Just numbness.

Tenderly, he lays you down on the bed. The same bed he’d roughly thrown you down and violated you on just a few hours earlier. And a part of you, a tiny part of you from the deepest recesses of your mind, wants to muster up the courage to look into his eyes. To search for the man you love, to see if he’s still there. But the dark numbness eats you from the inside out, and so you just stare blankly at your speck on the wall.

“I promise I’ll change,” Steve repeats, the desperation now evident in his tone as he clutches your face, wills you to look at him. “Please, just listen to me. Believe me when I say I’ll change. Wh-When we… when we have our little girl, I’ll change. I’ll be a good husband and a good dad, make both of you happy. I won’t ever get like this again, I can promise you that now, alright? That’s a promise I’m making to you right now.”

A child? Would he hurt it too? Would he grow to hate it too, simply because it would be yours?

He grabs your hand, and his is so warm. Or is yours the one that’s freezing cold? It had been cold under the bed, but you’d liked it. Feeling cold was a different kind of pain, one that distracted you from the pain he’d caused you.

He kisses you desperately, all over your face as if trying to get you to say something back to him. Instead, you notice another speck on the ceiling above the closet. How many were there? Were they secretly laughing at you? Mocking you for staying so long in a speck-filled house?

“Baby?” Steve’s eyes glisten, his face so ghastly pale as he grabs your hand and presses more desperate kisses on it, “Baby, please say something. Say you forgive me. I-I don’t know why I do it, okay? I just, I’m so fucking terrified of someone taking you away from me. Taking away the one person, the only person, in my whole fucking life who means everything to me. I couldn’t stand it, I thought he’d take you away from me, and I just saw red, and I’m so sorry. I hate myself for doing this to you, baby. I’m so sorry, please say something!”

But you can’t! How can you, when it doesn’t even feel like you’re real anymore?

The specks are all around you now, growing larger and larger. You can hear Steve apologising over and over again, hugging you close as he begs for your forgiveness. But you’re too far away, so far away that you can barely hear him anymore. Lightyears away, in your own universe where you’re brave and confident and nobody ever messes with you. Nobody ever hurts you. And you take care of yourself, and it’s enough.

You find yourself hurtling through windows of time, entering one before flitting into the next as the specks grow so large it feels like they’re consuming you. You find yourself observing your birthday last year, when you’d baked your own cake and Steve had spent hours decorating it for you. Using your favourite-coloured frosting, and of course you’d gotten some on your face. He’d kissed it off for you, and told you that you were adorable.

Now you’re on Steve’s roof, the night he’d told you about his big promotion at work. You’d yelped in excitement, hugged him so hard it had hurt – but the good kind of hurt. And he’d had those stars in his eyes as he’d held you. “You’re my best friend, you know?” he’d said, “Every time anything good happens, you’re the first person I look for in the room to tell.”

Memory after memory, one cherished moment after another. And you’re so possessive of these moments, like you want to lock them up in a jar and keep them safe forever. Not let them get tainted like how he’d gotten tainted. Because of you, of course.

Maybe I’ll stay here, you think as the specks continue to consume you. It’s safe here. I’m happy here. He’s happy too. Maybe I’ll stay forever...

But something's stopping the specks from swallowing you up and taking you away. Taking you far, far away where Steve couldn't hurt you anymore, the place where there was only love and never hate. But something's stopping you, pulling you back like gravity that you simply couldn't defy. A stranger's voice, warm and sweet like honey, cutting through the freezing cold numbness.

“If you feel like there’s another reason you should call me, then please just do it. I’m here to help.”

You feel the card clutched tightly in your hand; the hand Steve isn’t holding on to. And it pulls you back, back, back to reality. Another memory, but this time it’s a stranger with blue eyes and a friendly smile.

The specks slowly start to disappear, and you find yourself back in your bedroom. Back in Steve’s arms. Back in his warm embrace, except it does nothing to stop you from feeling so numbingly cold.

“I love you,” Steve whispers, “I love you so much, I’d die if I lost you. Please forgive me, baby. Come back to me. I won’t ever hurt you again.”

He lifts you up and hugs you once more, holding on to you so tightly as if his life depends on it. Strokes your hair and whispers sweetly in your ear, says all the words of regret that you've heard before. But you lie motionless in his arms like a broken doll, your poor cheek resting limply on his shoulder.

And it’s over Steve’s shoulder that you look down at the card in your hand, and read the man’s name, along with his number. And suddenly, a coolness washes over you.

Your finger twitches. You take a deep breath.

“Baby?” Steve draws back till you’re both face to face once more, and his eyes have those stars in them again, the stars you'd fallen in love with, the stars you'd wanted back so bad that you'd let it get this far. He cups your face, and presses his forehead against yours.

“You forgive me, don't you?"

THE END.

Okay so. That was a lot. It was a lot to write. If you're still here, then thank you for sticking around till the end. I hope you enjoyed reading it and I hope you found the story that I was trying to tell compelling. Please do let me know what you thought. What do you think reader will do now? What do you WANT her to do now? Who was the stranger? Why is Steve the way he is? IDK. Any raw thoughts and feedback would be incredible as always. Thanks so much for baring with me while I tried to post this fic. One last thing - this is a work of complete fiction. Thank you <3

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans #tw dv #tw dv mention

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namedaftercommunists · 3 months ago

Text

'Promise?' Daisuke (Mouthwashing) X Reader -TwoShot

[Story is set before he boarded the Tulpa] [Fluff] [Platonic and - or Romantic] [Gender Neutral Reader]

“-like, I don’t know man. Should I be worried?” Daisuke asks with a sigh after a long rant about something you guiltily didn’t pay too much attention to, leaning his head on the wall of his bedroom. His hands keep fiddling with the Rubix cube he still hasn’t solved yet since buying it two weeks ago.

“About?” You ask with a raised brow, turning your head to the side to see him, still laying flat on your stomach on his bed, your hands on your phone a you look for new shoes to buy on the internet.

“The future, my career, everything my folks keep talking to me about.” Daisuke elaborates, still thoughtfully fiddling with his Rubix cube. “And? You weren't worried about -that- before.” You ask again, Daisuke wasn’t one to worry often -so when he is, it’s most probably something that’s been bugging him heavily.

“But it’s all they ever talk about these days, you know? I can’t be -not- worried.” He explains, with a scratch on his head, his long hair sticking out in whichever direction as he looks at a random corner in his bedroom with another sigh.

You've always thought it was a nice place -despite its smaller size. Daisuke’s bedroom walls were filled with posters of bands and games he’d been interested in over the years. Instruments he’s learned during his youth were laid out on the other side of his bed, with academic books he half-heartedly reads stacked atop it -it’s very ‘Daisuke’ for lack of a better term.

You just wish he learned the habit of putting his laundry in the basket and not just have them lying atop his study chair and bed so that he can re-wear them for another day.

“I get that. My parents are the same.” You empathize with his plight, taking an e-cig from your pocket and taking a quick puff. Vanilla fills your lungs and the air.

“Oh- come on! Not here! You know my parents are going to kill me.” Daisuke half-heartedly scolds you, waving his hand around in the air to get rid of the smell, the action making you chuckle. “Sorry -sorry, couldn’t help it.” You say with a half-serious shrug making Daisuke groan in slight annoyance. You pocket the stick back -for his sake.

“You’re also getting scolded?” He asks with a tilt of his head after simmering down. “More like getting nagged.” You correct with a scoff and roll of your eyes, and Daisuke only softens some more at this.

“Right now I’m just doing what they’re telling me to do -studying for a major I could care less about but still have to pull all-nighters for because God forbid I get anything less than perfect.” You go on a small rant, ending it with an exasperated sigh and a dramatic roll of your eyes.

Daisuke combs at your hair with his fingers at this, petting you as if you were some antsy cat. It’s an action you’ve long gotten used to, and you'll never admit to this -but it works in calming you down.

There’s a short comfortable silence before Daisuke speaks again. “My mom got me an internship.” He says, his voice softer as he continues petting your hair. His words gain your attention.

“Really?” You ask, wanting him to elaborate, your tone curious. “Yeah.” He says with a nod, opting to look to the ceiling now.

“An internship as a mechanic on the Pony Express.” Daisuke expands, making you cringe. “Isn’t that -that shady delivering service company though?” You ask, a sour taste in your tongue as you turn your head to the side to look at him again.

“Can you believe they put up hiring flyers looking for orphans to apply? Only a company that doesn’t care about their employees would specifically look for people like that.” You continue with a scoff.

“Yeah.” He says again with a shrug. “Why would your mom get you to apply for something like that?” You ask, your brows furrowing. “She means the best, you know? She just wants me to get some experience, try something new, do something productive.” He says, getting somewhat defensive over his mom.

"Oh spare me, you sound just like her." You say with a dismissive wave of your hand, despite being apologetic for your words and what they were implying. You know Daisuke's parents just wanted the best for him -just like yours did for you, but it just overwhelms you both sometimes -their care sometimes causing more harm than good.

He scoffs at your comment, taking his hand away from your hair as if punishment. You purse your lips in annoyance at his hand's retreat -but don't express it verbally.

"I'm going to be gone for about a year." He says, and that instantly gets you to sit upright on his bed in surprise and shock. "What?" You ask, facing him.

"What do you mean 'you'll be gone for about a year'?" You repeat, your brows furrowing in confusion. "Like, I'll be gone for a year." He repeats, not meeting your eyes, and guilt slowly creeping up on him. "I'll get deployed on the first day for some actual on-hand experience." He continues, and you can't help but feel a hint of betrayal and worry fill your chest.

"What?! But you barely know your way around the back of a fridge, much less a literal carrier ship." You say, your breath becoming more labored. “No offense.” You quickly add, and Daisuke only waves his hand in dismissal at this. Not taking it to heart. "I'm not going to be alone," He says, still not meeting your eyes. "I'll just be learning from the actual mechanic, like, look over his shoulder and copy what he does -you know?" He continues.

"For a full year though?" You rhetorically ask with an exasperated groan. "Are you even getting paid for this -or is this one of those 'you get paid by experience' bullshit people do?" You ask, and Daisuke can only awkwardly purse his lips at this. Just from that, you already know it's the latter, you let out another groan at this.

"It's not that bad. Look on the bright side, at least I don't have to pay my folks rent while I'm up there." He jokes with a chuckle, but you can only deadpan at this, worry furrowing your brows. It's his turn to sigh at this.

"Look, I'll be fine, man." He says, sitting straighter and closer so that he can pet your hair again. "You don't gotta be -this- worried for me," Daisuke says with a chuckle, meeting your eyes. It's your turn to look away this time.

You continue to stew in your combined feelings of worry and slight betrayal before inevitably hitting him on the side of his face with a throw pillow. Daisuke lets out a small 'oof' at this, but is overall already used to getting hit with his pillows by you.

"Hey now, that hurt." He dramatically says, despite not being hurt at all. "Like hell it did." You say with a roll of your eyes, hitting him in the head with his throw pillow again.

"You're going to die up there." You voice out your worry, disguising it under an irritated tone as you get up from his bed to just pace around his room. Your feet hit his soft carpet as well as the usual discarded sock that he can never seem to find the other pair of.

"Oh come on, that's a bit much don't you think?" Daisuke says with a chuckle. "I'm already going on a spaceship. You didn't have to wish death upon me to add to that."

"I wasn't wishing you death." You say with a roll of your eyes. "I'm just -saying-, nothing good ever comes from being stuck in a ship with how many strangers for a whole year in space." You continue with a dramatic motion of your hands, looking through the catalog of books Daisuke had lying around on his 'study' desk.

"You say that as if you've already been to space with a bunch of strangers for a year," Daisuke says with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, parroting your words. "I don't need prior experience to know that -that's what's going to happen." You say with a huff.

"Call it off." You continue, almost sounding like a command. Daisuke can only sigh at this. "You know I can't. Mom already set everything up." He explains. "Besides, even if I could -I don't want to." He continues, catching you by slight surprise. “What do you mean by that?”

"This could be good for me, you know? Like, maybe -this- is my calling." He says, looking a bit more hopeful. You scoff some more at this, looking to the side with your arms crossed to your chest.

“You’re going to die up there.” You state again, worry eating you alive. “Stop it -you’re manifesting at this point.” Daisuke half-heartedly scolds.

“I’m not manifesting anything!” You raise your voice, becoming more and more agitated. “Think about it, man! These people could be crazies or just outright mean. You could be stuck with sickos and creeps for a whole year!”

“-or, they could be normal. Ever thought about that?” He counterargues, and it just makes you even more frustrated -throwing your head back with a groan and facing away from him to stare at a random corner of his bedroom.

Your eyes just so happen to land on an old picture of the two of you -little kids smiling in their wonky Halloween costumes where they felt like the coolest kids in grade school.

Your smile is missing a few teeth, but that’s fine in comparison to Daisuke’s missing eyebrow. A failed attempt at giving himself an eyebrow slit to look like the cool older kids from before.

“Hey-” Daisuke starts, and given the sound of rustling sheets and feet hitting the carpeted floor, you already know he’s walking towards you –even with your back turned to him.

“I’ll be fine, promise.” He says, putting a hand on your shoulder and slowly turning you to look at him. Daisuke had grown just a few inches taller than you over the years, it annoyed you to no end since you two had always been the same height before.

“Don’t say that -you can’t promise something like that.” You say with a roll of your eyes, still facing him. “Like -I’ll try and keep myself safe.” He says something more doable. “There -happy?” He jokingly asks, and you can only deadpan at him.

“I’d be happier if you didn’t go.” You admit with a sigh, and Daisuke puts a hand on your cheek to keep your eyes on him. “I’ll keep myself safe.” He repeats, sincere, brown eyes slowly but surely softening your demeanor.

It’s hard believing Daisuke -it really is. You’ve known him for far too long for you to not to know that he has the intrinsict need to be needed. Too enthusiastic to help, to the point that he’ll throw any doubt or apprehension in his mind just to be of service to anyone.

Nonetheless, those brown eyes of his and his boyish smile slowly chip their way through your resolve, and your shoulders slump in defeat. “Please do.” You say, your voice softer in defeat.

“Nice,” Daisuke says with a grin before doing a dramatic fist pump in the air -you can only deadpan at this.

“Be serious, man! You need to keep yourself safe!” You say, getting a little more exasperated at his carefree nature. “I am -I am! And I will -promise!” Daisuke defends himself with a chuckle.

“Just trying to lighten the mood, you know?” He says with a smile. “Trying to get that frown off your face. You already got enough wrinkles as is.” He teases, and you kick at his shin at this -making him yelp.

“You’re an ass.” You say with a huff, and Daisuke can only grin through the pain.

There’s a short comfortable silence before he speaks again -his voice soft. “I’ll miss you…a lot.” He confesses, and you can only weaken by his tone.

“I’ll miss you too.” You reply, your voice just as soft as his. You two have been joined at the hip since -forever. It’s a terrifying thought to be apart, for nearly a year no less.

“I’ll write letters.” He says. “I won’t be able to send them to you or anything -I think? But I could write in my notebook, like, a diary or something, and give it to you after.” Daisuke continues.

“Just my day-to-day on the ship, you know? So it’d be like you were there with me.” He says with a softer smile, and you can only chuckle at this -the tips of your ears burning at the thought of him going through such an effort.

“I doubt anything interesting would happen in a delivery express ship.” You say, still chuckling a bit. “But I’ll do the same.” You continue. “I’ll write about my days here too. So you aren’t left out on anything either.” You say with a smile that matches his.

“Promise?” Daisuke cheekily asks, still grinning, his cheeks slowly burning red as well. You nod at this, committing his face to memory for the year you won’t be seeing him. Not that you could ever forget his face. “Promise.” You parrot back with the same softness.

#daisuke mouthwashing #mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #oneshot #angst #angst because we know he dies lol #if you ignore that -this is fluff #fluff #fanfiction #daisuke mouthwashing x reader #daisuke x reader

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cripplecharacters · 3 months ago

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I've read the post about how arm prostheses are often more trouble than they're worth and it makes sense. My special interest fandom doesn't have robotics or magic anyway, so a prosthetic there would more or less amount to a stick with possibly a hook on the end, and I'm not trying to argue in favour of making anything more advanced than that here. What I would like to know is if the same practical considerations apply with someone who's lost BOTH hands or analogous gripping appendages. Is it worth it to go for the lightest and least clunky prosthetic possible or is it still easier to do everything with the mouth and/or feet? Does it vary depending on what one is doing, or how much of the arm is lost?

Hello!

[Please note, we don't currently have mods who are amputees; you can try checking with some of our recommended blogs from our navigation post, but I'm not familiar with any bilateral arm amputees doing writing advice on Tumblr.]

There are a lot of factors that would go into this, and the two you mentioned are absolutely important, but I'd say that age plays the biggest role. What I mean is how old the person was where they had their arms amputated, since that's where I generally see the biggest difference in prosthetic use.

For the following sections I'll presume a scenario where the person is financially able to buy prosthetics that would suit their body in the technical aspect and potential assistive devices to get them on etc. aren't a problem to acquire for them.

If someone loses their arms at 70, they're almost certainly going to be using prosthetics, at least part-time. They spent decades doing everything with their hands and probably have close to zero coordination necessary to do these tasks with their feet now, not to mention being in worse condition in general due to their age. Even if their prosthetics are the simplest hooks, they will probably give them more independence since at an older age and with no practice, using their legs would be out of the question and using stumps could be much harder for someone whose way less flexible and strong. This doesn't mean that all the cons of an arm prosthetic disappear, because they don't - in this scenario, it just means that the possible pros outweigh the cons.

If someone is born without their arms or loses them as a younger child, they're probably gonna wear prosthetics at first because their parents will want them to and will stop just as fast. Have you tried to put a shirt on a toddler? Now imagine trying to put two arms on them that they can't fully control. For someone younger they will just instinctively do things however they can, whether that would be by using residual limbs (more common if it's below the elbow) or feet (more common if above the elbow). There might be some tasks that might be impossible or very difficult to do without a prosthetic, and then the person might get a specialized one - Bebe Vio is a wheelchair fencer who uses an arm prosthetic to hold her foil because you can't really do that without one. Some instruments might also require the use of a prosthetic, but children generally tend to figure to do almost everything out with what they got. There are armless drummers and guitarists who play with their feet.

You can check this video out, it's by Isabelle Weall where she talks about why she chooses to not use prosthetics arms. Jessica Cox is one of the most famous people with no arms, and she can do more or less everything - fly a plane, do karate, drive a car. Matt Stutzman is one of the best compound archers in the world, and he doesn't use prosthetics either. All these people lost their arms young or were born without them.

Obviously a lot of people will be in the middle. That's where length of residual limbs will play a major role, but also people's lifestyle or what they do on the daily basis. If someone needs the tactile sensation to be able to do their job, they will probably prefer using their arm stumps or feet if the stumps are too short.

But if someone's stumps are too short, and they don't want or can't use their feet (it's not as easy as just starting to do stuff with your toes, it requires a ton of practice, flexibility, and patience) then they might go for prosthetics or a prosthetic, singular. Some people might find it easier to adapt to a body-powered prosthesis because to them the pros of one are more significant than the cons. I mean, not that many people have the flexibility alone needed to write with a pen with your foot, let alone coordination. They could wear a prosthesis when they know they'll be doing a lot of grabbing work because it's awkward for them to try doing it with their residual forearms and take it off to play with their dog because it feels nicer to pet it when you can feel it's fur on your skin.

There is of course the situation where regardless of factors, neither option really works for someone. They might have minimal to no ability to actually use prosthetics (weakness, other disability), while their legs might be atrophied from the bedrest caused by the illness that required their arms to be amputated (or anything else that prevents them from using their legs). This person might rely on caregivers instead for a lot of tasks, and these people absolutely do exist. Sometimes it's a situation that happens right after the amputation and they later find something that works for them, but sometimes they might not. This is a possibility as well.

All these factors should be considered for a character, and then of course you have to factor in the character themselves - can they afford prosthetics? Do they have a way to learn how to use them effectively? Get them fixed and adjusted? If the learning process of using a prosthetic is frustrating to them, they might not want to use it at all, and if it comes easily to them they might be more inclined to actually wear it.

Of course even if the pros-to-cons analysis decides that using prosthetics would be beneficial, the cons are still very much there. They're still heavy, with not the greatest dexterity, sometimes causing skin issues or muscle soreness. It takes a lot of work in occupational therapy to be proficient in using them. As long as you do research on the reality of using bilateral prosthetics (both negative and positive sides, which will be different for different people so you should get as many perspectives as you can) it's definitely okay to include them. There's no point in painting them as either magical tools that are just like regular arms or making them seem like they're completely useless pieces of junk - though they can be that for many, but for others they can also be what helps them live their life more fully, makes bringing groceries in easier, or just allows them to participate in that one hobby they do once a week.

And of course: when in doubt, have a range of disabled characters.

I hope this helps,

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #anonymous #prosthetics #amputee representation #limb differences

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scoonsalicious · 8 months ago

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7.4 Bucky*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Explicit Sexual Content Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here (hand stuff(f receiving))

Word Count: 1.3k

Previously On...: You got it on. In the woods.

A/N: Ugh, my beautiful long weekend is over. No more days off from work until Junteenth.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

“I’m gonna end up falling in love with you,” she had said to him, and Bucky could barely believe his ears. He made love to her again, under the stars, assuring her with every thrust, every kiss, every caress, that he felt the same.

After he’d taken her apart once more, he’d grabbed his discarded shirt and dipped it into the stream. Wringing out the excess water, he brought the wet cloth back and used it to gently clean her folds. He’d made such a mess of her, but the sight of his seed oozing from her core was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. It was all he could do to keep himself from bending down and using his fingers to push it all back inside of her, where it belonged, where he wanted it to always belong, from now on.

But there would be time for that, later.

For now, he helped her dress, and using the combined lights of the flashlights on their phones, they managed to collect the rest of the picnic gear and made their way out of the clearing, hand in hand, and back to the parking lot, Major leaning against his arm and occasionally letting out a contented sigh that filled Bucky’s heart.

When they reached their cars, Bucky was surprised to see Major had arrived in a pickup truck. “Not sure what kind of car I was expecting for you, sugar,” he said with a laugh, “but a pickup wasn’t it.”

With a smile, Major lovingly patted the truck’s hood. “Yeah, wasn’t my first choice, honestly, but when I started my business, I needed something that could transport shit to The WarZone from our suppliers. It’s grown on me, though. Speaking of,” she added, her face falling a little, “I should probably head home; it’s already nine o’clock, and I have to work tomorrow.”

Bucky felt his heart sink. The last thing he wanted to do was say goodnight to her. “Spend the night at the Compound with me,” he offered again, bringing his hands to her waist. “It’s closer than your place, and I don’t want to say goodbye to you just yet.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face and offered his most pleading puppy dog look. “I can bring you back to your truck in the morning.”

Major sighed in feigned reluctance. “I suppose I could be a little late tomorrow,” she admitted. “I think my boss will understand. I happen to know for a fact that she’s quite fond of your dick, so she might make an exception if I tell her I was out late riding it all night.”

Bucky laughed and pulled her to his chest. God, he loved the feeling of her as she wrapped her arms around him, the way she seemed to fit perfectly into the dips and curves of his body.

“To hell with it,” he heard her mumble into his chest. “I’m gonna take the day off tomorrow.”

Bucky pulled back and looked down at her, trying hard to stifle the grin that was threatening to spread across his face. “Are you sure, sugar?” he asked her. “I don’t want you putting your business in any kind of jeopardy because I’m trying to be a bad influence.”

Major shook her head and smiled at him. “Honestly, things over there run so smoothly now, I don’t need to be as involved as I am. I just like keeping an eye on things because, well, the business is my baby, you know?” Bucky nodded, he did understand; she’d devoted so much of her life to making it a success. “So, I can afford to take a day off here and there to spend time with you,” she said.

Bucky grinned and pulled her in for a kiss. “Since you’re playing hooky and don’t need to worry about being home early,” he said, “how ‘bout we finally eat dinner? You’ve got to be starving.”

Major let out a low groan. “God, yes, please. Don’t get me wrong, I fully enjoyed our alternative activities, but damn, boy– you had me working up an appetite.”

“Gimme one minute,” Bucky said. He hauled the picnic basket into the back of Major’s truck and spread the blankets along the bed. He grasped Major by the hips and gently lifted her over the tailgate before hopping in, himself. He propped up some pillows against the back of the cab, and sat down against them, spreading his legs and motioning for Major to sit between them, with her back to his bare chest. He then rummaged through the basket and retrieved their forgotten sub sandwiches and lemonades.

While they ate, Bucky pointed out constellations to Major, telling her the stories behind the figures in the night sky. He loved how much more could be seen out here than back in the city. He’d always loved space, and Major listened to him with rapt attention, asking thoughtful and poignant questions, letting him know that she was both paying close attention to everything he said, and that she admired his interest.

“You’d make an excellent astronomer,” Major commented, after Bucky had pointed out the tiny dot that was Neptune, far off in the unfathomable distance.

“When I was a kid, that’s what I wanted to be when I grew up,” he confessed with a nostalgic smile. He’d never told anyone that before�� not even Stevie. When you were a kid from Brooklyn, growing up during what would become known as The Great Depression, the idea of making a career out of looking at stars seemed so fanciful as to be almost insulting. Bucky had known there was no future in the cosmos for him, only a life of hard, manual labor, doing what he needed to do to put food on the table for his family.

Only, that never even came to fruition, either. One measly letter from Uncle Sam had ripped away all his dreams, and his reality.

“Well, it’s never too late for a career change,” Major said, her tone only half teasing. “I mean, you’re only in your early hundreds. You’ve got time.”

And now, here was Major, simultaneously both reality and dream, and when she said he could be an astronomer, she had Bucky believing it.

Once their food was finished, though, Bucky couldn’t resist sliding a hand down the waistband of Major’s jean shorts, seeking out the warmth and wetness of her folds.

“Bucky!” Major sucked in a breath as she arched her back into his chest. “Fuck!” He slid two of his flesh fingers inside of her, working them in and out at a leisurely pace with one hand, while his vibranium hand pointed out the stars of one of the smallest constellations, Delphinius.

“That’s the Dolphin,” Bucky told her as she grasped onto his forearm to support herself. “The stars aren’t very bright, but the myth is that Poseidon– doll, how can you pay attention if you keep squirming like that?” He knew she couldn’t see him, so he had no need to hide the mischievous smirk that covered his face.

“Bucky,” Major whined, and god, how Bucky loved the sound of it. He brought his lips to the crux of her neck and shoulder.

“I’m trying to teach you about the stars, doll, and your mind’s completely elsewhere,” he teased. He brought his vibranium arm down to join his flesh hand, and used it to work her clit, until Major was a crying, shaking mess in his arms.

“I’ve got you, sweet girl,” he assured her as she came down from her high. He made sure to hold her close to him, loving how her whole body shook with the aftershocks of her pleasure. Pleasure that he had coaxed from her.

“You are a bad boy, Bucky Barnes,” Major said with a laugh once she’d found her voice again. “And you definitely do not play fair.”

“If you think I’m bad now,” he offered with a grin as he kissed the top of her head, “just wait until you see how bad I’m going to be when I get you back to the Compound.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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askagamedev · 1 year ago

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About Unity these past few days

A lot of people have asked me about Unity and their strange new per-install charges policy that they rolled out on September 12th, 2023. I wanted to give them at least 24 hours before I posted my take on it - let the dust settle a bit so I could get a chance to read the new policy properly and all that. First, however, I think we need to take a step back and get a wider perspective. Unity Software Inc. is in some serious financial trouble. Here are their operating numbers from 2019 to 2023.

The blue line here is how much money they take in and the red line is the amount of money they are spending each year. You may notice that they are spending significantly more money year over year than they earn. In fact, over the past 12 months alone (August 2022 to August 2023), Unity Software Inc. has lost almost $1 billion.

In 2022, Unity spent four times as much money as they did in 2019. If they had managed to keep costs at double their spending in 2019, they still would have earned $243 million in profit. Instead, they lost $882 million in 2022.

Where does all of this cost come from? In any software company like Unity, the vast vast majority of costs comes from employee salaries. And we can directly see it in Unity's number of employees:

Unity Software Inc. more than tripled its headcount from 2019 to 2022, and it did all of this hiring during the pandemic while competing with many many other developers all trying to hire from the same pool. I don't work for Unity, but I was in the market and I had lots of recruiters trying to recruit me during that time.

In short, Unity is suffering from the same miscalculation that Embracer Group did, that EA did, that Activision-Blizzard did, that Square-Enix did, and just about everybody else in the tech industry - they misjudged the good times at the beginning of the pandemic, overspent hiring people thinking the good times would last, and are now scrambling to figure out how to survive. The difference is that Unity was getting all of their operating money from Venture Capitalists (VCs) hoping that they would eventually become profitable, but VC money has all but dried up because it's become much more expensive to borrow money over the past two years.

As a result, the Unity executives are likely grasping at straws in hopes of saving a sinking ship. This wild and decidedly senseless pricing plan is their (seemingly-desperate) attempt to juice their revenues. It really makes very little sense from the developer perspective, which is what makes the whole thing reek of desperation. That isn't greed talking, it's survival. My guess is that Unity is currently desperately looking for a buyer to save them and doing whatever they can to buy themselves some more runway. They already announced layoffs back in May, but I suspect they'll probably have to announce some really big layoffs (e.g. 40-50%) soon. Unity Software Inc. is living on borrowed time and they know it.

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#the business of video games #unity 3d #business business business #where the money goes #financial things

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officialleehadan · 5 months ago

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Writing Pregnancy

Hello darlings. I've been thinking about writing this for a while, and it seems useful to a lot of people who are planning to Baby or who have characters who are planning to, or currently are, Babying.

It's not exactly a story, but y'all seem to like these essays from time to time, so I hope this one is interesting too.

So here it is. A guide to being pregnant as written by someone who has recently done it, for writers who have not or will not do it themselves.

This post will be broken down by weeks, because that’s how medical people do it, and also because some of this stuff really doesn’t happen by month.

DISCLAIMER: Every pregnancy is different. Your mileage may differ, maybe a lot. This is based on my pregnancy and is written as a handy reference for people who haven't done this themselves.

An important note, doctors count pregnancy as having begun AT THE DATE OF THE FIRST DAY OF YOUR LAST PERIOD unless there are extenuating circumstances such as an extremely unreliable, or nonexistent period. If this is the case, they will judge it based on your first ultrasound (8 weeks or so) or by when morning sickness kicks in (6-10 weeks) depending on the tech level your character is facing.

Be aware, this guide will be fairly explicit and will talk about the squishy bits, since they’re pretty involved in this whole business. If you keep reading and discover the horrible truth, that pregnancy is profoundly icky in many ways, I warned you.

Anyway, on to the fun part!

FAQ:

I am in my early-mid 30s (early when newly pregnant, older now obviously) when I was pregnant. I am in sound, but not neurotypical, mental health, and good physical health. I do not have major allergies or food issues other than caffeine which I am allergic to. (This is also relevant. More on this later.) I have some notable back problems which will be noted here because they’re relevant too. This pregnancy was planned and I have a wonderful and extremely supportive spouse (husband) who is the baby’s biological father. I also work a lot, but from home, which very much altered my experience

Week One: FIRST TRIMESTER

Technically speaking, right now, you’re probably menstruating and not actually pregnant at all. This will feel like a normal period, because that’s what it is. You’re not pregnant yet. Business as usual. If you were planning to get pregnant, you’re already on prenatal vitamins.

Week Two:

Congrats! You got laid! You still feel normal because implantation hasn’t happened yet. You’re still not technically pregnant. Just horny. Get it while it’s hot. If this pregnancy was an accident, or you’re trying to get pregnant, you’re not eagerly awaiting the point where you can test to know for sure.

Week Three:

Okay this is where you might see your first symptoms if your cycle is very regular, like mine is, and you’re watching your body closely for “that’s new” stuff. In my case, my boobs started swelling like they do when I’m on my period, except I was two weeks out from my period. Cue “huh, I might be pregnant” montage.

Week Four:

If you can test and you’re using the good home tests, or you’re in a hospital, this is probably when you test positive for pregnancy. Congrats!

Cue the “oh crap I’m pregnant??” Montage. (Yes this will happen even if you wanted it, planned it, and were actively trying to get pregnant. There will be some panic. You very likely will consider getting an abortion even if you’re eager and wanting the pregnancy. Don’t beat yourself up. This is normal.)

Week Five:

If your cycle is reasonably regular, this is when you’re gonna miss your first missed period. If you knew you’re pregnant, this is cool! Menstruation sucks. Not having your period for nine months is one of the best parts of pregnancy. If you didn’t know you’re pregnant, you’re probably panicking about now and buying a home test.

The ClearBlue digital ones are good and they’re in most pharmacies. Get those ones. Buy your prenatals at the same time. If you don’t want them, you don’t want them, but if you do want them, making a second trip is annoying. Also consider taking D3, calcium, fiber gummies, and fish oil. They all support you and baby health and keep the pregnancy from taking more of the nutrients form your body than you can spare.

Week Six:

You feel like you should feel different and don’t, and it’s weird. For those with a longer, or irregular cycle, this might be where you hit the stuff from Week Five. If you’re having the boob inflation like I did, that’s still happening. Buckle up. It’s not gonna stop. Otherwise, you feel weirdly normal. For a character who doesn’t have access to good sex education, they may not even know they’re pregnant yet.

Week Seven:

Basically the same as Week Six. You feel like you should feel different, and don’t. It’s uncommon, but you might start feeling morning sickness around this point. It’ll start as vague nausea and food aversions. This will get worse.

Week Eight:

Your first ultrasound! Congrats! It looks like a gummy bear that twitches! If you have twins, it may or may not be detectable at this point. You can’t tell the sex yet. It’s a gummy bear. If you don’t get an ultrasound for reasons of fictional story, you still might not know you’re pregnant. If you’re going to get an abortion, this is the last chance in many places.

Week Nine:

So It Begins. The morning sickness. You have food poisoning all the time. You feel profoundly like hell and may be prone to puking, and still being hungry, so you go back and keep eating, because you need the calories. This is also when you start getting thirsty all the time. This is because you gain more than half again your blood volume while pregnant. You need that hydration to make blood and amniotic fluid for your baby.

I found ice cream bars with nuts to be very good for dealing with morning sickness, and ginger did absolutely nothing at all. I basically lived on tea for a while there.

Week Ten:

Congrats. You feel like crap basically all the time. My morning sickness was pretty mild and I was puking almost every day. More if I hit a trigger food, which for me was anything that tasted or smelled ‘green’ (zucchini especially but cucumber and most leafy greens too) ‘water smell’ (showering, rain, humidity in general) and the usual ick smells (the trash).

You’re also tired all the time. Naps R Us. If you get flat and comfortable, you’re gonna fall asleep. If you’re flat and uncomfortable you might fall asleep. If you’re reasonably supported and upright you might fall asleep. Just assume you’re gonna be sleeping a lot.

If you’re writing a character with morning sickness, they’re likely to be very cuddly, but also very reluctant to go more than a very quick jog to the toilet.

The good news is that this is also when the major risk of miscarriage is over, and is frequently when people tell their families they’re expecting. Cue lots of celebrations!

Week Eleven:

“What the crap did I get myself into?”

Week Twelve:

“When is this crap gonna go away?”

Your baby is moving now, but you can’t feel it at all. You’ll see it in the ultrasounds however, which is neat.

Week Thirteen: SECOND TRIMESTER

“I have been eating soup and applesauce for FOUR WEEKS and I want Mexican but refried beans went Badly.”

it’s not uncommon to get a UTI at this point because you’re peeing a lot and it’s tough to stay clean because water smell makes you puke. Your doctors will take this uncomfortably seriously. You will get The Good Antibiotics, not the piddly crap they usually give out.

You will also now have very strong opinions about what sucks to puke up, as dictated by your nose, which has opinions about everything. You will have safe foods. Unfortunately for you, you’re just about past needing them.

Week Fourteen:

“I want a sandwich with deli meat, and a whole plate of sushi, and I can’t have either of them. This sucks.”

If you gave up caffeine, this is where that will really get hard. If you were already caffeine free, like I was, you’ll be jonsing for stuff you’re not allowed to have, like raw fish and deli meat. Be strong, but if you waver, it probably isn’t the end of the world.

I’m told this is where cravings kick in, but I didn’t get anything notable, so I don’t know.

Week Fifteen:

This is about the time you kind of start feeling better. They say morning sickness starts improving around Week Thirteen, but for me it was longer. The napping is still a thing, so just be okay with that. This also when I started to show. That really depends on body type. I went into pregnancy carrying a little extra weight because I knew I would lose some during morning sickness (I lost nine pounds and mine wasn’t that bad. Be aware.) so it took a little longer for me to show.

More interestingly, you can actually feel your uterus now. It’s kind of like a grapefruit below your belly button. It will grow. You will be very curious about it the whole time

Week Sixteen

“Hey, I kind of feel better now!”

You have energy again. It’s novel. You can do chores and drive, and generally be a person. It shouldn’t be as exciting as it is, but here we are. Time to decorate the nursery if you have one, and to put together a whole bunch of stuff. It’s also a good time to clean up the ‘first trimester disaster’ that is your comfy spot and the mounds of crap around it.

Week Seventeen:

Still napping a lot, but almost feel human. Watch out for the Icks (your pregnancy sensitivities, like ‘green’ for me, which didn’t go away for my whole pregnancy) but you can actually take a shower without puking in the shower now! Scented products may or may not bother you later, but you’ll want them after you give birth. I threw away my shower gel after it made me sick and I regret it now.

Week Eighteen:

“Wow, I have a Baby Bump!” Cue walking around with your hand in your belly so everyone knows you’re pregnant OR wearing your biggest baggiest clothing to hide it and still feeling like it’s super obvious.

Week Nineteen:

There’s a fair chance you felt your baby move at this point, but unfortunately you’re also farting enough to fill the Hindenburg and this early any kicks feel like gas. Stay away from open flames and you’ll be okay.

Week 20: HALFWAY DONE!

Anatomy scan! This is your second ultrasound and the one where you might find out the sex of your baby. This is also where they’ll look for birth defects and genetic conditions. You may also do a blood test here which can also screen for genetic issues, and problems such as RH incompatibility, which is totally treatable with modern science but could kill a baby in a more medieval story.

Note: you may not find out the gender at this or any point until birth. My little girl got her nickname of Wiggles because she was doing cartwheels and the tech couldn’t get a good look between her legs. We didn’t find out her gender until she was born.

If you do find out, and this is crucial, DO NOT tell anyone but your partner what the sex is, or what names you’re considering. Everyone has opinions and all of them suck. Lie through your teeth about not knowing, or just tell them you want it to be a surprise. Do anything but tell them what they want to know. You will regret it if you do

Week Twenty-One:

“Holy crap that was intense. Definitely a kick!”

This is called the ‘quickening’ and for a fantasy character, will be one of the big ‘you’re really pregnant’ signs, because miscarriage is common. At twenty weeks, that risk is much less, which is a huge relief. Plus, now you’re getting kicks, which are all kinds of fun. It’s your first chance to really interact with the person you’re building inside you!

Week Twenty-Two:

“I need to clean the whole house right now everything is dirty I might rearrange the living room.

Welcome to nesting. It doesn’t go away. Use it to your advantage and clean whatever needs cleaning. Don’t judge yourself for starting and not finishing a project. You’re burning everything you have. Shame isn’t welcome here.

A fantasy character may start cleaning if they’re poor, or making baby clothing.

Week Twenty-Three:

Okay here’s where I started having problems. I have hypermobile ribs and mild scoliosis in my lower spine, these together mean a lot of back pain over the years, which I am very familiar with and which is annoying at best and debilitating at worst.

The issue? Pregnancy comes with a huge dose of the natural chemical relaxin. As the name implies, this softens up your tendons, among other things. If you have hypermobility already, get ready for a whole range of fun new ways to pop your bones out of place.

The worse issue? During pregnancy, you’re not allowed any painkiller but Tylenol. If you’re like me and hyper resistant to most pain meds, you might as well be popping tiktacs for all the good Tylenol will do for you.

Buy a heat pad (NOT A BLANKET, you cannot overheat right now) it will help.

If you tell your medical professionals about this back pain, they will freak out and want to get your kidneys tested, because asymptomatic UTIs can turn into kidney infections very quickly during pregnancy and can get very serious very quickly. If you are familiar with your particular brand of back pain, have the “Chronic Pain and You” conversation with your doctor early. The earlier the better. They still won’t give you anything better than Tylenol, but they probably won’t try to test your kidneys unless you pop a fever

Week Twenty-Four:

Kicking! Those are real kicks! Holy crap! Kicking!

This is so much fun, but it's also pretty unreliable. Baby will kick when it pleases them, not when you want to show someone else, and it'll be sporadic, even until the very end.

You may be getting Braxton hicks contractions. They don’t hurt, but they make your belly tense up, which is amusing. Also, when you orgasm, your uterus will get all hard. It does this normally, you just can’t usually feel it. It might freak you out a little. Coincidentally you will be horny enough to hop aboard just about anything that holds still long enough. Get a willing partner and/or a very fine collection of sex toys and be prepared to spend a lot of time taking yourself in hand.

Week Twenty-Five:

Your Dr appointments now happen every two weeks unless they’re worried about something. Also, buy a really comfortable pair of slip on shoes. Your time of being able to reach your feet is coming to an end and you’re gonna want them. Pro: maternity clothing is super soft and comfy and you’re gonna be delighted to wear it. It does tend to come in an unfortunate variety of ‘little house on the preggo’ floral patterns with demure necklines, but there’s some good stuff out there

Week Twenty-Six:

The Eater Beast Appears. You’re hungry all the time. No really. All the time. Constantly. Nuts are good for a snack. I ate a lot of peanut butter and apples. You may be having cravings. If so, lean into them. Have fun with it. This is the good part of your pregnancy.

Plus side, EVERYTHING tastes good!

Week Twenty-Seven

You REALLY look pregnant now. People will start asking when you’re due and giving you bad advice. Don’t murder them. You can probably get away with it, but cleaning up all that blood is hard when you can’t actually get off the ground without help anymore.

Week Twenty-Eight: THIRD TRIMESTER

Final ultrasound and gestational diabetes testing. The ultrasound is fun because Baby looks like a baby now! Holy crap! There’s a whole person inside you! You contain twice the usual number of bones! If you’re having a boy, you have in fact grown a pair.

My baby had a tiny little heart defect, so we talked to a specialist at this point. Try not to freak out if this happens. Defects like that are very easy to fix, and often go away on their own as my girl’s did.

The diabetes testing is different for everyone. They’ll have you drink a glycerin drink (get the orange flavored one. It’s reasonably inoffensive and you have to chug the stuff) and will test your blood to see how you react to the sugars. Don’t freak out if it’s positive. Most of the time gestational diabetes goes away after birth. If you’re borderline, they’ll test you again but for three hours rather than one.

The glycerin drink made me really sick and I refused to do the three hour testing. They will get very grumpy if you do this, however, you can buy a diabetic testing kit and track your blood sugars four times a day for a week instead, and they’ll accept that too. (Don’t get the one they prescribe. The Contour Next is cheap, reliable, easy to use, and doesn’t cost $200)

They might want you to change your diet and exercise. You will want to murder them for this. Don’t do it. Go for the damn walks and eat less carbs. It will kind of suck, but it’s for your baby, and it isn’t permanent.

Week Twenty-Nine

Return of the Nap Demon. You will sleep SO MUCH. Let it happen. Your body is working hard to build another person. Have mercy on yourself. Eat. Be okay with the weight gain. A lot of it is the baby inside you and your placenta, and the fluid you need to support them both. You need the calories.

Also, LACTATION! This is when two more of your orifices, which previously did not leak, start to leak. This too, will get worse. You can save the colostrum for your baby though, which can be helpful.

Week Thirty:

The Final Countdown. You’re ten weeks off your due date and if you haven’t already, you need to figure out how and where you want to give birth. Talk with your midwives and doctors. If you’re high risk, they won’t want you to give birth outside a hospital. This will feel crappy, but is honestly the safest choice provided you’re willing to tell doctors to piss off when needed. Start figuring out your birth plan. Talk to other expecting parents.

Week Thirty-One:

“Ugh, I’m huge.”

At this point, your character absolutely is not getting on a horse without a lot of help, and cannot ride for long regardless without serious discomfort or even pain. A fall could mean losing the baby, or a serious injury, and the undercarriage is not gonna handle having that much weight on it for long without protestations.

Week Thirty-Two

“Why am I crying? I’m not actually upset about anything and yet, I am hysterical.”

Warn your partner about this phase beforehand. They won’t believe how bad it’s gonna get, but the warning is still nice to have. Remind them that you warned them between bites of your favorite ice cream.

Week Thirty-Three:

Everyone you know who has baby stuff will try to give it to you. Be prepared to refuse whatever you don’t want. Be merciless or you will be flooded with broken baby crap you don’t want until you find some other poor soul to pawn it off on.

Week Thirty-Four:

You’ve been talking names, but now it’s time to decide for real. Try to follow this guide with your baby name options. Your kid will thank you for it.

1. Easy to say (no weird pronunciations)

2. Easy to spell (you are permitted ONE silent letter and no more)

3. Does not require explanation (Cultural names of a culture you’re not part of, especially)

4. Sounds good with middle and last name

5. Initials don’t spell something weird or stupid (Dora Indigo Kennedy sounds great, but the initials spell DIK)

6. Has agreeable nicknames (Elizabeth > Lizzy)

7. Isn’t a gimme for bullies to make fun of (Pubert)

8. Isn’t in the top 10 most popular names within the last five years. (Don’t want five of them in the same class)

9. Is not the name of someone you hate, even if it’s also the name of a family member. (obviously)

Follow these, and you will have a happy child who does not resent you for naming them something weird and messed up that no one can ever say or spell correctly, and which they have to explain every time they introduce themselves

Week Thirty-Five

You’re huge. You’ve just about reached maximum size and if your baby comes early at this point, they’ll probably be fine. This is immensely reassuring, because you have spent the last several months panicking about what if the baby comes early. Nightly baths are amazing. Also, your hair and nails will grow super fast right now, so be ready for that.

Week Thirty-Six:

Mobility is a serious issue. Stairs are hard. So are curbs. Getting into and out of a car is a Process and getting up off the couch or out of bed takes a While unless you have help. Your balance is screwed and you waddle now. You’re a real fall risk and that does change how you interact with the world.

You also probably can’t unload the laundry if it’s a top-loader, and you might not be able to do the dish washer either. Bonus! Less chores

Week Thirty-Seven:

Remember the Nap Demons? They’re back and they brought a friend. Heartburn Hell. It’s been bad for a while but it’s worse now. Skip the tums and go for something stronger.

Week Thirty-Eight:

Your craps are gone. Baby is due in fourteen days and you have given up on your good habits. You’re probably still walking, but only because Baby has their head lodged against your cervix and is trying to burrow out. People call this lightning crotch for a reason because it really feels like you have a taser lodged up there that gives you a shock now and then

On the plus side, baby kicks like crazy now and that’s both awesome and kind of uncomfortable. You can play with their feet and poke them, and they’ll probably have a favorite place to hang out in your belly. Pro tip, if baby just will not settle, get a hot pack and put it against the side where they hang out. They’ll curl up and go to sleep on it. Just make sure you don’t overheat.

If you think anyone this pregnant is doing much of anything except growl about how heavy they feel and eat, you’re wrong. Nobody is leading armies to war like this. Anyone trying to fight because their life is immediately in danger will probably lose because they are large, heavy, clumsy, and their center of gravity is toast.

Week Thirty-Nine:

The last rush of Nesting and it’ll be a bad one. You’re gonna try to do all kinds of stupid crap, like scrubbing the floors (you get stuck) climbing up ladders (you are a fall risk, get down) trying to drive places (you get dizzy, you should not be driving at this point) and trying to lift heavy stuff (absolutely not). You might try to paint your nursery or hang curtains. I tried to plant my whole garden. Don’t be me

Week Forty:

The Due Date Has Come. You’re now on baby-watch. You’re probably having a ton of Braxton Hicks, but the big difference between them and the real deal is pain. Braxton Hicks don’t hurt and real ones kind of feel like period cramps. How uncomfortable contractions are at first will really depend on how you handle pain.

Week Forty-One:

“What the hell do you mean I haven’t gone into labor yet?? Get this child out of me!”

Week Forty-Two:

“Crap. I’m just gonna be pregnant forever, huh? …oh crap. I think my water just broke.”

The usual questions:

Morning sickness:

So, morning sickness isn’t puking all the time. In fact if you’re puking more than once a day it’s a serious medical condition called hyperemesis gravidarum and sometimes requires medication

More commonly it’s a general sense of not feeling well, followed by brief but dramatic puking. Honestly, the closest analogy is really bad food poisoning when you can feel the puke coming, but it hasn’t come yet

During the morning sickness phase, you HAVE to eat. Not eating makes it so much worse, so it helps if you set a strict schedule of eating a snack or a small meal every two hours you’re awake, and as soon as you wake and right before bed. Apple sauce good. Doesn’t suck coming back up. Same with most soups. Avoid spicy, acids, and crunchy stuff. They’re all miserable coming back. Drink a LOT of water.

Scents will be a problem. Your sense of smell goes haywire and cranks up to 11. I’m practically noseblind and I could smell the apples in my kitchen from across the house. Normally this would be fun. During morning sickness, it means fun new ways to puke in exciting places. The smell difference between being inside and going outside is sometimes enough, and any of your trigger scents or flavors will get you reliably. Scented products are a hard no. Pack them away for now. You’ll want them later.

The hard part is that doing anything strenuous, like hanging out with friends or going to the grocery store, will make it worse for the days following. The exhaustion compounds. You absolutely can’t borrow from tomorrow’s spoons and trying to push yourself will just lead to being even worse off the next day. You HAVE to rest. It’s not optional and your body will enforce it on you.

It does help to get an essential oil you like and wear it in a diffuser. I used lavender, but any smell you like and which doesn’t smell like death to you will work. Make sure it isn’t touching skin. A lot of oils are caustic, and some are toxic.

Other than that, just try to ride it out. It doesn’t last.

Body changes:

It starts out slow and then lingers. You’ll feel like you should be showing way before you are, but once you hit your second trimester, it’s very obvious you’re pregnant, and one you hit the third trimester they can probably see you from space. You waddle. Your coordination goes down the tubes, you’re hot all the time, thirsty and hungry all the time, and exhausted a lot of the time.

You will also stink. Your BO will spike with your hormones and unfortunately, you will absolutely not want to bathe until the third trimester, when you want to be in the water all the time.

Your hair will, however, be awesome. Preggo hair is a thing. So is post-partum shedding, so be ready to shed more than three long-hair cats. It’s a thing. Unfortunately this does include your body hair, which will grow fast and thick. If it bothers you, you’re gonna be shaving a lot.

Here’s where it gets TMI, but if you’re writing a pregnant character or you’re pregnant/want to get pregnant yourself, you gotta know. There will be itching. You will not be able to shave your undercarriage at all after a certain point, so if it matters that much, you’ll need help. Your cooch will also smell different. Weird, but there it is.

Being in water helps immensely I spent a lot of my pregnancy in the bath and I strongly credit that for helping to support my back and ribs, which were not thrilled about the temporary tenant. It also helps with the ‘ugh I’m heavy’ complaint. Spend as much time in the water as you can, but remember not to let it get more than 100 degrees, or you can put Baby and yourself at risk. You have a lot more blood in your body right now. That makes for certain issues, such as fainting.

You will feel heavy. This is most notable during the third trimester, but when it becomes a problem, it really becomes a problem.

This is a problem because the only pain killer you’re allowed is Tylenol, and not much of that. If you’re in screaming pain, you can go totally hospital but they probably won’t give you anything for it. There’s a serious risk to your baby; and while they won’t prioritize the baby over you, you’re the one who is driving the bus, so they’re gonna make you obey the metaphorical traffic laws.

Labor:

Game day. You’ve been waiting for this for nine months and thank anything holy it’s finally here.

It starts as little flutters that kind of feel like gas, and you’ll probably be farting a fair bit anyway because you have a baby squishing your organs in every direction. After a while, it’ll start to feel more like cramping, and that’s when you know it’s game day. You start timing them at that point, and here’s where Hollywood starts messing up.

Labor is slow.

I was contracting for about ten hours before my water broke. If you’re pregnant, buy the adult diapers. Just do it. Put them on as soon as you realize you’re in labor. What comes out of you when your water breaks is foul. It’s not water. It’s slime, and it’s stinky. Sometimes it’s brown. It’s never something you want on anything you’re planning to keep. The diaper will contain it and you will be GLAD.

So ten hours in, my water broke. This is the sign that it’s not false labor. You’re ready to rock and roll.

This is also where my story differs from most.

Generally, when your water breaks, you’re about ten hours from pushing. Those ten hours will suck, but the nurses are mostly really nice and you can kick the mean ones out without repercussion. If you don’t vibe with one, switch tjem out. You don’t have to keep a nurse you don’t like.

The contractions will get stronger and they will get more painful. The nurses will call them “intense”. That’s bullcrap. It hurts. If you want medication, you have options. Ask for them freely and without shame.

Pushing is kind of a blur. You’ll be on so many endorphins and probably an epidural, that you’ll be in a haze. You push with the contractions for best effect. You’re gonna poop. This is good. Means you’re pushing right. You absolutely will not care in the moment.

It will feel like it’s not progressing at all, but your support people are gonna be on the ball and they’ll give you updates. If you have an epidural, it helps. If not, breathe through it and ride the endorphins. The worst part is when the head isn’t entirely through the cervix and everything is stretching a whole lot. Once the head is in the channel and you’re making progress, it gets easier.

It still hurts a whole lot, even with the meds, but you honestly won’t care because your whole body is designed to do this thing, and it’s GONNA do it at this point, whether you want to or not.

As soon as the head is out, the rest of the baby follows, and it sort of feels like you’ve been gutted. Things because you pretty much have. Birthing the placenta is entirely secondary to your tiny new baby and getting sewn up if you tear is uncomfortable, but after everything else, pretty negligible. Also, new baby!

Afterwards:

So, postpartum recovery sucks. All those endorphins are gone, you’re no longer on pain meds, and you just squeezed a baby through your cooch. You probably have stitches, and everything hurts. Walking is hard and without help, it’s also dangerous. You’re a fall risk. Do not try to hold your baby and walk at the same time unless you absolutely must. That’s what your birth support person is for. If you don’t have one, they’ll provide one.

Peeing hurts. Pooping is worse. You will be passing blood clots and your underwear (remember, get the adult diapers. They’re way better) will look like that scene from The Shining with the blood tsunami. This is all normal but it’s pretty horrifying.

They will give you various products to help with recovery. Some work better than others. Use all of them. The compound effects help.

It will be about three weeks before you feel like you can pee without it hurting. It’ll be closer to six before you can poop without worrying. Either way, there will be some major changes to your squishy parts.

Me specifically:

Remember how I mentioned my story was different? Yeah. So I was in labor for 62 hours, and pushed for five of those before my daughter was born.

For most of it, it was just waiting for my body to get into gear, and then when I wasn’t progressing, for the pitocin to kick in. I didn’t want to be on pitocin, but I wasn’t going to risk my baby, and labor that long comes with some real risks to mother and baby.

I did have both fentanyl (which for reasons of my messed up biology doesn’t affect me at all) and an epidural, which did help, but was hindered by my scoliosis. (Having a curve in your spine makes it hard to put the needle in the right place).

I could have had a c section, but I was very against it and since we were doing okay, despite it taking a long time, they let me have a vaginal birth.

This is not normal and is a product of my messed up biology. Your experience may differ.

Breastfeeding:

Okay babies do not come out of the uterus knowing how to do this. They’re really bad at latching at first and it will take a few tries to get them to latch. Even then, if they have a high palate or a tongue tie, they may struggle to latch.

Even so, breastfeeding really is an incredible feeling of knowing nature built you so right that you can keep your whole baby alive with just what your body makes for them.

This can make breastfeeding hard, and even if they have a good latch, it kind of sucks for a while as your nipples get used to nursing and your milk comes in. You’ll produce colostrum for the first few days, and that will slowly turn to milk over a week or so.

Baby will need to eat basically every hour for the first few weeks, then every two hours, but in greater amounts. As they get better at feeding, it gets easier, but there’s no shame in using formula as a support for your milk. The goal is to keep the baby alive.

Once you’re both used to it, you can even nap pretty well while you feed, especially once you’re in bed. Just make sure there’s absolutely no risk of dropping or rolling on top of the baby.

Your Baby:

Here’s the good part. Babies are awesome! They’re cute, they’re fun, and they’re deeply entertaining to mess with. Make sure you have a basket of toys for your baby, and let the good times roll, even when things are hard. They’ll only be this small once, The tiny baby clothes feel too small until you put them on. I’m keeping all of mine. I don’t know what I’ll use them for, but they’re too cute to get rid of.

#writer #writing #spilled ink #lee hadan #pregnancy #pregnant #pregblr

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qiu-yan · 4 months ago

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I think if MDZS was truly about moral good, then Cultivation Society would have been fundamentally changed and everyone who tried to change it wouldn’t be dead. The fact that XXC and SL wanted to change cultivation sects from being dynastic to more merit based and they got such horrible fates is tragic. JGY wanted to use his power to help the more common folk, but he was struck down and any good he’s done is going to be tainted. WWX and LWJ choose to walk away rather than do anything in the novel, so I’m not sure if their actions can be considered a net positive. There’s only so much good they can do as wandering cultivators, there needs to be some kind of structure to help the community but most sects are unwilling to put in a lot of effort if it doesn’t benefit them specifically. There was no social change in MDZS.

thank you for the message! and sorry it took me five million years to get to it...

from a utilitarian point of view, i think you're completely correct: the one individual the novel holds up as the most righteous out of everyone has a far greater negative than positive impact on the world at large; society and the plight of the common folk are in a worse state at the end of the novel than they are at the beginning. postcanon, no matter how much individual nighthunting wei wuxian and lan wangji do, the life of your average commoner is probably going to get more dangerous. you are correct that there was in fact no social change in MDZS. shit did not change on a major scale.

two comments about this: first, the moral framework employed by MDZS is decidedly non-utilitarian. second, as you said, MDZS is not About Moral Good.

first, the moral framework employed by MDZS is not utilitarian at all. wei wuxian and lan wangji are not "righteous" in the way that someone who pulls the lever in the trolley problem can be called "righteous" via utilitarian reasoning; rather, wei wuxian and lan wangji are "righteous" in the way that someone who walks away from omelas is righteous. from a utilitarian perspective, walking away from omelas doesn't accomplish shit because the child is still suffering and one person's absence is not going to change that. from a non-utilitarian perspective, though, walking away from omelas isn't about bringing about a certain result but rather is about living in accordance to your own ideals and code of honor. it's not about helping as many people as possible or about bringing about the best possible outcome, but rather about living your own life without any regrets.

this isn't a philosophy i (a utilitarian) really buy into, but many people do find it persuasive. and though there are still some logical holes induced by protagonist-centered-morality, i do think that MDZS is overall thematically cohesive if analyzed through this non-utilitarian lens. unfortunately, one side-effect of this lens (as well as the general non-utilitarian sorts of philosophies this lens is based in) is that the story ends up somewhat handwaving actual negative consequences.

second, MDZS is not Purely About Moral Good. it has an internally consistent moral framework and it has a lot to say about what it thinks is righteousness, but it isn't a "ringing endorsement of the Correct Course Of Action" book in the same way many other works of fiction are. MDZS is about a certain kind of righteousness, but it's also a cynical condemnation of society, a remark upon the role and unreliability of rumors and hearsay, a subversion of typical xianxia/wuxia genre tropes, an interpersonal tragedy of love and duty and sacrifice and hubris, and a thorough rejection of the just world fallacy. it's also a romance.

i say that MDZS is also a social critique and a rejection of the just world fallacy because, in my view, we aren't meant to read characters like jin guangyao as "unambiguously evil characters who got what they deserved." i do think we're meant to see the way in which society turns on jin guangyao, the way in which that parallels wei wuxian's unfair downfall, and the way in which the genuine good jin guangyao did for the world is now at risk, as a tragedy. as a rather depressing insight upon the morally bankrupt nature of society. MXTX wrote it that way on purpose. you're not meant to read jin guangyao's downfall and go "he got what he deserved;" rather, you're meant to look at the black-and-white, hypocritical, and classist way in which society turns upon jin guangyao as a criticism of that society - one that builds off of the social criticism baked into wei wuxian's character arc.

there is no structural change in MDZS because MDZS is a criticism of society, not a story about how society got better. MDZS posits that this polite society is classist and morally bankrupt, and then does not fix said society. MDZS says "this polite society was hypocritical and self-serving then, and it still is now." in that sense, then, the ending is deliberately rather tragic.

in that sense, then, wei wuxian stepping away from the cultivation world does also feel like him giving up on society. which, from an interpersonal perspective, is fair: he already set himself on fire and literally died trying to do the right thing, so i don't think we can really begrudge him for not wanting to risk it a second time. maybe this time someone else can try to fix things (and die in the process). also, given his and lan wangji's absolute lack of any political ability, it's probably also for the best that they not try to involve themselves in politics to better the world, because realistically they'd probably just make a bunch of enemies and solve zero of the problems.

MDZS tries to give us some hope for the future of its fictional society: both the novel and the fandom (including me myself) posit that said hope for the future lies in the juniors, by whom wei wuxian's generation tried to better than their parents did for them. jin ling's generation certainly seems kinder than wei wuxian's generation. i think we're meant to conclude that things aren't completely hopeless because jin ling's generation, kinder and nobler than the previous one, will try to fix things.

but personally, i'm not sure how i feel about placing the hopes of social reform on the specific personalities of citizens and leaders, rather than the structures those people exist in. instead, i'm reminded me of what i wrote a few months ago about the granularity of morality in MDZS being the entire individual and not the action, by which i mean that MDZS seems to assess and conclude entire characters as "good people" or "bad people" or "complicated and morally grey people," rather than analyze the morality of specific actions. and i think it's because MDZS treats the unit measurements of morality as people rather than actions or policies, that MDZS is ultimately able to posit that the future will be better because a specific group of individuals from the next generation have kinder personalities - even though there was no structural reform. as if the state of a society is determined purely by the personalities of a select group of future leaders within it, rather than the laws and institutions that bind it and the material conditions its populations live in. to put it in other words, this is peak "we replaced the evil king with a Wise And Just king (and made no other changes), so we've saved the day!!!" thinking.

i feel like i rambled a lot in this response, so i apologize for its relative lack of cohesion. i hope i haven't misinterpreted your points and that i've continued the conversation in a relevant manner.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #jin guangyao #yanyan speaks #yanyan answers #long post #what i think about [how mxtx intends for us to read mdzs] varies wildly based on how haterish i'm feeling #which is why this might appear to contradict other stuff i've said on here before lol

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zkylearnstherope · 14 days ago

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Victim [An Analysis] Finale + Theories

Part 1 - Part 2 - [Part 3]

Alright, here's the finale. There are some stuff I forgot to mention in the first two parts, and some corrections too. A few analysis from Wanted, and I am also including theories at the end as well.

Thank you for @d8tl55c for pointing it out.

That map was of Newgrounds, not the Outernet, which was I initially thought. There are two more texts at the bottom of it, and one was also highlighted in yellow, but it's two blurry to read.

The sticks around vic knows where the PCs are. But this doesn't explain how Purple has his own human. Purple can move from the Mac, to Minecraft, to the Outernet. And King was also able to buy a Minecraft item too. Is the Outernet more easily accessible that we initially thought?

Another thing I want to point out is that I don't think The Salad cares much about the Outernet. They have never expressed interest in finding out where King lives, nor did they explore the area after Showdown. Finding the city in The Box didn't even surprise them a bit, nor seeing more sticks like them. They know it's there, but they just don't care about it that much.

So, even if Second finds out about what Dark and Chosen did, I don't think he would align himself with vic, to be honest. He'll just go back to ALANSPC.

The building in Wanted exploded because Chosen hit the glitch bullet with a fireblast. Yes, he also has fireblast. Although, I will admit, it does look different than the fireblasts in Victim. It could be an animation thing, since they made the episodes a year apart. Or it could also mean that it was only Dark who was doing the destruction. But I don't care. I still hate Chosen for letting it all go down.

Also, this scene was definitely referencing Mitsi. Another one almost got hit by a rubble because of him.

And here's a summary of why vic is NOT an evil boss. Read the Part 2 for a more elaborate info.

The workers did not resign. The majority of the workforce disappeared because of the event. The string is connected to FRAME article of Where did they go?

Only one of them gave a (bad) interview. And it was at the same time the rumors started going around that he was in debt because the shareholders started selling shares. It was 3 articles in total written by a rival company to deface him.

Why do I think there's a rival company? Because of the incident report of someone getting caught stealing the UI Tools. Agent was able to subdue the suspect, and they filed a police report on it.

Yes, the Rocket Co. company "is not the same". That's because the original people were not there anymore. THEY DIED.

The previous articles say that vic hasn't made a public appearance, even after he became the new CEO.

He wasn't mistreating his workers. He's just not there.

And assuming they used to party all the time with Mitsi, those times should've stopped as well.

The article just exaggerated all the events at the company, and probably what that worker said in the interview as well. Typical newspaper stuff.

Everybody desperately want to make vic the evil cold boss, and people always forget that he and The Mercs have NEVER KILLED anyone.

What he has done so far was beat a god-level terrorist with ominous music playing in the background, and people were like- yeah that has to be the super bad guy ever. Everybody knows that nerd CEOs of tech companies are evil, yeah.

Despite seeing Victim where vic is the one who grants powers to people, people still think he would "take Second's power for himself".

A truly truly misunderstood character. Not only misunderstood, but there's barely anyone who cares enough to listen.

Second and Yellow's Capture.

Rocket Co. has two goals: Capturing Chosen and figure out how a cursor ended up in the Outernet.

The UI Tools were very rare. And because they were hunting down a cursor, they needed to know where Second got the pencil. Sticks are afraid of the Animators, they don't want the idea of them just casually showing up to the Outernet. Second was captured because of his potential connection to an Animator. And so did Yellow.

They are not aware about the hole in the Sky Tile, so there's no way they'll figure out how Yellow managed to summon a cursor, without capturing him too.

Although, it was actually Dark's tech that did the summoning, so I am not sure if Yellow would even be able to replicate it.

Agent overbeating RGB.

I see all of it as precaution. Chosen and Dark has already managed to wipe out Newgrounds. And now an Orange hollow managed to laser beam one of those terrorists.

It's only logical for them to assume that everyone that is potentially connected to The Chosen One would be powerful as well.

That's how I would respond too. I wouldn't trust people connected to terrorists, not even children. I would take try to take them down quickly before they could even harm the civilians around me. Agent was protecting the drivers, his family. No way he's letting them be in danger again.

(Also, I never agreed with them being children, but it's not related right now.)

I don't know why they stopped scanning Chosen. I honestly think it's a writer's plot hole, but an in-universe explanation would be that they needed to get everyone away from Second as possible. He could potentially get out at any time.

Why did it take too long for Agent to Pause Second and Chosen in Wanted? Were the Mercs playing with them all that time?

I don't see Wanted as the Mercs having fun.

I was more distracted by the fact that Second decided to use animals as meat shields. He can draw Rockets but not sure why he drew animals. A very odd choice for someone to immediately want living things to protect him. But that's not important right now.

It seems to me that the fight was being observed by cameras, and Agent has comms on. They were being ordered to push Second to use the Pencil to the extent of his abilities.

Since this was the first time they've seen a stick create life, and it was an Observation Sequence. NOT playing around.

Since I was right about vic having a tall wife, and that Agent is some sort of a sadist policeman, here are more theories I have.

The people around vic, especially his wife, knows that there Evil Animators out there, I want it to be true, that Mitsi was the one behind the Freedom website. She drew Black victim because they know how Noogai3 kept reviving the same black hollow over and over again. It was initially meant to save future versions of victim, but it ended up freeing Chosen and now Dark was created too.

The idea that they wanted to help enslaved sticks but ended up releasing the Terrorists of Newgrounds is so good of a backstory.

It was Chosen who saved Agent Oreo.

As much as I hate Chosen, I can't deny that this is his portal.

As to why he decided to save people, I have no idea.

The next Corn Dog Guy appearance will be his POV in Newgrounds. Then, we'll get to see what Chosen is actually doing there.

[small text] SKY Journal Astronomical breakthrough Highlights from SKY conference about(?) discovery of Sky Tiles How do Sky Tiles affect our understanding of weather? Microscopic examinations of Green Life Particles advance medical technology. [small text]

The Outernet sticks are aware of the benefits of the Green Particles. Now, I wonder if vic is now seeing Second as his way to save everyone? But too much time has passed, I don't know if Mitsi is still recoverable.

Right now, vic is trying to find out how an Animator managed to come to the Outernet. I personally think that the next episode would be more flashbacks but from Chosen's POV. Gotta get that angst meter high up.

I'm sure I had more theories, but I got so distracted today, that I forgot some of them.

Anyway, thank you for reading.

#ava fan made #ava team vic #ava theory #alan becker #animator vs animation #ava victim #ava agent #ava mitsi

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allforthegaymes · 6 months ago

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Monster Jean Drabble

(AU where Jean stays with Palmetto instead of going to the trojans.)

Jean’s business major means he has probably the most amount of free time between the Monsters. And with Andrew’s refusal to let Jean join their night practices till he’s fully healed, he gets dropped off on Aaron most nights.

As much as the twins would deny it, he’s eerily similar to Andrew. He sits there quietly in the dorm, hunched over a textbook on the same desk that Andrew smokes on.

Jean cant help but watch from his spot in the kitchen, the blonde sits up to stretch, looks out the window, and then slouches back down to scribble down a couple more notes. Then repeats the same actions over and over till he finally slams his head down into his book with a loud groan.

Jean takes that as his opening, walking over to set a plate down in front of him. Not above snooping he lets himself stare down at his page of notes.

Its something to do with the muscle groups, theres a collection of clear sticky notes that Aaron has been laying over the model to try and label all the groups properly, before he rips it off and tries again. Memorizing where they are evidently.

Aaron looks up at him with an unimpressed look, but still reaches down to start scarfing down the sandwich Jean put in front of him.

He takes one pause to breathe halfway through the sandwich, “are you going to give me some freak insight on a horrible experience you had that can somehow be related to this?” When Jean doesn’t respond immediately, he continues, “Josten loves giving unprompted stories, but only when you dont want them”

Jean hums, “Josten has more life experiences than me evidently.”

Aaron nods his head, “somehow that man acts like hes never gone outside in his life, then one day you catch him sleep deprived at 2am and youre forced to hear about how to lie to the government in order to get a new social security card”

“I hate when he tells that one,” Jean shudders at the memory, reaching down to snag the empty plate back from Aaron after the man lifts it to lick it clean, “just wait for the deli freezer one, it takes an hour to get through”

He turns back towards the kitchen, dropping the plate into the dishwasher before doing his daily fridge check.

Andrew had recommended it to help him establish a schedule for himself and to feel like he’s contributing more to the apartment.

The blond man had effectively banned Jean from all chores, forcing Jean to establish his own habits within the apartment

So he found himself writing down every content of the fridge on one side of the whiteboard and a list of things they needed to buy from the store on the other side.

Another loud groan from Aaron in the other room, hands and face loudly hitting the textbook in front of him before he called out for Jean.

Jean sat on the other side of the table from him and read flashcards back and forth with him for the rest of the night.

By the time night practice ends and the trio manages to tiredly stumble home, theres a plate of snacks in the fridge and begrudging note, written on a clear sticky note, telling Andrew that Jean got him a new pint of cherry garcia ice cream.

Jean and Aaron are laying on the bean bags in the living room, both passed out around a pile of flashcards.

#aftg #all for the game #andrew joseph minyard #andrew minyard #minyard #aaron minyard #minyard twins #twinyard #twinyards #jean moreau #the kings men #the raven king #the foxhole court

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asexualbookbird · 21 days ago

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25 in 2025

Sigh. I've been bullied. I guess. I did a big swing and a miss on last years list, but I have a Plan this time. A Theme. A Goal. This will be mostly comprised of my Illumicrate books so I can decide if it is in fact worth it to keep my subscription going until the Alecto edition gets announced. If I don't actually enjoy the majority of the books in these boxes then what's the point, yknow?

So here's this years color key:

Green - Carry over from last year (not carrying over every missed book, which probably means I should just get rid of them huh)

Purple - Illumicrate books

Blue - I own these in physical form, but they're not from Illumicrate

Labyrinth's Heart by MA Carrick

The Faithless by CL Clark

The Art of Prophecy by Wesley Chu

The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri

City of Bones by Martha Wells

Witch King by Martha Wells

After the Forest by Kell Woods

Voyage of the Damned by Frances White

Of Jade and Dragons by Amber Chen

The Phoenix Keeper by SA Maclean

A Dark and Drowning Tide by Allison Saft

Until We Shatter by Kate Dylan

Mistress of Lies by KM Enright

Hammajang Luck by Makana Yamamoto

A Sorceress Comes to Call by T Kingfisher

The Bone Shard War by Andrea Stewart

The Last Hour Between Worlds by Melissa Caruso

The Spare Man by Mary Robinette Kowal

He Who Drowned the World by Shelley Parker Chan

All Those Explosions Were Someone Else's Fault by James Alan Gardner

The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett

The Spellshop by Sarah Beth Durst

Can't Spell Treason Without Tea by Rebecca Thorne

In the Ravenous Dark by AM Strickland

A Conjuring of Light by VE Schwab

PHEW. Okay. A fw things to note. A Dark and Drowning Tide is an Illumicrate book, but I didn't pay for it. A friend gave it to me after I skipped that month because she wasn't interested. I always look up book spoilers and skip if I'm not interested and if I'm uninterested in any of the stuff I'll skip even if the book seems neat. That month the box was full of fandoms I didn't care about, so my friends said "here, take my copy" and I said "yay! Free book!"

The Last Hour Between Worlds I think was also an Illumicrate book? They do fanart for it so I assume it was at some point. I did not get it. This is not the IC edition. I was not thrilled about The Tethered Mage so I was going to get this out of the library. Then my mom bought it for me for the holidays. So yay! Free book!

I think I would also like to keep track of books I purchase this year. I'd like to cut down on buying books that I won't love. So I'd like to utilise my library more. Win win, I think! And that seems easier than a full out ban since yeah sometimes I do enjoy little treats! Books purchased for other people do not count, obviously.

There are also some books I'd like to reread this year, mainly The Bone Maker because I've been saying that since I read it the first time. And honestly, I've been chasing the same vibes and haven't been able to match it (Godkiller got close!).

As usual, I reserve the right to pretend this post doesn't exist, but I think I've set myself up for success here :)

I don't know who hasn't done this by now @logarithmicpanda ? Have you?? Consider yourself tagged >:3c

oh right I was bullied tagged by @bigcats-birds-and-books

#bookbird babbles #tag games #books #booklr #25 in 2025 #would also like to read that donation pile but ive been saying that for um. ten years i think.#nyoops........#illumicrate put out their survey and asked how many books youve read from the boxes and im like DO NOT CALL ME OUT LIKE THIS!!!!!!#I UNDERSTAND ITS GOOD DATA BUT!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!#so im gonna fix that #also i realised it bugged me seeing 'never opened never read' iin the IC buy sell trade groups lmao #why spend this money if you dont want the book?????#and then i realised i was part of the problem :(#so i will fix that thanks <3 #also also. their price increased and im mad about it #i really just want to be here to get first in line for alecto sobs #if they even do a matching alecto #i feel like they will theyve done later series installments before #and theyre also very good at making sure people dont double dip! so if you got the first book you cant get the firstr second book bundle!#ALL THAT TO SAY. HERE YOU GO AL I DID THE THING

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obbystars · 2 years ago

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what I think the brothers would get if they went to a Dunkin Donuts (from a person who works at a Dunkin) + some other shenanigans if you worked there

Lucifer just gets a singular black coffee. Sometimes with an espresso shot if he really needs it.

Mammon strikes me as the type to get something fancy, like one of the signature lattes. Maybe a macchiato or a cappuccino.

Leviathan just gets one of the sodas we have available like pepsi, coke, or sprite.

Satan feels like he’d get a coffee with a side of milk (for the cats). The coffee is usually either black or with a splash of milk.

Asmodeus gets a Dunkin refresher and a donut with sprinkles. Majority of the time, it’s strawberry. If he’s not feeling the refresher, then hibiscus tea.

Beelzebub buys the entire menu (if he could). He’d definitely buy a few (all) of the sandwiches.

Belphegor usually goes with Beelzebub and just heads to the nearest open table to nap on. He almost never really orders as he just has whatever Beel gets him, but when he does, it’s a hot chocolate, apple juice, or orange juice.

and now for the shenanigans

Asmo comes by to visit the most. He gives a hello kiss and a goodbye kiss every time, and he will not leave until he gives a goodbye kiss.

“Sir, we’re closing in a few minutes, we need you to leave.”

“I want my goodbye kiss from them first >:(”

Asmo also sometimes tries to invite the others. Usually this is the only time where Lucifer will actually come by to order something.

Even if Lucifer did come by without Asmo’s invitation, it’s usually to just check on you, buy his coffee, and go back to work. my lucifer simp side of me says he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before he leaves, but that’s just me craving for the man

Mammon purposely takes long on ordering because he enjoys the fact your attention is on him. Of course, this causes the other customers in line to get annoyed. He’ll only cave when you tell him that he needs to order so you can get the other orders in.

“Can you believe them? They need to learn how to be patient.”

“To be fair, we’ve been here for a good few minutes… And I do kinda need you to order.”

“Alright, fine.”

Levi and Satan usually swing by when you’re just about to go on break. It’s like they know. Satan brings a spare book for you to read while Levi seems to have gotten a cafe simulator game and he wants to know if what happens in the game is similar to what you do.

Belphie definitely got a few complaints from other customers about the fact he just went to a table and napped. Beel would eventually have to defend him and say he’s with him. Sometimes the two end up staying until closing time. One of your coworkers likely asked Beel if Belphie was okay as he was probably asleep the entire time.

On the rare occasion that all of them do stop by because they all agreed they should, Lucifer would have to handle the big order and pay for it.

He’d eventually tell the others to go find a table for them to sit at if they all start talking over each other as they give you their order.

Before Mammon goes, he would ask if you’ll be on break soon so that you may sit with them. (then get ushered away by Lucifer)

The moment goes on Asmo’s Devilgram. He’s likely take a whole bunch of pictures, like his order, the receipt, the table with everyone’s orders, and a selfie. A bunch of selfies.

One of your coworkers most definitely asked if one of the brothers was your boyfriend. Your answer is up to you :3c

BONUS!

Diavolo found out about the brothers going to visit you at your job and gets curious, so one day, you see Diavolo, Barbatos, and Lucifer (Dia begged for him to show him) walk through the door. He’s so excited and curious that he has no idea what he wants to get, but eventually settles with a muffin and the new Turtle signature latte specifically because of the fact it’s called “Turtle.”

Diavolo also makes Lucifer buy more than just his black coffee. By more, he just makes him buy the same muffin he got.

“That’s all you’re getting?!”

“This is what I always get when I come here.”

“Nonono, MC, get him the same muffin I’m getting.”

Barbatos is also getting a muffin.

Diavolo also pays.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me shall we date #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me diavolo #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me mc #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons

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cyrdling · 8 months ago

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Dating Geto Headcanons

a/n: silly goofy guy geetoe. ive got a love-hate relationship w him.

okay, so if you're dating him, you're probably gonna have to be chill with the whole cult thing, and especially curses and all that entails. if not, i don't think he would be okay with it to be honest, especially if you don't really share his ideals or care about his whole eating curses thing.

if you are okay (or don't know) about that stuff, great! he's got money, enough to give you most things you want, and is pretty good at making you feel safe. since you know. the whole curses thing.

often, you'd have to participate in events for the cult. not necessarily sacrifices if that's not your thing, but you would likely have to attend ceremonial feasts and stuff. it's safe to say that every member holds you in the same high regard as geto- especially since he told them that if they were mean to you, they'd be in major trouble.

he's pretty unserious at times. if nothing serious is going on, he can tease you for stuff that's happened- say you said the wrong thing instead of something else or whatever- and he never lets you live it down. he's quite creative with it, too.

sometimes, he feels like pure shit- especially after eating a curse. to him, it tastes like rusted iron, clay, and the mudflaps on an eighteen-wheeler (with the mud, dirt, whatever on them, of course). it burns his mouth, and the first few times, he coughed so hard he lost the contents of his stomach. a lot of the time, he had to rest for weeks after doing this, since the thought of eating was enough to make him keel over.

if you take care of him during these times, he loves you. pure and simple. he'll sit back while you prepare food for him, even if he knows he won't keep it down. he makes you hand feed him, but hes so sweet all the time- and takes care of you when you're sick. he's a great nurse, actually.

while nursing you back to health, he does his best to make you take your medicine. sometimes, you don't want to- and he'll give you a deal. sometimes, he'll give you cuddles in return, or your favorite food (he was gonna cook it anyway), or buying you gifts.

overall 7/10 i'm not entirely sure about the whole cult thing. also if you embarrass him in front of his followers he'd grip your arm like some mothers would do in public as a warning.

thank you for reading! please reblog if you enjoyed!

swan dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

support banners by @saradika-graphics

#geto suguru #jjk suguru #jjk geto #jjk #jujutsu kaisen geto #jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader #getou suguru x reader

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erenstitanweave · 10 months ago

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𝓌𝒽ℴ 𝑔ℯ𝓉𝓈 𝒹𝓇ℯ𝓈𝓈ℯ𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀？－ 𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝?

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟸.𝟺𝚔

𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: ⭐️💋

☾⋆｡° ✮₊ ⊹₊ ⊹๋࣭ ⋆｡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚☾⋆｡° ✮₊ ⊹₊ ⊹๋࣭ ⋆｡˚✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚☾⋆｡° ✮₊

Sleeping on a ship wasn't bad, really. You’ve done it plenty of times during your time as a medic and had relatively gotten used to it. The pros outweigh the cons, basically, except for the time difference. You always woke up at odd hours, losing and gaining sleep depending on the night. Majority of the time it wasn't an issue because it would never interfere with your work, except for a few occasions.

One instance you can think of immediately was during one of your missions with Clone Force 99. You were up at odd hours again, it wasn't long before you were supposed to be up anyway so you decided to get dressed. You didn't want to turn on the light next to your bunk and wake everyone else up, so you grabbed what at the time, seemed like your civilian clothes and headed to the fresher to shower.

Your shower didn't take long, you were able to wash your body and face in a reasonable amount of time. Of course, the shower did nothing to wake you up at all due to your lack of sleep, all it made you want to do was climb back into your bunk and sleep until you had to wake up. So, that's what you did. You went back to your bunk, got dressed in the dark and climbed back in your bunk and fell asleep. Little did you know, this decision would be your best and your worst decision at the same time.

You rolled over to the opposite side of your bunk, slowly waking up and seeing that the door was open, meaning everyone else had probably woken up already. You rubbed your eyes, waking yourself up enough to climb out of your bunk and slide on your gloves and shoes. You stretched your limbs, slowly walking out of the room and seeing Omega and Echo talking just outside of her room.

Echo noticed you first, his eyes widened slightly for some reason and you could have swore you saw his lips curve into a small smirk. Omega turned and saw you, her eyes lighting up before turning to a sudden look of confusion. “What happened to your-” Echo cut her off by suddenly picking her up, putting her on his shoulders and putting his finger over his lips, shushing her with just a look. He looked back at you, gesturing towards the cockpit.

You turned and began walking to the cockpit, swearing to yourself that you heard him mumbling something under his breath. You approached the cockpit and Tech and Hunter turned to you, both with a slight look of surprise in their eyes. “Morning..” You yawned, covering your mouth for a moment before speaking. “We're still going on the supply trip, Sarge?” You asked Hunter, blinking a few times in an attempt to wake yourself up fully.

Tech and Hunter shared a look before Hunter nodded, handing you your comm device. “You're going with Wrecker, make sure he doesn't try and buy more rations than needed.” He muttered, glancing back at Omega and Echo. You looked around the cockpit and didn't see Wrecker. “Where is he?” You asked quietly, taking your comm from him. Tech adjusted his goggles and grabbed his datapad, sitting down in the pilot’s seat. “Wrecker insisted on letting you sleep and went into the markets on his own accord, alone.”

This shocked you. He willingly left and went alone just so you could get more sleep? You knew Wrecker was a compassionate person but you didn't want to read into it too much just because you had a slight bit of romantic feelings for him. You desperately tried not to smile, nodding your head and putting your comm device back on your wrist. “Thanks, Sarge, I’ll be back.” You turned and walked out the ship, not being able to help the stupid grin that your lips curved into once you began walking towards the markets.

The smell of spices filled your nose once you approached the food side of the markets, your eyes darting around in search of Wrecker. Obviously, he was going to stick out like a sore thumb, but weirdly enough, you couldn't see him. You figured he'd be around the sweets but he wasn't. You began gathering the rations Hunter had asked for, slipping some candy in to share with Omega, and that's when you saw him.

He was standing in front of a small stand, practically drooling at the sight before him. It was..cupcakes? They were big for cupcakes, probably would have actually fit in his palm with how big they were. They were all different colors, pink and purple, blue and yellow, red and black. You noticed he was looking at the red and black cupcake, of course. You smiled to yourself and slowly lifted your wrist to your face, pressing the button to activate your comm.

“Wreck? You there? I’m in the markets but I can't find you.” You spoke into your comm, ducking behind the people that walked past so he couldn't see you. You saw him jump slightly, frantically looking around for you before answering. “I- uh-” He started, pausing in between his words, obviously trying not to get caught. “I’m near the spices! The spices stalls.” He said frantically, the lie in his voice very clear.

You tried hard to keep your laughter in, keeping the crates of rations by your side. “I’m on the other side of the spice stall..need you to come carry these crates for me, please?” You murmured, still watching him from the other side. You couldn't see it from how far away you were, but he began fidgeting with his comm nervously. He quickly turned around and began walking to the other side, picking up the pace slightly when he caught eyes of you.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, just looking at you with wide eyes and very slightly flushed cheeks. You stood there confused, the crates stood next to you. Wrecker audibly gulped, his hands becoming a bit sweaty and clammy just seeing you. “You..” He said for a moment, his voice quieter than usual. Your eyebrow cocked upward in confusion, your hands moving to rest on your hips. “Me what?” You asked, your eyes swiftly scanning his face.

“You're..wearing my shirt.” He said in disbelief, his eyes stayed shamelessly on your body. Suddenly, every single puzzle piece clicked into place, the looks they gave you, the question Omega was about to ask..it was all about his shirt. Your hand slowly went over your mouth, your body immediately heating up in pure embarrassment, you wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

Who knows what the others were thinking about when they saw you in his shirt?! You immediately looked away from him, finally taking a good look at yourself. It looked like a dress on you, that's how big his shirts are. You slowly looked back up at him, the tension in the air felt suffocating. “I’m sorry..I was getting dressed in the dark and I didn't realize that it was yours and not mine-” He quickly cut you off, his lips curving into a small smile. “It's okay, it..it looks better on you anyway.”

You snapped out of your thoughts immediately, shutting up as you processed what he said. “Really? It does?” You whispered, your breathing getting slightly more erratic as you tried to calm your thoughts down. He nodded and bent down, picking up both of the crates and effortlessly putting them on his shoulders. “It's just these?” He said, adjusting the crates to rest comfortably on his shoulder blades. You glanced back over at the cupcake stand, smiling to yourself. “Yeah, I’ll..go buy another shirt, you can go back to the ship.”

He let you walk by him without a word, mentally hitting himself for not offering to go with you. He frowned slightly and walked back to the ship, glancing back at you about twice before you were out of his field of vision. You waited until he was sure you walked away, going to buy a black shirt that was actually your size and the red and black cupcake, which you had put in a small container.

You ducked into a small alleyway and changed your shirt, using Wrecker’s shirt to hide the cupcake as you walked back to the ship. Once you got there, you noticed that Omega wasn't in the cockpit where she'd normally be, which was a sign she successfully found her sweets and managed to hide them. Tech still had some repairs to finish up so you all weren't leaving for a bit anyway, so you decided to give Wrecker his..compensation for stealing his shirt.

Conveniently enough, Wrecker was already outside of the ship carrying the last of the tools needed to repair the ship to Tech, not noticing you had come back already. You slipped past them both, tapping his shoulder as you walked by and gestured for him to follow away from the ship. He immediately shuffled to his feet, walking after you immediately. You kept walking, giggling when he began to pick up the pace after you wouldn't stop walking.

He eventually chased you to a clearer part of the small forest, watching as you sat down with his shirt in your hands, being realistic..he wanted you to keep his shirt on longer, probably forever if that was possible. “Why’d you sit down here? Thought we were leaving soon.” He asked, the confusion in his tone more than apparent. You gave him a soft smile, patting the grass next to you. “I know..but I wanted to talk to you while we still had some alone time..if that's okay with you.” You replied, a bit anxious about what you were about to tell him.

He was a bit nervous as well, a part of him knew what you were gonna say, after all, he picked up emotions more than anyone would expect. He sat beside you, his hands getting a bit clammy at the close proximity of you both. You slowly unraveled the shirt, revealing the cupcake to him. His eyes lit up immediately, watching with wide eyes as you opened the container and held the cupcake up to him. “I figured, since I technically stole your shirt..you’d need a little something for compensation.”

The look in his eyes made your heart melt, you quickly figured out that he loved sweet things, mostly from the amount of Mantell Mix he and Omega had consumed since you all first went to Ord Mantell. Of course, he immediately reached for the cupcake and grabbed it, taking a huge bite of it and beginning to chew it before looking at you with wide eyes as he realized he ate half of the cupcake in one bite.

He looked at the half eaten cupcake brfore his eyes darted to you, quickly swallowed what he ate and began stuttering and stumbling over what sounded like an apology, until you started laughing. He sat there dumbfounded, a bit of red and black frosting on the corner of his lips. You didn't know what took over you, but you leaned in and swiped the frosting from the corner of his mouth with your thumb and put it in your mouth.

“Huh..it's better than I thought it’d be.” You muttered absentmindedly, not aware of just how much of an effect your action had on the man before you. Wrecker, on the other hand, was utterly flustered out of his mind. You looked at him with a small, almost unnoticeable smirk. “Can I have a bite, Wrecker?” The light teasing in your tone doesn't go unnoticed by him, but he's too focused on you to even think about the cupcake anymore.

He nodded his head, watching as you leaned in and began taking a bite or two out of the cupcake while it was still near his lips. Wrecker silently gulped for a moment, watching intensely as you chewed on the small bit of cupcake you bit off before taking the leap and leaning in, letting his lips touch yours. Your eyes went wide-eyed, but you quickly began kissing him back. The kiss didn't go on for long, unfortunately, Wrecker pulled away after a few seconds and began apologizing profusely.

“I-I didn't mean to-” “Shut up and kiss me again Wrecker.” Your voice came out more desperate and breathless than you'd liked, but at the moment, you really couldn't care. He leaned in and kissed you again, groaning softly at the taste of the frosting on your lips. Your hands instinctively gripped on his shirt which was still on your lap, somewhat allowing you to ground yourself as you kissed him. You felt his hand snake around your waist, pulling you closer to him to the point where you were nearly on his lap.

You let go of his shirt, steadying yourself by putting your hands on his chest and smiling slightly into the kiss. You felt his hand slowly move up your back, his palm pressing you against him, needing you closer to him. You both pulled away, quietly gasping for air as you just looked at each other. Your lips instinctively curved into a smile, gently leaning in and kissing his scarred cheek.

Wrecker just held you against him, both of you were in silent understanding of each other’s feelings, confessing without even saying words to one another. You rested on his lap for a moment, you both casually giving one another small chaste kisses as you used your time alone to the fullest, knowing you both had to be back at the Marauder soon.

“So, do you think it worked?” Echo asked, glancing over at Omega asleep in the chair. Hunter simply snickered in response, grabbing your shirt from behind the pilot’s seat and tossing it to Echo. Tech adjusted his goggles and started up the ship, turning around momentarily to look at Echo. “It had better, or else Wrecker owes us all credits..and his hidden supply of Mantell Mix.” Hunter paused for a moment, looking back at Tech. “You're telling me he had a hidden supply this whole time?” Echo and Tech shared a look, nodding their heads in sync.

Hunter groaned softly and rolled his eyes in response, placing your shirt on the passenger’s seat. “Well, at least it didn't take them long, it would have probably killed me to see them act like they didn't like each other for another rotation.” Echo said with a grin, leaning back and pressing his comm, telling you both you had two minutes to be back at the ship before they left you both there..but would that really be a bad thing?

#star wars #the bad batch #the clone wars #tbb wrecker #wrecker bad batch #tbb wrecker x reader

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