#just want them to be able to unmask fully

[velvet-games]

simple and happy

[xenteaart]

the hard way

pairing: vampire!chris x to be vampire!reader genre/warnings: dark romance, mean chris, angst? kinda dead dove, mentions of death, blood and a lil gore (not too graphic tho imo), it's okay in the end??? and they're in love plot: reader is getting turned into a vampire and it's not as cool as she imagined author’s note: obvsly heavily inspired by railway and that SPITTING SCENE. idk it's prolly gonna flop but i wanted to picture that process and a not so hot side of it

“no.” “why not?!” “because i told you so a million times already. we’re not discussing this.” chris spits out and furrows, growing more agitated with each passing second.

“what, you don’t want me to be equal to you?” you ponder desperately while your mind searches for any, any reason at all as to why chris won’t turn you. it’s been getting to you for the last couple of months, and you’re sure you’ve gone through every possible explanation your troubled brain could come up with: he doesn’t love you. he doesn’t wanna spend eternity with you. or maybe it’s a power thing. or, or, or...? this endless cycle of worry and uncertainty has been keeping you on edge for way too long to think clearly now. “gosh, it has nothing to do with equality,” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “what is it then?” “drop it.” you snap. “we’ll have to find out the hard way, then.”

you grab the nearest kitchen knife, and it turns out to be the one you use for cutting meat, a chef’s knife as they call it. how fitting. chris barely has enough time to catch up with your madness infused impulse, and when he turns his gaze back to you, the knife is already deep in your guts.

you thought it was gonna be romantic or somewhat dramatic at least. something from the movies where he sinks his vampire teeth into your neck, and just like magic — your eyes flash bright red, announcing the beginning of a new life.

“you dumb bitch,” he exhales shakily and somehow manages to catch you in time because the sharp pain in your stomach makes you lose your balance instantly. you’re still bitter and angry in the heat of the argument and you expect him to be the same way, but when you glance up, chris looks nothing but panicked. “that’s a new look on him,” you think, and it confuses you.

chris growls and sinks to his knees, carefully holding you and trying to move as fast as possible. what you don’t know is that turning can only be done in around thirty seconds since fatal injury. that might explain the rushing and chris’s pure bambi eyes panic but your consciousness is already starting to drift away to hold onto that train of thought.

chris bites into his wrist with unmasked fury, tearing and ripping his own veins even though using a knife would have been much cleaner. probably less painful, too. “swallow. now! come on, don’t you fall asleep on me now, focus!” he grabs your face and presses hard on the jaw joints, making you open your mouth like a puppet doll.

the sickly metallic taste of your own blood at the back of your throat from the internal bleeding mixes up with chris’s thick blood that he generously spits into your mouth, and you want to throw up. your head feels dizzy as your eyelids are getting heavier, your hearing suddenly fails completely as if someone turned the volume down from ten to zero. limbs are falling weak, and the pins and needles in them are so, so far from pleasant.

the thing about turning is... you actually have to die first. be fully, completely gone to be able to come back changed and corrupted, turned to the extent of your DNA having been violently rewritten. that you did not think through enough. the muscles in your throat contract almost on reflex, swallowing and gagging on the gooey salty substance, making your chest heave while coughing strangles you further. the tingles and nausea are so overwhelming and all consuming you actually catch yourself thinking dying would be a relief now. and then it follows as you wished.

you doze off for god knows how long but, by the looks of it, it can’t have been more than a few minutes because as you regain consciousness, chris is still looming over you, his own blood fresh on his lips. he’s blurry, though, everything is.

“come on, suck on me. c’mon, baby, there we go,” he coos as he brings his wrist to your lips, forcefully pressing it into your mouth and leaving you with little to no choice. the phrasing, unlike usual, doesn’t sound dirty or hot now, more like a life-saving command while you’re still so out it. it feels good, though, chris’s blood.

it doesn’t taste so metallic and gross anymore, and the texture feels almost soothing on your dry throat, like hot honey milk on a friday evening. suck, gulp, suck, gulp, suck, it almost lulls you back into serenity, some primal instinct of being attached to your only life line, finding comfort in someone’s warmth and touch and taste.

you wonder how much you’ve drunk already and whether chris will have anything left but you’re so, so thirsty you can’t even bring yourself to care.

what finally makes you stop is the sudden sharp ache in your gums. it feels so piercing the aftershocks are almost reaching your brain and eye sockets, and as you feel your old teeth fall out, a pair of longer fangs cuts through and settles into the upper teeth row. hot tears are stinging your eyes and you whine like a wounded deer, still unable to speak properly. it’s all too much, and you start to regret what you’ve done, and maybe, just maybe that’s why chris so passionately refused to put you through it. this kind of hunger and the animalistic, blood thirst driven rage were never something he wanted to inflict upon you.

your entire body is shaking but it’s not really a fearful tremor, more like restlessness, a new sort of “itch” somewhere deep, deep inside that you’ve never experienced before, the feeling so intense and soul wrenching you simply can’t disobey it. it makes you want to jump up and run.

“don’t worry, i’ll teach you how to handle it.” chris cups your face after taking off his leather gloves so you can feel the comfort of his actual skin. the touch is calming, but barely enough compared to that growing desire and need to satisfy the itch. “you stupid crazy cunt, why do you never listen,” he whispers into your forehead, his lips lightly brushing over your cold sweat covered skin, as he holds you closer, squeezing you against his chest in a protective manner, though the real danger to yourself is now planted within you.

[greenglowinspooks]

Honestly I think the fics where Danny’s a Kryptonian have a lot of potential, so here’s me throwing my hat into the ring

Danny was born a human. He was born to two loving (though slightly neglectful) human parents in the painfully mundane state of Illinois.

Then, he died, but he didn’t do it right. He became a Halfa; too alive to be a ghost, but too dead to be human.

Then, through strange, uncontrollable circumstances, that changed as well.

He had been heavily injured, missing a large percentage of body mass, and was at the cusp of either dying fully or just fading from existence.

(Perhaps it was an ordinary fight. Perhaps it was the GiW, or his parents. Perhaps it was a simple accident. That didn’t matter now.)

He fled, phasing through the ground, trying to bury himself as deep as possible.

(Perhaps he didn’t want to be unmasked in death. Perhaps that was already too late, and he just wanted his body be able to rest in peace.)

Unfortunately for him, he was in Metropolis, and ended up in a secret genetics lab below the earth.

Danny detransformed, completely exhausted, falling onto a table covered in different labeled specimen containers. He closed his eyes, and prepared himself for what would happen next.

And… nothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.

Danny sat up, brushing off the foul-smelling liquid from the specimen jars, petri dishes, and assorted vials.

He felt…fine.

No, better than fine. He felt normal. Healthy.

He felt like he wasn’t missing most of his internal organs anymore.

Danny looked down at his stomach, and saw that the wounds that were killing him had completely disappeared.

(The blood blossoms, if there had been any, were still there, but they no longer hurt. At most, they itched a little, or maybe just tickled a bit.)

He wanted to question what in the hell had just happened, but he didn’t want to jinx it. He just quietly changed back to Phantom, going invisible and phasing out of wherever he had found himself in, ignoring the loud alarm system that had begun to blare when he broke the samples on that table.

Life mostly went back to normal after that.

If, like Danny, you ignored all the physical changes in a valiant effort to remain in denial that something was horribly wrong.

His skin was tougher, now; he didn’t get scrapes or cuts, even when he accidentally fumbled a knife while trying to cook. His ghost form was stronger, too; he was barely knocked down by his old rogues anymore.

He could fly, even in his human form. Though, admittedly, the flight was much different. It was like using a muscle he hadn’t known existed beforehand. He didn’t just ignore gravity or wind resistance, though he felt more graceful in the air now than he ever did as Phantom.

There were more powers popping up, lasers and cold breath, x-ray vision and super strength. His lungs and heart were larger, and he could handle temperatures much easier. He didn’t have to transform to handle the pressure and cold of space anymore.

His reaction time had improved, becoming much faster than ever before. His senses were much stronger, and he had even seemed to gain a sense of electric fields, like a shark.

The only thing that separated him from a Kryptonian was that he had developed electrokenesis, which he had never seen any of them use on TV.

So, surely, he was fine.

Everything was normal, he hadn’t been transformed by alien DNA in a sketchy lab, he had just had a really weird and specific metagene activation.

—

Clark Kent, Kal-El, was panicking.

It had been around a month and a half since a particularly brutal fight between Intergang and an unknown assailant, and it seemed that Intergang was determined to draw out whoever had scorned them.

Their method of doing this, of course, was trying to level the city.

He and Jon were doing their best to stop them, but with both Kon and Zor-El away on their own business, it was difficult.

And by difficult, he meant almost impossible.

Slowly but surely he was driving them back, but not without massive amounts of damage to the city, especially with only Jon on dedicated rescuing duty.

He was distracted, trying to draw a group away from a heavily occupied building, when a projectile hit him in the back of the head.

The world spun for a moment, and then it went black.

(It was, probably, then, some sort of Kryptonite-metal alloy. Intergang at its finest.)

He woke slowly, forcing his eyes open. He felt like he had been hit by an eighteen wheeler.

Clark jolted up, preparing for the worst.

To his shock, though, the city hadn’t been reduced to rubble while he was out.

Jon seemed to still be working on evacuation, either unaware that he had went down or forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Then, a lightning-quick figure flew into view, and Clark’s mind went blank.

He thought, for a moment, that Kara was back. But, no, that wasn’t right, she was supposed to be off-planet for another week or so.

Besides, this new figure didn’t move like her. They were lankier and more slender, and they flew quicker than any member of his family.

Their powerset was different, too; they focused mainly on using blasts of ice and electricity to drive enemies back, only occasionally using their strength or lasers—ones which came from their hands instead of their eyes.

He had woken up at the tail end of the fight, it seemed. The remaining Intergang members were fleeing from the mysterious metahuman.

They stayed in the sky, motionless, watching them leave.

As if they could sense him staring, they turned.

They were small, still clearly young. Probably around Kon’s age, or maybe even younger.

Instead of the colorful clothing he had inherited from his family, the stranger wore black and white clothes which looked similar to a hazmat suit, their face covered by some sort of gas mask.

Interestingly enough, instead of the S-shape crest that he was so used to seeing, the stranger wore the letter D on his chest.

Kal’s heart sped up.

From up in the sky, he heard the stranger’s heart, on the left instead of the right, speed up in return.

But before he could say a word to them, they sped off, disappearing into the deep blue sky.

[fiddleyoumust]

So, the reality series The Boyfriend has eaten a large chunk of my brain recently. I'm not usually a huge reality TV person, but this show is scratching my brain so well, and I think it's mostly because it's very communication focused. So we get a lot of these men being exposed to different ideas and perspectives, different ways of communicating and problem solving, and most importantly, different ways of being in intimate relationships.

Shun is not my favorite person in the house, but I do find him the most fascinating to watch navigate these new relationships. He's extremely low energy, moody, introverted, outwardly calm, and reflective. He very obviously does not trust his own instincts about love and relationships, which is understandable given what he's revealed about past partners.

There is obviously a lot going on with Shun below the surface, and I get the feeling he is an extremely emotional person who has gotten very good at masking those emotions because he's never had anyone who cared about him enough to unmask them. We show our emotions to others because we want something in return - validation, comfort, understanding, etc. But we are able to show those emotions because we have an understanding with the people we are showing them to, that we will get something in return, that they care enough to give us something back for being open about our feelings.

Shun, an orphan who spent his entire childhood in an orphanage and who has had mostly toxic romantic relationships, hasn't had anyone he could trust enough to share his emotions with, so he is very closed off, even though he has a good understanding of his emotions and is a very good communicator when he needs to be. I think Dai (the guy Shun is most interested in) is a great fit for him, even though Shun hasn't fully realized it yet. Dai is ready to be that person for Shun, and his desire for Shun to trust him, his desire to be Shun's safe space is palpable in every move he's made to get closer to Shun.

In one of the most recent episodes, Shun passes up the opportunity to spend time with Dai simply because Shun's in a bad mood. He immediately feels bad about it because he knows his rejection hurt Dai's feelings. When Dai gets back from the daily mission, Shun makes a failed attempt to explain himself.

The conversation is so interesting because Shun is making a case for why not going with Dai was his perogative and Dai, who is just a really excellent person, and who has really tried hard to meet Shun where he is emotionally, is 100% not interested in having that conversation. Because he doesn't actually care if Shun wanted to go or not go, it's Shun's disregard for Dai's feelings that he's upset about. It's being taken for granted. They are not having the same conversation. But Dai also doesn't want to tell Shun how to fix it because he wants Shun to care about him enough to figure it out on his own.

They leave that conversation with Shun feeling worse than when he went into it. He goes off to sulk with a bottle of wine. Then Taehon, another contestant, joins him, and they have one of the best conversations I've seen on a reality show.

Shun talks about why he didn't go on the daily mission with Dai and how he doesn't feel like he had to volunteer to go, even though he likes Dai a lot. Taehon validates Shun's feelings, and here is the part that really hit me, and the part that I really hope Shun remembers later because he's revealed a bit about his past relationships and it seems like he was very much a person who got obsessed and lost himself to the whims of the men he's been interested in.

Shun tells Taehon, "I'm not obligated to go with Dai. We're not even dating yet." And Taehon replies, "Even if you were dating already, you're still not obligated to go." And MY GOD I hope those words stay with Shun for the rest of his life. That was something someone like Shun NEEDED to hear. You do not have to bend to the whims of your romantic partner. They are not entitled to drag you beyond your boundaries, and it is 100% okay to set boundaries and demand your romantic partners respect them.

Shun goes on to wonder if he wasn't wrong, why does he still feel so bad about what happened. Taehon tells him maybe focusing on right and wrong isn't what's important here, and Shun all on his own realizes what he feels bad about is hurting Dai's feelings, and even if hurting Dai wasn't intentional, and even though Shun had the right to not spend time with Dai, he should still let Dai know he's sorry that his choice caused Dai pain.

So, Shun apologizes for hurting Dai, and Dai is very happy, and the two of them get back on track. The entire show is so emotionally satisfying because you get to see in real time the ways people communicate, the intricacies of navigating new relationships, both romantic and not. If you enjoy watching people in all their odd, frustrating beauty, I highly recommend checking out The Boyfriend on Netflix. It's delightful.

[yawnderu]

My life is falling apart - could you write how Ghost might save reader from her emotionally abusive and toxic husband? I thank you, maybe one day I'll have someone like Simon.

Whoever you are, I'm here for you if you need to talk. Stay strong sweetheart, this too shall pass. 💖

CW: Emotional abuse, toxic relationships, hurt/comfort, protective Simon Riley.

Simon had sneaked his way into your life with the same stealth he uses on missions— a man who barely spent any time at his apartment and was always away for what he said was just ''work''. The same man who after a few conversations, started bringing you small gifts from his missions, always something different that he thought you'd like.

Simon isn't dumb— far from it, he's always aware of his surroundings and throughout the years, he knows how to read people well. That's why it breaks him to see the way your smiles now came accompanied with a nervous look in your eyes whenever your husband was home, despite you and Simon simply being friendly towards one another.

Whenever he was back at his apartment, he started listening more and more. Paying even more attention to you, ear pressed against the wall while he listened to your husband berate you for a plethora of reasons, all of them more absurd than the other, the truth heavy on his shoulders, weighting him down like Atlas holding the sky.

Oh, how he wanted nothing more than to go inside your house and ravage your husband the same way he does so casually in the battlefield— but he can't. Simon Riley is not Ghost. Simon has to lay low, to ensure both his safety and yours, so he starts planning. Planning how to approach the issue, how to get you out of the situation and understand you better. He'd never admit it, but he spent the entire night reading the experiences of other married women when it comes to abusive marriages, restless dreams full of ideas on how in the bloody hell he'll get you out of this.

He waits until the next day once your husband leaves for work, waiting out five minutes that feel eternal just to make sure he doesn't come back. Unmasked and with very faint stains of eye black that he never seems to be able to fully remove, he knocks on your door. You answer with teary eyes, sniffling softly as you try your best to give him a small smile, yet he can see the pain. The same pain he saw in his mother's eyes his entire life.

''Simon!'' You greet, moving aside so he can enter your house, closing the door behind you as you both go to the living room.

''Would you like a cuppa?'' You offer and it takes him a few seconds to decide, ultimately nodding his head. Maybe this will be easier if you're both having a nice, warm drink. You come back minutes later with a tray and some crumpets, something you started buying when he casually mentioned liking them.

''Thank you.'' He takes a sip of the perfectly made chamomile tea, done the way he loves it— with two teaspoons of honey and hot. You give him a happier smile, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a secure blanket, a far cry from your marriage.

''Love...'' He begins and your full attention goes to him, noticing his serious tone and pensive expression.

''There's no easy way to say this, but with this place having thin walls, I sometimes hear things I shouldn't.'' You immediately know what he's talking about, but before you can apologize on behalf of your husband, he keeps speaking.

''You deserve so much better.'' He puts his cup down, eyes looking down to his hands— the hands he keeps ungloved just for you, the hands that are protected by his skull gloves whenever he's out in missions, so he can come back to you free of sin. He sits down next to you, one of his arms wrapping around your back reassuringly.

''Why are you still with him?'' There's a hint of desperation in his tone, thin eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. You want to look away, but his brown eyes are almost hypnotic. So expressive, so telling whenever words aren't enough.

''I... I don't know.'' You reply with honesty, tone strained as you hold back tears and try to dig into your brain for any reasons you're with the man, yet nothing comes up. ''I don't have anywhere else to go to.''

Your words hurt him as much as they hurt you, looking at the potential you have that is being wasted on some ungrateful wanker who berates you for the smallest things.

''Run away with me.'' He suggests in a spur of the moment and before he can even process his own words, a small giggle escapes your lips. He raises an eyebrow as he looks down at you, curious as to what's so funny. Your giggling stops when you notice the expression on his face.

''You're serious?'' You ask carefully, not wanting to make a fool of yourself despite knowing he'd never joke about something like that.

''I'm serious, love. We could go somewhere far away from here, safe. You can leave all of this behind, just say the word.''

''I...'' He can see your hesitancy, his warm hand rubbing circles on your back while the other one holds your hand, thumb rubbing the back of your hand reassuringly.

''What if he finds me?'' It's the first question that comes to mind, not wanting to deal with more of his abuse if you ever manage to get away.

''He won't, doll. I can promise you that. I'll get some of my mates to watch out for you when I'm busy at work, if it helps you.'' He knows it will, and he already has highly trusted friends from the 141 in mind to watch out for you whenever he goes on solo missions.

It took almost two hours of convincing before you agreed, and that's where you are now. He's helping you inform the police about your situation and why you're going away, just in case your husband tries to report you missing.

Most of your belongings were left at the house, but... it surprisingly doesn't bother you. It'll be a new beginning, the same furniture that has witnessed years of abuse is now left behind, only a few clothes inside his car while you both leave the police station. You take a deep breath, the warmth of the sun washing over your skin as you close your eyes, a sincere smile on your face for the first time in years.

''Thank you, Simon.'' My angel, my savior.

[quinn-pop]

let’s do some autistic meta knight headcanons!! over explaining my interpretation of meta knight yet again wooooo

this orb has NO idea how to talk to people!!! outside of work anyway. a lot of this is partially due to upbringing (suppressing his emotions all the time) but he does not know how to express emotions, like…at all.

this goes into a few things

1. yeah talking is hard. even after figuring out what he wants to communicate he will struggle. conversation can be so overwhelming, especially under pressure. he will need time lol

2. because of that, forming connections is hard. i really don’t think meta is much for shallow relationships, and certainly not early in the timeline. which also means he has very little experience with friendship. so a lot of the relationships he did have went kinda neglected, and issues that probably could’ve been worked on by talking became…*cough romk* escalated.

3. honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if meta convinced himself he couldn’t feel emotion (anymore) until like. katam-ish. he tried very hard lol

vulnerability is terrifying. (though this gesture here is also just comforting, like his little cape cocoon thing he does.)

unmasking—yeah im taking the mask thing very literally here—is a big deal and a very slow process for mk. i’m sure he has a lot of feelings on that lol. it served as a way to ensure no one could ever, y’know, see him.

i can’t say i think he’d ever fully ditch it—there’s always gonna be some days that are more stressful than others and if having it could help him get through it, it just makes sense. mainly when working.

it really is about vulnerability. granted, i don’t think he has the most expressive face (in my head every astral just tends to stare at things) but i doubt he has much control over it. can’t fake a smile but also can’t hide it. probably blushes easy because yeah, astrals; just look at kirby’s face.

just the idea that someone might be able to read his expression and know what he’s feeling before he’s ready for them to (or even understands it himself…) yeah he doesn’t want that

but emotional turmoil aside, i think his mask also hides a lot of his stims

remember that whole “suppressing your feelings” thing? yeah turns out that ignoring half your instincts isn’t a good idea. so in true meta knight style, he tries to stim as subtly as possible

1. he has the least control over his wings, so they will flick and twitch on their own. they’re usually a good indicator of how he’s feeling, not unlike the body language usually seen in cat ears and tails lol. flapping is also an extension of this of course, though he probably suppresses it more.

2. this also effects when he takes his wings out. pretty much every time he’s excited or nervous it just happens. kinda makes me wonder if his wing cape ordeal might also go into the suppression thing… (i’d say yes, but using a cape is also very comforting so it’s not necessarily a bad thing)

3. going back to the mask thing; he stims a lot underneath it. think like biting or pursing your lips. he bites his tongue and clicks his mouth. that sort of thing. his mask also makes it harder to notice that he is constantly sighing, humming, grumbling…all that

one nice thing about the mask though is that it helps a little bit with lights!!! woo

(look at him and his magically floating glasses)

sensory stuff—i think he’s mostly bothered by light and sound. maybe a bit of texture. he’s pretty sensory avoidant and perfectly happy standing off to the side not touching anything.

the one exception to this is physical affection, which is, despite all of this, most of how he shows affection. it’s a lot easier to hug someone than to try to explain your feelings for them, after all.

i think he would like pressure though. so that’s probably part of it. and i’m pretty sure there’s some connection in here to fighting (dang, is that the only way he knows how to get his energy out?)

anyway, pretty much all of this is in contrast to kirby, who i would gladly nominate as the champion of Doing Whatever He Wants. he might pick up a few bad habits, but he will never mask the way meta knight does. he might not understand how he feels, but he’s in tune enough to express it…usually.

this is a very good thing for meta because it helps him to do the same thing. kirby’s so energetic, it’s hard to not want to stim with him. it reminds meta to be kinder to himself and explore his own emotions. he can also help kirby understand themselves, so this connection is very important.

yeah, at the end of the day, everything kinda just boils down to kirby and mk as parallels

this is the conclusion i promise

to me, meta’s arc is about growing stronger by growing kinder, and this is mostly by learning to be kind to himself. letting himself be a person again, loving and understanding other people, and eventually, letting go of all the expectations placed on him and doing the things he’s always wanted to do…

autism headcanons are fun for me because it’s cathartic to write, but at the same time, it just makes sense in this sort of narrative. meta is, to me, inseparable from these things. and so is kirby! that’s a dynamic that’s a lot of fun to play with, and it’s at the heart of my kirby interpretation.

if you actually read all this WOW thank you

[spdrvyn]

i love my husband — miguel o'hara drabble

fluff. heavy inspo on this video.

sorry for the inactivity and the lazy ass title, exam week came around before i could even start on the next request and i did nothing but relax the entire break (which was only FOUR days) so i'll bring this out and see if i can clear my sched enough to actually do shit. enjoy!

the moonlit sky reflects beautifully onto the shining surface of your mug, filled to the brim of chamomile tea and flooding your nostrils with delight as your body melts into the couch.

work kept you on the edge of your seat for the entire week, it was non-stop meetings and non-stop emergency calls even outside of your working hours that had you so stressed. you were sure you'd picked enough hairs out to make a wig.

the weekend is truly a blessing, you want to stay as far away as humanly possible from your phone and shut yourself out from civilization before you come protector of debra's last minute files.

you missed the soft cotton of your pajamas, not like you haven't worn them in the past couple of days but to actually be able to appreciate what it means to wear them and the greeting of a good night's sleep had you sighing and moaning almost a little too much.

you worked hard, you definitely deserved this. you grab a spare pillow and tuck it under your head turning to the side and looking at the city that surrounded you, your patience and tenacity at the office has now been rewarded with the view you're able to appreciate.

however, the shadow that looms over the carpeted floors of your flat don't go away even after rubbing your eyes. you look up and a faint red glow in the symbol of a very familiar spider catches your eye immediately, you smile lazily through the glass.

miguel slides open the door with no hesitation, cape still drifting in the wind from what you can only assume to be his own previous working activities. you can sense the tension wafting off of him like waves especially as he stomps all the way over to where you are on the couch and looks down at you.

his mask isn't off, he's still fully geared, and all you can do is stare back into those lenses.

that is until he surrenders, body giving up, and his body flops right on top of yours. it doesn't really surprise you, there have been times where miguel has come home after a worse day of saving the multiverse and traps you in a hug before you can protest or move. though you've never really seen him do this before.

he adjusts his position, but still keeps his arms tightly wrapped around you as you move as well so that you're holding him back. his face is buried into the crook of your neck and the feeling of his nose tickling your skin tells you that he unmasked already.

not a single word leaves his mouth, you silently adore the way he's melted into you already, the way the muscles on his back rise only to slowly fall again.

you don't want to break the silence, neither of you do. right now, the only form of communication that matters is touch. your lips burning kisses into his curls, your nose now erasing whatever of your tea was left and making the way for miguel.

he shies away from your touch with a small groan, "i stink."

a giggle threatens to break out from the back of your throat, as many times as he would insist that you'd keep going anyway. "so when you do it, it's fine? i see how it is then."

miguel chuckles, he inches himself into you further. deeper. his breaths become less and less shallow, it's clear that he's taking his fair share of sniffs from you as well. "because you smell good."

"i ran a bath, that's why." one last peck to his head and you opt to just comb his hair instead, running your fingers through the strands and observing as they twist back to curl after brushing it some more.

both of you stay like that for a while, not saying anything, not doing anything, just being here. existing with each other. you always find moments like these beautiful, even when miguel is probably one work call away from shaking hands with the grim reaper.

in miguel, you've found yourself open to so many new experiences and risks you could've never imagined on your own. despite the many amount of times at the start of your relationship that he'd give you space and wouldn't be mad if you left, you kept still by his side anyway. you knew that he was worth it.

in you, miguel found that mundanity that he's never had his whole life. passing out on the sofa on his own never felt the same, most times he'd wake up still in his suit and would have to go to work right after anyway. yet with you, the stress ebbed away over time because he knew that you'd always be waiting for him.

whatever historians had with their relics, miguel had with you. not to keep them confined in a metal case, of course not, but he felt as if you were to be revered. kissed and touched with utmost respect and you'd bring the people their good fortunes and long lives. you certainly did for him and miguel might as well be immortal now.

his hands wander, fingertips delicately grazing over the skin tucked beneath your nightwear. he goes slowly, traveling up to your chest where he—

"miguel?"

his hands freeze, face going red. the guilt of possibly going too far is ready to break free from his heart and consume him until he can feel your body trembling with laughter.

"since you apparently stink so bad, shouldn't you shower first before getting so handsy?" miguel pouts at your comment, he already had the apologies locked and loaded for you.

"just a few more minutes, corazón."

[checkoutmybookshelf]

The Quartet That Started It All

As followers of this blog will note, this is not actually the quartet that started it all for me, but it DID launch author Tamora Pierce's career in the 1980s, and Alanna remains absolutely beloved among Pierce's heroines. Let's talk the Song of the Lioness Quartet.

In a classic case of "if I can't do this as a girl, then I'll do this as a boy and I have a handy twin brother to go full Twelfth Night with," Alanna of Trebond begins The First Adventure by dressing as a boy to train as a page in Tortall's royal court. This book introduces all our main characters and establishes Alan the page amongst his peers and Alanna as she finds herself and her place in chivalry.

One of the other amazing things about Alanna's story overall is that she begins it absolutely terrified of her own magical gift. Her arc includes learning to work with her magic rather than to fear it, and that's a twist on magic users that I really appreciated. We often get overly confident magic users--indeed, we'll get TWO of them later in the series--but it's rare that we get magic users who are fully aware of their powers and are still absolutely terrified of them. So of course, the story and the world and Pierce herself keep throwing Alanna into situations where she has no choice but to develop and use her gift. It's so, so good. This first book covers Alanna's page years, and we move into her squire years in book two.

In the Hand of the Goddess really expands on Alanna's key relationship with Prince Jon on Conte, Duke Roger of Conte, and Geroge Cooper. Alanna moves into a wider world of adult politics and stakes in this book. From being able to defeat an older, stronger, and more experienced opponent in a duel to developing her healing skills when a wound puts her out of commission during a war, Alanna cements her skills, connections, and position in society. This culminates with unmasking Roger as an attempting regicide and the accidental reveal of her gender.

This book is really, really good, and extends Alanna's childhood fear of magic to her fear of Roger specifically in a really natural, logical way. I could say more about the details, but these two books have an episodic vibe to them, so I won't spend too much time exploring every single key plot event.

The Woman Who Rides Like a Man sees Alanna spending her first year as a knight in the desert, with a Bazhir tribe. She becomes their shaman by way of self-defense; she murders their first shaman when he tries to murder her for "being unnatural." Then it falls to Alanna to train three magic users for the tribe, and this is where we see more nuance into how different magic users relate to their powers, from sheer hubris to fear to "this is just part of me, let's do this." It's a phenomenal experience for Alanna, and she learns as much from her students as they do

Book three also sees Jonathan bitching to hell and back about having to be king, which is not a great look, and it's one Alanna calls him on. He spends most of the book alternating between pitching a hissy fit, begging Alanna to marry him, and training to take over as Voice of the Tribes. The interesting thing here is that Alanna refuses to marry Jon. He is trying to fit Alanna into his own fairy tale, and she very much goes "That isn't our relationship, I can't do that. We aren't meant to be like that, and that's ok." If I could inject that lesson into humanity's collective head, I would. It's well done and it's great.

Lioness Rampant picks up on Alanna's travels after she leaves the Bazhir, and eventually sees her return to Corus with a magical artifact to help secure Jonathan's position as king.

There's also the teeny tiny complication that Alanna's twin brother, Thom, has resurrected Duke Roger. Absolute chaos ensues, and Roger almost manages to take out the entire court during Jonathan's coronation. Nobody should have to kill an evil sorceror twice, but Alanna did.

If you want to dive into Tamora Pierce's Tortall Universe, starting with Alanna is absolutely a good choice. These books hold a very soft spot in my heart, and they're never not engaging.

[itsaspectrumcomic]

hey! before I begin, I wanted to say how much I love your comics!! the style and palettes are really soothing, and it's always nice to read them, relate heavily, and not feel quite such an oddball!! so thanks :]

I (very recently) received the results of my diagnosis for autism and adhd (I got both, and a couple other smaller things) and was wondering what things you did differently immediately after diagnosis that helped you? I've tried things like proper organisation and cleaning, keeping on top of deadlines for college as much as I am able, and trying to study as much as I can (a levels are very stressful even though I've only just started the course, and while these solutions are what's considered "good" by the college, its not really helping me as much as I would like)

a large part of the diagnosis was dedicated to brain function (I had the privelidge of being assessed privately, so the evidence was very detailed and thorough), and I scored stupidly high on vocabulary and language study. However, I feel like there's somewhat of a disconnect between the effort I've put in on my foreign language studies and the progress I'm seeing- I'm trying so so hard to understand grammatical concepts and absorb a lot of vocabulary in preparation for some smaller tests in the near future, but I'm not seeing the reward during lessons or even with preparation. I am fully aware that with all the work and effort I'm spending, I am closer than I would like to be to a meltdown and probably burnout, which I desperately want to avoid. It just feels that although my brain is wired for linguistic study, I feel like I'm falling behind or failing

I guess if you have any advice or anything that helped you once your diagnosis was confirmed, or tips for study, I would be greatly appreciative :]

Tldr: struggling with study and fearful of failure, any advice?

hnng I remember the stress of A levels, you couldn't pay me to go through that again 🫠

After being diagnosed I started to allow myself to unmask and stim in more obvious ways. Previously my stims had generally been pretty small, like flicking my fingers or wiggling a bit, but now I allow myself to flap and rock and play with fidget toys as well and it genuinely does help release tension.

It sounds like your're working really hard - if you feel close to burnout and/or meltdowns, you might be working too hard. I also found it really hard to take breaks when I was studying (...still do) but the truth is, by not allowing your mind to rest, you're actually making it harder for yourself to learn and retain information.

So my advice is, take a break! A real break, not 'I'm gonna scroll on my phone for a bit' or 'I went to the toilet that counts as a break right'. Get up, step away from your work for at least an hour, and do something you find relaxing and fun. Go for a walk or just sit outside. Make yourself a drink. Take a nap if you need to. Try to avoid looking at screens during your break if you can. And when you go back to studying, schedule times to have regular short breaks as well (eg a 10 minute break every hour). I set alarms for mine because otherwise I forget to move for five hours.

A break allows your brain to process the information and let it settle properly. When you go back to work you'll hopefully feel more refreshed and able to take in information again. Remember, if you've just started the course, then this is a marathon, not a sprint, so please try not to overdo it and burn yourself out right at the start. Conserve your energy for the long haul.

If you're still struggling, are you able to ask for help, maybe from a friend or a teacher? A teacher could give you some techniques on how to improve in the specific areas you find difficult, and sometimes just talking through the bit you're having trouble with or not understanding can help a lot.

Good luck with your studies and I hope you take some time to rest as well :)

[fuwaprince]

👉👈 Hi friends! I have a long, serious post made just for you(!) that isn't full of spoilers, smut or mooning lawn gnomes. Please read if you can, this is a 💥 mutual aid request 💥

It has been a horribly painful and long while as most people following/keeping up with me know. and in a few days I'm going to be down $1500, which is basically all my fucking $

I can't afford Christmas for anybody, which sucks and I'm very sorry. I can't even take care of myself and haven't been, which also sucks and I'm very sorry

Landlords spontaneously raised rent on me more than halfway through this month as punishment for not getting to my house chores and not communicating, to be totally honest with you. I feel ashamed and awful about it but I didn't want to clean the place while multiple ppl living here had tested positive for COVID and kept walking around unmasked... I am not fully vaxxed because I've been too depressed to get any kind of necessary medical care done and I didn't want to catch COVID in the middle of my finals week for the semester. I woke up to being angrily and rudely bitched at first thing after the last of my finals (I passed at least). It wasn't a humanizing text. Fuck the mistreatment though. Rent is now almost doubled and it won't be lowered

There was no room for negotiation and I truly believe they've resorted to pricing me out of living here because the group of renters psychologically tormenting me wasn't effective (actually- putting a picture of my rapist on the fridge rly was super effective in getting me to isolate myself in my room all day and so was outing me as trans to the transphobic ass neighbors.... But I didn't and still don't have any place better to move out to, like the way they were hoping I would. Yes, I have looked and BEGGED btw)

I want out of here NOW, but I can't leave. I tried and had to come back because it was the best option. I can't afford to stay in a motel/hotel/BnB just to get away from them for a day or two during Christmas. I don't have any friends who I can spend the holiday with either. During the semester, I resorted to convincing classmates with keys to locked buildings to let me crash in them while they worked at night and I would leave before anybody showed up. Now that school is out, I can't do that. I don't have any family I can reach out to for support or friends who I can depend on for immediate help. I have been crying day in and day out for weeks. I have records of it posted throughout my blog. Literally crying for days on end. I'm being so fucking transparent

All that lump of text is to explain to whoever is out there, who might be listening and willing and able, to please consider helping me, if and ONLY IF able. I know times are tough and if you'd rather use your $ for other reasons or just don't have any to spare, don't sweat it and take care! 🫂

I've thought about what I could do for a long time and have helped myself how I can. It isn't enough. I've applied for so much assistance. Been approved and been sabotaged by my inhumane mom (who does not love me) via stealing my legal documents and letters and hiding them for months. My mind jumps to grim places but I'm clinging for dear life to whatever hope I have left that says things will get better. I wish I knew somebody with a business that I could work for. Part of me feels so fucking terrible for asking for help because I feel like a waste of all your resources. I feel like I shouldn't ask, like I really do not fucking deserve help, but there are friends online who care, who I know mentioned being interested in helping in whatever ways they can

So to the people who care to seriously me, I'm ready to accept it: please send me nice words to get through this and feel less alone. It feels pathetic to ask but I would love a nice letter. A nice card even. Kind words of any kind would go a long way. It means more to me than food. I have felt so broken and every day feels like a test to figure out how badly I actually want to live

I'm also leaving my cash app and paypal here in case anybody would like to do more than what I'm comfortable asking but probably very likely will inevitably need very very soon. I will be left with fucking nothing and I will have no idea what to do once rent is paid

Thank you to those of you who have sent love, offered to listen and heard me out. I really wish it wasn't so hard to survive. I'm trying to feel better knowing there are people out there who are also without help and hoping the best, but it doesn't make me feel any better or comforted tbh. I just wish the help was there for us. I wish there was a place to go for spare love, care, compassion, empathy, kindness, humanity, generosity... I need that more than I need $. Call me stupid but that's what I live for. I don't live for paying to survive in terrible conditions. I live for love and to smile with friends

I hope to write back to the friends who have already been so kind as to message me soon btw. I'm sorry for not replying sooner. Your overwhelming support is sincerely sweet and sometimes I cry because I can't believe people are so nice (to me???). It'll give me something to do that doesn't make me feel like dying! :') so thank you thank you thank you *fist bump*

Hope you're all doing as well as you can and that somehow things get better. Hope anybody else struggling like me doesn't make the mistake of isolating like a sick and dying animal. You deserve love. You deserve support. Don't be like me. Have the courage to reach out to the people who care about you for help as early on into your emergency as possible. Don't let your situation snowball because you spend so long trying to figure out if you're worth it!!! This Random Tumblr user is here to tell you that YOU ARE. Sending my infinite everlasting unconditional love. Be nice to yourselves. Be nice to each other. Fuck the hateful assholes who wish I would just kill myself already. Tell your friends you love them. Happy Holidays!!!

And here's a single picture of a mooning lawn gnome at the very end, as a treat! I told you this post wasn't full of it.... It just ended with it 👉👉

[skyborneveggie]

Ooh for the DN ask game, how about 8, 15, and 23? :)

🙏🙏🙏💜💜💜

8. The death that affected you the most.

Naomi Misora. I think what makes it so difficult for me is that she feels very real to me. In a story where everyone has a touch of camp to them, she is fully grounded. She deals with sexism from her fiance, she seems depressed both before & after Raye's death... She never gets a moment of levity. And then the entire time she's speaking with Light, there's this impending sense of dread spreading over you because you know it can't end well. But the way he kills her... It's unexpectedly so much more horrible than anyone else's death. To reveal the truth to her just before snatching it away, to force her to die at her own hand, to make it so that she'll never be found and be able to be properly mourned by her loved ones... It's so incomparably cruel.

15. Which character’s personality do you relate to?

LIGHT. LIGHT LIGHT LIGHT. All the formerly "gifted" children who were shoved into boxes in grade school but then absolutely cracked in irreparable ways when they got to college, say I 🙋‍♀️. Backstory aside lol, I completely relate to Light's people-pleasing nature, and to be so afraid of rejection & disappointment in the eyes of someone you respect & who thinks they respect you too, that you can embody that person's truth so wholeheartedly that in the moment you almost believe what you're saying. And then when you're finally alone again behind the scenes, you double down on your real opinion out of seething frustration.

Also like Light, I also have to put in conscious effort to maintain external pleasantries. I am not a very naturally emotive person and would love if it was socially acceptable to leave my face like this: 😐 while other people are speaking. But I don't want to come across as uninterested or unfriendly so I try to put in the effort. I'm quite jealous of L actually. I wish I could just not care, like him, & unmask.

23. Your favorite interaction.

Oohhhhh that's tough to narrow down. I think it might be their first fight, specifically this conversation.

It's a moment of such blunt admission for both of their characters. L saying "I'm human—that's not allowed?" & Light responding "No, it's not." !!!!!!!!!! And then L admitting he wanted Light to be Kira because that would be more fun while also building up his ego... One of the most honest interactions between them imo.

Also the fight scene has this panel, which is one of my favorites for comedic reasons:

[dross-the-fish]

Phantom Ramble

I think one of the reasons I'm personally so resistant to viewing Erik and Christine's relationship as a romantic one is due to the fact that for most of the book I don't fully trust Erik as a character and I can't imagine Christine does either. Erik has a pattern of creating himself, whether it's the phantom of the opera, the angel of music, or even "Erik" we never really find out who he is. He says he wants to be loved for himself but he never is himself. He keeps himself hidden out of fear of rejection. Not just on a physical level but on an emotional one as well.

The name he gives Christine "Erik" is a name he came upon "By accident" and I've seen some people mention that in earlier versions of the story, like the original newspaper in which it was serialized, Christine stated that Erik picked that name because it's Scandinavian and he was hoping to use it to get closer to her, which is definitely a thing he would do and if not for the fact that the Daroga also knew him as Erik in Persia I would agree that's the most likely explanation.

I've always felt strongly that Erik cannot be taken at his word. He strikes me as the type to say anything he has to say to get what he wants and he has grown so accustomed to wearing masks that he is unable to take them off. Even when he's physically unmasked he still can't bring himself to reveal who he really is. Perhaps because he doesn't really know anymore, he has become his masks. His deformity made it necessary to hide from the world and every angel, phantom, friend, teacher or father figure he became feels like had to be meticulously created so he could slip on the role and play the part convincingly enough to fool those around him. This includes Christine. I think he was hoping that Christine would be the one who could see past the performances and I don't think she's able to for the majority of the book. Even when she's fascinated by him or feels pity she never comes across as someone who really KNOWS him. That's not her fault he has, intentionally and unintentionally, made himself unknowable.

Even the Daroga doesn't really know Erik, he has more insight than most people but Erik is as much a mystery to him as to anyone else.

Erik's world is the theater and he is a perpetual actor in his own narrative. It's instinct for him to simply become whatever he needs to be to frighten people away or draw them closer and I don't think he knows how to stop doing that anymore. He's so distant from himself that views his real self as dead, the real him is nothing but a corpse.

I think that's also what makes the ending, the final unmasking so poignant to me because that's the moment when Erik, the living person, not the character, is seen for the first time. It's the mask coming off for real at last.

"I tore off my mask so as not to lose one of her tears… and she did not run away!…and she did not die!… She remained alive, weeping over me, weeping with me. We cried together! I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer"

What Christine offers him in this moment isn't what I interpret as romantic love it's acceptance, it's compassion, it's seeing him and understanding him. She gives him this when he least deserves it and I feel like this is what makes Erik's redemption meaningful. That his humanity is acknowledge in his darkest moment by the person he's hurt the most. That he is shown that much grace and kindness and that he lets her go without getting the romantic fulfillment he was trying to coerce from her will always be infinitely more touching to me than seeing them in a successful romantic relationship.

I think I also just get tired of seeing romantic love touted as some be-all-end-all redemptive healing force and the thing that could "fix" this character and give him a happy ending.

Again, not saying people can't or shouldn't write their fluffy comfortable or their dark twisted Eristine fics, by all means, have fun and enjoy what you do, but I feel like there's very little appreciation for the redemptive arc in the book that isn't viewed through a romantic lens.

[phantom-of-the-ruckus]

The Scarecrow and Bride

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! HROO HRAA!

ScarecrowWeek2024 Day 7 "Halloween with the Sanderson's Sisters"/"Free day"

Thanks Moffy @jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear for the scarecrowweek! Maybe next year I can fully get into some days hahaha

I had to redo this post due to accidental posting when i was editing it and Tumblr post it....thanks Tumblr..

Thank you so much for your likes and reblogs, I did have my hesitations about posting this as we're tended to be our worst critics. I am super thankful for the amazing support and encouragement from my amazing friends from the various fandoms. Although I most likely won't be able to do much for the ScarecrowWeeek2024 or Halloween, I wanted to end the month with by far one of my favorite Halloween drawings hahaha

CW and Disclaimer: To clarify, the dress is a reference to Crimson Peak (although I am not a huge fan), so the brownish red is not blood but red dirt/ clay. Below there is the masked version, and a scythe. The mask looks intentionally scary, so I wanted to put a warning for it! Please enjoy!)

As you can tell, I couldn't help myself but sneak some Sleepy Hollow esque- themes for the drawing with Jon's unmasked scarecrow outfit while he carries his wife Elizabeth (My OC). The background are meant to be corvids, so let's pretend Craw and Nightmare are just flying behind them, as I sadly couldn't sneak them in

I do like to think, they're celebrating their anniversary, and he swept her off her chair into a wonderful walk among the corn fields while quoting Poetry to her along spooky stories (Def Poe's poetry and Sleepy Hollow)

Anyway, here's the mask version, which I quite love! I was super hesitant as I didn't think my scarecrow concept looked very scarecrow-y, but the most important thing was to have fun, and I love y'all like it :3

His mask is like a mix of a plague doctor Zombie, so I hope it fits hahaha

Anyway happy Halloween, and thank you Moffy for providing me with such opportunity with this last day

[frenchfrywrites]

Lights out

MINORS DNI

Warnings: dom top amab gn reader, sub bottom Michael Myers, shower sex, piss!, unmasked mikey, spit and soap as lube, (reader has hair.. I usually try to avoid defining physical features but yeah..)

Anyone else may have assumed their power had gone out if the lights suddenly turned off while they were in the shower. Anyone else may have screamed- or worse, slipped- but for you the occurrence is a signal of sorts.

You wait with bated breath as you hear shuffling coming from the other side of the shower curtain. A dark shadow grows against the fabric as a figure nears and pauses, then suddenly the screeching of metal reverberates throughout the room as the curtain is pulled back.

You exhale slowly as the figure enters the shower with you.

“Hi Michael,” you wrap your hands around his waist and he leans back into you easily. In the dark, facing away from you, is the only way that he’ll let you be around him with his mask off. You kiss his neck, taking advantage of the now exposed skin that’s normally covered.

He lets you hold him for a moment, warming up in the water before he takes your hands in his. Michael, never the one to beat around the bush, guides one of your hands to his crotch, where you find that he’s fully erect.

“Oh? Did you come find me because you want me to take care of this?” you ask teasingly, circling your hand around his length and squeezing him affectionately. Micheal nods, rubbing his ass against you. “You’re so cute,” you coo, letting go of his waist to run your hand up his slick body, and he scoffs out a soft laugh at your words.

You pause at his nipple, squeezing and pulling on it. He arches into your touch, silently telling you he wants more. He shows his appreciation by moaning when you rub your thumb along his tip. “Feels good?” Michael nods, and you reward him with a gentle nip against his neck. “So eager you couldn’t even wait for me to finish my shower,” you muse lightheartedly. He nods at that too, like it was a question.

In the bathroom, every noise echos. Though the sound of the shower water covers some of them, you’re able to hear more of Michael's soft moans and whimpers as you stroke his cock and mindlessly play with his chest.

It’s not long before he tenses against you, and you think that he’s cumming. A choked sound comes from his mouth, and your hand is coated with a liquid that’s hotter than the shower water and feels undeniably different from the cum you were expecting. You peek over his shoulder to find that Michael is pissing.

“Oh baby,” you coo, stroking him as his stream wets both your hand and his groin. Michael covers his face with his hands, and you can feel his skin heat against your body, letting you know he’s blushing.

“Fuck,” you breathe as his stream dies down, Michael whines softly behind his hands, and if you weren’t paying such close attention to him, you’d miss it.

“That feel good too?” you gently tease, but he grunts roughly, pushing you away. “Hey, woah,” you reach out, touching him gently, “I was just teasing Mikey, I’m sorry,” he looms over you in the dark, but you’re not afraid for a second. “I thought it was hot,” you tell him honestly, “I liked you…” and what you want to say is “being vulnerable” but you imagine that Michael won’t respond great to that, so instead you finish with, “letting go like that.”

Michael doesn’t move, but relaxes under your touch. “I want to continue, if you want to,” you try, giving him an out even though you’re so wound up you think you’d cry a bit if he left.

Of course, he pauses for a moment, tilting his head as he considers your words. Each second that passes feels like hours. It’s times like these where you really wish you could read Michael’s mind. Finally he nods once, then returns to your personal space, resuming the position you were in earlier.

“Feel how much I liked it?” you ask, rubbing your cock against his ass. Michael’s breath hitches, and he slowly nods, like he’s still unsure if you’re being serious or not. You return to stroking his dick, frotting yourself against him, “the way you tensed under me and got all embarrassed was so hot,” you praise, “I wanna see you do it again.” Michael lets out a heavy breath, grinding himself back against you.

“Do you want to do it again? Let me watch as you piss?” He lets out a choked sound, and once again tenses under you. This time he really does cum, dirtying the shower wall and jerking his hips roughly into your hold, chasing his pleasure. You help him through it, your dick throbbing because you know he’s clenching and fluttering around nothing, when he could be around your cock.

“Can I eat you out?” you ask breathlessly when he goes flaccid and still in your arms. He chokes, then whines, grinding back against your hard cock. You groan, sinking to your knees.

Michael steps his legs open wider, making room for you. You take his ass into your hands, pulling his cheeks apart to reveal his hole. Squeezing his flesh in your palms, Michael’s breath hitches, and he steadies himself by putting his arms on the shower wall.

You press your face forward and lick at his hole, reveling in the way that Michael moans quietly, and twitches under you. It’s hard not to dig right in, but you don’t want to overstimulate him, so you run your tongue over and circle his hole until he takes matters into his own hands– literally. Getting fed up with the teasing, Michael turns his body enough so he can press his hand against the back of your skull, and give you a not-so-subtle push.

Taking the hint, you press your tongue inside of him, wiggling it around so you can stretch him open. Michael’s grip on your head softens as he melts from the pleasure, a low rumbling groan leaving his body and echoing against the walls.

One of your hands eventually drifts from his ass, reaching around and finding that he’s hard again already. You give him a couple good strokes before leaving him aching. Instead, your hand goes to meet your mouth, where you press a finger in his ass, alongside your tongue. Michael very nearly keens, but stops you from hearing the sound by covering his mouth.

With Michael's hand gone from your head, you’re able to pull back a bit, and get a second finger inside of him. He opens up so well for you.

“Your body is so easy for me tonight,” you muse softly; so softly that if you weren’t sure that he’d cling to any and every sound you make, you’d worry he wouldn’t hear you over the sound of the shower water. “Want more than my tongue? More than my fingers?” he nods, jerking his hips. You moan, “could fuck you right now with how loose you are, slip in with no lube, and use you,” your dirty talk has Michael clenching hard around you. “Maybe another night,” you hum, “wouldn’t want you bitching about the soreness in the morning,” he lets out a grunt at that, and you laugh.

He’s relaxed from the hot water soothing his muscles, and with the help of your spit it’s not long before you’re able to easily slip a third finger into his hole. It’s good that he’s nearly ready for you, because he’s getting worryingly impatient. Michael squeezes around your fingers, his hands curling into fists where they’re stationed on the shower wall.

You bite into the meat of his ass, and Michael moans, clenching like a vice around you. The bite mark throbs and stings, distracting him as you slip your fingers from his hole. You spit on his entrance, getting him wet again, before you rise to your feet.

Luckily, you have some scent free liquid soap that will have to pass as lube. Squirting some onto your cock, you then hold onto Michael’s hips, pressing your skin flush against him.

You kiss his shoulder lovingly as you line your dick up with his hole. You rub it against him teasingly, until he reaches back and tugs your hair roughly.

“Ow! Jesus Mikey, all you had to do was say please,” you goof, pressing your hips forward. Michael inhales sharply when your cock head pushes into his hole, his hand dropping from your head. “Oh I know darling, I know,” the mix of spit and soap are helping, but they certainly do not compare to lube. “You’re taking me so well, let me know if it hurts too much,” you don’t doubt that he won’t.

It takes some time, with you obsessively monitoring Michael’s reactions, for you to fully press your dick within him. You refuse to let him rush you, so you pause for an agonizingly long time for him to adjust to the intrusion.

It’s not until Michael tries his best to hump your dick that you start to move. “God, you’re so needy,” you coo, squeezing his hips. Michael grunts quietly, resting his forehead against the shower wall as he lets you slowly fuck into him.

You’d like to take it slow and sweet, and you do for a minute or two, but you didn’t get the release that Michael did earlier, and you’re starting to feel particularly on edge. Again, you listen and look for any sign of discomfort from him as you begin to pick up the pace. You’re rewarded with a small high pitched keen.

“Shit, feels good huh?” You murmur as you begin to fuck him deep and hard, pushing him up against the wall. “Ah, sweet thing, such a cockslut,” he clenches hard around you, one of his hands dropping down to meet where yours are holding onto his hips. He holds onto your wrist, clenching hard. You love how clingy he gets when you fuck him, it’s like he can’t get off unless he’s holding or clinging onto you.

Michael’s breathing grows ragged and heavy, echoing against the shower wall. With every soft moan that escapes his lips between his breaths, your climax gets closer and closer.

“I’m close, baby,” Michael’s breath hitches at your warning, knocking his hips back roughly against yours. “Want me to fill you up? Fu-uh-ck you full then clean you out?” he nods, squeezing around you. You let your hand move from his hip to his dick, jerking him off in time with your thrusts. “I’ll eat your sloppy hole out again, ngh, get you out of this shower and take you to the bed, make you- hah- sit on my face,” you ramble. Michael’s length throbs and twitches in your hold, and you know he’s close.

He cums first, jerking his hips violently and erratically as you abuse his prostate. You follow, nearly immediately after you hear a whisper of your name between Michael’s gasping breaths. You keep your promise, fucking his ass full of your cum as you pound him into the shower wall.

Michael’s knees nearly buckle once the adrenaline wears off, but he quickly regains his footing. You kiss his neck tenderly, giving him a moment to recollect himself, before you pull out.

In the end, you don’t eat him out, and instead finger your cum out of him, getting him properly clean in the– surprisingly– still warm shower water.

Once he’s squeaky clean, Michael covers your eyes aggressively, and pushes his lips against yours sloppily, his best try at a kiss. And then without a word he’s gone. He leaves the shower, and you can hear him drying off before you’re left with silence. Smiling, you give him a head start, and then follow him out of the shower. Your water bill is going to be abysmal this month, but you can’t find it within yourself to care when the reward is a kiss from Haddonfield’s Boogeyman.

[dandelionh3art]

Netanyahu just sacked Yoav Gallant, Israel's Defense Secretary (with hints he may soon fire the IDF Chief of Staff and the head of Shin Bet, Israel's mighty secret police), and this is an excellent opportunity to say something about Netanyahu's role in the great scheme of things.

Two things I have been saying consistently for the past year: Israel will only escalate, and this is its demise.

I want to add one very crucial layer of meaning to this, regarding Netanyahu's role in exposing fully the face of liberal Zionism.

One of my earliest posts going viral on this platform was a retweet of an image showing the impressive size of big anti-Netanyahu protests. I said something like: don't be fooled. Everyone you see in this picture will put on their IDF uniform tomorrow and resume their role in the genocide.

And I was proven so unbelievably right. No conscientious objection was registered in Israel throughout all this. Zero.

And that's what I refer to as Netanyahu's role, in this context. He leaves those people no cover. No shred of deniability or dignity. They are exposed fully,

-

You see, that demographic, made up predominantly of Ashkenazi elites, had a million trillion chances to say no. To change course. They never did.

They always chose to walk hand in hand with their supposed political rivals - the religious rightwing crazies. Always. A-l-w-a-y-s

-

They could have said 'enough' when it was clear Israel did not mean to pursue the two-state solution, and was using the time it was given by falsely pretending to work at it to deepen and expand the apartheid and the settlements. They continued to serve and defend.

They could have said 'no!' when Jewish terrorism in the West Bank, and the occupation, became more and more violent and crazy. They continued to serve and defend.

They could have, should have, refused after the march of return with its abominable mass sniping of innocent people. They continued to serve and defend.

They could have voiced serious doubts and issued serious demands after, or during, previous Gaza operations - each gradually more murderous and fanatical. They continued to serve and defend.

They could have stopped after the first week of genocide. The second. The third. The first month.

The first 1000 dead children.

The first 10,000.

The first attack on a hospital.

The ISIS-like destruction of Al-Shifa.

They had endless reasons and causes to say 'My conscience does not allow me to do this anymore'.

Instead, they continued providing pilots to carpet bomb the entirety of Gaza, and economists and statisticians to handle the starvation, the prevention of medical care, and the ethnic cleansing, spokespeople to defend it, generals to plan it, computer scientists to streamline it, and elite soldiers to mask it as daring military activity.

-

Step by step. the mass murderer, may his soul rot in the deepest dungeon of hell for all eternity, peeled every maska and facade they ever had, going with them on a mutual journey of demonic insanity, straight to hell.

Now no one can back out anymore. They have made it all the way through to the other side of humanity. There's no going back.

Netanyahu does not need to even fake-cater to them anymore. So no residual sanity will be allowed to remain. He knows they can't escape anymore. They are forever mired in his psychopathy and craven bloodlust.

-

As I wrote a day or two ago: Israel is facing its mightiest foe in Iran after having its reputation thoroughly ruined, and with its population no longer able to hide under the slightest but legitimacy. And its elites already know they have been defeated, humiliated, and devoured by Zionism's absolute worst incarnation. They are going to war under the banner of a demon, fully unmasked, and they know it, and can't do anything about it anymore. They are just as bad and evil as he is, and he is the worst of humanity.

Alon Mizrahi

[drdemonprince]

Dear dr. Price,

A follower pointed out your book Unmasking Autism to me and said it was a life-saver. I have put in on my birthday wishes list.

According to lists on the net, I am supposed to reflect on whether I am behaving in a way that is aims at others' needs or my own and so on. This is precisely my problem. I am closer to 50 than to 40 and have probably been masking for over 40 years. How can I know what type of behaviour is learnt? What is ingrained? Is it possible that I have passed the window where I can still find natural conduct?

If you could see your way clear to answer my concern, I should be much obliged.

Kind regards,

Maarten

Hi Maarten!

Thank you so much for your question. While I understand deeply the desire to try and sort out which elements of yourself are naturally you and which elements are learned behaviors linked to a lifetime of trauma, in actuality there is no separating them. There is only one you. You have only lived one life, and it was the (at times very challenging and invalidating) life that you had. Humans are social beings, it almost makes as little sense to thing of humans in individual terms as it does to discuss ants without talking about colonies. Who we are is social, interpersonal, relational, and interactive.

The good news about that, however, is that who we are and how we feel can change, so long as our circumstances do. To some degree, masking and inhibition may always feel natural to you. I've been utterly fixated on unmasking both personally and professionally for years now, and while I've opened up a lot and learned many communication skills, my default mode of operating is still always to clench up. I will probably carry that reflex inside me for all of my life. That reflex has helped me. That reflex has saved me a great many times. It's just also hurt me and cost me a ton. And these days I try to accept all of that, and accept myself as the mutable, fragile, self-protective, sensitive being that I am.

I think it is far easier to focus on small behaviors and desires (and not-desires) than it is to worry too much about who we "really are" who we "would have been" in a completely alternate reality where we hadn't suffered the experiences that we have. Thinking about a fully liberated and unfiltered alternate self is enticing, I fantasize about who I'd have been in a better world all the time, but that person does not exist, and never did, and never ever would have.

Neurotypical are harmed by neuro-conformity pressures too. Capitalism, white supremacy, and the gender binary restrict how all people behave today pretty severely. Nobody lives fully free right now. This might sound bleak, but it's also a fact that unites us, and thinking about it gives me some hope. It helps me realize that I'm not uniquely boxed inside myself and separated from other people -- I'm suffering from the exact same forces that all people do, just in my own way.

I'm not uniquely broken. Neither are you. But we are irrevocably shaped by our life experiences. Instead of trying to change who we are, or find some inner true self, which is a daunting task, I think that instead, we can just practice saying no to things that make us uncomfortable, asking for the changes to our environment that we do need in order to feel comfortable, sharing what we feel, and taking time regularly to take stock of our lives and figure out what it is that we want and we wish for. It starts small.

Little phrases like "I don't like that," "I don't feel good," "I'm not interested in talking about that," "I'm going to go do something else," "Here's what i believe," "I don't agree with you," "I really need [thing]," and "I want to build a life with more room for [thing] in it" are some places to start. Truly, the more you get in the practice of saying such things, the better you get at noticing how you are feeling, and the more feelings and wants and not-wants you become able to self advocate for. It's not about becoming a new person, or throwing off the mask in one go. It's a skill, and anyone can develop a skill. You might as well make the rest of your life better. No amount of suffering in the past condemns you to needing to feel shitty about your desires forever.