#like as much as i love to imagine a world where dick heals

[pisswizard420]

as we speak i am in fact writing part of my special little guy's backstory, that goes a little bit into his family's history

[naeverse]

Tangled in his Webs

Art generated by: Niji • Journey Request from: @migueloharacumslut Ask: And I have a request I forgot rather I submitted or not. Mad scientist Miguel x therapist reader Miguel gets put in a psych ward because he got caught experimenting on people and himself trying to turned them in to spider people. He’s been in the psych ward for five years and he needs to be cleared to go back in the world. That’s where the reader comes in to clear him only he manipulates her into thinking he is sane. During their session Miguel becomes obsessed with the reader and little does he know she is obsessed with him too. At night she touched herself to the thought of him. When Miguel get out he finds her. Make the sex nastyyy, hard and rough little choking wouldn’t hurt either. Please and thank you ! 😊 A/N: I really loved this idea and enjoyed writing Scientist Miguel so much. Might write him more lol, but thank you @migueloharacumslut for the idea. Also this is the first part and a second one will be following this one, hope you enjoy!

💉staring: Scientist!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Therapist Reader

      🩵preview:  “I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?” He asked, his gaze never letting up and keeping its intensity. Due to his closeness, you almost missed his inquiry, but upon detecting it, it surprised you. Hastily, you shook your head, dismissing his ideology and rejecting his notion. “N-No, I wouldn’t exactly describe you in that way, Dr. O’Hara.” You swiftly replied. 

“You wouldn’t?” He asked, his voice low and slow. “So, how would you describe me, Doctor?” 

🔬summary:  As an evaluation therapist at Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing, you are assigned a new patient—one who is complex, captivating, and dangerously drawing you in more than you ever expected.

⚗️tw/cw (Just for this part): Big Dick Miguel, Bondage, Fingering, Masturbation, Psychopathy, Restraints, Sadism, Size Difference, Restraints

🔭Pet names: Cariño (Darling), Querida (Dear)

     🩵Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

 🥼Word Count: 7.7k 

**This fanfiction is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real-life individuals or events is purely coincidental. It does not intend to diagnose or represent any real mental health conditions. Thank you for understanding, and I hope you enjoy the story.**

Your eyes fluttered open, consciousness slowly returning. You felt a dull ache and soreness in your throat, accompanied by a pervasive feeling of weakness throughout your body. Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights overhead and adjusting to the suffocating sterile scent of antiseptic, you noticed that you were lying on your back against a hard, cold surface.

With furrowed eyebrows, you attempted to sit up, only to be thwarted back by the metal restraints tightly bound around your wrists and ankles.

‘What the heck!?’ 

You thought, panic and fear beginning to grip you. Your eyes darted down to discover yourself clad only in your undergarments—a delicate white, laced satin set—leaving you exposed to the chilling breeze that consistently swept through the well-lit space.

You couldn't remember how you got here; your groggy mind unable to piece together the events that led to your presence upon the metal table. The faint hum of machinery echoed from far away, punctuated by distant murmurs that made your heart drop.

With dazed eyes, you looked around your surroundings to be met with the overbearing shade of a bright white that covered the walls of what looked to be a lab of some sorts. Countertops were lined with an array of perfectly arranged scientific instruments, machines, and beakers.

Shelves held neatly labeled containers, each housing an assortment of chemicals and biological specimens. Despite being well-lit, there were little to no windows present, intensifying the feeling of isolation within the controlled environment. 

The place seemed devoid of humanity, replaced by a location where experimentation and analysis were handled freely without compassion or warmth.

But one thing about the lab really stood out to you: two jars sitting upon the shelves—one full of bloody red eyes and the other with abnormally sharp canines.

The sight almost made you vomit, hastily turning to look away. Your heart and breath were picking up, fear clawing at your being. Although how morbid the otherworldly body parts were, they triggered something in your head.

The more you thought upon it, awareness seeped in like an unwelcome guest; slowly, you began to remember.

The mental facility...

Red eyes...

The flowers...

Sharp canines...

Black glasses...

His release...

Him.

The wine...

Then darkness...

The memories came rushing back so quickly that you weren’t able to keep up, until it all came back to...

Him...

A wave of regret and stupidity overwhelmed you. Never in your life had you felt so worthless.

You should have known...

You should have fucking known...

‘He wasn’t well. He wasn’t fine. You were wrong, so wrong-’

“Good… You are awake.”

The bone-chilling voice of your captor filled the room, sending a familiar chill down your back. With trembling lips, you turned your head to see the backside of a massive male entering the room. His coffee-brown locks styled neatly upon his head, a white lab coat adorning his huge build along with black dress pants and oxfords.

The scientist wore clean attire, perfect for working in the lab, but his outfit was beyond your concern. 

You knew who he was, but you didn’t want to believe it.

You gulped, watching him slap on a pair of white latex gloves upon his large, calloused palms before beginning to inspect the scientific tools that sat upon the nearby counter.

"And here I thought you would have been excited to see me again..." he said in a husky voice, responding to your silence—his Latino accent unmistakable, along with a hint of amusement found in his tone. You felt like an idiot for falling for him, for becoming so fascinated with a madman like him...

But you were still in denial.

You weren’t going to believe it was him until you saw his face...

“T-T-Turn around…” You said hoarsely, the pain in your throat distant underneath the layers of fear and anxiety coursing through your body. At your demand, the large scientist laughed. “Turn around?” He asked slowly, silence following his inquiry, making your body run cold.

Suddenly, he spun around, slamming his palms onto the metal table you laid upon. The abruptness and loud noise made you jump, and a gasp erupted from your lips. His eyes stared directly into yours, holding the same madness that you believed he had cured when you initially met him. But, like before, it wasn’t the insanity in his gaze that made your heart drop to the pit of your stomach...

It was his eyes... 

His teeth...

The scientist’s crimson eyes looked down at you, taking in your discolored skin and half-lidded eyes that were still under a drowsy spell. “I turned around now, are you happy?” He asked with a playful smirk. “Do you recognize me now, dear?” 

Your eyes widened, the look upon your face enough to show the mad scientist that you did, in fact, remember who he was— but you were too speechless to respond, causing the male to chuckle.

“Do I need to give you any more proof that it is I?”

His snickering seemed to reverberate off the walls of your mind as the fluorescent lights of his lab bounced off his razor sharp canines.

With trembling lips and dilated pupils, you looked over his face, your heart breaking more and more because…

It was, indeed, him...

The mad scientist... 

The sexy patient... 

Dr. Miguel O’Hara…

The man you fell for…

White, close-toed wedges clicked upon the mental facility's aged linoleum tiles, the floor's once-bright patterns now a faded, discolored mosaic covered with scuff marks and indistinct stains that revealed the struggles of all who shuffled through the dimly lit corridor. The mental facility, unintentionally, gave off an eerie atmosphere with walls clad in faded, peeling paint and ceilings with bright, flickering fluorescent lights that cast irregular shadows along the cold institutional floor, further giving anyone who traversed the halls the creeps.

You, a therapist meant to evaluate patients for release, were given a new challenge—a patient that held a sadistic background coupled with a remarkable intellect that made many wonders how he found himself inside 'Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing.'

Dr. Miguel O’Hara was your new patient's name, an intelligent scientist who became a little twisted after his discovery of gene splicing. In his pursuit of advancing the human race, he became obsessed with the idea and creation of spider-human hybrids. After many experimentations of creating what is referred to as mutates, he was unsuccessful. Before he could continue with his study, he was arrested and sentenced to seven years here at the institution where it seems he’d made progress.

Whilst you walked towards his cell, taking the seemingly endless halls of the asylum, you looked over his file. Inside were documents containing his personal information, such as full name, date of birth, emergency contact, and next of kin. In the brown folder were also his medical history, psychiatric assessment, diagnostic evaluations, and much more information collected during his time at the institution; however, there were four pieces of his folder that piqued your interest:

Observation logs, Treatment plan, Risk assessment, and lastly, incident reports.

You studied each of the documents to discover the important details that needed to be surveyed before seeing the scientist in person.

_____________________________________ 

Miguel O’Hara - Mental Health File

Patient Information:

Full name: Miguel O’Hara

Date of Birth: 10/13/2070

Appointed into: Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing

Admission Date: 11/10/2099

Emergency Contact: N/A

Next Of Kin: N/A

**The patient has explicitly communicated a desire for their next of kin not to be associated with their mental health treatment, and no detailed information about family members was recorded to respect the patient’s privacy.**

Diagnosis:

Primary Diagnosis: Psychopathy

Secondary Diagnosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder

Treatment Team:

Primary Therapist: Dr. Jessica Owens, Licensed Clinical Psychologist

Psychiatrist: Dr. Peter B. Parker, MD

Nursing Staff: Nurse Mary Jane Watson, RN

_____________________________________ 

Treatment Plan: 

Medications 

Fluoxetine (Prozac) 

Dosage: 20 mg daily

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara is prescribed Fluoxetine to address symptoms of irritability that derives from his disorder of Antisocial Personality. 

Lorazepam (Ativan)

Dosage: 0.5 mg as needed (PRN) for anxiety

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara is given Lorazepam on an as-needed basis to manage anxiety-related symptoms or impulsivity.

**Its used closely monitored due to the risk of misuse**

Lamotrigine (Lamictal) 

Dosage: Gradual titration starting at 25 mg, with adjustments based on response. 

Purpose: Miguel O’Hara’s treatment plan included Lamotrigine to help stabilize mood swings or emotional dysregulation. 

_____________________________________ 

Incident reports 

Date: 2/3/2100

Incident: Verbal altercation with another patient during group therapy 

Action Taken: Immediate de-escalation and one-on-one session with Dr. Peter B. Parker. 

Date: 6/21/2100

Incident: Refusal to take prescribed medication 

Action Taken: Nursing staff provided additional support and education 

Date: 10/3/2100

Incident: Refused to attend scheduled group therapy and became verbally aggressive towards staff members

Action Taken: Security staff was called to ensure the safety of other patients and staff. Miguel was later engaged in a one-on-one session to explore the reasons behind his resistance to group participation. 

Date: 1/4/2101

Incident: 2nd occurence of refusal to take prescribed medication 

Action Taken: Nursing staff provided additional support and education and therapeutic engagement by Dr. Jessica Owens to address any fears or misconceptions related to his prescribed medications. 

Date: 4/18/2101

Incident: Observed by Nurse Mary Jane Watson of the patient hoarding various items in his room, including non-permissible objects. 

Action taken: Staff conducted a room check, confiscated unauthorized items, and discussed appropriate belongings with Miguel. A follow-up session with his therapist, Dr. Jessica Owens was scheduled to explore any underlying concern. 

Date: 3/21/2102

Incident:  Engaged in a physical altercation with another patient during a recreational activity 

Action taken: Immediate intervention by staff to separate the individuals involved. Both parties were assessed for injuries, and a report was filed. Increased monitoring and a review of Miguel’s treatment plan were conducted to address potential triggers for aggressive behavior

_____________________________________

Risk Assessments: 

Current Risk level: Moderate 

Factors: History of aggression, resistance to treatment, potential for manipulative behavior 

Interventions: Increased monitoring, ongoing assessment for potential triggers 

_____________________________________

Observation Logs: 

Date/Time: 8/16/2102, 2:30 PM

Observation: Miguel exhibited signs of increased irritability during the group mindfulness session. Requested to leave the session prematurely. 

Staff comments: Noted Miguel’s discomfort during mindfulness exercises. Alternative relaxation techniques were explored for future sessions. 

Date/Time: 12/2/2103, 10:00 AM

Observation: Miguel was observed engaging in a one-on-one conversation with staff during morning indoor activities. Discussed personal interests and aspirations. 

Staff comments: Encouraged Miguel’s open communication. Noted his ability to articulate personal interest, fostering a sense of connection with staff. 

Date/Time: 2/15/2104, 6:45 PM 

Observations: Spends most of his time in the facility’s library, engrossed in reading.

Staff Comments: Positive use of leisure time observed. Reading contributed to a sense of routine and engagement. 

Date/Time: 6/23/2104, 8:30 PM 

Observations: Attended the evening group therapy, contributing to discussions on coping strategies. Demonstrated empathy towards a fellow patient sharing personal challenges.

Staff Comments: Noted Miguel’s willingness to engage in group discussions and support peers. Positive progress in developing empathy and interpersonal skills. 

**Miguel O’Hara has exhibited excellent improvement and staff believes he can be released in 2105, instead of 2107.**

_____________________________________

You closed his folder, taking a look at the photo that decorated the front. Like many patients at Nueva York’s Sanctuary for Mental Healing (NYS-MH), Miguel O’Hara didn’t look like a dangerous individual; he was actually quite handsome—with dark, wavy locks that framed his olive, chiseled face and amber eyes shielded by a pair of black eyeglasses; Dr. O’Hara wasn’t a bad-looking guy.

To ponder upon the atrocities, he could have committed for the sake of science was baffling as you gazed at the photo. The more you inspected the image, the happier you became at the fact he was doing better - better enough to be released back into society.

It was why you were here, anyway…

You tucked the folder under your arm and continued your walk towards his room, passing steel doors that lined the corridor, each secured with heavy bolts and reinforced locks to keep the patients contained and prevent them from harming themselves or others. Occasionally, muffled echoes of distant cries and disjointed whispers seeped through the cracks, adding to the unsettling symphony of the troubled minds that dwelled within.

You've walked these halls many times, but there was something about today that really made your skin crawl. So, it was relieving when you finally found Miguel O’Hara’s room, number 209.

Two guards stood on either side of his door, present only for emergencies. With a deep breath and slight adjustments to the white top, black blazer, and bodycon skirt that covered you, you gave each of them a nod and unlocked his door with a key, entering Miguel’s room…

Upon stepping inside, you instantly took notice of the soft, muted tones of blues and greens dominating the color palette, bringing a sense of serenity to the room. The patient's sleeping area contained the normal necessities—a comfortable bed with crisp, clean linens and a modest seating area. The furniture was arranged in an open and uncluttered manner, with personal touches here and there by the patient himself or for safety precautions. 

For his adoration for reading and science, a small shelf was placed inside his room, displaying a few books and a potted plant, offering familiarity to the scientist.

Your eyes shifted to the large, muscular male who sat upon his bed, dressed in a white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and slip-on shoes. His massive backside faced you as it seemed he was engrossed in writing, his huge hand moving gracefully upon the page he was working on.

You cast a glance at the camera positioned in the corner of the ceiling in his room, placed there for monitoring and to ensure the patient, and others remain safe. After making sure the camera blinks red twice, showing its activity, you approach him with light steps.

"Miguel O’Hara?" you called out to him in a soft voice, not wishing to disrupt him. All of his movements came to a halt, his body rigid as his large hand placed the pen he was using into the open journal before slowly closing it. You watched him set the book down beside him on the bed, wondering if the handsome male you saw on the photo would be the same seated before you.

It seemed you were watching with batted breath for him to turn around and when he did, the sight of him shocked you and made your heart skip a beat.

You knew from his photo, the male would be gorgeous—so attractive that if he weren't your patient, you'd probably gush over him from afar. But it wasn't his attractiveness that made your breath hitch.

He looked completely different.

He looked…

Otherworldly.

With a cold expression, you stared back at a pair of crimson eyes covered with black eyeglasses, a small smile spreading across his tanned lips, revealing a set of sharp canines. “You must be the therapist that is to evaluate me. Right, Querida?” He inquired with a hum, his deep voice holding a Latino accent. 

You gulped at the intensity of his abnormal scarlet orbs, subconsciously clenching his brown folder in your hands and giving him a nod. “Y-Yes, I am,” you replied, stepping back to give the large male room to stand, and when he did…

He was like a giant…

The bed creaked at his ascent as his massive being towered over you, your head tilting up to maintain eye contact. Choking back how intimidated you were, you gestured over to the small seating area of two white cushioned chairs and a table in the corner of his room. “L-Let’s sit over here to talk,” you proposed, and for a moment, he just stood there, gazing down at you like a mere ant before his tight-lipped smile returned.

With an approving grunt, he stepped in front of you; with his powerful, long legs, it took him little to no time to reach the comfort area and settle down into the white chair, the seat creaking under his heavy weight. You followed behind him, moving to sit across from your new patient and shifting into a comfortable position.

When your eyes met the male's, his crimson eyes were already staring at you, lingering upon your body in a way that made you feel like a microbe under a telescope. You gave him a polite smile, shaking off the unsettling feeling that always rose within you when speaking with the patients. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Dr. Miguel O’Hara. My name is Dr. Y/LN, and as you’ve been informed, I am the therapist here to evaluate you for your release.” You explained sweetly, watching every part of the patient, who remained completely motionless, simply continuing to stare back at you with an expression devoid of all emotion.

“It’s nice to see a new face, doctor. It can get rather boring here,” he uttered, using his middle finger to push his black eyeglasses up the bridge of his broad nose.

You placed his folder down upon the table, turning it to not reveal his photo on the front; you've learned from past experiences that the sight tended to worry them. Bringing your legs to cross over each other, you clasped your hands, placing them on your lap. “Boring?” you asked with furrowed brows. “Why don’t we speak about your time here first, Dr. O’Hara? Is that okay with you?” The inquiry left your lips in a soothing tone, one that calmed most patients upon hearing it; but with this patient, you couldn’t quite tell—he hid his emotions too well.

“Well, maybe not boring…repetitive is a better word,” he corrected himself. “But, dear, I’m fine with speaking of my time here.” He replied with a smile, placing his hands upon the armrests and widening his stance. Your eyes drifted to run along his inviting toned thighs adorned by a pair of gray sweatpants that did little to conceal the curves of the muscles underneath. 

You also took notice of his posture; taking a mental note of openness from the patient before you asked your question, “Well then, may I ask how you are doing during morning activities? It's stated that you prefer Creative Arts Therapy in the mornings, correct?”

He nodded, his sharp canines peeking out from between his lips as he spoke. “Indeed, mostly during Creative Arts Therapy, I write,” he explained in a deep voice. “I’ve grown to learn that to better settle my thoughts is to put them on paper.”

“And that is an excellent form of therapy that you’ve discovered for yourself, Dr. O’Hara. May I ask, what exactly do you write?” You asked, trying to ignore the faint sight of madness in his crimson orbs. “I write down my thoughts, ideas, and aspirations,” he simply said. 

You hummed, giving him a smile. “How about future plans? Do you write about those?” At your question, he snickered, giving you a wry, dismissive head shake. “I…don’t write much on that,” he replied. “I’ll hate to get my hopes up,” he added in an amused, yet somewhat disheartened tone.

“Get your hopes up?” you inquired, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “May you elaborate, Dr. O’Hara?” The male nodded, his large fingers stroking the armrest of his chair in a deep caress. “I do not wish to anticipate that I will be released early,” his caresses of the chair never ceasing, and his eyes trained on his moving fingers.

You studied him, taking in his deflated voice and how he spoke in a slow manner. Your gaze shifted to take in the intricate motion his fingers moved upon the armrest as there were multiple reasons a patient would do such a thing.

He could be nervous, frustrated, impatient, or simply doing it to comfort himself. Recalling his mannerisms from previously, you could cross out your thought of him being nervous; the way the scientist carried himself was in a way of confidence that couldn’t be faked, so it left you with the last three—frustration, impatience, or comfort.

Without further observation, you couldn’t pinpoint his reasoning for his odd gesture, instead giving him a soft grin and replying to his previous words of anticipation. “I understand your concerns about getting your hopes up, especially considering that you were rewarded with an early release date based on your wonderful behavior as of late,” you sympathized, “So it’s completely normal to feel cautious about expectations,” you said, taking in the abnormally muscular male before you. 

“But let’s explore these feelings, shall we? Let’s say you are released in the next two weeks; what would your life look like, Dr. O’Hara?” you asked, deeply intrigued by his answer.

A moment of silence filled the room after your inquiry, the doctor continuing to make intricate patterns upon the armrest with his finger before his red eyes returned back to you. A nervous chuckle rumbled from his chest—the sound restoring life back into the room. “Ahh, I always get stumped on that question. It's another reason I haven’t written much about it in my journal.”

You nodded, placing your hands upon your legs. “Well, let’s start small,” you proposed with a grin. “You seem to have taken a liking to the hobby of writing while staying here at NYS-MH. Would you like to expand on that?” Miguel gave you a thoughtful hum, his pointer finger continuing to glide against the armrest of his chair. 

“I’ve…always wanted to write a book.” Your eyes snapped from his fingers to rest upon his chiseled face, surprise and amazement present upon your facial features at his desire. “Oh really? And what would that book be about?”

“Genetics, of course.” He chuckled, the mention of his past interest that caused his descent into madness making your heart skip a beat. Your eyes narrowed, the amazement fading from your being. You leaned back into your chair, keeping your composure.

“Are you still interested in Genetics, Dr. O’Hara?” Your inquiry being met with a nod from the patient, one that he didn’t hesitate on responding with. “I’ve worked in the field for almost my entire life and I’m exceptionally good at it.” He explained with a voice of knowledge in a low, deep whisper. “So why would I abandon my hard-earned skills and education?” 

His reasoning on his maintained attachment to the field was an excellent one, but like many things, it could be a trigger; causing the once cured doctor to revert back to his old ways of sadism and horrendous acts for the sake of science. This potential trigger would not only bring harm to everyone once more but erase the hard work that Miguel had achieved at the mental institution to fix. 

You cleared your throat before speaking. “I…understand your desire to write a book about Genetics. It’s an intriguing subject.” You said, preparing yourself to ask a question that would surely strike the doctor. “But considering the circumstance of your past experiments and the impact they had, how do you plan to approach the topic responsibly?” You asked, watching his reaction closely in anticipation. 

After your question it seemed as if everything stopped—froze even… 

You gazed at Miguel taking in his tanned face that stared back at you. His crimson eyes were empty behind his black frames and his posture was completely still in his seat. 

You’ll think he was a statue…

“Dr. O’Hara?” You called out to him which seemed to snap him from his thoughts. His red eyes slowly shifted to you, his tanned lips pulling into a small smile. 

“Responsibility, my dear therapist, is such a heavy word…” He said with a smirk. “But I wish to ask, what compelled you to work with the mental? It’s a challenging profession for those with weaker minds.” Miguel said, casting an odd aura upon the room with his every word. “I should know…many say they are for the discovery of science and when the time presents itself, they get cold feet.” He stated, his finger ceasing its movement upon the armrest. 

It wasn't unusual for a patient to desire to ask you a question, but the way he gazed at you with his intense eyes and how his gravelly voice caused a shiver to run down your spine made you hesitant, which the patient seemed to have noticed. “I only ask since you handle your job so beautifully.” He complimented, his eyes taking in your seated position. “I only wish to know what led you here before me.” The words left the patient’s lips in an ominous manner, however, upon saying such a thing his olive face held a smile that could melt anyone’s heart.

His fanged grin, oddly, sent a wave of warmth through your being and caused you to forget your reply to his question. You shifted in your seat, trying to keep your composure and recall your departed answer. “W-well, I…umm… entered this field by the simple fact of being interested in psychology a-and the way the mind works.” You replied once you found the words, unable to hide the stammering of your voice due to how unnerving everything was becoming. Miguel nodded slowly, running his tongue along the tip of his fang, the action drawing your attention. 

“Your interest in the subject of the mind is rather…fascinating.” Abruptly, he leaned up in his seat, resting his elbows upon his knees and invading your personal space. Your heart skipped a beat at his suddenness and at being able to see just how abnormal and captivating his scarlet eyes and sharp fangs were; it caused goosebumps to rise upon your skin at the mere sight. 

“I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?” He asked, his gaze never letting up and keeping its intensity. Due to his closeness, you almost missed his inquiry, but upon detecting it, it surprised you. Hastily, you shook your head, dismissing his ideology and rejecting his notion. “N-No, I wouldn’t exactly describe you in that way, Dr. O’Hara.” You swiftly replied. 

“You wouldn’t?” He asked, his voice low and slow. “So, how would you describe me, Doctor?” He grinned, the fluorescent lights of his room bouncing off his sharp fangs as his eyes were filled with a hint of amusement, though it was impossible to ignore how it seemed he was toying with you. 

“I…see individuals, like you, as people who have become lost in the darkness and just need assistance in finding the light once more.” You stated, his eyebrow raising and a chuckle escaping him at your answer. “A bold claim…” He said, his eyes tracing your figure and lingering upon how tightly you were now grasping your skirt.  

“For a little thing like you…” 

Miguel muttered imperceptibly that you almost didn't hear him. “E-Excuse me?” You asked in shock and with furrowed eyebrows causing the patient to snicker, shaking his head. “Just that your view is a unique way of thinking and a…intriguing one, in fact.” He said, leaning back in his chair and adopting a relaxed position once more. 

“It’s really fascinating how intellectual you are, doctor.” He grinned. “Few possess the ability to navigate the labyrinth of thoughts of the mental. I applaud you on that.” Miguel praised, returning back to running his palm along the white armrest whilst giving you his undivided attention. 

In your gut, you knew his recalling of the statement said previously was false, you were certain he said something that was out of the norm. 

But could you have mistaken? 

You took in his face, taking note of how he gazed at you. The scientist was attractive, and normally during your job you were able to ignore that appealing quality and complete the task at hand, but right now, it seems impossible. 

The way his red eyes ran along your body like he was undressing you, made you blush. You couldn’t explain it, but you were stuck between your desires and your sense of reason. 

You were aware of Miguel’s sadistic mannerisms and how there could be a chance he wasn’t fully well as he lets on, it was why you were here, but the longer you spoke with him, the more the task at hand was leaving you. 

However, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease he gave you at times. 

“M-May I ask how have you been feeling lately? Any changes?” You asked, changing the topic and settling your eyes upon Miguel once more to see him smirking. “It’s all been the same, doctor.” He began. “We have group therapies on Wednesday, daily morning activities and indoor activities…” He said, wetting his lips with the swipe of his tongue, the sight causing the tips of your ears to burn red. 

Sometime while he was speaking, you shamefully zoned out to taking in how sexy he looked. 

His white shirt tightly hugged his body, giving one a view of his hardened nipples, defined pecs, and washboard abs. Every curve of muscle was accentuated under the white fabric that teased anyone who saw. The muscles of his legs pressed against his gray sweatpants, and your eyes widened slightly at being able to make out the enormity that rested against his thigh.  The sight causing you to bite your lip…

“Querida?” 

The sexy patient called out to you, snapping you from your trance. “Y-Yes!?” You inquired, clearing your throat and taking a more assertive and relaxed position to try and dismiss your previous lack of professionalism. Miguel snickered. “It seemed you were off somewhere else…and here I thought that was my job.” He joked, causing you to chuckle nervously. 

“M-My apologies. You may continue.” You replied, wishing to proceed as if none of that happened. Miguel smirked, his crimson eyes roaming along your body before his finger began to tap upon the armrest.

“In my leisure, I write in my journal, read, or tend to my plant.” He finished, keeping it short and gesturing to the bookshelf in the room that held a pot of beautiful flowers. You smiled seeing how the black flowers bloomed upon the shelf. 

“May I ask, what is it that you write in your journal?” You asked, looking back at him to see his eyebrows furrowed. “It wouldn’t be ethical if I asked what you write in your diary, would it, doctor?” He inquired, causing you to instantly become regretful of your words. You casted him an apologetic look. “M-My apologies, I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

“No…it’s fine. Your fascination is interesting…” He trailed off, a tap of his finger following your words. You glanced back over at his plant once more, the flower really captivating you. “The plant is family to the Calla Lilies.” Miguel answered before you could even ask, looking over at you as you continued to inspect the plant from your seat. “Hmm…I’ve never seen a plant like this.” 

“Because this plant, in particular, is very rare.” He explained. “Native to South Africa, Escape, is a very rare find.” Miguel said with a fanged grin. “It’s why I made it mandatory that it was brought with me when I was assigned at NYS-MH.” 

You stared in awe at the abnormally black flower. This was your first time seeing a plant of pitch blackness that hadn’t already withered away, but Miguel’s next words grabbed your attention. 

“But one day while tending to my flowers, I hit an…epiphany of sorts.”  Miguel told you, causing you to cock your head in puzzlement. 

His words intrigued you…

“May I ask what epiphany you reached, Dr. O’Hara?” At your question, Miguel gave you a look of appreciation and sincerity. “I understand that upon my arrival, I wasn’t…in the best state of mind.” He said with a sigh. “But after being here, I feel like I’m ready.” 

“Ready for what?” You asked, bringing a small smile to his lips. “I…believe I’m ready to see the world again.” He answered, giving you a genuine look of certainty. 

His realization filled you with gratification. You reached for his brown folder, believing he had, indeed, improved. The first major step for the patient was seeing that they were initially unwell, which the patient had achieved. 

“I’m greatly pleased with your recognition of this epiphany of yours, Dr. O’Hara.” You said, holding his folder in your hands. “But I believe you are ready to answer some more serious questions.” You said, glancing up at him. “Are you ready?” You asked, seeking permission of his state of mind before proceeding. 

With a nod from Miguel, you opened his folder, pulling out a few of his documents to begin asking more serious questions regarding them. “I’ve noticed in your next of kin that you asked for them to not be aware of your mental treatment.” You began, looking up at Miguel to see him already gazing back at you, his crimson orbs trained on you. The sight made your heart flutter. “M-May I ask how you would cope on the outside without your familial relations knowing of t-the treatments and necessary tools you've learned whilst being here?” At your inquiry, Miguel’s face hardened, his crimson eyes darkening.

“Well, you see, my dear therapist, family can be a bit…overwhelming.” He uttered, tapping his finger against the armrest once more like a metronome; his eye contact never breaking. “I’ve decided to take a more independent route for now.” He explained in a deep, slow voice. “But friends, colleagues—people who don't burden me with unnecessary questions about the past are who I seek.” He said, his voice holding a hint of coldness as his jaw clenched. 

“Because, it’s important to focus on the present and the future, rather than the past, don’t you think…

Doctor?” 

You gulped, his words seeming to have you in a vice. It was as if he had some kind of control over you, all of the rules and regulations you learned whilst being an evaluation therapist at NYS-MH faded from your mind. You couldn’t figure out what you found so enticing about him. 

Was it the way he looked or behaved? How he seemed to speak with such intellect in a tone of voice that could lull one to sleep?   

You were puzzled…

But you were certain something was happening, and it was greatly affecting you and your ability to think clearly. 

You hesitantly nodded, clenching his folder and feeling your cheeks redden once again.  “T-That is correct.” You agreed, not believing what you were saying. “I would understand your desire to look past your previous mistakes and move forward.” You uttered, trying to keep your attention on the patient. 

“Indeed…Mistakes.” He smirked, a small chuckle passing his lips, his finger seeming to tap against the armchair after your words. Your eyes looked from his hand and to his face, studying how his coffee-brown locks blowned gently in the breeze from the vent overhead, and to his defined cheekbones and broad nose that made him even more captivating… 

 “Have any more questions for me, doctor?” 

You jumped at his inqury, noticing you were just staring at him. 

What the hell was wrong with you?!

A little disheveled, you fumbled through the folder for the next pages of information you sought, picking up his documents on his treatment plan of medications and his incident reports. “Umm…I-I wanted to ask about your medications.” You began, wetting your lips and holding the papers up to hide behind them. “T-There were two occurrences where you refused to take your medication. M-may I ask why you refused?” You asked, peeking around the paper to see the patient adjust his black eyeglasses upon his face along with the repeated thudding of his finger upon the chair. 

“I must ask, how would you feel if someone took away your identity?” 

“W-what?!” You asked in surprise, lowering the pages hastily. A laugh rumbled from his broad chest, giving you a clear view of his otherworldly fangs that made the pit of your stomach twist into knots. “You heard me, doctor.” He stated in a manner that was to be amusing but only made one disturbed. 

“What if someone was trying to force you to be someone else? Someone you are not?” He asked, causing you to chew your inner cheek and ponder his question. “I…I guess I wouldn’t like that.” 

“Indeed…” He replied. “Any creature would despise the fact of forced transformation of oneself. It’s the reason you cannot simply change a savage tiger to being a tamed kitten in your home.” The dark-haired male explained. “It’s because a tiger would always cling to its savage ways, it's what keeps them alive—it’s what they enjoy.”  

“That’s…a great analogy, Dr. O’Hara.” 

“Why thank you, dear.” Miguel replied with a smirk before his old expression shifted to hold furrowed eyebrows and a frown—a set of facial features that instantly tugged at your heart. “But…the true reason I refused my medication was because…” He heaved a deep sigh, biting his lip. “The depressants make me sleepy and tired all the time, and…the idea of having to depend on medicine to stabilize my irritability and emotions is rather disheartening to me.” He said in a sorrowful voice. “I refused them because I believe I can be better without them.” 

You listened closely to his words, taking note of his concerns and feeling rather empathetic. “In all honesty, how would you explain your current mental health condition?” You asked, placing your compassionate eyes upon him. 

He gave you a heartfelt smile, one that made your heart soar. “Like I said previously, I feel better, Doctor.” Miguel said in genuinely. “I’ve seen the errors in my ways and am deeply disgusted by what I’ve done to innocent individuals…t-too myself.” He said, looking away at the ground in shame. 

“I wish to return back into society and start anew.” He replied. “Be the man that I’ve wanted to be—not some madman who allowed his idea to get too out of hand that led to the deaths of innocence.” Miguel professed to you with an emotional and hearty voice. 

You nodded slowly as you noticed his scarlet eyes flicker down to your hands that held the brown folder. “Doctor…

May I?” 

Dr. O’Hara asked, extending his large, calloused hand to you, seeking your palm. Your eyes widened, thickly gulping and looking back up to meet his red orbs that seemed to suck you in—enticing you to take it. 

Physical connection with patients were strictly forbidden, but the sadden look of desperation upon his face led you to take his hand. You placed the brown folder upon the table before resting your hand in his large palm, and instantly yours looked to have shrunken in size. With a fluttering heart and belly, you met his eyes and instantly melted under his crimson eyes. 

“Please, Cariño. I assure you, I’ll be on my best behavior.”  

The patient affirmed, giving your hand an affectionate squeeze, following his heartfelt promise. Your breath caught in your throat at his genuine gaze and words. 

From his evaluation, you couldn’t help but agree that he was ready…

He didn’t utter a word of sadism or show signs of insanity, revealing his first diagnosis of Psychopathy was treated or can be suppressed. He exhibited signs of sympathy for his victims, and also didn’t become angry at triggering questions, displaying that his second diagnosis of antisocial personality disorder was also cured or treated. 

Like he said…

Dr. Miguel O’Hara was ready. 

You gave him a small smile, placing your free hand atop of his as Miguel’s eyes shifted down to your kind gesture and back onto your face. “Okay…I believe you.” You said, caressing his knuckles with your thumb. “I’ll be sure to send in your evaluation report that you are good to go.” You told him, but as an evaluation therapist you weren’t supposed to say, but you couldn’t stop the words from spilling from your mouth. 

Giving him a departed smile, you released his hands and collected your things. His touch still burned into your skin and left you yearning for more of him. 

You felt his abnormal eyes on you as you went to the door. Suddenly, upon putting your hand on the doorknob, a cold shiver ran down your back—one that instantly made you come to a halt. Your eyebrows furrowed at the unsettling sensation, causing you to bite your lip in nervousness.

“And Miguel…” You called out to him, using his name and looking over your shoulder at the dark-haired male. His tanned, chiseled face held an expression of hidden joy and interest as he turned towards you, his attention captured by your call whilst he remained seated in his chair

You clenched the folder tightly, hastily shifting your gaze to meet his scarlet eyes—the previous feeling of discomfort and unease vanishing.

“I-I hope you keep your word.” You said in a voice full of reverence. Miguel returned your words with a reassuring smirk, his sharp canines poking from over his bottom lip. 

“You have my word, Doctor.  I’ll be on my best behavior.” 

After turning in Dr. Miguel O'Hara’s evaluation report and going home, the scientist was still on your mind.

The way the doctor looked at you with his beautiful red eyes from behind his black spectacles, with a gaze of interest, to the fanged smiles and smirks he gave you—merely thinking about it made your cheeks redden.

You bit your lip, feeling a need to cure this desire for him, but you decided to push it away. You couldn’t feel this way about him…

You couldn’t…

…

..

But you did…

Extremely…

You lay under the blankets of your bed, tossing and turning as every time you closed your eyes to sleep, he would fill your mind. 

Especially the glimpse you got of his package. 

How his massive member was accentuated underneath the gray fabric of his sweatpants, revealing how thick and long he was. 

The remembrance made you drool… 

It had been forever since you’d touched yourself. Being a therapist at a mental facility was a rather time-consuming job, and you weren’t really interested in the many men who tried to get your attention.

Until him… 

Why did it have to be him of all people? 

It was a guilty pleasure, that was for sure—to have fallen so hard for this doctor, your patient who had many wounds that still needed healing.

But oddly, his wounds only pulled you in even more…

You bit your lip, allowing your hands to begin roaming along your body, imagining they were his calloused ones—remembering how his large hands practically engulfed yours when holding his hand, and how rough they felt.

Oh, how good it would feel if they were the ones touching you. 

Giving your clothed breasts a squeeze through your shirt, you moaned softly. Despite his past of being sadistic and cruel to others, you imagined him being gentle with you—caressing your body and touching you in a way that stole your breath every time. You arched your back as your thumb barely flicked over your pebbled nipples, drawing a whimper from your lips.

Your panties were heavily drenched in your juices due to your core's insistent pleas for stimulation and touch. Finally satisfying yourself, with a sharp tug, you pulled your panties down, freeing your pulsating pussy. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, hastily getting into a comfortable position on your back and allowing your legs to fall apart. With closed eyes, you allowed thoughts of Dr. O'Hara to guide your movements. 

His massive hand ran along your abdomen, teasing you with his skilled fingertips and trailing lower. A gasp escaped your lips as your fingers brushed softly along your throbbing bud and soppy folds, spreading your juices along the sensitive area.

You imagined Dr. O'Hara above you, his red eyes gleaming in the moonlight as he smirked down at you, pressing his large middle finger into your entrance. You moaned, feeling his finger filling your tight walls. 

Whimpers escaped your lips at how good his finger felt inside of you, your back arching in desire for more of him. His smirk broadened at your eagerness, as he slowly drew his finger out to the tip before pushing back in, quickly finding a rhythm and keeping at it with each thrust.

Your toes curled, burying your face in your inner elbow as you continued to finger your wet pussy, wishing Dr. O'Hara was here, but imagining would have to do. It wasnt long before a heat began to pool in your lower belly, your breathing picking up. 

"Taking my fingers so well, dear," Dr. O'Hara whispered into your ear, gently nipping along your lobe and throat, his fangs grazing your skin. You whined into your arm, his fingers picking up speed and hooking just right inside your pussy, bringing you to your blissful end. 

With a loud cry, your thighs trembled horribly as your juices spilled in hot spurts, soaking your hand and the sheets underneath. 

Your eyes fluttered close, trying to overcome the buzz that overwhelmed your body after your release. It took a moment, but when you caught your breath and your vision settled, you withdrew your fingers from your pussy, casting your eyes upon them to see that they, not Dr. O'Hara's, were covered in your juices. You exhaled in disappointment. 

Despite how good it felt imagining it was him, you couldn't help wanting Dr. O'Hara in the physical…

"I imagine I must seem like a puzzle that’s meant to be solved by you, don’t I, dear?" 

As you lay there, still tinglinh from your pleasurable moment, his words filled your head, leaving you to ponder his question once more. 

Did you believe him to be a puzzle that only you could solve? In the moment, you said no, but deep down, you wanted nothing more than to thoroughly fix him.

Like many patients upon being released, they still faced numerous challenges, including reentering society, finding a job, and avoiding triggers, after departing from NYS-MH.

He was going to need help, and with all your heart, you wanted to be there for him. 

And you were going to. 

No matter what…

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the first part of 'Tangled in his Webs.' 😆I really enjoyed writing Miguel in this persona as it was different and honestly fun, especially with him being a darker character. It was rather new for me writing in this manner, despite some challenges here and there, I'm overall proud of the outcome and I hope you are too!

@migueloharacumslut, thanks so much for the request, and I hope you are even more happier that it's to be more than one part, lol. But once again, thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask. I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe! 💙💙

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[d1s1ntegrated]

helloo!! can you do hcs of shigaraki x civilian reader please?

thank youu <333

shigaraki x civilian!reader (slight nsfw!)

»» ──────ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ────── ««

he had first caught sight of you months ago, and since then his obsession only grew.

yeah, he knew he was being a stalker, but he couldn't help it

you were just so beautiful, how could a stranger be so perfect?

he wondered what it would be like to have you, to hold you, to steal you away from this broken world and heal you

he memorized your routine, he knew your social media, he even knew where you lived now cause he followed you home from the mall a few days ago.

he'd sit outside your apartment, sometimes climbing the fire escape late at night to watch you sleep, palming at his erection through his jeans to the rhythm of your breaths.

he knew he couldn't have you, but he still vowed to turn hell cold for you.

everyone in the league noticed his change, but no one dared speak out against him. he was way more aggressive than usual, spoke less, even spent less time gaming. he was absent more, as well, which was nerve-wracking for them.

he knew they wouldn't understand. maybe toga would, but he'd rather not share his newfound delight with anyone else anyways.

he'd sit alone in his room late at night, crying and whimpering into his pillows, calling out your name. begging for some miracle that you'd notice him, his gestures of love for you (anonymous tear-streaked love letters, flowers, the ominous stain outside your bedroom window).

he'd cry, rub his dick raw, and cry again.

if you noticed him, it'd be different. he knew it. he couldn't approach you, but if you approached him, maybe he could win.

but you did notice him. somehow, you weren't scared, but flattered. you kept his letters, you hung the flowers to dry. you were just a normal, regular person. what about you captivated this mystery man so much?

you felt obligated to respond one day, desperate for an answer. you left a small note in the mailbox, signed "for my admirer".

his heart nearly fell out of his ass when he noticed it, he yanked it away and read it in an alley, too anxious to wait to get back to base.

the note was simply, short, sweet. just like he'd imagined.

"i appreciate all you've given me. give me a call sometime so i can show my thanks in person. (xxx-xxxx-xxxx)."

he hastily, shakily added your contact to his phone and ran off with the paper shoved in his pocket.

he came so violently that night his nose bled, and for a second, he felt healed. like his prayers had been answered, like the world wasn't as rotten as he previously assumed.

[numberonecodwomenfan]

ok yall heres my thoughts for a potential olympics au.

price boxes. 100 percent. no clue why but he just has the Vibes. it’s definitely not his first olympics. he’s getting close to retiring from the olympics (which no is not an old man joke, they genuinely just have a very small age window to be like in their prime to compete. simone biles is 27 and she’s considered on the older side for olympic athletes).

gaz does gymnastics. look at him man he just looks like a gymnast. it’s his first olympics and while he’s not really an underdog he’s not very well known. he is however definitely getting the stephen nedoroscik treatment (immediately becoming the country’s sweetheart, having tons of fan edits, etc).

soap plays soccer (IT’S CALLED SOCCER 🦅🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸) as a goalie and again, scotland’s sweetheart. they eat him UP. i mean look at him why wouldn’t they. he and gaz become immediate friends in the village and post online together. they make jokes on tiktok about getting freaky on the cardboard beds (ilona maher and nicole heavirland style) and no one ever shuts up about it. he’s new to the olympics as well.

ghost plays rugby because he’s massive and angry. i feel like this is his second olympics and he’s lowkey still mad his team lost last time but he’s pretending not to be 😭 he doesnt participate much in the dicking around, but since he, price, and gaz are all team england he gets spotted in some of the online shenanigans (can u tell i pay more attention to the athletes goofing off online than the actual games)

farah i feel does beach volleyball. shes tall (5’8” which is crazy because she looks SHORT next to some of the other characters) so good for volleyball, and i’d imagine urzikstan’s team would unfortunately be pretty small considering. yk. so they might only have enough athletes for beach volleyball since it only requires 2 players. im imagining this to be set in a world where farah wasn’t leading the ulf but the occupation and stuff still happened, but it’s over and urzikstan is slowly healing again. throughout the competition farah is very vocal about her pride for her country and she talks about her brother and parents, and says that she’s competing in honor of them. she also becomes one of those athletes that everyone roots for no matter where theyre from, simply because of a) how good she is, and b) the way she speaks about her family and her country, and how emotional it makes people.

alex surfs. look at that man and tell me he doesnt surf. i know we agreed he’s from some podunk midwest town but i can also totally imagine him being from like socal and being the most doofy surfer dude. he meets farah in the olympic village and is immediately infatuated. also i feel like he would have an obsession with one of the foods there like that norwegian swimmer with his chocolate muffins and post about it online.

(again can yall tell i pay more attention to the athletes dicking around on tiktok than the sports)

i wanna say rudy and alejandro both do equestrian because yk. vaqueros. but i cant tell if it’s too on the nose. let me know ur thoughts.

laswell does archery. i believe its one of the sports that is more likely to have “older” athletes (although i could be wrong) and i imagine laswell is like 45 ish. lesbians love her. this is not her first rodeo she has olympic’d before. people see her talking to alex on the boat during the opening ceremony and theyre like “is she his mom or smth wtf???” bc they look similar and they eventually just lean into it. like yeah this is my mom she’s like 7 years older than me. dont think about it too hard the numbers make sense. i swear.

könig wrestles because he’s massive. i fear booktok gooners would obsess over him and it would simultaneously give him a huge ego boost but also make him deeply uncomfortable. he’s a good wrestler tho so he toughs it out 😭 the gooners see him without the doofy little wrestler cap for the first time, realize he’s fugly, and move on. he can live in peace again.

horangi does shooting because i keep seeing that hot korean shooter kim yeji everywhere and shes so cool. also bc horangi is in the military in game so um. yeah. dude is cool as fuck and he knows it.

[codenamesazanka]

Why do you think hori decided to make decay one part of overhaul? I know many fans believe its so he can awaken the reconstruct part later but that sounds too contrived

hmmm, my take is... it's to make the world more boring, making AFO a super dick who's responsible for everything wrong in the world, and so relieve a burden from the Heroes.

It is my belief that people are too caught up in the Overhaul part (while also too dismissive of Overhaul the guy), and part of that is the need for copium for Shigaraki to come back and save his League/redeem himself. They need a miracle for the League to survive, and they need an excuse for Shigaraki to not be treated badly by the Heroes afterwards. If Shigaraki has 'Overhaul' quirk, and proves himself by having the ability to 'heal', then Shigaraki can justify his existence to the Heroes as useful/less lethal/benevolent-due-to-healing-power. I know that's not what's intended, but that's what it comes off as. Shigaraki with 'Decay' gets killed by a Hero; but Shigaraki who comes back (especially as Tenko) with a different quirk can stay? It's a bad look, even if coincidental.

(But who knows! Maybe he will do exactly that. We're at Horikoshi's mercy.)

I think the derived-from-Overhaul thing is just to make AFO a super asshole who went out of his way to make A Very Dangerous And Scary Quirk, one that will guarantee ostracizing status for Tenko because society already discriminates against 'villainous' quirks - and by doing so, actually gives Hero an easy out of doing something about their quirk society.

Decay - a five-finger automatic touch disintegration quirk - is a highly, easily destructive and lethal power. If it's naturally existing, if a five-year-old can randomly awaken this ability, it spells out trouble for the world. How would parents respond to their child having such a quirk? How to treat this child with the full love and respect they deserve - because all children deserve full love and respect! - without alienating and hurting them? How would one raise this child to be mindful and careful and responsible, without also overburdening them or making them feel like they're a dangerous monster?

Is the solution to make Shigaraki/Tenko wear gloves? That seems simple at first, what if Shigaraki/Tenko doesn't want to? What if gloves are annoying and gives him rashes from wearing them all the time or it interferes with his hygiene? What if he simply wants his hands free? But when his gloves are off, people get antsy and nervous around him, worrying about that 'what if'? How do you balance personal autonomy and other people's safety? How do you balance "what is convenient for other people" with "what is right for me?"

Decay is a really interesting quirk to exist in a world where quirks can be anything and in a story that asks what it means to live in a superpowered society. We've seen that HeroAcaLand is not very kind to people with quirks that gives them trouble fitting in with a norm. Quirks that violate taboos like Toga's; quirks that give people 'scary' or 'gross' appearances like heteromorphic quirks ; quirks that are seen as 'villainous' - the people holding these quirks (which is their innate ability, a natural part of themselves as much as their eye color and limbs!) get mistreated because society lets their prejudices and preconceived ideas take over and taint their treatment of such individuals. This is a problem in the world of bnha, but it's rarely ever touched upon besides a general lesson of basically "tough luck, mind yourself and suck it up until things get better".

People have pointed out that Toga's quirks and heteromorph quirks has got this covered, but Decay is unique in its seemingly mutation manifestation and its extreme aspects. It's automatic except for a few conditions; it's immediately lethal. It would be been so good to see how Heroes handle that.

Deku stops Decay only because he's in the dreamscape and can just imagine himself not getting disintegrated. How convenient! If it had taken place in real life, how would he have dealt with Decay in a way that wouldn't have scared Tenko off yet also protected Deku's and the Shimura's safety? Would Deku tie the five-year-old up with black whip? Would Deku hold (and break) his wrists like he did with Shigaraki in reality? Would Deku have to evacuated the Shimuras, leaving poor Tenko to watch a Hero save people *from him*, and then remain alone for however many agonizing minutes? Would Deku be forced to stay far away and yell encouragements while waiting for backup, for the right Hero with the right quirk to come (essentially mimicking what Heroes made Bakugou go through in the first chapter?) It's good for Deku to want to rush in and save people without a thought, but what to do in situations where he cannot get lucky and cannot do that without dying? When the 'trouble' he's facing is the very victim themself?

If Decay was naturally occurring, these are questions Heroes must deal with, these are incidents and emergencies Heroes must be ready to face. Hell, these are things parents must be prepared for and have drills and plans set aside if it ends up being their child with such a quirk. (Like, it's awful that Kotarou's instinct when faced with an unexpected and scary quirk being 'whack your son with garden shears' instead of 'calmly assess the situation, remember what the parenting book said about quirk manifestation, and comfort your child'??? And no, I will not take 'Kotarou's just a dick, nvm him' as an answer. It's not about him specifically anymore, I'm talking about what a parent should have done in this situation in general. Because Nao just died! She loved her son and tried to go to him and died!) These are questions society must find solutions for. Otherwise, tragedies will happen; fear sets in; people don't get saved.

BUT as it turns out, Decay is not naturally occurring. AFO created a quirk like this for the ultimate tragedy, meaning tragedies like this don't actually happen. At worst we get Eri's case - her dad disappears but without too much mess, and there's a wind-up time until the next incident, and we even get a visual warning in her horn growth. And thankfully we have Aizawa, an adult, already a licensed Hero, there to keep her in check. And if tragedies like this don't actually happen, that is not a thing Heroes have to lose sleep over. Quirk accident resulting in multiple casualties? A quirk that kills so easily? A quirk that appears in a suffering child and interacts with their background in the worst way? A quirk that would've subjected the holder to a hard and isolating life (largely due to other people's attitudes towards it!) and if Deku's a Hero who wants to save people, what will he do?

Well. Not a thing Deku has to think about. Wasn't real. What a relief.

[hannahbarberra162]

She must be the person who most cheers for the death of Whitebeard, a man she doesn't even know, because this is one of the few scenarios that she can maybe be free again and return home.

If she spends 6 hours donating blood and has 8 hours of sleep (considering that she has a regulated sleep), what does she do in the remaining 10 hours? Can she leave the room? Does she sleep in the dorm with the others? Can she walk freely?

Does Whitebeard know of her existence (and that she is in Moby Dick against her will)? Does the whole crew know, or just the commanders?

Does Marco feel the slightest bit guilty? Knowing he's holding someone in the boat against her will? Would he really be able to keep up his threats?

Sorry for the questionnaire, I'm just curious :'D I have so many thoughts about the last one-shot

Hi Luarsunny!! I know this isn't your cup of tea haha. I'm writing a short one shot in your honor that's light and fluffy featuring a normal Marco. To answer some questions:

Marco would absolutely keep up his threats. He’d probably just start by breaking your ankle again, but he'd be willing to do whatever he needs to ensure Pops’s health. You are nothing to him compared to his father / Captain. 

I’d imagine some of the crew knows, but there’s so many people on board and you’re not very noticeable. It’s not a secret but you’re not that important to most people’s daily lives. 

“You’re done for today yoi,” Marco said, pulling the IV out of your arm. You’d been healed by him already, as you always were. Even though he replenished your blood, it always took a lot out of you to give platelets for six hours a day. You felt weak and lethargic, even though Marco had confirmed there was no biological reason for it. You were free to go where you wanted for the next few hours until you were confined to your room for bedtime. Marco locked you in a private room near his own for ten hours at a time, wanting you to get undisturbed sleep and rest away from the rest of the crew. He was neurotic, counting how many hours you slept and if you got up in the night. You were sure he was watching you, but you hadn’t figured out how yet. 

Lately you’d taken to spending time on the top deck when you were free, enjoying the weather outside. Before sailing with the Whitebeard Pirates, you’d never seen snow before. You were from a summer island and enjoyed watching the changes in the weather as the ship sailed through the Grand Line. Marco had banned you from going up to the crow’s nests, where you had originally loved spending time watching the skies. You’d almost fallen once on your climb up and Marco had since forbidden it. So you sat near the figurehead of the whale, thinking about nothing. Or, trying not to. 

Some pirates talked to you, trying to get you to socialize. You’d made a couple of friends, if kidnapping enablers could be considered friends. You were closest to Masked Deuce, who worked in the medical division under Marco. He was around a lot, checking in on you during your long days. You’d discovered he was a writer and loved the same kinds of literature you did, and he would read books to you while you sat immobilized. With Deuce came Ace, another Commander. You didn’t like Ace as much, he didn’t seem to understand the bind you were in. According to him, you should be overjoyed to be providing your platelets to someone as amazing as Whitebeard. But he was kind and charming and would tell you funny stories sometimes, so you let him hang out with you when you had time.

You resented Whitebeard and his crew immensely. You’d met Whitebeard himself once, when Marco had brought you up to meet him at the Captain’s insistence. 

“Thank you child,” the old man said simply, nodding his head in thanks. You had fantasized about this moment many times, imagining how you’d spew your vitriol at the Captain, telling him you hated his ship, his crew, Marco, and most of all, him. But in the face of the World’s Strongest Man, you were unable to do anything except cower, clinging to Marco as if he were your lifeline. “I owe you my good health, which is more precious than any treasure.” You stared at the man four times your size, your words dying in your throat. Marco nudged you.

“You’re welcome.” You didn’t have anything else to say - what could you say? Please let me go home to the detriment of your own health? Your son kidnapped me and I’m here against my will? Marco knew how you felt, he knew you were homesick and cried often at night. If he wanted to let Whitebeard know, he would. Part of you wished Whitebeard would die already, then you might get to go home. But you also thought they might abandon you on some island if you were no longer useful. You would have no money and no way to get home - a perfect set up to be captured by slavers. So for the time being, you were stuck on this godforsaken ship, used as a living blood supply to an Emperor.

Marco had started leaving things in your room without asking - better pillows, softer blankets, warmer clothes, pleasant smelling shampoo, books he thought you might like. You couldn’t be sure if he was trying to assuage his own guilt or if it just helped his goal of keeping you mentally healthy. The other crew tried to be kind in their own ways, offering to teach you how to fight (Marco didn’t allow it), the basics of sailing, how to cook, skills that might be helpful in the future. But it all felt like velvet wrapped around a steel fist. You could enjoy yourself, but ultimately you’d be in that room for six hours a day, no matter how much you cried and begged Marco for a day off.

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 2)

Masterpost, Part 1

Platonic Whitebeard Pirates & Reader-Insert (with glasses)

Warnings: Platonic Yandere behavior and yes, the kidnapping is still actively occurring. If yandere content disturbs or otherwise unsettles you, I deeply suggest you do not read this series and block the tag "oh sweet child of mine" as well as "one piece yandere". Though mostly framed in a humorous way, it is still very toxic and problematic behavior that you should, in no way, entertain in real life from anyone.

Stay safe and enjoy.

Word Count: 1,540 (would be longer, but I didn't want to have this transitionary chapter be squished in with meeting Whitebeard and settling in)

When you became a marine, you had considered what you would do if you ran afoul of pirates. Assuming they didn’t kill you outright, that is.

In none of these imagined scenarios did you picture yourself awkwardly curled up in a med bay on one of the ‘junior’ Moby Dicks. As it turns out, Fire Fist and The Phoenix were running a small supply run simultaneously to another junior vessel since none of the surrounding islands could accommodate the Moby Dick herself—the Yonko ship being so absolutely massive for her crew and captain. A young man with a blue mask over his eyes ‘Masked Deuce’ was wiping your face and inspecting your nose for any damage that hadn’t been healed with a critical eye. Fire Fist was somewhere else—likely getting food for himself if his gluttonous behavior was any indication—while The Phoenix appeared to be starting your medical file.

That… was probably not good. The slim possibility that you were going to just be ransomed seemed to dissolve with every scratch of ink he added.

“Well, aside from some possible malnutrition and exhaustion, you seem in good shape. Not what I’d expect of a marine in these parts, though I guess they didn’t care too much about your physical condition.” Deuce placed a firm hand on your shoulder and smiled. “If you’re interested, we can get you into good shape in no time! Or maybe you’re interested in pursuing something else? Oyaji has plenty of resources we can use.” You couldn’t help but grimace and tug on your hat.

“I uh… I’m a marine?” You said, wincing at the questioning tone. “I didn’t enlist for the uniform, you know… I… I’m supposed to try and arrest pirates. Not… join them.” You explained awkwardly. Deuce just laughed while The Phoenix snorted softly.

“Everyone adjusts differently. You’ll love it here eventually.” Deuce winked before handing you a set of clothes to change into. The shirt was emblazoned with Whitebeard’s Jolly Roger.

You were rather at a loss for words. You… well, you couldn’t exactly fight them. You knew that. But you felt rather like the world had tilted dramatically the other way on it’s axis while you weren’t looking. The only way this could get more bizarre is if Fleet Admiral Sengoku called you and congratulated you for the successful adoption and your new, very criminal, pirate-Yonko family.

“Bring-ring. Bring-ring. Bring-ring.”

Oh god, you weren’t ready!? Please no?!

Horrified, you scrambled to pull the snail from your pocket, The Phoenix sliding up and leaning on the bed as you answered.

“Ensign—”

“Where the hell are you?! Ensign Williams was found, thoroughly beaten mind you, on the ground! You were assigned to be his partner!” You almost wept with relief that you were just getting torn a new one.

“A-Ah—W-Well, I-I attempted to flee with Ensign Williams when The Phoenix was spotted with Fire Fist but was… very unsuccessful.” You admitted lamely as one of the men responsible for your plight gave a placid smile, his eyes fixed on you with a horrifying intensity. Though you had no idea what for. If he was pissed you answered, he was more than welcome to take the call himself at this point.

“And why not, Ensign?! Your orders were quite clear!”

“Because I was captured instead?” The snail sputtered.

“Then escape and return to base!” The operator screamed. You were nearly in tears, your day successfully having gone from bad to absolutely the fucking worst.

“How?!” You whispered in horror, practically seeing the dry response in The Phoenix’s eyes.

Run and I will scoop you up with my talons and fly you all the way to Oyaji myself.

The receiver was plucked from your hands and you were torn between thanking your captor or trying to get it back. In the end, you did neither.

“I’m afraid that won’t be happening. Feel free to mail us their last paycheck because they won’t be returning. Consider this their resignation.” The snail blanched.

“On who’s authority, you filthy pirate!”

The Phoenix grinned, all teeth and eyes narrow, sapphire slits.

“Their new big brother.”

It would almost be inspiring how confident he sounded if he didn’t say it like he was declaring that your kidney would taste delightfully delicious.

Any response was cut off by him lifting up the transceiver shell and crushing it with his bare hands.

His smile turned much more friendly as he set the traumatized snail down, but the edges still seemed… feral. He ruffled your hair, knocking off your marine cap in the process.

“Get changed and wash up properly before dinner. It’ll be a few more hours before we meet up with Oyaji. Ace will make sure it’s burned.” Overwhelmed and horrified, you couldn’t help the slight whimper.

“…but I like my uniform.”

The Phoenix paused, giving you a slightly pitying smile as he gave you a side hug, blue fire flickering over the both of you. Any other circumstances, it would feel warm and reassuring.

“I know it’s a lot, kid. But you’ll be fine, I promise.” He paused looking down at you. “The hat’s gotta go, but, I tell you what, how about you keep this, yoi?” He tugged the blue neckerchief loose and placed it on top of your ‘new’ clothes.

Against your better judgment, you were a little touched at the suggestion.

What is your life now? You’ve been kidnapped, forcibly made to join a Yonko crew, and now you feel touched because one of the commanders is letting you keep a token of your job?!

Whatever.

You’d just get issued a new uniform later.

If you ever get away from this crazy ass band of pirates.

“I do like the color…” You added lamely, unwilling to push the argument considering how laughably easy it would be for him to force the issue. And then you’d have nothing left of your own.

“I like the color blue, too, yoi.” You looked at him with a frown. Glancing at his shirt.

“Not purple?” The Phoenix blinked, surprised at your dry response before chuckling.

“Alright, sassy pants. Get marching.” He smirked, shooing you to the bathroom to get changed. Flush and embarrassed, you escaped before he could say anything else.

Now… did your new pants even have pockets big enough for your animal treats?

--*--

Surprisingly, the new clothes fit well. Roomy enough that you didn’t get weirded out that they had your exact size but small enough that it wasn’t going to fall off of you anytime soon.

Your marine blue neckerchief was tied around your right wrist. The only part of your uniform you got to keep besides your shoes.

Any blood was gone from your hands or face but Fire Fist still felt the need to inspect them, playfully pinching your nose to see if it hurt still. Upon seeing that you were in perfectly fine shape, and freshly clean, he beamed.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Oyaji, he’s going to be happy to have a new kid running around. It’ll be a while before you get assigned to a division, but don’t worry, they’re all pretty great! Well, not as great as mine, but still!” Fire Fist laughed boisterously as The Phoenix rolled his eyes, lightly smacking Fire Fist’s head.

“They gotta get used to the crew first, Ace. Don’t jump the gun so quickly or you’ll hurt their feelings.”

Ah yes. Their biggest concern in this whole debacle.

Your feelings.

Cause fuck the law, that’s why. And everything else for good measure.

But also your feelings, because if that was actually a concern they would have left you with your asshat partner and a bloody nose.

… your previous circumstances does not, in fact, justify kidnapping and forced recruitment.

You are a marine damnit! Maybe not a strong one, or even a great one (yet), but there has to be a line somewhere!

“Ahah~! Right, sorry! Here, we’re having soup! It’s not as good as Thatch’s food, but we’re getting back too late for dinner so it’ll have to do. He’ll want a little more warning to pull out all the stops anyway.” Fire Fist laughed, handing you a bowl of hot soup. It smelled good, but despite your hunger, you were still a little thrown.

“…Does he often want to impress captives?” You whispered, more to yourself than anything. Fire Fist paused and actually flushed, laughing to himself.

“Sort of, yeah. He kept trying to feed me while I tried to kill Oyaji for over a hundred days, you know!” You blanched, horrified.

You had forgotten that little tidbit, although most of Fire Fist’s recruitment into the Yonko crew was a mystery, you had overheard that bit.

Suddenly, your prospects of getting out of this scot-free seemed… unlikely.

If being a marine isn’t a deterrent, and neither is many murder attempts, then what the hell could get you out of this? Fire Fist kept laughing as you caught The Phoenix’s eye.

He seemed darkly amused and very much aware of your predicament.

He clapped your shoulder reassuringly.

“Don’t worry about it so much. You’ll figure it out.”

Somehow, you don’t think he was talking about escaping.

[charmercharm3r]

so I was reading sharing is caring (again) and it got me thinking about how that Jisung would feel if MC got a clot piercing. Man is already so damn pussy whipped I think he would Die

as someone with many piercings myself, I LOVE LOVE LOVEEEEEE THIS IDEAAAAA. I feel like he'd be too scared to get anything crazy other than his lobes, maybe a second or third if he's feeling funky-- irl and in this story.

I can see mc having to hold out on sex for a while as it heals and make up an array of excuses as to why she won't put out, but makes it up to him in the mean time. I imagine her not being able to hide it for very long though cus Jisung would insist on showering together cus he misses her so much.

and all hell breaks loose when he sees the shiny little piece of metal on the most private part of his baby. first comes the curiosity where he's lifting your leg and getting down on his knees to get a closer look, maybe lightly touching it just to see how you'd react. ohhhh he'd go to town when a slight moan falls from mc cus even though she's been avoiding sex, every thought is still just Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. he wouldn't even get his dick wet the first night he's allowed to go down, spending the entire time with his face full of pussy and doing nothing but letting his tongue play with it as much as he's allowed.

maybe when it's while after the piercing is fully healed, that's when he gets a bit more devious and delves into the world of pussy slapping. the little glimmer is too cute not to use to get you to squirm and cry his name.

OH! and he'd buy such cute jewelry for it too! he'd purposely go into piercing shops and browse their selection cus he's so so so obsessed with the clit piercing. liiiiike how could he not? it's like his own private crown he gets to dress up and decorate however he wants.

[neptunesenceladus]

What I think each robin should do after robin (please argue these with me cause I love hearing opinions and thoughts that usually know more than me) (also this is just the mainstream 5, I know there are others but idk any of them):

Dick: I love him as Nightwing and would love him to have a focus on neighbourhood crime (friendly neighbourhood spider-man type of stuff) as he gets older, while also showing up to save the world once in awhile. I do also love Tom Taylor’s Nightwing and feel like Dick would do a lot of philanthropy and long term projects in the public eye while the superheroing is smaller.

Jason: Again love him Red Hooding and want to see more of the Prince of Gotham type of stuff. But also him healing and spending time working with the outlaws in Gotham (he just works on a team so well and that’s where I want to see him go honestly).

Tim: Someone please give this kid a break. Firstly I want to see him turn 21. And then either retire or do more tech based work like oracle does. I would love for him to branch out further from Robin and find an identity that isn’t in extenuating circumstances or to survive.

Steph: I can’t imagine Steph ever not being a vigilante and would love her to find her own space and city, maybe through moving for uni or work after she graduates. I also loved her as both Batgirl and Spoiler and am not sure what identity she would take on other than those.

Damian: I really want this kid to retire, he’s been through so much and needs some sort of teenage-hood that gives him his own space to find who he is outside of duty. Him eventually working as a Vet as an adult would be awesome to see. He would still keep up with the superhero community due to having been robin and having friends and family in it but I don’t feel like it’s right for him because he never had a choice in it.

[002yb]

Current thoughts: Dick and Jay and the intricacies of their aggressions. Because they're not hostile (not anymore) but there's still a bite to each smile and nails in each hold, and it's not because they don't feel safe but they're just so overwhelmed and overstimulated in each other that they just have to have some sort of grounding. 

It comes with Dick saying "ill take care of you" and it stays when the older man presses in, spreading himself everywhere until hes all that Jason can see and feel. Dick presses into Jason's space, soft touches - almost healing - reverently smoothing his hands over his bruises and holding him tight - tight - tight and Jason thinks he might just turn into electricity with all the tingling under his skin so he bites. Not hard but enough to startle Dick for a while and he just watches Jason who has a flushed face - spreading ear to neck and further - sink teeth into his forearm in an almost adorable display of vulnerability with a wicked grin. 

Or when Jason tries to take care of Dick in his “your the world” way, because seeing Dick in that loving light is just so easy for Jason- as easy as breathing - it takes Dicks own breath away. The way he follows without a thought, pushes gently at his cheek, his foot, his hands - not quite a hold but enough to say i'm here- never far -always for you. It makes something warm envelop him until because Jason is so soft- and he might melt out of his skin and cling onto whatever Jason gives him so he has to gain SOME sort of control and he just sort of manhandles Jason. He’s not harmful but it's enough to have Jason grasping at air and anything he can get his hands on to try and settle himself and Dick just sorta treats him like he's pocket sized. 

And maybe Dick grows fond of pushing Jason until his boy has to bite down and leave his little marks on his skin - and maybe Jason chases the thrill of the safety he never knew in being overpowered by his Robin- but they don't have to tell.

askjherofntfewo this one got so long im so sorry :,,,)

This is the epitome of indulgence; I've been so thoroughly spoiled. Anon~ you write so beautifully ahhhhhhh this is an actual gift, a masterpiece; I want to read it forever (along with your other ask(s), honestly LOL). Ffffffff I've never felt so understood in my dickjay preferences, but Anon you get me. ( ॢ ´ U `͈ॢ)･*♡ Thank you so much for sharing these lovely thoughts ahhhhhhhh I can't wait for everyone else to read them and bask in the glory; amazing!!

Ybb's two cents under the cut (jk everything got moved beneath a cut?) because all I've got is scattered imaginings inspired by the above I'm a;oifja;woiejfaiowejf !! Fair warning that it's not nearly as eloquent as the above lol. Idk if I kept with the beautiful theme of the intricacies of aggressions, but there is...

°₊·ˈ∗♡ s a u c y s o f t n e s s ♡∗��‧₊°

Overwhelmed!Jason is my everything (next to maiden!Jason). Just the way his breath would catch in his lungs, an audible stutter that he would bite back behind clenched teeth and try to swallow down only for it to claw its way back out of him - almost a sob for how broken it sounds. And Dick - it does more than take his breath away to hear something so vulnerable and wanton; it makes his heart race and stutter and skip. It makes him feel too warm, too endeared, too much. He would smile though, all teeth and bite. Sometimes playfully ornery about it or impishly teasing and always, always bewitched. There's nothing more alluring than the rise and fall of Jason's chest, that sign of life.

Only that's a lie, because just as captivating is the way Jason falls apart just by being touched (by him - by Dick alone), the way Jason taunts and challenges and torments Dick until Dick pushes back and then Jason smiles. Wicked and devastating and wonderful.

For as blunt as Jason's nails are, Dick's skin is all raised welts from the drag of them; moon-shaped crescents from where Jason's nails dig in. And to match, Jason's body is a constellation of bruises - the black and blue of fingertips, the wine-color of open-mouthed kisses.

They would both shudder at the residual ache of it all, those phantom sensations. Jason with mapping out where Dick's hands fell on him, held him, loved and adored and revered him. And Dick, marveling raised lines that fade too soon. Scratching over them with a sort of fond affection before covering them, hiding them away (or purposefully showing them off, oh my).

The manhandling, the biting; the thrill of overpowering and being overpowered. It's flirtatious, sure. More than that - it's trusting. It's fun. It's connecting in a way that lets them understand each other better than they've ever understood one another before. Raw and honest; terrifying, only not. It's addicting.

Offhand thoughts: the graze of Dick's teeth over Jason's nape as Jason bites down on Dick's hand. Jason (big, small; it doesn't matter) so overwhelmed by too many points of contact that he digs his teeth in, breath catching in that way that makes Dick's heart race, his blood sing.

That's all I got for now, anon~ I'll get to your other ask when I have some more time (I love it!!). Thank you again for spoiling me with such indulgent thoughts; they're ~ s t u n n i n g ~ ( ∩ˇωˇ∩)♡

[clarajohnson]

the magicians s2e4

i would apologize for being this late on this but one this is for funsies and two i was just in hell (two weeks of law school finals) so i'm catching up

close up on q's nasty fucking wound to start things is like... it's such a choice

i know we're being serious right now but that surgeon has the biggest dick.

ah it's so nice to see the start of responsible monarchs el and margo

ABIGAIL APPEARANCE !!!!!!

"blow all our cash on sappy nonsense" and "since when are you fillory quentin? SINCE I'M ME" are both really gonna get me. margo is so interesting AS ALWAYS but also you ever think about how we don't really delve into her backstory that much? she is pure characterization it's so fucking good. not that i don't want to know more about her backstory because dude i really fucking do but i find it impressive what they can do for her even without it.

aw "i don't belong here" el is so soon going to be "fillory is my home" el

the best bitches era begins

i love how much of this show, The Magicians, is about how hard it is for them to get and use magic

reallllllly good look on margo here in the classroom

i think it's interesting that they characterize niffining out as dying. this world would have a field day with vampires. wait are there vampires in this show? am i forgetting?

what the fuck is el wearing in bed

oh fen i'm sorry your husband is hung but also gay

YOU FREEZE-DRIED HER CORPSE?

i love q's wooden shoulder i wish we talked about it more

frankly i am extremely intrigued by the nurse who was so grateful for the centaurs' help that she swore fealty to them and their healing project. and kind of q should have done that. like immediately after waking up.

your benevolent overlord high king eliot

q is so defensive and territorial he's such a little terrier

sawbones ?????

"doing your clone is more like ap-level masturbation" fascinating take from eliot and that is exactly what i would have expected from him

BEST BITCHES !!!!!!! absolutely my favorite little piece of magic in this show for functionality and for darling sentimentality

party king todd it's what you deserve

your actual kingdom is actually at stake!

i guess idk how niffins work because why did they bury alice

i'm sorry... white lady?

not to be surprised every time this show is great with characterization but penny calling them bronies... yeah

who loves blood? woman standing emoji

q chopping penny's hands off is such a funny scene this show man

javier you little minx

god the el/javier el/fen scene is so good. also i want to know how el does his eye makeup because it's so sexy.

i have to say q and penny's relationship is one of the most intriguing in this show i wish they'd had more time

plover was constantly naming fillory things different things like a settler on native lands this dude SUX

q and penny going on a quest in their little footy pajamas

WHERE ARE MY STUFF TOUCHERS !!!!!!

just to circle back it's insane that julia is just hiding out in brakebills copying an entire fucking book

not enough said about the tragedy of el being tethered to fillory... having nothing left on earth but never getting the chance to resolve what hurt him there, a man whose greatest fear is that he's unapproachable and unlovable and he has to perform to get people to stay and now he has to pray that people come to him. you know. like. ahhhhhhhhh.

"they more, like, gave it to us" common colonizer sentiment sorry el i love you BUT

you have no one and you deserve no one is so raw. i love julia and i love margo and i hate when they fight because they should be kissing but frankly? margo is right on this. NOT on her having no one just on the julia why did you do all that.

god i love the fucking books.

ooh. it's a girl's.

you know this show is good because everybody wants everybody. or at least you can imagine they do. yes penny just told q he needs him.

margo leaving her conversation with julia to develop the position of "we owe it to her because we weren't her friends"

god this is so dumb but using the book as an ingredient in spellwork is so fun what a fun little thought

MARINA I'M SO SORRY WAAAHHHHHHH I'M SO SORRY MARINA

also really good piece of acting from kacey rohl talk about having a whole character inside you like whew

yeah calling it "rebuilding" q is a fascinating through-line that gets dropped

god these people and wanting to bring people back to life. the magicians never ever lets things go. it's soooooooo. there are walls that technology and talent and ability will always butt up against and they aren't surmountable and you just have to accept it. but you can't. because what's the point of those things if they can't do that.

i'd like to be happy can you do that :-(

jason ralph's read of "well that's comforting" is gonna get to me

[raccoonfallsharder]

Hello, dear friend. I’d be interested in hearing your take on any of these questions. I always love hearing your thoughts.

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?

E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

F: Is there a song or a playlist to associate with [insert fic]?

H: How would you describe your writing style?

K:  Do you have a guilty pleasures in fic (reading or writing)?

L:  Which of your fanfics was the most emotionally challenging to write?

Q: Do you like getting prompts from your readers?

R: Which writers (fanfic or otherwise) do you consider the biggest influence on you and your writing?

X: How would you categorize your fanfic reading?  Are you a voracious reader?  Do you carefully pick and choose?  Something in between?

so many questions!!! you sure do know how to indulge a girl ♡ thank you, dear friend. you are my favorite daffodil full of sunshine.

A. window across the galaxy and adorations are my favorites. i think window’s the best longform piece i’ve ever written (and probably ever will) and i poured so much of myself into it. it was everything i wanted for rocket and it was healing for me, and i love and identify with jo so much. and adorations just makes me happy. ohhh you know what? i also really like ugly sweater and traditions. and machinery from prompt week. and triptych, sunshine, sweatshirt girl, and reconnaissance for beginners. and some of headcanons & imagines. shit.

E. i put a lot of myself in every oc and reader tbh. sweatshirt girl and jo are probably the most transparent self-inserts so far and came from places where they were 100% what i wanted to give rocket + the comfort i needed (sweatshirt girl was very much a reflection on my life at the time). well, and reader from tomorrow, which was 100% my attempt at self-comfort after a bad day at work. i reflected a lot of my real-life experiences through those characters, and i based the way they interact with others almost entirely on how i try to move through the world. i also expect to identify with noa at least as much as jo (oc from other duties as assigned, which might be why it’s so hard to write it). and honestly? i identify with rocket a lot. he wears his pain differently than i do but we both have skeletons that are not doing what we want them to do, chronic pain, and buckets of survivor’s guilt. plus i headcanon rocket has a sequencing disorder like me (ꈍᴗꈍ) i allude to it a lot in cicatrix and certain headcanons (like the sudoku one!) and some other things and i'm trying to write a fanfic about it lol

F. the only fic i have a mental playlist for is the very boring adventures of space pilot & sweatshirt girl, and it’s mostly chillhop essentials winter 2019 and aviino’s plush and cocoon albums but the thing is it HAS to be on vinyl because that’s the whole sweatshirt girl vibe

H. my writing style is chaotic, exists entirely outside the bounds of space & time (mostly because of the sequencing disorder) and is more about feeling than making sense. my word choice is self-indulgent and erratic and based more on what tastes right to me than anything else. emotions are way easier to write than plot. (huh. maybe that’s the sequencing disorder too.)

K. do i have any guilty pleasures in fic-writing or -reading?? girl i write raccoon porn. it would all be a guilty pleasure if i believed in guilty pleasures. but i don’t. i try really hard not to feel guilt about any of my pleasures. life is short. capitalism sucks. write about raccoon dick

L. it’s hard to say which piece of fanfiction was the most emotionally challenging for me to write because i think writing is actually a way of organizing and processing emotions for me. if anything, writing emotional scenes feels cathartic — a relief. but finishing things always feels risky. endings rarely satisfy people. so the more people like a piece of mind (blackmail material, window, windfall), the harder it is to end. it's more about trying to manage imposter syndrome than anything else i guess

Q. GIVE ME ALL THE PROMPTS

R. markus zusak has been one of the most influential writers for me. i love that every character in his books has their own story, their own value and journey, independent of the main narrative. jonathan safran foer writes the sentences i want to write. the read like a gut-punch. (he gets quoted a lot in other duties.) both of these writers would probably be horrified by this because im fairly certain they do not write smut, especially not featuring raccoons

X. how do i characterize my fanfic reading? it really depends on what is going on in life. we all have to ration our time and i hate having to choose between reading and writing and drawing, but here we are. if it’s a fic by an author i like, i prioritize it. it can be really hard for me to read things that are released chapter-by-chapter over an extended period, so i am more apt to read things that are short-run or that are close to being finished. but i especially like to support writers i know — which is why i always ask folks to add me if they have a taglist ♡

[cryptometaphor]

Me: These niggas say the dumbest shit. You see this trending where like, "would you step on a puppy for 18b?" And they acting like they wouldn't.

Sarah: I'd want too, but don't think I could bring myself too. Like I know animals die for us to eat them. But I didn't kill them, I didn't even see them die.

Me: Well I know you're a good person Sarah. But what I'm saying is, is these niggas out here doing war-crimes over coworkers stealing their yogurt, or telling incels "yeah goyim die alone hehehe!" But can't step on a puppy for Jeff Besos money? I'd do it guilt-free. And use that money to fuck EVERYBODY and recreate the world in my image.

Sarah: Ok calm down there Light Yagami. Do you need your dick sucked? lol

Me: NO... Ok maybe lol. BUT STILL I mean it confirms what I say, people choose their hell. They want and crave suffering. Even in the midst of an opportunity, they put on the vinear of morality, when they have none. I hate them. With every fiber of my being...

Sarah: Oh trust me I get it. Like, everyone just gives me condescending attitude of "awwww you have cerebral palsy? Oh you poor thing" meanwhile if I ever step out of like "stfu retard, DUUUR DUUUR speak up loud mouth, say what you gotta say" like people are mean spirited animals.

Me: If anyone spoke to you like that in my presence, I might actually take a brick to their head lol.

Sarah: You'd do that anyway Me: I would lol

Sarah: Like I imagine you just carry a brick around with you in case

Me: Maybe a hammer. A brick isn't exactly concealable

Sarah: I was gonna rewatch that anime Inuyashiki. You remind me of Hiro and I'm like that girl who gets all moist for him lol

Me: Oh we should watch it other. That nigga out here killing puppies and babies as cyborg Jesus, tbf that's too edgy for me. He can heal people too. People are simplistic little goblins "ohhhh he killed duh baby, how evil" (pulls eyes) let's gooooo

Sarah: DA BABY LOL but I get what you mean. How would the real Hiro sociopath maxx?

Me: Well he can cure cancer and shit right? Like I imagine YOU KNOW WHO comes crying to me about how her mom has duh cancer. And I could cure it, I show her I can cure it, and than just... don't. The opportunity of a lifetime in her grasp, and let it just skip away, poof, gone.

Sarah: Damn, that is pretty cruel.

Me: Yeah well, she deserves it. You don't have to do anything blatantly illegal to be evil. In fact evil is actually really hard to criminalize. What we end up doing is criminalizing the responses TOO evil than wonder why everything is fucked.

Sarah: I could see you doing the "bang" Hiro thing to me in an argument, healing me, than I don't have my disabilities anymore lol.

Me: Actually I wouldn't heal your disabilities.

Sarah: The fuck? Why not?!

Me: They made you who you are. The person I fell in love with. Maybe I'm being selfish here. But the hurt you've experienced through life made you... just perfect. My job is to make sure you don't hurt again. Not erase the past.

Me: Nigga are you crying lol

Sarah: YES I'M CRYING that's beautiful Me: Tank-U

Sarah: Stop ruining it by being sarcastic lol

Me: It's an instinct, sorry.

Sarah: No no, it's why you are the way you are too. Hurting all the time, and nobody gives a fuck. I feel like a burden, you feel like everyone else is a burden.

Me: Sarah there is not a single thing about you that's a burden shutup. I don't let other people talk that way about you, I won't let you do it to yourself either.

Sarah: See that's real love right there. You care so much about people and they just abandon you like a dog. And you try and you try and you try, and they just...

Me: I feel like there's a little bit of projection here lol

Sarah: YA THINK?! LOL

Me: Hon, you're not a burden. Like at all. What's the point of anything if you're not around? I'd say I'd kill myself if ya weren't but we know that I don't have the guts to do. I'd make it everybody else's problem. Don't leave me...

Sarah: And I don't have it in me to just hurt others to make myself feel better. I'd make it my problem carrying that weight if not just outright killing myself, stress myself to an early grave. Don't leave me either.

Axel: You guys know I was here the entire time right?

Me: Honestly I forgot lol

Sarah: Why didn't you say anything?!

Axel: Why didn't YOU take this shit to DMs?

Me: Ohhhh it's not like it was anything bad.

Axel: I swear, you two would fuck in the middle of traffic

Sarah: That'd be based but I'd be too embarrassed lol

Me: It would be based, but at the same time some coomers would enjoy it and ruin it lol

Axel: DON'T EVEN DENY IT JESUS CHRIST

[plaggioclase]

young dadrien

Adrien adopts a 5 year old boy when he’s 18

some years later he and marinette get together,they have only girls

With the daughters it’d be sunshine and rainbows and fluffy hearts and unicorns, you can’t tell me adrien wouldn’t be the girl dad ever

With the son it’d be much heavier than that because gabriel, but that makes it more interesting to explore. And also to me , for him to have a son first before the daughters

his son would be almost like a little brother in ways, just a little buddy. But also a sponge for all his love, with troubles and needs but also joys and desires of his own, who makes Adrien’s world bigger and deeper,and pushes him to grow in ways he always wanted but couldn’t imagine, can hardly believe .. I think adrien could learn a lot about how to love himself from loving this kid. It would be a very healing thing

Adrien acting a fool playing with the girls on the floor of the nursery. teenage son leaning on the doorframe, watching: “I’m proud of you, dad” … within seconds they are both sobbing , play timeout for tears of gratitude

dis: Some real bruce wayne and dick grayson type bond You weren't quiet a dad but you we're a safe guardian and guide when i needed one akari: Where’s the fic, Lettuce? Tyrannosaurus Bex: Lmao agreed I need this fic

[isaacapatow]

"Brother this is how I always talk. Just ask anybody. They'll be pleased to fill you in on it." Sometimes with newbies there's a period of dick-swinging, and Ike isn't exactly opposed to that -- certain as he is that his own will come out biggest and swangin'est -- but with him and Alden it was more a mutual sizing-up and then instant settle. It's like it was with Nicki, when you meet somebody on the road and once you know you're not gonna turn on each other, you know in your bones this is somebody you can work with. Who you've got some kind of immutable common ground with.

The scars and the sketchy, inarticulate origin story and background, for one. Ike heard some of it on the entrance interview, like he always does, but people will of course tell you the minimum that they can get away with. It's fine. It's unreasonable to expect vulnerable new people throwing themselves on the mercy of the Council to bare their souls and what wounds they have that never healed. And Ike, after all, is invariably in favour of giving just about every person who comes through the gates a chance to be somebody new and better once they're part of Redwood.

Alden's wary, but he's not averse to cooperation, and that's all Ike needs at the start. "Joke's on you, I had extensive therapy back in the World," he says, but then softens when Alden gripes about how obvious it is, the connecting between Ike and Orion. Not that they need to advertise, but he likes knowing that it's something other people can see, too.

And that's not all they see. Ike hangs on to the top of the fence with both hands, dipping his knees to stretch out his aching back some before standing back up again, and says, "I like company and I like that company being in bed. Can't say I ever dated much, though -- unless you're using date as a polite way of saying fuck, because yeah, okay, that I've done." He turns to lean his elbows against the fence rail, looking at Alden as he makes a gentle, opaque confession about himself. Which is appreciated; Ike likes nothing better than people sharing with him. "Kissing's also a good way to figure shit out," he offers, "if it's with somebody who knows where you're coming from."

But of course he can't leave it at that, saying, "There's so many configurations of this that you can't figure out until you're right in it, man. And I'm not even just talking about sex. I mean I'm with Orion but it's not your standard love relationship because he doesn't really do romantic relationships, not like how people understand em. We sleep together because we like it, and it's not even the most important thing between us. Him and me just ... jive, on an astronomical level. It's the closest thing to fuckin soulmates I've ever imagined." He rolls his shoulders out, feeling some of the tense clench from the hours-long operation ease. "So banging other people doesn't have too much effect on what Orion and me have together. It works for us. Wouldn't work for others. You maybe just haven't found what works for Alden."

Ike's reply gets him laughing. It's a rare sort of laugh from him. Gone is his normal, fragile chuckle and in its place is a low, rumbling laugh. "You sure you didn't get kicked in the head by a sheep when I wasn't lookin or somethin? You're talking like your brains got rattled around." Despite the fact his words are exactly compliments, he doesn't sound mean. There's a light, playful undertone to his words. He's teasing Ike, and trying to get some clarification all at the same time.

Ike can be a pain in the ass. But he's a reliable pain in the ass. And he's seen some shit -- that's a guaranteed with being an ex-Reaver. It's nice to know somebody who understands your trauma without you even having to talk about it. Fleet's a good friend but he hasn't seen -- hasn't been through half the shit he and Ike have. In that sense, Ike gets him in ways Fleet never will. At least, in ways he hopes Fleet never will. Alden knows he can't protect Fleet forever but surely giving him a little more time just to be his outgoing, kind self before facing the horrors of their increasingly cruel world is better than nothing?

"Christ on a bike! The only thing that's clear is that you need a fucking therapist. You don't gotta spin me some long tale or go on and on with the jokes. If you miss Orion you just gotta say so. Anybody with god damn eyes can see how much he means to you." A laugh, shorter and softer this time, "and stop with the horrid horse metaphor. You sound like some sorta drunk, desperate cowboy."

Shifting to lean against the wooden livestock fence, he emits a soft sigh before continuing to speak. "You and your antics make my god damn brain hurt. You seem to be real fond of Orion. But you also seem to be real fond of a lot of people." He's not being judgmental. Moreso stating an observation... And trying to process his own thoughts. And debating how deep of a conversation he wants to have with Ike right now. "I didn't date a whole lot before the end of the world. Haven't dated a lot after, either. Despite being older I still don't have the faintest clue what I like and what I don't. I don't think it would be good or healthy for us to kiss until I got it figured out." A pause, and purposefully avoidant gaze. Ike's one of few living souls he's willingly had this conversation with. It's not easy to be so open and vulnerable. "Now let's check on your donkey bestie and get out of here. I'm sick of smellin like sheep shit."

[elodieunderglass]

Firstly, I wanted to say thank you for finally making Moby Dick comprehensible to me over a decade after I attempted to read it and bounced aggressively off it! But the thing I actually wanted to ask and boggle about is, you get a full year of maternity leave??? I think literally the company with the most mind-bogglingly generous policy I ever worked for (I'm in the US) only gave 7 months, and the place I'm at now only gives I think 3 or so.

You're very welcome! It's very exciting to me that a line by line translation of Moby Dick can make it so much more accessible.

On your second point - yeah! I'm always happy to talk about parental leave policies etc and how different countries handle them, not in a smug "Well, in the UK..." way but in a, "here's very concrete examples of how policies can work, and the material impact they have on people" sort of way, because that's genuinely something that needs to be communicated. Just like with the environmental crises, we are all limited by our ability to imagine the Healed World and what we need to do to get there. So what are some policies that are a bit more Healed-World-ish than the reality that many people live in, and how do they actually work? You are welcome to send me asks! Rumination below the cut.

I wouldn't have had kids if I'd stayed in the USA. I've chosen to have 3 in the UK. This is directly because of maternity leave, free childcare hours for toddlers, quality of childcare, accessibility of school/daycare, flexible working policies, generous holiday leave, and other factors like that. Does that seem weird to say? Should I have moped about in floods of divine baby-desire and universal mother-yearnings and stuff, and sacrificed everything to have squidgy babies? IDK, I've never felt any of those things: I love the children a lot as people and I'm obviously terrifically glad they're here, but I wouldn't have had any desire to have them in the first place if I hadn't been sure they'd have decent childhoods. And a childhood where a parent resents them because that parent had UNFULFILLED INTELLECTUAL GOALS, or where there's always stress because of MATERIAL DIFFICULTIES, wouldn't be decent. My desire to acquire the children has been very much based in the knowledge that I can afford them (financially, emotionally, socially, career-wise, mentally) without sacrificing or martyring myself. So, literally: even though I have 2 life-defining children and one more on the way, even though I'm considered in my immediate social circles to be a real earth-mother crunchy-type, even though I work part-time to spend time with the kids and so on: if I didn't live THIS life, I wouldn't want the children. So I think it’s interesting to see how a simple piece of policy, a difference between nations, so totally impacts and directs the course of an individual’s life.

RE: the actual practicalities, it breaks down a funny way. In the UK, they hold your job for you for up to a year, usually hiring a temporary maternity cover: if they can't give you the same job back, they have to give you a similar one. If you return in 6 months it’s like you didn’t leave at all and get the exact job back. Maternity leave is usually taken for about 9 months, with paternity leave often adding an additional 3 months, and children usually entering childcare at the age of 1.

The actual way that this gets calculated is pretty complicated. My job offers 6 months on full pay, which is a "benefit" - otherwise the default is only 6 weeks on full pay. After the full pay runs out, you're on SMP - Statutory Maternity Pay - which is £156.66 per week. SMP runs out at nine months. If you want more time than that, your job gets held for a full year, but you'll be on 3 months unpaid. -> HOWEVER, you've been accruing annual leave the whole time you've been off, so when the baby is 9 months old, you might expect to have about 6 weeks of holiday that built up. Holiday is taken at full pay rates. So depending on how much holiday you have, you just return to work while on vacation and get paid again.

If you return to work at 6 months, which is sort of the minimum normal time to take off, you get your exact same job back. If you take longer than 6 months, you get that "offer of an equivalent job" but no promise of having your job back - which can worry people. So sometimes people happily choose to take only 6 months off, because they want their exact same projects back.

So what will happen with me is

6 months off on full pay, Dr Glass takes about 1 month off on full pay parental leave at the beginning to provide support

(Child2 enters age where they get 30 hours/week free childcare, daycare bills drop to basically just Child1's afterschool programs from here until last bullet point. As Dr Glass and I both work part time, this means that each day of the week will have a mix of different children, activities and work. We will hopefully be able to bank a little bit of childcare-budget to coast on for the next bits.)

3 months off where I'll only make £624 a month SMP: it’s not nothing and so should be grateful, except for the relentlessness of life. I also get £150/month from the government for having two children - nothing for the third because that would be encouraging families to rely on benefits and have children for money, or something, naturally. Dr Glass will be working, but no family can really lose almost half a wage and be cheerful about it, so we'll have to coast on savings banked from the room freed up in the childcare budget. (we thought it would just about work before the cost-of-living crisis, when we filed our plan paperwork, and gotta say, it’s looking pretty scary now.) we’ll prioritise the mortgage and utilities in cash, and should be able to coast it.

2-ish months off but "on holiday," i.e. back on full pay

Dr Glass overlaps one month off on full pay (holiday + shared parental leave) plus two months totally unpaid, i.e. Unpaid Leave, i.e. Dr Glass keeps his job and simply takes two months off, making £0 a month. Again, this will be hard to get through, but as we know it's coming, we have time to make SOME savings to live on. This allows Dr Glass to have time with his last child, which is a priority for us over debt, and gets the baby comfortably to the age that our nursery accepts.

Both parents return to work. Baby will enter daycare aged 1 (Child2 remains on free hours, daycare bills go back up to mortgage-level payments, finances return to exactly where they were before Baby3.) hopefully we’ll be able to quickly pay down any debts incurred with two full wages.

You can see it's doable, but there are some scary flippin' periods and a tremendous amount of footwork. We've somehow managed during harder times; with Child1 I was the sole breadwinner for the household and was at a job where I only got SMP, so I went back to work at 6 months and Dr Glass was a SAHP for a long time; with Child2 it was pandemic and lockdown etc, and no childcare was available, so we all ricocheted around the house together for a year. So clearly something absolutely bonkers is going to happen in 2023, but if it doesn't, we might actually have one (1) normal baby-leave.

As you can see, it's NOT the Healed World, but it has aspects that you'll want to include in the Healed World. You can see the impacts on things like family design - the kids all being 3 years apart for affordability, as that's when the free childcare hours kick in - and the way that fathers are still sort of wedging themselves in. You can see how it gets cobbled together and stressful, and the bits where you have to coast over patches that could just as easily destroy a family (watch this space! We might go completely fucking broke! We’re about £200 away from it at all times as it it!) You can see that there are some privileges (having a partner, partner having a job) that materially affect the experience people have. You can see how sometimes people can take a year and others return to work at 6 months (I've done both! Both can be great and both can suck, but it's MUCH better when you choose it for yourself, rather than being forced financially.) you can see that some cruel and stupid policy decisions are meant to punish poor people in the UK for having children despite the lack of internal logic (no child benefit for over 2 kids, when child benefit is meant to help you raise citizens.) You can see places where a conservative politician could shit on one vulnerable place (like the UK’s free childcare hours for three year olds! Liz Truss was thinking about killing it!) and entirely destroy my family at a stroke. You can see that for all my stance of “I am not a martyr” for my children, I’m expecting to have spent several years of my life flippantly being marginally-waged for the sake of having them: but also, you can see the difference between the support the UK gives my stance, and the support a 20-year-old military wife in the American heartland gets with her first baby: you can see how eased the paths of my children are, how isolated hers will be. You can step back from the worldwide generational immolation of mothers, their narratives of sacrifice and drudgery, and unpack how much of that is truly necessary, and how much damage could have been resolved by simply rinsing off the TERF shit, offering a few scraps of healthcare, and giving them a few fucking months off work.

We are all worldbuilding the Healed World: it makes sense to understand the different ways it could work. I’ll longpost about any policy you guys would like until then.