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slvt4em1lyprenti2s · 9 months ago

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There’s only one bed

Summary: you and Nat go in a mission and there’s only one bed

Word Count: 1.7k

fluff

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

!NOT PROOFREAD!

Natasha's POV:

Fury Just called me into his office to have a mission debriefing. Normally we'd have the brief with all the Avengers but, this is an undercover mission and let's just say majority of the team aren't very good at that. They blow their cover all the time and can't persuade people to save their lives. Ironic because that's exactly what it does on missions, save their life.

I've been told I'm going with someone but a name hasn't been given yet. I hope it's not an Agent from the academy. They're all newbies so I'll have to hold their hand the whole mission because they're clueless. As I'm walking I bump into Wanda.

"Oh hey, good luck on your mission!" she cheerfully said.

"Thanks also, do you know who I'm going with? I mean like any details about them?"

"All I know is apparently she's very popular among her fellow students, and by that I mean, she's hot."

"Students?! Great, so she's from the academy?"

"Yeah but, Fury wouldn't send her with you if she couldn't handle it."

"I guess your right but they can be really annoying needing to be walked through every single step of the mission."

"I guess you're right but, rumour has it, she's the best of the best. Your level even."

"Ha, I've heard that one a hundred times before, no one's better than me c'mon Wands you know that."

"Haha, yeaah I know Nat but just give her a chance?"

"Fine, I will but, I got to get to Fury now, I'll see you around."

"Bye, good luck!"

We parted ways and I gave her a smile. I walked into Fury's office and was welcomed by the sight of a beautiful woman with wavy y/h/c and shining y/e/c eyes. I going to be honest Wanda wasn't lying, she's perfect. Oh my god, I can't be thinking about these things she's my mission partner! She was already sat down in a chair opposite Fury when I came in so I took the chair beside her.

Fury started talking first, "Thank you for both making the time to be here, as you know this is an undercover mission so, pack a bag that'll last at least 2 day and 2 nights. We can never predict what'll happen at these kind of events."

"Speaking of, what event is it and why exactly are we going?" I questioned

"Well I'm glad you asked. It's part organised by Darren McHugh, not a big name in any industry but filthy rich. Attending the party is Lauren Emerson, your target. All you need is information from her about a weapon Hydra is developing. Her father has every Hydra scientist and engineer in his pocket so, she'll know a lot. Now, she's interested in women which is why there is no men on this case with you. I need you y/n to seduce her and get intel while Natasha watches your 6 and looks for another possible target who, isn't confirmed to be there, but there's a good chance he will be.” Fury explained.

"What's the other guys name?" the other girl asked Fury responded, "James Scott."

"Is that all?" I ask

"Yes that's all. Here's your personal copies of the file and be ready at the quinjet in 30 minutes."

With that we both left but I couldn't help feel a pang of disappointment shoot through me at the thought of her flirting with other people. Damn I really need to snap out of this.

I got up to my room and pack my things. I also put in my red dress and black heels for the party and go to the quinjet. As I'm walking I see her already standing there. She catches me staring as I walk towards her and she extends her hand.

Reader POV:

I look over and see Agent Romanoff coming towards me, eyes trained directly at me. I offer my hand for her to shake and she does. "Agent y/l/n, y/n y/l/n."

“Natasha Romanoff.” She responds

With that we both boarded the ship, settled down and engaged in conversation. It was a long flight and we were going to have to spend the next 24-48 hours together so, may as well get to know each other. This conversation however turned into shamelessly flirting with each other constantly.

Time skip to when the ship lands and they get to the hotel (still reader pov):

We get the the hotel and Natasha asks for our reservation at the front desk. While she's doing that I take a minute to really take in this place because it's massive. There's a chandelier on the ceiling and art all over the walls. The architecture is beautiful and it has gold accents along every wall. It also smelt like vanilla, don't know why that's relevant but it smells nice.

I hear a 'thank you' and 'enjoy your stay' so I assume that Nat has got the key so I begin walking to the lift (elevator). I step in and so does Natasha just a bit behind me. She presses the button to the 5th floor and we stand in a comfortable silence for the short 10 second ride. The doors open with a ding and we step out and go look for our room. Natasha takes the lead and goes straight to our door and opens it with the key card.

"Wow Shield really outdid themselves with this one ay?" I think aloud

"Yeah, they really did." She agreed

As we were walking around the both of us were quick to realise something.

"There's only one bed." Natasha pointed out

"I was just thinking the same thing. I'll take the sofa I don't mind at all." I say trying to come up with a solution.

"No, it's okay I can." Natasha instantly tries to shut me down

"Honestly I'll sleep there it's fine." I repeat

"Look uhm, you don't have to but to save ourselves a very polite argument do you wanna just share it. I mean it's a double so..?" She nervously asked

"Yeah sure I mean, if your up for it?" I half mumble

"I'm the one who suggested it dummy of course i'm up for it."

I chuckle at her response and put down my bags by the bed. If I was being honest with myself I couldn't help the butterflies that formed when thinking about sharing a bed with her. Goddamnit, she's my superior I can't be thinking like this.

Natasha POV:

I brush my teeth and get changed in the bathroom whilst y/n orders room service. When I walk out she was getting changed so she only had a bra and pyjama trousers on.

"Oh.., oh! I'm so sorry!"

No sorry it's my fault I should've told you I was changing."

"It's fine, I mean we're both girls right? Nothing we haven't seen before."

"Yeah, yeah you're right, both girls."

"Never seen a girl with abs like that though."

The blush spread on her face faster than a forrest fire. She was flustered and I took great pride in knowing I did that. I made my way to the kitchen so I'd be ready for room service when it came.

Three knocks at the door alerted me that the food was here. I thanked the staff and put the food on the counter.

"Hey y/n tea's here!" I yelled to her. (It depends where your from but tea is just how we say evening meal, like dinner)

"Thank god, i'm starving." She gave me bright smile before plating everything up.

We sit on the sofa with our food and watch whatever trashy TV shows are on. We laugh at parts of it and it gives me butterflies, her laugh has quickly become my favourite sound. It's just so beautiful and care free, it also means she's happy which makes me happy. I'm snapped out of my thoughts when I hear her softly say.

"Hey you okay? Lost you for a second there."

“Yeah, oh um, yeah I'm fine just thinking."

“About what? You were very focused."

"Nothing don't worry about it. Anyway, it's late we should go to bed."

"Your right I'll take the plates into the kitchen."

While she was doing that I went to the bedroom and set up the bed. I was laying down when she came in, she tentatively lowered herself o to the bed and layer down facing me.

"You sure it was nothing?"

"It wasn't really nothing and I'm about to talk a lot and I don't want you to talk till I'm done okay?" I respond with a hesitancy in my tone.

"Go for it." she says.

"I like you, like really like you. I know it's wrong because I'm your superior and your not even out the academy yet but I'm 25 and your what like, 20, 21 give or take so it's not like it's weird. Also can you blame me? You're perfect. Everything about you is perfect. Even though we only just met I can't help falling for you y/n. I'm sorry if I've just ruined the friendship we built today but I really needed to get that off my chest."

I look her deep in the eyes for any kind of reaction to what I just said. After a couple seconds of processing she smiled at me. Probably the biggest smile i've ever seen her have. She still hasn't said anything so I speak up. "Well?"

She doesn't answer me, instead she gently grabs my face and kisses me softly. Our lips dance against one another as second nature. Once air becomes a problem we release from each other's grasp.

"I like you too, if that wasn't already clear."

She giggled like a school girl when I grabbed her waist and started peppering kisses all over her face. She stopped and snuggled closer to me and buried her head in my chest.

"This woman is the one for me" I thought to myself as I held her safe in my arms. Although I really wasn't looking forward to this mission now.

#natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #marvel fanfiction #marvel #wlw #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #lesbian #sapphic #wlw pride

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afewfantasies · 2 months ago

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Lucky Strike 🎯 🎱 - Confirmation - IV

COMPLETE MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Pairing: Benny Cross (Bikeriders) X Reader

Summary: You and Benny reconnect and learn a little about your lives here and now.

Word count: 2K

“You’re doin’ laundry and combing your hair” Kathy comments entering the house to a sight that was new to her. They had shacked up pretty quickly, Kathy and Benny. It had been instant attraction and Benny was bull headed and handsome. Then after one of the meetings she’d made a comment about marriage and Benny had agreed with a shrug. Since then nothing had gone right between them. It was like the prospect of forever was a curse. Kathy only wanted to get closer to him, learn about him and have the same things every other woman wants. But there were things Benny would never talk about, never open up about and never share. The emotional distance became a wedge between them. Kathy needing someone to blame took it out on the club. But in all of their fights she’d never come home to Benny’s clean clothes laid out on the couch folded. Benny turns to her cigarette between his lips as he tucks the comb in his back pocket.

“One less thing for you to complain about” Benny mumbles.

“What are the other girls gonna think and say about me huh Benny? She makes her man do his own laundry?!” She snaps.

Benny sighs.

“Where were you it’s been two days?” She asks with folded arms.

“Christ,” Benny mutters in his head looking up at the popcorn ceiling. He didn’t know where to start with Kathy, it was starting to become a nightmare.

“Had a dress dry cleaned for you, there’s someone I want you to meet” he mutters. Kathy’s suspicions dissolve in an instant.

“Benny, babe it looks better than new” she smiles holding it too her. “Where are we going?”

“Johnny’s kid’s getting confirmed. There’s gonna be a dinner party afterword.” Benny mumbles.

“And this person’s gonna be there?” She raises a brow.

“Yep” Benny nods stepping back. He folds his black denim pants hoping it’ll do well enough and gets a black shirt. It was as formal as a bikeriders got. In her head Kathy’s heart flutters hoping for a proposal. Heading upstairs she gets all dolled up. Benny sits waiting on the couch. He wonders how today is going for you. He hopes your father’s family isn’t running you too ragged. Hopes your errands for your mother are going well. Most of all he hopes you’ll come tonight. The gang all seemed to like you and want you around. In his mind he couldn’t help but wish Kathy had your disposition about the club, it would make things a hell of a lot easier. He needed to be around you again, needed to feel safe, at peace and revel in the quiet. Half the reason he joined the club was for the chaos. There was always noise somewhere between the boys, the engines, boots, glass on the bar, the hum of the tv or radio, the hiss of a match being lit. The sound of pool balls being hit. The sound of cigarettes being popped out of their cartons, the flick and snap of metal lighters. There was no room for thoughts, no room for anything but the present.

“How do I look?” Kathy smiles interrupting his chain smoking.

“Good” Benny forces a smile getting on his feet. Tiptoeing Kathy kisses him.

“Thank you” she says. It’s a rarity.

“You’re welcome” Benny nods leading the way out and to his bike. He starts the engine and she holds on tight.

___

You stand against the wall overwhelmed by the bustle and the informality. You hold the gift for the boy’s confirmation behind you as the place bustles with activity. It’s not your expectation of a church. There are no long robes, candles or stained glass. You forgot how forgotten this part of Chicago was. So much so there was no money to pry out of congregants to make the church beautiful. You see some of the guys being put to work ad women looking you over. You’re about to leave when Johnny catches your eye. He pauses a moment before smiling and passing off what’s in his hands to Cal.

“You came” Johnny smiles.

“I did. For your boy” you smile handing him a present and his eyes light.

“You didn’t have to” he says.

“It’s bad manners to come to a party empty handed” you shrug.

“Have you met us?” Johnny jokes. He’s was like the father figure you wish you had. “Come with me” he says giving you a half hug. “Babe, this is Benny’s old neighbour. The one I told you about. She brought the kid a gift and is standing all alone. Make her feel comfortable” Johnny says.

His wife turns to you with an easy going smile.

“Stylish, you look like you can set a table” she says.

“I can” you nod and she smiles.

“You don’t look like you’re from Benny’s neighbourhood” she says entering the basement with you. Everything has been plopped in a pile on the table.

“I am, moved away as a kid though.” You explain.

“Never known Benny to have women friends, he’s more of a lone wolf” she comments.

“I wasn’t a woman when we met. I was three.” You explain. “We had a tough childhood Benny was there for me more than my parents were and vice versa” you explain. Her eyes go misty before she swallows shaking her head.

“I know what it’s like” she smiles. “You're gorgeous and the girls can be territorial but don’t worry Johnny’s the president and I’m his old lady. You’re okay with me” she smiles touching your shoulder. You work together on the party decor making it cheerful. When you’re finished you head back upstairs with Johnny’s wife who introduces you to her friends and family.

That’s how Benny finds you bouncing a baby on your knee. He smiles.

“What’s she doing here, Johnny has some nerve bringing his -” Kathy starts.

“Stop it Kathy, that’s who I want you to meet. We grew up together” Benny snaps being short with her. Leaving her behind he goes to you and the little one.

“Hey” he smiles hugging you again.

“Hi Benny” you smile holding the chubby baby on your hip.

“Everyone been treating you well?” Benny asks.

“Johnny made sure I was taken care of, he’s a good man” you tell Benny just as a throat clears. The woman from the precinct emerges looking dissatisfied.

“Kathy, I’m Y/N, Benny and I grew up together” you smile holding out a hand. She looks at it for awhile so you withdraw just as she decides on shaking. It’s awkward and you smile shaking her hand anyway. When you look up at Benny you can see he’s upset from the glare he’s giving Kathy.

“Benny, it’s alright” you assure him patting his side. The baby squirms from the tension and you anticipate tears. “Let me go find the boy’s mom” you force a smile leaving the couple. Kathy isn’t what you pictured for Benny as far as personality was concerned. You give Benny space not wanting to complicate his life at home and stay with the kids until it turns into taking to the guys. The service is short and sweet and everyone mixes. It’s a cast of characters but it feels like family. There’s none of the terror of your childhood or the sterility of your adolescence with debutant balls, straight posture and decorum, decorum, decorum.

You're trying to keep up with the kids’ new dance moves when you feel a hand on your waist.

“Easy there” he smiles drawing your movement to a stop. You turn to face him, every time you lay eyes on him he’s dreamier.

“You combed your hair” you smile.

“I did” he nods letting his hand slip from your waist to your hand. He walks from out of the basement leading the way. You don’t ask questions heading up onto the roof. His eyes are all over you taking you in.

“I’m sorry about Kathy” Benny apologizes.

“Don’t be sorry” you shake your head.

“It makes me sick to see you mistreated” Benny confesses. It’s a childhood trauma of his reimagined.

“Benny, we’ve survived worse. I’m okay” you assure him.

“You shouldn’t have had to” he sighs and you take his large hand.

“Benny don’t let me be the reason you get so mad. I don’t like to see you like that. We don’t deserve to live like that again” you remind him.

“I mean look at you you're all fancy and you don’t turn your nose up at this, why should she be like that” Benny reasons.

“She probably comes from a good family Benny. Where the parents were together and functional, maybe the mom bossed the dad around and the dad nodded along in quiet compliance like in the pictures.” You shrug.

“Look at me” Benny points at himself and it’s the second time today.

“Practice in the mirror, yes Kathy, no Kathy” you tease making Benny laugh. Sighing he looks up at the stars.

“It won’t work, I’m gonna end things so I don’t end up a version of our parents yelling all the time” Benny mumbles knowing it’s for the best.

“Can’t you work it out?” You ask.

“No. She hates the club” Benny sighs sitting he leans against the sloping roof. You go to sit beside him. “It’s dirty” he warns but you sit beside him anyways. “We should go to the fair and have our pictures taken before you leave” Benny whispers pulling you in.

“Ok” you agree.

“Just the two of us” he specifies.

“I’d like that, hope the bike’s given you practice for handling the rides” you tease and he laughs. He’s laughed more in the past seventy-two hours than in all the years you were gone. “Benny don’t be careless with her, treat her well please.” You say remembering your mothers tears.

“You don’t know her, you should be on my side” Benny Scoffs.

“I am” you smile pinching his cheek. “Little Benjamin never wanted to make girls cry” you tease. Benny laughs before nodding and recalling the promises he made to myself.

“I’ll clean things up and then we’ll go to the fair” He relents.

“Good, pick me up from the hotel. I’m gonna get going.” You say.

“I can drop you,” Benny says.

“it’s alright Johnny’s wife offered. Says it’s better to skip out before the boys get crazy and after the other night I’m with her” you smile standing again. Benny follows you down the stairs and back down from the roof. You both stand outside looking out into the fields. Benny watches you, the furthest he’s been while in your presence before he walked up on you at the funeral. You’re away in deep thought, he can feel you floating, in your head and away from the party, away from him. A few steps clears the distance and he stands beside you.

“There you are, I was looking for you” Johnnys wife smiles exiting the venue. You smile at her and her son.

“Needed some fresh air and quiet” you tell her and she nods.

“Benny, you should head in and speak to Kathy” she smiles at him but in a moment Kathy materializes.

“See you later Benny, bye Kathy” you smile going to leave but Benny follows you. In plain view of Kathy he holds you tight. The trauma of you driving off without a proper goodbye fresh in his bones.

“See you for the fair” he says placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“See you then Benny” you smile letting him go and getting in the back seat.

“Benny, where were you?!” Kathy snaps as the car walks pulls off.

“I was on the roof with Y/N” Benny sighs.

“You think disappearing with a strange woman is okay? What if I did that? An old guy friend of mine comes around and I disappear with him?” She asks as Benny’s eyes follow the car down the long road.

“Kathy I don’t want to argue right now” Benny says his temper wearing thin.

“Benny!” she shouts.

“Kathy, I’m done. I’m leaving I’m clearing all my shit out. It’s over okay?! I won’t be here any longer to make you so got damn miserable. There’s nothing more to talk about” He snaps silencing her. Swallowing Kathy realizes she’s pushed too far again. He hated arguing so much leaving was always the best option in his mind.

“We can work it out later on”

“Ain’t no working it out Kathy. Do you want me to take you home?” Benny asks. “Okay get your things” he sighs after Kathy nods. Cigarettes calm his bad nerves. Kathy arrives looking sheepish. Getting on the back of Benny’s bike she holds on tight again, not wanting to let him go.

NEXT CHAPTER

Authors Note: Thanks so much for reading🩵 🎆 ! Don't forget to comment, like and reblog.

TAGS: @mrsalwayswrite @ughdontbeboring @astrogrande @palomavz @thesaturngurl @peggyao3

#austin butler imagine #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #benny cross bike riders #the bikeriders fanfiction #the bikeriders x reader #benny cross imagine #benny cross x reader #benny the bikeriders #benny cross

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clover-system · 5 months ago

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The longest list of anti-endo sources I've ever seen

While trying to find something else using Tumblr's infamous search engine, I came across this absolute gem:

NINE SOURCES!!! That's a record!! This is incredible!

@radpocalypse, listen. I am about to tear these to shreds, but before I do, I want you to know that you have my respect for not only compiling the longest list of sources I have ever seen an anti-endo provide, and not only doing so seemingly not directly prompted, but typing out every single link by hand, on mobile, without making a single mistake. Incredible work.

And also, to be completely honest, if I had nine sources supporting a belief, I almost certainly wouldn't look into them this closely. But, hey, that's what strangers on the internet with opposing views are for.

One more thing before the debunk: Endogenic systems do not claim to have DID etc. without trauma. They just don't. Whether it could be possible is often debated as an edge case, usually just to win an argument against someone of the opposing side, but really, it's irrelevant for 99% of the community. A good chunk are questioning OSDD based on later trauma, but as far as I am aware, no one on this website is claiming a completely endogenic plural disorder.

However, I don't want to dismiss entire pages based on this alone without further commentary, and it's a fun intellectual exercise regardless. So, whenever I use green text, I'm just playing Devil's Advocate under the premise of "If I was claiming to have DID without trauma (which neither I nor anyone else afaik is), would this source actually debunk that claim?" My syster will also occasionally pop in with purple, since she was cocon while I was writing this.

My dad just walked into my room and literally said "hey how it's going". You know, like. Like that one post. Amazing.

Anyway, civility established. Now come along with me on this long long journey of ten minutes of reading. Maybe put some music on in the background, if that will help you get through it. I had Near's Theme on while writing.

Here we go.

Link 1: McLean Hospital

Ok, main thing that caught my eye was

According to a 2010 Psychiatric Times article, only 5% of people with DID exhibit obvious switching between identity “states.”

Very interesting! Even with all of the "idk who's fronting" memes, 5% is really not that high. Though maybe online spaces like these help train the ability to identify it? The reference trail leads back to a book by Kluft but I don't really feel like going through dozens of pages for this. Definitely making a note of this though; I wonder if there have been any follow-up studies on this.

Not much to say here other than that. No mention of plurality outside DID.

DID is associated with long-term exposure to trauma, often chronic traumatic experiences during early childhood.

Dissociation—or disconnection from one’s sense of self or environment—can be a response to trauma.

Dissociative identity disorder—a type of dissociative disorder—most often develops during early childhood in kids who are experiencing long-term trauma. This typically involves emotional, physical, and/or sexual abuse; neglect; and highly unpredictable interactions with caregivers.

Why "associated", not "is caused by"? Why "can", not "is"? Why "most often", etc.?

Why such weak language?

Not that it couldn't be weaker.

I vaguely remember McLean getting into some hot water regarding a video they posted about DID, but didn't find anything concrete. Half-remembered anecdote aside, the author seems well-qualified.

C-tier debunk of this position. It's not nothing but it could be a lot better.

Link 2: Psych Central

It occurs in women 9 times more often than in men.

Very interesting statistic, but no citation provided.

Alters can show striking differences. For instance, one alter may speak with a different accent or have a softer way of speaking. They might have different opinions or a different gender identity, and even physical differences — like left- or right-handedness, or the need for a glasses prescription.

That's quite a stark difference here compared to the McLean article. What happened to "alters aren't that noticeable"?

But whatever, these are just interesting tidbits. None of this has anything to do with endogenic plurality. Nothing like "this is the only way to be multiple", no comment whatsoever.

DID is usually associated with adverse experiences in someone’s past and traumatic memories.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is a mental health condition with strong links to trauma, especially trauma in childhood.

Bruh. This again?

In fact, the American Psychiatric Association reports that 90% of people with DID have a history of childhood abuse and neglect, based on research from the United States, Canada, and Europe.

Bruh. Seriously? 90%? You know what that leaves, right?

According to your own source, 10% of DID systems are endogenic.

But let's break this down. There's a big difference between the system being endogenic, and the DID being endogenic. This statistic is specifically referring to childhood trauma.

The wording's plenty vague though. This can absolutely be read as completely endogenic DID.

One review article from 2017 about the causes of DID noted that there was relatively little research on the condition to date.

The authors said researchers hadn’t yet investigated potential genetic and epigenetic factors. With epigenetic factors, the experiences and behaviors of your parents and ancestors can influence the function of the genes they pass down to you.

The authors of the review said scientists needed to do more research to investigate whether a person with DID might carry genes that can influence if they develop the condition or not.

This is particularly promising because studies have already shown that genes can influence dissociative disorders in general.

So you're telling me DID might be able to be passed down one or two generations? Wow. Again, this still has nothing to do with endogenic plurality, but I'm really glad I decided to play with this second angle, because it's so much more fun. We're certainly not at intentional self-inflicted DID here, but we are at this point a long way from certainly needing childhood trauma in all cases.

And also the reviewer is a military psychiatrist who specializes in ADHD. So uh. Not bringing our best here.

Link 3: Mayo Clinic

Gotta love an article that's nice and short. This is just a brief summary of a bunch of dissociative disorders. Again, nothing about endogenic plurality.

Starting to run out of things to say about this. This whole post could probably be a fifth the length if I didn't feel like playing on hard mode.

Formerly known as multiple personality disorder, this disorder involves "switching" to other identities. You may feel as if you have two or more people talking or living inside your head. You may feel like you're possessed by other identities.

Each identity may have a unique name, personal history and features. These identities sometimes include differences in voice, gender, mannerisms and even such physical qualities as the need for eyeglasses.

Hey, that reminds me of someone.

There also are differences in how familiar each identity is with the others. Dissociative identity disorder usually also includes bouts of amnesia and often includes times of confused wandering.

Again, McLean looking really odd with its declaration of DID's covertness against great detail like this. However, its author is so far the best qualified. This one just says "Mayo Clinic Staff". Can't even know which of them worked on this. Some of them are psychs, but if any of them specialize in dissociative disorders, it doesn't say so.

Dissociative disorders usually arise as a reaction to shocking, distressing or painful events and help push away difficult memories.

I won't bother quoting even more wishy-washy language because this post is already at an ungodly length (about 1300 words so far) and we're barely a third done. But yeah, suffice to say, no nail-in-the-coffin 100% link to trauma.

Link 4: Rethink

We are a trusted information creator and accredited by the Patient Information Forum (PIF).

Their bold, for once. That's an alarm-ringing corporate phrase if I've ever seen one. Also, first thing on the PIF's website is "balancing the risks and benefits of AI in the production of health information". So this article might've been written by GPT. Awesome. And yeah, a lot of this whole website looks to me like a bunch of interconnected pages with stupidly long articles written by stitching together LLM generations. Does pass GPT0's test though.

This one is so long. I'll take the ten minutes to read through every word, which I don't think @radpocalypse did, just to make sure there's nothing here, but one thing that does catch my eye scrolling down to near the bottom is that they misspelled their first citation.

A quick look at this Carolyn Spring shows a lot being sold and credentials nowhere in sight. Awesome.

So already I don't need to read this. The information here is not at a high level of trustworthiness. It's maybe better than nothing, but seriously, one can and should do better. But I'll read it anyway, just for bonus points. Thanks to AccelaReader for making this bearable.

Many people will experience dissociation at some point in their lives. Lots of different things can cause you to dissociate. For example, you might dissociate when you are very stressed, or after something traumatic has happened to you.

Some of the symptoms of dissociation include the following:

You may have clear multiple identities.

It‘s important to remember that you could have the symptoms of dissociation without a dissociative disorder.

So according to this, multiple identities can be caused by intense but non-traumatic stress, and might not necessarily be a disorder. So, while I admit this is a little bit of a stretch, we're four links in and this is the first mention of plurality in general, so I'll take it. One point for endogenic plurality. (And again, none of this really matters anyway because this is the worst source so far.)

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is sometimes called ‘Multiple Personality Disorder.

If you have DID you might seem to have 2 or more different identities, called ‘alternate identities.

Two missing closing quotes. Really not a good sign.

They suggest that DID is caused by experiencing severe trauma over a long time in childhood.

Aha! Finally, something concrete against endogenic DID! Too bad it's buried in the worst source yet. If we believed we had DID, we would absolutely not reconsider that based on a sketchy webpage with suboptimal syntax and no credentials.

Ugh, finally done with that one. What a slog.

Link 5: DID Research

Aha! The infamous psych student's blog! That's what Sophie said, anyway. Not taking her word for it though. Let's see what we can find here, independently.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is the result of repeated or long-term childhood trauma

Why wasn't this first? First sentence, so crystal clear. No two ways about this, transDID destroyed right out of the gate.

DID cannot form after ages 6-9 because individuals older than these ages have an integrated self identity and history.

Why wasn't this first? It's so plain, so refreshing after four pages of strategic ambiguity. Nothing left here for green. But still no mention of non-disordered plurality.

The author is impressively credentialed but doesn't seem to specialize quite near this area. She's certainly better than most, high above any random Tumblr user talking out of their ass, but the good stuff would be to get a DID specialist to explicitly spell out that endogenic systems are not possible.

Also should make note of this big fat legal disclaimer:

While the author strives to make information on this website as complete, reliable, and accurate as possible, the author makes no claims, promises, guarantees, or warranties about the accuracy, completeness, or adequacy of the contents of this site and expressly disclaims liability for errors and omissions in the contents of this site.

If we did claim to have DID, this would rattle us a little but could ultimately be brushed aside.

Link 6: SANE

As usual, literally nothing about endogenic plurality. I'll just greenmode this.

The majority of people with DID have been through severe trauma in early childhood

And now back to our regularly scheduled nondefinitive language.

Fun fact: highlighting text on this website turns it invisible. Awesome.

A person needs to meet the following criteria to be diagnosed with DID:

- Two or more distinct identities or personality states, each with its own way of thinking and relating. - Amnesia and gaps in the recall of everyday events, personal information or traumatic events. - The experiences are not part of normal cultural or religious practice, or part of childhood imaginary play. For example, a child having an imaginary friend does not mean they have DID. - The symptoms are not because of substance abuse or other medical conditions.

Ah finally, a direct quote from the good ol' DSM. Notice the lack of a trauma requirement.

Funny enough, using only these criteria in isolation, we actually would count as having DID due to our grayout memory gaps when switching. DID is also listed in the dissociative disorders section of the DSM, not the trauma disorders section, so there is no implied criterion there either. However, there still remains the universal criterion of distress, which we do not fulfill. We are quite happy with ourselves.

DID is caused by severe childhood trauma, such as physical, verbal or sexual abuse.

Well, which is it?? Is it a majority association or a direct cause? Why the contradiction? Or is the emphasis on early childhood trauma?

Eh, whatever. Point is, green is once again shut down. But there is still no mention of endogenic plurality anywhere here!!

And no indication of who wrote this article, though the citation for direct cause is a dissociative disorder specialist. Does he actually say that in the cited paper, though?

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is multifactorial in its etiology. Whereas psychosocial etiologies of DID include developmental traumatization and sociocognitive sequelae, biological factors include trauma-generated neurobiological responses. Biologically derived traits and epigenetic mechanisms are also likely to be at play. At this point, no direct examination of genetics has occurred in DID. However, it is likely to exist, given the genetic link to dissociation in general and in relation to childhood adversity in particular.

I hope you have a dictionary on hand. That sure is a lot of big words that aren't in Firefox's built-in spellchecker. Still, after making sure I got everything, it's clearly not so cut and dry here. And we're back on the "it could be genetic" point.

Tangentially related: I do like the dismissal of the iatrogenic model on the basis of the brain scans.

Neurobiological differences have been demonstrated between dissociative identities within patients with DID and between patients with DID and controls. Given the current evidence, DID as a diagnostic entity cannot be explained as a phenomenon created by iatrogenic influences, suggestibility, malingering, or social role-taking. On the contrary, DID is an empirically robust chronic psychiatric disorder based on neurobiological, cognitive, and interpersonal non-integration as a response to unbearable stress.

Anyway, we're not even on the original page anymore, so I'll call it here. No mention of endogenic plurality, and the citation that claims to dismiss endogenic DID doesn't.

Link 7: NAMI Michigan

While the causes [of DID] are unknown

I'm tired. Aren't you tired?

Treatment for DID consists primarily of psychotherapy with hypnosis.

Yeah I'm calling BS on this one

And no citations on this entire page, nor even the author's name.

Statistics show that DID occurs in 0.01 to 1 percent of the general population.

Research has shown that the average age for the initial development of alters is 5.9 years old.

No sources listed. This is definitely the worst link. Literally on the same level as a rambling Tumblr user in terms of credibility.

Doesn't matter that it says

This disorder is believed to be triggered by physical or sexual abuse in childhood

Couldn't even get this dogshit source to be firm.

This one gets an F.

Link 8: The Psychology Practice

Got scared for a moment there that it said ai. No, that's AL, a name. Also this was written in 2022, so we're definitely safe. Can't actually find any other info on this AL character, but at least we can look up the co-author.

Hm, can't find anything on her, either. Well, at least this is a step up from the previous link. Let's see what it has to say.

According to the Dissociative Identity Research Organisation (2018), DID is formed in childhood due to repeated trauma in early childhood (before age 10) before the personality is fully integrated.

I do like that these later links are direct with this. They don't seem to have a citation for that DIRO, though. Unless...

No. Oh no.

Ok, so this one was written by a couple of clowns who definitely didn't do their homework. Cool. I'm getting tired of humoring awful sources like this, so moving on to the grand finale.

Link 9: NAMI

Wait, this is the same group behind the zero-citation article from Michigan! But that was just Michigan. Maybe the main site can do better.

Ugh, it's just another list of dissociative disorders instead of DID specifically.

The symptoms of a dissociative disorder usually first develop as a response to a traumatic event,

Aren't you tired? Aren't you tired? Aren't you tired?

Often these identities may have unique names, characteristics, mannerisms and voices.

Often? Wow. Sure is a far cry from 5%.

Dissociative disorders are managed through various therapies including: - Psychotherapies such as cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) and dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT) - Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) - Medications such as antidepressants can treat symptoms of related conditions

No mention of hypnosis, allegedly the primary method of treatment?? (/sarc)

and there was no mention of plurality being exclusive to dissociative disorders

Oh, and no listed authors either.

So, after three thousand words of analysis, all we've come up with are nothing burgers, dogshit, and dogshit nothing burgers. Out of nine links, only one briefly and indirectly touched on endogenic plurality, and it was in favor. Even the argument against the traumaless DID strawman is weak at best. These sources are bad, to put it lightly.

@radpocalypse, if you're reading this, firstly, thank you for powering through your ADHD and dyslexia to read thousands of words dunking on your masterpiece. Secondly, if you have any more sources that you think are backing you, feel free to send them my way. Just uh, maybe read them more closely next time?

And that goes for everyone here. If you think you have a better source, or if I made a mistake or missed something here, I am open to correction. I am open to the idea that I'm wrong and I have some unknown trauma to work through, but I certainly won't go digging unless I have good reason to believe it's there, and I haven't seen any good reason. And if you haven't either, maybe it's time to reconsider your position.

One last thing before I go.

Have you ever actually seen a pro-endo carrd, let alone one cited in standalone? I haven't.

Here's a much longer list of much better sources than yours supporting endogenic plurality compiled by the traumagenic Guardians System. I don't expect you to read anywhere near the whole thing; just pick a few links at random. And yes, while many of them are peer-reviewed papers, some of them are Tumblr posts, but those Tumblr posts cite peer-reviewed papers, so it's all good.

Thanks for reading.

#syscourse #sysconversation

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russellsppttemplates · 11 months ago

Text

From the start, it was you (George Russell)

The heart doesn't seem to choose by team colours

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first driver!reader I've ever written, so I hope I've done a good job. Also, I did not plan to post this piece specifically now, but seems fitting with the whole shitshow that has been going on the past couple of days. Also, this is a plot I've seen written a lot, so I know there are many other pieces that are way better, and hopefully my take on it isn't too bad!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: race collision, medical exams, curse words, gender inequality comments

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

Your purple race suit made you stand out amongst all of the other kids as you walked back from the podium, proudly smiling at your trophy, "Y/N! We're here!", you heard your father as he waved so you'd know where they stood, "congratulations, darling! That was an impressive overtake you did there in the last lap!", he praised, scratching your head before placing a kiss there, "I was trying to get first, but I couldn't get it", you admitted it, looking sideways at the boy who you couldn't take the first place from.

George Russell was a tall boy, same age as you, so you often raced against eachother. While you had become friends with some of the other kids, Russell wasn't one of them. It began when you tried to congratulate him for his P3 a few years ago, stretching your hand out politely, a smile on your face as he turned his back to you, mumbling something as he walked towards his parents. So, you weren't the best of friends if anyone asked.

"Y/N, darling, go stand next to the boys so I can take a picture of you! It will be such a good memory for when you're older!", your mother said excitedly, making you, George and the boy that finished his race behind you on each of your sides, smiling at the camera and hoping it would be as quick as possible, not wanting to stand next to him for a second longer than you should.

"I have your media day schedules here", Mary said as she handed you and Oscar your respective schedules, "Y/N, you're going to get interviewed with Charles, Yuki, George and Fernando", she stated as she then moved on to Oscar, explaing a few things to him since he was going first.

"And Y/N, while you're in there, try not to kill George, even with your eyes, okay?", she advised, tapping your shoulder softly as you looked at her sideways, "last time you were both in the same panel, you managed to be out of qualifying", she nodded, "only because our car wasn't that reliable, and we all know how theirs is", you pointed out, smiling sweetly and hoping to get on her side, "you're lucky you don't annoy me too much, Y/N", she smiled back.

The team had made many improvements to the car, granting you and Oscar the possibility to aim for higher places on the grid, and since you were a nerd about all things engineering, too, you loved when you were asked about the topic. But lately, the questions about the car seemed to get asked to your teammate Oscar, leaving the excuse that "the journalists already have the information they need", and because they didn't want to be accused of not asking you questions like it had happened before, it seemed to divert to other topics.

"Y/N, here", one of the journalists waved, grabbing your attention, "With the recent events and new propositions from the F1 Academy, do you think the sport is going to suffer from having a bigger opportunity that's being given to women in motorsport?", your heard him say, making your blood boil.

Despite the constant raised awareness for gender discrimination and discrimination in motorsport, especially in the last couple of years, some people still had it pretty engraved in their system, and while sometimes it came out looking a little bit more subtle, this one didn't even bother to soften the edges.

You'd be lying if you said this was the first time you heard these comments directed at you, or that you thought it would be the last, no matter how much you wished some sort of disciplinary measure was taken, "I woul-", you began before you heard a loud clash on the floor and felt water on your legs. The trousers you were wearing were soaked around your thighs and knees as George got up to grab the bottle that belonged to him, "I'm so sorry, Y/N", he apoligised as he put the lid back on, "I think it's best if we call it a day, hm? The next group needs to have this cleaned before they come in here", the Mercedes driver said as everyone seemed to agree and get up, bidding goodbye as Charles and George stayed until the end.

"Careful, don't slip", the monegasque driver said, making sure you wouldn't fall and walking out of the room with you, "figures the guy wouldn't even be here to check if everything's fine", you muttered as Charles chuckled, "you two really are like the cat and the mouse".

"He's not even here! He just flew off to his fancy room to delight in the joy of making fun of me", you grumbled, bidding goodbye to Charles as you found yourself by the entrance of Ferrari.

Walking the distance to meet your team, Mary was the first to get you, "I'm sorry they asked that", she said, "it's a good thing Russell spilled his drink", she teased, knowing you wouldn't want to dwell on the comments for long. It hardly solved the problem and you'd look into it in the team meeting when the time called for it, "promise you won't take him out in the race?".

Laughingly at her assumption and the fact that she had managed to pull you out of your misery as you walked to you driver's room, "don't worry, and tell the guys downstairs to now worry either, they're not going to have to build me a new car either", you flashed a smile before closing the door, changing into another pair of trousers you had brought with you.

"You're starting P4, Y/N", your race engineer said over the radio, "we are going to give it our all to support you and help you".

"And I'm going to drive the beat I can for you guys. Today, we get orange flying around and its going to be because of the Papaya team", you smiled under your helmet, "Oscar is P6, so I think we can even aim for a Podium, depends on how things go", you said.

As soon as the lights went out, you reacted quickly and passed the car that had been sitting next to yours, your race engineer confirming your third place and giving you a run down of all the grid changes.

"Do us proud, you're doing well, good pace", you heard on your speakers. You were enjoying the drive, analysing the data without team and looking for the right opportunity to overtake Charles, "go after the next turn, Y/N. Charles' tyres are not looking so good, so we think you have the upper hand there. George's car seems to be having some issues, too, he won't go after you", the pit wall channeled in your radio.

You looked in your mirrors as you were about to make the overtake, having patiently waited to reach the specific turn and going with it, confident that you would be able to overtake the red car.

A fraction of a second, you would always say, was game changing in Formula One. A decision to overtake or stay back, to accept the call to the pits or a new strategy, sometimes all it took was less than a second. And it also took less than a second for your car to start spinning, making you remove your hands from your steering wheel and brace yourself for the collision that would soon enough happen.

The impact wasn't as hard as you had expected, having felt most of it in your hips and shoulders. Groaning, you opened your eyes to see the damage, hearing "Y/N, can you tell us if you are okay?" over the radio.

Pressing the button, you heard the equipment's buzz, "I'm okay. I'm sorry about the car, guys", you gulped, adjusting yourself, "another car tapped me, right? Are they okay?", you asked, "George's fine from what we've heard".

After the marshalls confirmed you were free to go with the medical car to get checked over, you were back in the hospitality as the race continued, "doctor said I'll have some bruises, nothing too bad though", you gave them the report as you apoligised and thanked everyone on your side of the garage.

"Turns out they'll have to build you a new car after all", Mary offered as she hugged you, "if Russell had been more careful, this could've ended differently", you groaned.

"From what I've heard, he was trying a risky move and the car had an issue and locked up. He lost control of it and his front wing tapped your rear wheels just about enough to cause the crash", she explained, "it's not like he purposefully wanted to take you out", she reasoned.

"I know, it's just not ideal", you sighed, "we could both be in there". On the screen, Oscar was sitting P2, having successfully overtaken Charles a few laps in after the race resumed.

Even though George was far from your friend, you still wanted to check if he was okay, specially after seeing the impact the crash had on his car, too.

Walking to the Mercedes hospitality, a few people stopped you on your tracks briefly to express their relief on seeing you up and about and wishing you well before you found yourself by the glass doors.

"Is George here? I'd like to see if he's doing alright, but only if that's okay, I'm sure you're busy", you asked one of the media girls, Holly, recognising her from previous encounters.

"He's in his driver's room, yes, let me walk you there", she smiled, walking with you and knocking on the door, "George, may I come in?", she asked before he gave a positive answer, "Y/N is here, she wanted to talk to you", she stated, backing up so you could be seen, "yes, that's alright", the tall man said as Holly held out her arm, gesturing you to walk inside the room as she closed the door behind her, most likely going back to work on the race content.

"Hey", you waved awkwardly, "I don't have any other way to contact you, and asking your team how you were didn't seem... right? So, yeah, I came here", you gulped, suddenly feeling a weird pressure to act properly, whatever that meant.

"I'm good, barely got a scratch since I was able to stop the car before it hit the barriers", George explained, "and you? It looked pretty bad", he checked.

"I have some bruises, I think the adrenaline is slowing down now, so it's a bit painful, but nothing major", you clarified.

"The car had some issue and there was not way to control it, I just let it go because there wasn't anything I could do. I'm very glad you're okay", he half smiled as he looked at you.

In all the years you've known him and interacted with him, there had never been a time where he was this relaxed and smiley around you, not even when he had overtaken you in the last lap of the race. And while it was new, it was also comfortable.

"Me too, it looked scarier than it felt, though", you offered as he grabbed his water bottle to take a sip from it, "Oh, close the lid properly on that one", you chuckled playfully, not imagining the backlash and reaction it would have.

The new and comfortable mood turned back to the old and expecting one.

"Do you really think I'm that clumsy to drop a bottle like that? I wanted to get us out of there, to get you out of there because they were asking sexist questions", he stated, "and I didn't do it because I thought you couldn't defend yourself, because you sure know how to stop your foot and put it down, but because they don't deserve your time like that. Hell, I wish you spent that little time with me instead!", George yelled out, not missing your shocked expression, "maybe there was a time that I didn't like how you just showed up and got things done, but in the end, it's not because it's you, or because you're a woman. I wanted to be the one to show up and get things done, because I admire you so much", he gulped.

"So you're saying it's my fault that I've been labelled a bad sport because we constantly fight out there? That's why you've hated me?", your defensive side turned up, not dwelling on his kind words.

"I'm not saying it is either of our fault! I'm just trying to explain to you that I don't hate you like you think I do", he put his hands on his hips, walking around his room, "you might hate me, and that's fine, you know? I'm not going to be the one to tell you how you should feel, that's not how it works, but I have never hate you.

"I might've said I hated you when we were little, but that's because you probably stole my place on the podium, and even that was probably well deserved. I never thought I'd feel like this about you", he concluded.

"And what is it that you feel about me? Because I would like a warning should you want to beat me up to deal with all it is that you're feeling...?", you gestured to his stance. Was he saying he didn't hate you? Did he have other feelings that were actually in the happiness section of the emotion wheel and not near the anger section?

Chuckling, he approached you, "I have had feelings for you since we started driving in F2. At first I thought it was just the thrill of the competition and of having someone to challenge me, and when you got the Mclaren seat, I was so happy that you'd be racing against me", he further offered, "I don't know when it came out that we hated eachother, and when you didn't seem to feel otherwise, I tried to hate you, or at least dislike you, and it wasn't working, so I just let it go however it went, and it's led me here. And I'm being honest with you, so laugh all you want, or deal with it however you want to", he raised his hands as he excused himself.

"George, I nerve said anything because I can't afford to say those things. How many rivalries have you seen in motorsport? So many, and many more that are not written in books and shown off in videos. And none of them have apoligies to offer, or rather, the very few that have done it, turned out okay. But if I was the one to talk about it? A female driver talking about how she cares that her colleagues and her have a good relation and that they don't hate eachother like the press wants people to believe?", you scoffed, "That's not on my books, that's not something I can consider.

"And I don't hate you, George. For Goodness' sake, I came here to see of you were alright. Any other person would've yelled that you ruined their race, but I understand that there are things we can't control and shit like this happens. It sucks, but that's how it is. Like Charles says all the time, 'sometimes it's like this'", you giggled, "I actually think you're a pretty decent guy", you blushed.

Over the years, the bickering had only spurred you on even more, and maybe it wasn't just the thrill of seeing him so on edge that made you continue to do so.

"So you're saying you've never hated me?",

George said as he offered you his chair to sit down as he prepared tea for both of you, "Maybe I didn't like you so much when we did karting, but that was just because you were really tall and actually gave me fair competition", you winked.

#george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell fluff #george russell fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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strangesthirdeye · 8 months ago

Text

I Can't Handle Change (Doctor Strange x Fem! Reader)

Summary: every disease has its own cure

Warning: It's Stephen, he's a sweetheart, Critically ill, reader is sick, near death experience? Medical care, fluff, angst, Stephen being a good boyfriend, severe heart arrhythmia

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Me and some Masters in the Kamar Taj have decided that the London Sanctum will be the next target to break into, I want you two to go and catch the culprits before they smuggle out our sacred relics. We don't want those relics to fall into the hands of wrong, don't we?" Wong explained firmly that you two are busy arranging all the relics that were successfully confiscated in the relics room at the NY Sanctum.

"Why us? We're busy right now" Stephen said without taking his eyes off the chest containing the relics.

"because you both are one of the most free sorceress we have. The others are busy with their missions, only you two have free time" Wong said simply.

Stephen sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose while you looked at Wong skeptically.

"of course we'll help you but who wants to pack these relics?" You ask Wong.

"don't worry, I've assigned some students to help put all these relics in the temporary relics room so that relics here is in safe hands, while the others Sanctums are targeted" Wong said walked closer towards the exit before he paused. "You two better go now.. We don't know when the culprits will show up" and then Wong walked away.

Stephen exhaled heavily and adjusted his belt, checking whether the sling ring was on his belt or not while you put the relic in your hand back into the chest and walked over to Stephen.

"Don't worry, at least we will spend time together" you lighten up the mood.

Stephen smiled faintly. "I would love to spend time with you but not this" Stephen put his hands around you and crashed his lips on your lips.

You hummed and parted away. "Maybe.. we can spend some time after this mission is over. what do you say, Doctor Strange? Fancy a good night movies with cuddles?"

"Absolutely" Stephen muttered and looked at you hungrily. "well, better go now.. I'm not a patient person"

You smirked and then without hesitation pulled Stephen's hand and walked towards the door connected to the London Sanctum. The Sanctum is quiet without a source of sound in it. Only the sound of automobile engines outside the Sanctum. You and Stephen paused in the middle of the room, trying to listen for any sounds like things being moved or thumping around the Sanctum cautiously.

The two of you walk slowly towards the stairs where all the relics are. Stephen unconsciously reached out your hand and held it tightly in a protective way. Maybe worry if something unexpected happens suddenly. As the two of you started climbing the stairs, you both heard the sound of a voice talking but it was faint.

The noise of 3 people was heard upstairs and this made you both cautiously go up the stairs and prepared to catch the culprits. Stephen went first and you followed behind him. There are 3 figures wearing all black outfits with their faces wearing black masks hiding their identity but you can both tell their gender based on their body shape. 2 men 1 woman according to their built bodies in two men and breasts in women.

You looked at Stephen with a knowing look. The three of them seemed to be solemnly putting the relics into the sacks in their hands, unaware of the presence of the two of you.

They said to each other with overjoyed voices. You can't make up what they say because of the masks they wear, but you can tell that they are likely to be excited about the quality and price of the relics if they are sold to the black market. It seems like they decided to show up earlier than you both expected. Stephen then walked in front of you.

"I'm sure the sacred relics are not for sale, in fact they are not to be stolen," Stephen said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

The three figures stopped what they were doing and looked at the source of the voice behind them. They freeze when they realize they are caught.

"You broke into one of the sacred Sanctums in this universe and decided to smuggle out some of our relics. Well, you don't know what you're all dealing with now" you said threateningly.

The three figures didn't say anything but then all of a sudden they ran towards you both with their weapons in their hands. Seemed like they quietly reached for their weapons while you both threatened them.

You automatically conjured bands of cyttorak and whipped it on one of the figures hand causing the weapon in his hand to fall to the floor. The man looked panic but still attacked you with all the energy he had while you whipped the band to dodge all the punches he gave you before you tied his legs and pulled the band until he stumbled to the floor hard.

He groaned in pain. You smirked but then you started to feel a bit of pain in your chest which you ignored the pain and continued to attack the man by tying his whole body with a band of cyttorak then slipped your two fingers into the sling ring and summoned a portal below him to the Kamar Taj.

He fell into the portal with a scream. One has been held, two not yet. You ran towards Stephen who was dodging the attack of the two culprits. The pain in your chest started to increase. Stephen punched one of the culprits who is man hard in the face which makes the man stepped back when he was hit in the face while the woman rushes towards Stephen and swings the weapon in her hand towards Stephen but then crashed to the side when you hit her body hard which makes both of you stumbled to the floor hard.

You both groaned then you got up quickly and straddled the woman with struggle as the woman seems to fight with you which you managed to straddle her and punched her face several times before summoned bands of cyttorak again and tied both of her hands. You stood up and summoned a portal behind her like you did to the man. The woman screaming as she falls into the portal.

You smirked with victory but then your face grimaced in pain as you felt the pain in your chest increase. You hold your chest in excruciating pain. You kneel on the floor with a cry of pain and fall to the side on the floor. You close your eyes as you feel the agony of pain in your chest. Tears fell down your cheeks as the pain increased. Your breath starts to gasp for enough oxygen but fails.

Stephen who had just caught the last culprit started looking for you but couldn't find you. He started to worry but then he started to hear the sound of crying not far from him. He recognized the voice and ran towards the source of the voice quickly. He saw you lying on your side while clutching your chest with eyes closed and a pained face.

You exhaled in pain and groaned. Stephen slides to your side and grabs your shoulders with concern on his face. "love, what's wrong?! Did the woman do something to you?!" Stephen said loudly. You just cried out in pain and reached for Stephen's free hand and squeezed it hard. Stephen ignored the pain in his hand and with panic he slipped to his fingers on the sling ring and opened a portal to Metro General Hospital. You started to lose your consciousness. The corners of your eyes start to darken while dark spots dance in your eyes. You let out a gasp. The pain in the chest is getting worse and makes it difficult for you to breathe.

Stephen picked you up bridal style and rushed into the hospital with panic on his face.

"Hold on, Love! Don't you dare pass out in my arms!" Stephen said firmly.

But you are already unconscious. Your head lolled to the side as you limped in his arms.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A burst of white light greeting in your eyes as you started to wake up. You closed your sore eyes and grunted in pain as you felt a faint pain in your chest. You started to move your body but then someone held your cold right hand with their warm hand.

You jerked a bit but calm yourself down as your eyes adjusted and you finally recognized the person in front of you. Stephen. You sighed in relief after seeing Stephen sitting in front of you with a look of concern on his face.

"Hey" you greeted him with a hoarse voice.

"hey" Stephen greeted back, unconsciously rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand.

"I'm sorry" you said upset.

"Why do you want to apologize? For not telling me that you have severe heart arrhythmia?" Stephen replied, pulling the chair he was sitting on closer to you carefully with the wire attached to your body.

You nodded ashamed. "yeah.. I'm sorry for not telling you about this"

Stephen shook his head. "no don't be. I understand that you don't want to bring this up to me, but at least you can tell me that you suffer from this"

"I want to tell you but.. I'm worried that I will be forced not to do any mission if you know about this. Knowing you, I don't think I can agree not to join any mission.. I don't want you to worry about me" you said weakly.

Stephen kissed the back of your hand. "But at least you don't have to get like this for me to know that you suffer. I'm worried about you, you know. You almost died if I didn't take you to the hospital. I-.. I can lose you" Stephen looked down at his lap.

You soften your look. "hey, look at me" Stephen raised his head and looked at you. "I'm okay now, thanks to you. But please don't tell Wong or anyone about this. I want to finish this mission no matter what. If they find out they will force me not to join this mission."

Stephen shook his head. "You are a stubborn woman. Alright, but on two conditions." Stephen looked at you softly.

You nodded urging him to continue. Stephen sighed.

"One, let me do all the running things so that you don't have to weaken your heart and end up like this again and two, no more hiding secrets. Understand?" Stephen stared at your determined eyes.

You nodded in understanding. "yes.. anything for you. I promise"

Stephen nodded and leaning towards your lips and pecked your lips sealing the promises with passionate, careful with the oxygen tube in your nose. He smiled gently and stroked your cheek. "l love you" he said gently.

You stroked his hand tenderly and smiled softly. "I love you too"

#benedict cumberbatch x reader #benedict cumberbatch #doctor strange #doctor strange x female reader #doctor strange x reader #dr stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x you #chronic illness #stephen strange imagine #dr stephen strange #Spotify

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mercurygray · 8 months ago

Note

Hii Merc, could I please request #11. "the lover in the sky" for Fred and Brady? Thank you <3 — @shoshiwrites

Thanks for letting me take my time on this one, @shoshiwrites! I hope you don't mind Fred's having...a bit of a crisis.

There was a shiver in the air.

Fred hefted the empty coffee thermos into the back of the jeep, grateful that it had been a busy day and the thing was mostly empty. She was glad she'd thought to bring her tanker jacket, earlier - the warm one with the good zipper that fit nicely over her uniform coat. Summer was still cool, and night out on the tarmac cooler still. She'd left Ken and his crews with fresh coffee, the last of the day, and now it was time for home, and bath, and bed.

"Fred!" Lieutenant Brady's voice came up out of the rising dark. "What brings you out here?"

"Passing out the rest of the coffee. Ken said it was going to be a long night." She paused, and followed his eyes in the direction of the plane, Brady's Crash Wagon in large friendly letters on the side. (Everyone had heard that story, about how he'd brought the thing in from Greenland on no wheels, and they'd renamed it shortly after.) "I could ask you the same thing."

"Checking in on her," he said with a smile. "Looks pretty good, doesn't she?"

"I wouldn't know," Fred admitted with a good-natured shrug. "I've never been inside one." Not even for a little barnstorm, she wanted to add, before someone starting laughing about the absurdity of working at at airbase and never having actually been inside a plane. City girls don't take plane rides at county fairs - and Clubmobile women take boats to Europe.

Brady, however, wasn't laughing. "Do you want to?" he asked, sincere as anything. She snorted, and then realized he was serious, and shrugged in assent. "Are your fellows all done inside, Herb?" Brady asked, shouting under the belly towards the mechanic and his box of tools.

"It's your ship, Lieutenant," Herb said. "I'll leave the stairs out, for when you both need to come back down. You got a flashlight? It's getting mighty dark out here."

Brady waved his and Herb nodded and let them be, Brady steering her towards the tail of the plane and the hatch with its folded down stairs. "Here, you'd better take this," he said, handing over the flashlight, warm from his pocket. "Once you get up top, go along the gangway and watch your feet."

"Don't you want to go first?"

He shook his head. "Ladies first," he said, and waved her on forward.

It was dark, here in the tail of the fort, the only light the two large panels in the sides with their machine guns standing at the ready. She fumbled for a moment with the flashlight until it finally turned on, the small beam casting here and there over the inside of the plane. It felt like being inside the attic of an old house, seeing the ribs of the aircraft jutting out of the walls at regular intervals, the panel of the floor creaking as she made her way around the guns and the bubble of the turret and its enormous oxygen tank, carefully passing by a chair and radio to an even smaller gangway, and passing between an enormous empty space. "Bomb bay," she heard Brady say behind her. "Careful there, there's a step up past the turret. Go left once you're up there."

The step up was over a large opening that must have led to the nose - the light was slightly better down there. Fred hoisted herself up and tried not to move anything, flipping the flashlight off to appreciate the scene in the last bit of light from the sunset. All of this to put a piece of metal in the sky.

Brady climbed up into the right-hand seat, pleased as anything. "How on earth do you manage all of this all at once?" Fred said, trying to make sense of the buttons and switches, each with a name and label more arcane than the last.

"It's just practice," he offered, "A lot of flight hours. And there's a checklist we go through when we start - fuel levels, pumps, ignition switches. Then we pump and prime the engines and start them one by one. Put your hand here," he said, gesturing to the handle between the two seats. "When we're ready on the runway for takeoff, you'd push this forward -" his hand closed around hers on the double-handled throttle - "and away she goes."

She felt strangely powerful, her hand gripping the bar of the throttle, empowered by the feeling of his hand on top of hers. "So," he said. "What do you think?"

Fred looked out the windows once more. Around them the airfield was deep orange and purple, the sun nearly finished setting over the distant tops of the trees. They weren't all that high up, here in the cockpit, but it was still somehow both wonderful and strange to see the field from this height, and pick out the lights just starting to come on in the distance, the pairs of headlights winking and swerving out of the gates.

"Amazing," she said, her voice full of emotions she didn't know she had. All of this could go up into the sky, and fly and fight and come back down again. Day after day, week after week. Hundreds of men, in hundreds of planes, all of it part of one vast, uncountable effort, beautiful and yet terrible in its beauty.

She looked over at Brady, sitting sideways in the copilot's seat, one foot dangling over the door below, and didn't even have time to think about what was happening before he'd leaned over and kissed her right in the middle of her laughing lips.

Time stopped for a moment, and for a bare second it was only the two of them in the dark, breathing together, lips warm.

"You look so pretty now," he offered, almost breathless. And then his smile fell, and the light went out of his eyes. "Fred, please, say something."

There was pressure behind her temples, a high whine between her ears, a magneto that wasn't powering on. Words failed to connect. "…I think I need to leave."

She didn't quite know where she was going - she'd left the flashlight up front with him. She stumbled down out of the cockpit, taking the easiest route out and launching herself out of the pilot's door onto the dark ground below, the asphalt jarring her knees and eating into her hands.

Somewhere behind her she heard him call her name in the dark, but she was starting the jeep and fumbling it into first, hands shaking against the wheel and feeling like her whole heart was about to burst in her chest the same way she had in the cockpit, filled to the brim with the thought of all that love and all those lovers in the sky.

Her heart was still pounding when she parked and made her way back to the Clubmobile, leaning her forehead against its smooth, safe metal side. It's against the rules. This is against the rules. He kissed me. John Brady kissed me.

And the loudest, strongest thought of all - no one told us at training what to do when you don't know if you don't mind.

#asked and answered #shoshiwrites #tds cinematic universe #freda torvaldsen #i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #john brady x oc #masters of the air oc

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jobrker · 3 months ago

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small canonical details in sweeney todd:

i've been obsessed with this musical for far too long. i will likely be making a second post. enjoy.

lucy could have married up. whether this is due to her family being better off than benjamin or just because she was beautiful, the line in poor thing, "had her chance for the moon on a string" implies that she could have married better than she had. someone who could "afford" to buy her the moon.

lovett's first name is nellie. this comes from a line of dialogue before not while i'm around where she says, "sit here by your aunt nellie like a good boy and look at your lovely muffler."

lovett has an aunt named nettie. nettie lived near the sea and lovett would visit her as a child, explaining her desire to move there. we do not know if aunt nettie is still alive or not.

mr. lovett's first name was albert. he developed gout and possibly passed away due to complications with it.

toby is implied to be an alcoholic. he grew up in a workhouse and he claims that is what they gave to the children.

catholicism was extremely controversial in england during the victorian era. it was just becoming legal in the 1840s. so the fact that pirelli mentions shaving the pope probably isn't very impressive to the crowd of londoners. pirelli, being irish, was probably catholic himself which explains why he brags about it.

during the competition scene between todd and pirelli in the 1970 bond play, todd uses anthony during the tooth-pulling segment and yanks out one of his molars. anthony immediately forgives him, being the good boy he is.

pirelli sees a tailor. this may imply that he makes enough swindling people into buying his elixir that he can afford such an expense whereas a lot of people of his background likely couldn't.

saint dustan's church is what's actually at the address of 186 fleet street. in a string of pearls, the tunnels underneath are used. this explains the bells we hear throughout the show, before not while i'm around and johanna (quartet) and this is the church anthony plans on bringing johanna to in order to marry her.

johanna was a year old when benjamin was sent away.

turpin works at the old bailey. this courthouse has since been destroyed (due to a fire). the "old bailey" was actually a nickname for it because of it the street it was on. it was actually called the central criminal court. it was renamed in 1834. todd was in australia by that point so he likely doesn't know the new name.

lucy sewed, as most victorian women/housewives did.

anthony is from plymouth, a (then) fishing town in south-eastern england.

lovett is uneasy at the idea of discussing what goes on in asylums when todd and anthony begin forming a plan to get johanna back. potentially, this has to do with lucy and knowing her fate.

lovett mentions visiting aunt nettie and the seaside during the august bank holiday. however, this bank holiday wasn't established until 1871. sweeney todd takes place in 1846.

despite knowing that lucy had been prostituting herself, todd still calls her virtuous in his last moments.

todd has some knowledge of engineering and construction since he was able to turn his barber chair from just a chair to one that connects to a chute and can send customers to the bakehouse. he would have to make that chute himself. he possibly learned this from his time in australia.

lovett adopts a few birds between act one and two. they are in a cage outside of the pie shop for customers to enjoy. she also has a garden out there.

act one takes place in august.

#sweeney todd #benjamin barker #lucy barker #nellie lovett #to be honest most of my research is focused on johanna and johanna related things but i save those for my rp blog lol

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levincioooo · 9 months ago

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Midnight Ride (William x Henry Fanfic)

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Warning: sex, teasing, shaming, subjects of homophobia, and slut shaming. You’ve been warned.

Henry was leaned up against the brick wall of the outside of Fredbear’s, breathing in the sweet, savory scent of William’s cigar. Each second felt like an hour as Henry’s impatient wife beckoned him to hurry on up with each ring of the wired phone from inside.

He didn’t find the sound to be of annoyance, he actually enjoyed it. He loved knowing she cared, but William certainly thought otherwise as each beckoning ring of the phone from inside came about.

“Why won’t you just pick it up?”, William wondered out loud, his cold silver eyes fixating on Henry’s.

“Because I’m out here with you. She’ll give up at some point.” Henry thoughtfully replied.

“Some point?” William groaned.

Henry chuckled. He knew it irritated William, but he didn’t mind as he got up from the wall, walking over to William and slightly caressing his thumb into the base of his shoulder. William let out a bit of a moan to the loosening tension, but his eyes stayed on the engine of his car, seemingly trying to figure out what had happened to it.

“It won’t start if you keep on bitching.”, Henry told him, holding back a snicker. “Like your mother used to say, “nothing works if you fool with it in a bad mood.””

“My mother was a incompetent whore.”, William sneered.

“William!”, Henry yelled out, disappointed in how he spoke of his mother. He adored her, she was like cherry pie: sweet in every way. That was true to him at least.

William glimpsed up at Henry, a tad bit of a snarky look met his face. “She was, just because you met a bloody sweet old lady back in the days of high school doesn’t mean she wasn’t going around in bars sleeping with older men.”

“That doesn’t make her a whore, William. She just had issues. Hell, if we are throwing that term around I would call you one.”, Henry told him as his brows furrowed, fidgeting with the hair in front of his face as he swallowed down a slight chuckle at his own words. The audacity of calling William that was enough to make him cackle.

William’s eyes snapped up at him, as did as his back, slamming into his chest. Henry flinched at that, taking a few steps back. William turned around, smirking.

“What makes you say that, Henry?”, he asked him.

“The way you speak to people. You can be so flirty sometimes, charming even. Don’t you find that to be a lot like how you describe a whore, William?”

“Well, yes.”, he responded thickly.

Henry giggled. “Then why fight that, Will’?”

“Because unlike her I don’t go and try to shag every man in sight.”

Henry frowned, rolling his eyes. “Women, William. You get dolly eyed with your wife, but you’ll go off and treat another like an angel from heaven itself.”

“If anything you do the same. I see how you give all those people that dashing awkward smile. It’s so big I’d be surprised if it doesn’t hurt from how much you do it.”, William replied, coming closer to Henry, bringing his hand up and poking him with his pointer finger as he cheekily mimicked his gleeful little expression.

Henry giggled. “And you’re any better? Every time I look at you—god, your smiling ear to ear. It’s so clear it’s fake too!”

William bit back a laugh. “And you’re any better? I remember when that one lady came in complaining—bloody hell, you almost lost it!”

“I had to make sure she didn’t make us lose half of our customers with her screaming…”, Henry snarled.

“Don’t get all pissed, I was just poking at you, Emily. I thought it was adorable.”, William accidentally let slip. His eyes widened a tad, practically instantaneously as he realized what he had let fly out. Every bone in his body stiffened in that momentum, unsure of what to say to save himself. He couldn’t do a thing, it was useless. Henry had already taken it in, especially by the look he gave him.

“Adorable?”, Henry repeated, seemingly needing to generally understand the context behind it. “You think I’m adorable Will’?”, he questioned, a smile building up over his lips.

William’s face felt like a flame, and he bit into his lip. “Shut your trap, Emily.”, William quickly said as he turned his attention back to the engine, bending over and working on it once more. “It’s late anyways. I probably smoked too much, so sod off my arse.” William reasoned as he opened up his cigarette box with a simple flick and took out yet another stick, lighting it with his lighter before popping it into his mouth.

Henry’s nose wrinkled at the smell, but he didn’t bother to complain about it. It was a smell he enamored beneath all of its crudeness. It smelled like William, and it brought back many past memories between them. He could never give up such a thing, even if it was sometimes unpleasant. “If you say so.”, Henry sarcastically said as he rolled his eyes and peaked over William’s shoulder to check on what he was fiddling with.

William frowned, but as he felt weight on his shoulder, that frown changed into a smirk. He enjoyed the feeling of Henry next to him. He could never explain why, but he practically worshiped the feeling as well as him. Who wouldn’t? He thought. It was quite a normality in his eyes.

And Henry didn’t know about that. Which he found to be an understandably good thing. He knew if Henry did, he could be shut out, possibly even called a faggot! He didn’t like the idea, nor did he want to be absent from what he had. Henry was his everything, and he was in every spot before his own wife. He hated it too. He hated it more than anything in this world, but love and jealousy overruled his thoughts when it came to anything over Henry.

*He just couldn’t get enough of him.*

“You know, Alora may be calling as well, I mean, damn Will’... It's close to 12” Henry worriedly warned William, wishing for him not to get into another fight with her due to staying so late with Henry and leaving her with the kids all day long. As unfair as it was, Henry found it to be a common thing. He had acknowledged at this point how much of a workaholic William was, and it concerned him, but he chose better than to confront him about it. He knew William would defend himself to the end, even if his wife was the one telling him about it.

William took out the cigarette from his mouth, and he threw it down, then smashed it into the ground with the heel of his foot. His silver eyes, as dull as they repeatedly had been, held some kind of sparkle of *joy*. “Let her keep calling. Let’s get us a drink. I want her to know she can keep on calling all she wants, but she can sod off how long I stay with my goddamn co-worker. Bloody hell she gets on my nerves”, he told him, mischievous malice sparkling over his charming face and he crossed his arms, his hands twitching for something to hold onto.

Henry took his head off his shoulder, a bit of an unsure look crept up his face. “Then you better be the one to reason with Pauline.”, he said to his, creasing a brow as he gave out a little chuckle.

“Eh, Whateva’.”William brushed off as he took out yet another cigar. “Want one?”, he asked him.

Henry hesitated. “Sure.”, he would finally say, grabbing the cigarette and popping it into his mouth.

He held his face close to William’s, holding his hand up as William came close and lit it. The two both stared at each other in the eyes, something sparked up, and the both of them looked away awkwardly.

“Thank you.”, Henry replied to him before getting into his own car and patting the passenger seat.,”you’re never gonna get that to work, so just come on in. Lock your car.” He told him as he took out the cigarette, exhaling the smoke.

William obliged, locking his car before coming over and sitting right up next to Henry. He looked over at him and grinned, his chipped tooth clear in his cheeky little smile. It made Henry chuckle.

“Your smile is pretty sweet Will’.”Henry complimented as he shoved the keys into its slot and turned them with a click. He took the car out of park and began to drive. His soft brown eyes didn’t focus back on William, manifesting his own picture of his reaction to the comment.

“Thank you Henry.”, William politely replied, tucking a strand of his mullet behind his ear as he stared through the front-view Mirror, gazing at all the cars they whizzed past. “Triple TJ’s?”, William requested.

“Triple TJ’s it is.”, Henry responded with a laugh as he rolled down the windows, throwing out his cigarette as he took a rough turn, settling his hand instinctively over William’s thigh and gripping it **tight**. He didn’t even *notice* it. Even *after* the turn.

It made William *blush*, and the muscles surrounding his firm grip tensed. Henry was strong, but his hands? Oh, his hands were big enough to take the man’s entire waist in hand. This was almost too much for William, and his legs twitched as he forced his stare out the window beside him, attempting to look at all the pretty LED lights passing them by.

Once they arrived, Henry took notice of where his hand was, and quickly took it away, leaving William to flinch at the sudden coldness surrounding the place he had it originally gripping. “**Sorry**—“Henry started.

“Henry, it’s fine. I know you're used to your *wife* in this car!”, William falsely laughed. He hated mentioning that wretched woman. He loathed her very existence, but Henry had no reason to know about *that*.

“Hah, yeah.”, Henry murmured as he got out of the car, waiting for William to do the same as he adjusted his tie. He felt hot and bothered. He couldn’t understand why he did it. It was his best friend! Why did he feel this way towards some simple mistake *he* made? He thought to himself.

William groaned as he got out of his side of the car, looking around the parking lot for anyone else. “Looks like we are going to be served pretty quick, eh?”, he joked, seeing the small amount of cars surrounding theirs.

Henry forced out a laugh. “Seems so! Now, let’s head inside.” He said as he began to walk up to the doors particularly fast, leaving William behind in the dust.

William gave an inquisitive look towards him before following him and trashing his cigar. Before he could even ask him what his deal was, the server greeted them. “Hello, welcome to TJ’s! How many are we expecting?”, she asked in a sweet voice, obviously hiding her tiredness from how late it was.

Henry smiled. “Just two.”

“Alright! You can both find yourselves whatever place you’d like to sit, the waitress will be over there in a moment.”, she responded to his reply, beaming back over to him. Henry’s smile was contagious, and it was ever so obvious to William who held back a bit of laughter at this.

Henry nodded over at the lady and grabbed William’s hand, dragging him over to the bar, William’s hand trembled against Henry’s. His face felt like mush. He wasn’t used to his hands being touched, and the sensitivity from the past spring lock scars was enough to make him bite into his bottom lip. He drilled his nails into the seat to distract himself. Then Henry let go, his face reddening as he too realized how long he had held William’s hand.

Then the bartender swung his way over to them. “What’ll it be tonight, gentlemen?”, he charmingly questioned as he cocked his head to the side.

“Tequila for me, please.”, Henry said.

“Vodka.”, William conjoined.

“I’ll be right with you both with that.”, the bartender told them as he moved off over to the glass bottles, pouring their drinks with precision and focus. Then he slid them both over.

William practically downed his before covering his mouth and swallowing down his reaction to the burn in his throat. “Bloody hell…”, he muttered.

“Christ, Will—“, Henry began before taking a sip of his tequila, his brows creasing at the pain. “Keep drinking like that and you’ll be too drunk to even get back home.”

“Mm, maybe that’s my plan.”, William suggested as his eyes flickered over to Henry, half-lidded. His tone had taken a turn, it was deep and melodic.

Henry practically blushed at that, lowering his head into his chest before laughing nervously. William watched this and grinned. He was well-aware what effects his voice had on people, especially the people in hurricane; the same people who weren’t used to the sound of a British accent. Even Henry, who was used to his accent, couldn't get over the foreignness. William took advantage of that especially as he got up, and heard karaoke being played in the back of the bar.

“Come on, Emily! Why don’t we go and join them in some karaoke? Your voice has always been certainly angelic…”, William offered flirtatiously.

Henry’s face got as red as the inside of a cherry pie, he shook his head, holding his hands up. “Will’, i'd rather not—“

“Come on…”, William pressured before grabbing Henry’s hand after it settled the money that they owed and dragged him on over to the stand, handing him a microphone.

“William!”, Henry yelped, earning himself an unpleasant screech from the microphone before sighing. “You tricky bitch.”Henry cursed under his breath as William drunkly cackled.

Then “Wake Me Up Before You Go” began to play, and Henry tapped his foot to the beat. “Oh god, Will don’t even get me started—“

William shook his hips and got in front of Henry, putting his face close to his as he began to sing. “Jitterbug! Jitterbug! Jitterbug!”

Henry came along with it, “You put the boom-boom into my heart!” He chuckled out as he started to sing.

“Oooh-ooh!”, William echoed.

Then they began to sing together in harmony.

“You send my soul sky-high

When your lovin' starts

Jitterbug into my brain (yeah-yeah)

Goes a bang-bang-bang

'Til my feet do the same!”

William brushed himself up against Henry’s front, turning his head back over to him as they both smiled wide at each other.

“But something's bugging me

Something ain't right

My best friend told me

What you did last night

You left me sleeping in my bed

I was dreaming

But I should've been with you instead…”

Henry buckled his hips into William as William thrusted back, rubbing his ass against his crotch. Then he turned around abruptly.

“Wake me up before you go-go

Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo

Wake me up before you go-go

I don't wanna miss it when you hit that high

Wake me up before you go-go

'Cause I'm not planning on going solo

Wake me up before you go-go, ah

Take me dancing tonight

I wanna hit that high, yeah, yeah!”

“You drive me nuts Will’, you know that?”

“Of course I do Henry, but you love it”, he whispered into his ear, hiding his face against his as he laid an innocent peck against the side of Henry’s face.

Henry practically froze, but their song went on and on, and neither of them wanted to stop.

“You take the grey skies outta my way (ooh-ooh)

You make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day

You turned a bright spark into a flame (yeah-yeah)

My beats per minute never been the same…”

William gave Henry a needy look.

“'Cause you're my lady

I'm your fool

It makes me crazy when you act so cruel

Come on, baby

Let's not fight

We'll go dancing

Everything will be alright!”

Henry’s eyes interlocked with William’s, and a flustered look met his face. He couldn’t help himself but to imagine that man beneath him. William was perfect in every way in his eyes. Better than Pauline, better than anyone else was his own partner. The man so close yet so far from him.

“Wake me up before you go-go

Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo

Wake me up before you go-go

I don't wanna miss it when you hit that high

Wake me up before you go-go

'Cause I'm not planning on going solo

Wake me up before you go-go, ah

Take me dancing tonight

I wanna hit that high, yeah, yeah, yeah, baby!”

William grabbed Henry’s hand, pulling their bodies close to each other with a mischievous beam as they shared their microphones.

“Jitterbug!

Jitterbug!”

William grabbed Henry by his waist, slipping his hand down to his ass secretly and Henry held his waist. It made William bite his lip. His hands were so big, and so dreamy. He wished they were tougher against him.

“Cuddle up, baby

Move in tight

We'll go dancing tomorrow night

It's cold out there

But it's warm in bed

They can dance

We'll stay home instead!”

William’s hand squeezed as he leaned his head into Henry’s neck, hiding himself as he laid sweet and heated kisses against the skin of his neck.

“Wake me up before you go-go

Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo

Wake me up before you go-go

I don't wanna miss it when you hit that high

Wake me up before you go-go

'Cause I'm not planning on going solo

Wake me up before you go-go, ah

Take me dancing tonight

Wake me up before you go-go

Don't you dare to leave me hanging on like a yo-yo!”

Henry held back a whine, and instead grabbed William’s hand, twirling him to the end of their song.

“Take me dancing

A boom-boom-boom-boom, oh!

A boom-boom-boom-boom (yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Take me dancing tonight) ooh-aah

Yeah, yeah!”

The sound of clapping erupted in the room from all sides of the bar and they both giggled to themselves. Little did everyone know they were in for the time of their lives tonight.

Henry was the one this time to haul William out of the place, and out into the car. He shoved William into the passenger side, and hopped himself into the front seat. “Your wife home, Will?”

William was startled, but he drunkenly laughed. “Definitely at her mother’s with the kids by now, complaining about me.”

“Good.” Henry responded. “She’s good for nothing anyways.”

William looked surprised but he laughed by the end of it. He knew deep down for a while now that they both shared the same hate for each other’s marriages. He pushed up his glasses that stood crooked up on the bridge of his nose, laughing at Henry’s eagerness as he pulled out swiftly of their parking space.

They were clearly both in so much need in the heat of the moment they couldn’t help themselves but to touch up on each other during the ride. William’s shirt was teasingly unbuttoned by Henry at a red light. Henry’s thighs were covered by William’s hand at another. William’s neck was littered with kisses at the third. It wasn’t much longer until they gave up, parking at a secluded area.

William and Henry got out of the car, and Henry shoved William into the back, shutting the door behind himself before getting on top of him. “I have been seeing the way you look at me, Will’. I never could figure out why you looked at me the way women would look at me.”, he told him as he laid rough kisses against his neck, practically choking him as William’s back arched beneath him. “And, now it’s all so obvious… you’ve wanted me all this time. Just like this, haven’t you?”, he seductively questioned before sucking on the sensitive side of his neck, the exact place where William felt his entire body heat up, the feeling was like heaven. God had given him a gift he knew he didn’t deserve.

William’s hand traveled to Henry’s shirt, unbuttoning it before forcing Henry to throw it off as he began to suck on Henry’s nipples, biting down on the man and earning himself a pleasurable look from Henry. His eyes rolled up and whimpers escaped him. Henry’s hands risked being thrown off even more as he slid them down to William’s waist where they held him perfectly. They were like each other’s missing puzzle pieces, and Henry became well-aware of that especially as he sunk his nails into William’s body.

“Masochistic fuck…”, Henry whined out as William chuckled.

Then Henry forced William down on the ground. “Turn around," he told him. William obliged.

Henry undid his own and William’s belt, sliding each other’s pants down and watched as pre-cum slid down the tip of his cock, and how it dripped from William’s own dick. It was enough to get him to grin to know his smell was going to be all over his car, and he didn’t even mind. He stroked his cock to the point he almost cried from the sensitiveness. William’s own moans couldn’t sustain either. He wanted him bad, and the vibration was enough to make it all worse.

“L-let me prep myself first,” William insisted as he turned around and leaned up against the car door.

“How about I do it, sweetheart.”, Henry offered, to which William gave a look. A look that begged him to do so with every bone inside his body.

Henry scooted close to William, and he spread his thighs. William bit down hard on his lip, and Henry noticed. Henry kissed him to stop him from harming himself. This kiss became heated quite quickly, leading to Henry sliding his tongue into William’s mouth and sucking hard. It was enough to make him seem like a cannibal from how hungry he was for him.

Then he parted from him, sticking two fingers into William’s mouth. “Suck for me, dear.”

William nodded, looking up at Henry’s with a mix of submissiveness and determination as he sucked on the two fingers, coating them with his own spit for lube. Then Henry took them out with a wet “plop”. William’s eyes flickered Henry’s hand, especially as it lowered down to his tight little hole. Henry inserted one of them, curling it almost imminently, which made William cry out in pain, grabbing onto Henry’s side.

“Are you alright?”, Henry asked softly, shushing his painful cries as he began to briskly thrust the finger in and out to the beat of their hearts.

“Im—mmm…—I’m fine—keep—ah!—going.”William instructed him as his eyes threatened to roll into the back of his head. His brows creased to the pain, but yet, it felt so, so good, he never wanted it to stop. It was like the world around him had paused and he was in the spotlight.

He squirmed as Henry put it yet another finger into him, this time using a quick scissoring motion, one that made him shiver as he shoved up and down William’s ass hole. The wet squelches of skin flooded the car, and so did William’s loud voice. A voice that Henry loved to hear utter his name.

“Henry… Henry…”, he whined as his hips buckled into his hand.

“Good boy…”, Henry told him. “You’re being such a good boy for me, William.”, he repeated as he slid his fingers out, leaving William feeling empty without something else inside of him.

Then he felt Henry’s tip slide in, and then his entire cock. He tried to maintain his composure until he bursted out with cries and almost began to sob himself. “Fuck! Fuck!—you’re so big!”, he moaned out quickly as Henry’s thrusts sped up.

Henry took no care for the pain William felt, he wanted to give him what he deserved, a punishment that he needed to endure for relentlessly pleasuring him in public. For how he rubbed his ass up against his clothes crotch. For how he kissed his neck without any hesitation or reason within his head. He deserved every bit of his cock inside of him.

William’s hands met his own cock, stroking it swiftly as Henry’s thrusts sped up as well. Henry’s hand met William’s hair, tugging it to make him look up at him as they both knew how close they were to finishing.

“Fuck—you’re so goddamn tight!”, Henry cried as he kept going, penetrating him.

William muffled his moans with his hand, shutting his eyes as he was finally meeting his own orgasm. “Henry!—henry—FUCK—IM COMING—“, he screamed as he finally came all over Henry’s chest.

And Henry followed along not too long after, watching as cum spilled out of William's asshole once he pulled out. “Fuck”, he murmured as he collapsed over William.

The two met eyes, and kissed. They knew this night may never happen again, and may be forgotten as well. They knew if this got out, they would never hear the end of it, but as long as they were side by side, it was all going to be alright.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Available on Wattpad & AO3

#willry #helliam #william afton #henry emily #william x henry #smut #ao3 fanfic #bd/sm kink

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averagewriter777 · 2 years ago

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Ghost and Doc (Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader)

Masterlist

(Part Two)

You arrived at your building just in time it seemed. Your group, who you’d grown to call your family these past nine years, was gathered outside, holding a plaque. When you stepped outside your car, you were tackled by all of the men. You shouted at the top of your lungs for them to get off- because “You’re all fucking heavy, get off!” But it was all laughter.

“We’ll miss you here in third, Doc,” one of the other sergeants said while slapping you on the back. “Where do you want your plaque?” He was holding it out. It was made of wood, with your name, rank, and time within the group engraved through fire in the middle.

You shrugged, setting all of your bags down on the ground to look at it. “If you don’t mind giving it to the family next door to me… that’d be fine. They’re the closest to friends I have…” the entire team stared at you, all of them immediately flipping you off. “Except you assholes, geez.” You gave the plaque back.

For one last time, or not for a long time, you stood at attention towards Master Sergeant Ford and the Sergeant Major of the Army. You saluted them, and they saluted back. Once at rest, they patted you on the back and wished you luck.

The entire time throughout your farewell, your new commander, or captain, in this case, was standing and awaiting you to be finished. He was smoking a cigarette with one hand while the other was in his pocket. He put it out when you approached the vehicle, taking one of the bags from your hand. “Jesus, woman, what did you put in ‘ere?”

“Uniforms, medical supplies, some things so I can call my kid, oh- and a few guns and knives. Nothing more,” you said calmly back. You’d be honest in saying that you wanted to snap back to that, but considering he was the captain- it was probably not a good idea. “I can carry my bag, sir, if that’d make you feel better.”

He shook his head, waving your offer off with his free hand. “No need, sergeant. What you can do is drive us to the airbase. We’re flying to Europe so you can meet the rest of the team.” You nodded and pointed to an old blue truck parked in the back of the lot. “That’s your ride? Alright then.”

Your bags went back into the bed of your truck. You took the driver’s seat and your new captain in the passenger. Speaking of… “Sorry sir, never asked for your name.” You mentioned after starting the engine and getting on the road.

“Captain John Price, just Price, or Captain to you, sergeant.” He said while fumbling with a cigarette in his hand. “To let you know, there are two other Sergeants on the team- Soap and Gaz. They’ll give you their real names if it’s important enough, but we go by field names around here… except for me. I’m assuming you have a field name from your previous unit?”

You nodded. “Doc, sir. Nice and simple for my profession.” He raised a brow, saying nothing, so you assume you could continue. “There aren't a lot of women here, you and I both know that. Whether or not that’s just here in the United States or whatever… I worked hard to get where I am today- even if it was only for a medical position. Most of the time, my face was completely hidden in countries we went to because women couldn’t speak their minds there. I’ve been on the field, but I haven’t been on the field- only when it’s necessary. I’m a medic, that’s all. That’s why they call me ‘Doc’.”

Captain Price just nodded in response. “Doc, we'll call you then.” Then the rest of the ride was silent.

You slept through the entirety of the flight to Europe. The night before, you hadn’t gone much sleep- because you’d visited your daughter… not knowing it would be the last time for a while. Your dreams were about the last time you were in the field… it wasn’t pleasant because Captain Price woke you up by shaking your body.

“Doc! C’mon, time to meet your team!” Captain Price helped you up out of your seat. He had this look in his eyes, a question in them that wanted to ask, but he didn’t. “Grab your bags, then meet me off the plane. Your teammates are waiting for you.”

The bags were under your seat, secured. One went on your back, and the other two into your hands. You followed your captain off the plane quietly, thanking the pilots for the easy flight first. They nodded back to you, then went back to their conversation.

Outside of the plane awaited three men. All wore roughly the same ‘civilian’ outfit, you’d call it. Long sleeve shirts that were pulled up a little, revealing their forearms, a pair of cargo pants, and heavy boots. The only difference came with one of them, who was wearing a skull mask and black makeup around his eyes. You gulped at the sight of him.

“A woman, eh? Guess this team could use a little feminine touch,” the one with the sort-of mohawk laughed. You smiled lightly because it reminded you of your last team- ever the female jokes. “I’m Soap, but you can call me John if we’re not on the field.” He had his hand out for you to shake, and you did so.

“Doc, but you can call me (Y/n) if we’re not in the field,” you repeated back to him. He grinned and put his hand down, going to whisper something to the man in the mask next to him.

The next man brought his hand up. “Gaz, the team calls me, I prefer it over my name anyway.” He didn’t tell you his full, so you didn’t ask. You instead gave him your field and regular name.

Last but not least was the man in the skull mask. He loomed over you for a moment, examining every little thing around you before sticking his hand out, not before hearing a “C’mon, Ghost”. “Ghost.” You shook his hand and repeated back what you had told the other two.

Price clapped his hands together to gain everyone’s attention. “Alright, now that introductions have been done through. Soap, I want you to show Doc to her quarters. Then we’ll be meeting up in the team room for training, see what she’s got.”

Soap picked up one of the bags that you’d been holding before, throwing it over his back with ease. “Alright, Doc! To your quarters we go!”

(Part Three)

#mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost x female reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #alejandro vargas

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radifemsara · 7 months ago

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Hey Sara! your blog and many other blogs made me realise a lot of my mistakes and things I had been conditioned to follow. I kinda feel skeptical about doing engineering at the moment as it’s a very male dominated field and I don’t like them but I do like engineering. My family on the other hand is not that supportive saying that I am not determined or ambitious. What’s your opinion on that?

Love you lots btw☺️☺️

I'm glad that you connected with the radfem community here, and I'm very happy knowing you came across my account! Engineering, like most STEM fields, is largely male-dominated, but it is changing, and more and more women are shining! ( Here, the rate of women engineering graduates is among the highest worldwide, and if Moroccan women can do it, then so can you and any other woman. We make better engineers than men).

And yes, while engineering is a hard major at uni, and you'd need to be proficient at physics, maths, computers, if you feel like you can do it, if you like the field, if you see yourself having a future as an engineer, then yes, absolutely! Go for it!

Don't let anyone else dictate your life, even if they're your family or if you love them, especially not your academic life! Education is one of the few ways to escape your family/current situation for many women (myself included) and you being a girl does not change nor influences your chance at graduating with honors AT ALL. It's your hard work as a university student that does!

I think it's YOUR choice and yours only, and if you want my personal opinion, you'll make one hell of an engineer sis!! <3

#women in stem #women are smart #women are powerful #pro women #radical feminist community #radblr #radical feminism #female separatism #radical feminist safe #women in stem are amazing

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butch-reidentified · 10 months ago

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There are many great things about being a woman. Woman have a lot more value than just being weaker men, which is what the media of today seems to be telling us to be, with a few exceptions. But we've actually got something unique and important to offer the world that men do not have, and we can do things that they cannot do or would do very badly.

Femininity is the ability to create nurture life, at least in the vast majority of cases. Femininity exists in the first place to be able to grow something and care for it until it becomes beautiful. This expresses itself in a multitude of ways and not just with women, unless of course you're talking about childbirth. But apart from that femininity is not exclusively a female thing, though there is a heavy correlation.

Before I move onto the next bit of what I want to say, I want to define the word desecration. Desecration is the act of depriving something of its sacred character or the disrespectful contemptuous or destructive treatment of that which is held to be sacred.

The desecration of motherhood and femininity that is common place today is disgusting. It's like the world is spitting at the vulnerability that motherhood and femininity require, calling it weak and silly.

Vulnerability is not the same as weakness. It requires immense courage to be vulnerable because it is terrifying.

Woman are naturally more vulnerable than men for obvious reasons. Sometimes woman have to willingly make themselves vulnerable in a way that men never have to do. Pregnancy would be one of those times, but not the only time.

Vulnerability can be incredibly powerful, it doesn't just require courage to do, it can also be powerful in of itself. It can completely take the wind out of someone's sails in a way approaching them combatively may not have done, and you have to be brave in the first place because you're accepting you might get hurt and just having faith that you won't be.

You can't nurture something without being vulnerable because nurturing requires openness which requires which requires vulnerability which requires courage. It's not weakness because weakness is cowardice. Weakness is useless, vulnerability is not useless, it's necessary, that makes it not weak. The ability to nurture something is valuable, because without it there would be no life without it.

Growing something requires subtlety and intuition, you can't just go hammering at it. That would be silly, which is why femininity is better suited to those purposes.

The ability to create and nurture life is so important because there would be no life without it. Beauty is life and life is beautiful.

Medicine, law, business and engineering. These are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life, but poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. Isn't beauty just life celebrating itself?

You shouldn't feel weak or lesser because you feel you're naturally feminine, and you do not have to become masculine in order to be valuable or worthy or strong. If you don't fit into the masculine idea of strength or success or power, that does not make you lesser.

If you can grow and sustain life and care for things, that is valuable and important and you must treasure it. Being feminine doesn't mean you have to keep your head down and be meek and sweet and let people walk all over you.

Womanhood generally involves a lot of blood and pain even if or before you give birth, and none of that is weakness. Growing things is panful and requires sacrifice and strength as much as softness. You'll grow something weak if you're not strong and you don't have some grit about you. You can't grow a strong upright tree on earth that crumbles

this better be one of those anons that gets spammed to a bunch of ppl bc i don't see how this remotely applies to me or anything I've said on here.

also. what are you even saying? this is all over the place

#mine #ask #anon ask #anon

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stitching-in-time · 2 months ago

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Voyager rewatch s4 ep17: Retrospect

Somehow I'd never seen this one before, and all I can say is thank goodness, because it's far and away the worst episode of Voyager, and one of the worst episodes of Star Trek, I've ever seen. Not only was it full of plot holes you could drive a truck through, but it's whole message was shockingly clueless and insensitive, and honestly made me angry to sit there and watch.

(Long post below the cut- Content Warning for discussion of sexual assault:)

I have no idea who thought this storyline was a good idea- there's like four different writers credited, so hopefully it's just a case of too many cooks spoiling the broth, but if this garbage was what anyone actually set out to make- MAJOR YIKES!

The whole theme of the story is that women shouldn't be believed when they accuse a man of attacking them, and that even investigating such an allegation is a terribly bad thing to do because it will ruin that poor man's life. Really. That's what this episode is about. Even in a pre-Me Too movement world, these were some absolutely rancid takes.

When a used car salesman-ish arms dealer comes to Voyager to try to sell them a cannon, Janeway agrees to trade for it. He's arrogant and rude, he gets angry and bitches at Seven, and tries to shove her out of the way in engineering, to which she responds by punching him in the face. He complains to Janeway that he did nothing wrong and she attacked him unprovoked, which is provably untrue, since it was observed by other characters. The guy is obviously a jerk, and Janeway attributes the incident to Seven's lack of social graces as an ex-Borg, and that's that, it seems.

But then Seven has a panic attack and flees when the Doctor uses medical devices to examine her for her routine check up, which she can't explain. The Doctor finds unusual activity in the memory center of her brain, and decides he's going to be an amateur psychologist today (um, no??? playing psychologist when you're untrained is bad, duh!) and tries to help her delve into her memories to find out why she reacted that way to the medical instruments. Seven rediscovers an incident with used car salesman guy- we see in flashback when she was on an away mission to his planet, when they were alone in his lab. He fired one of the guns they were testing on her, then he experimented on her Borg implants to steal nanoprobes from her, and erased her memory of it.

The whole rest of the episode is basically a rape investigation, since the allegory here is not even a little bit subtle. The alien guy denies it and makes a fuss that he's being persecuted, it will ruin him, he's a poor victim, blah blah. Janeway and Tuvok are shockingly sympathetic to him, and skeptical of Seven from the beginning, which is like, um, wtf??? Just because Seven doesn't like to follow Starfleet rules, it doesn't make her any less credible. (Though why they were even assigning her duties again right after Janeway supposedly took away her access to the ship's systems in the last ep, idk! Wanna know why your disciplinary actions don't work on her, Captain? Because you don't follow through with them! Can't just say you're giving her a time out, and then not do it, and expect her to learn anything.)

At every turn it's suggested that Seven imagined the whole thing, or that she's just remembering incorrectly, which is wild considering how many times they've had aliens or space anomalies messing with their brains before. The whole thing has a major 'she's just a hysterical woman' vibe, which is super gross, and even the Doctor, who seems to be the one character who believes her, seems a little too into the idea that she was attacked, and keeps going on about how she was so horribly violated, and she should be angry, and she'll feel better when her attacker is punished. All of which is like, oh my god, what?? First of all, leave her alone and don't tell her how to feel, and secondly, stop telling her that punishing someone who hurt her will magically make her feel better, that's not how it works!

When they investigate the guy's lab, they find active nanoprobes, which leads them to believe he intentionally fired on Seven, and his planets authorities try to arrest him, but he transports away to a ship and flees. (Which seems a little far fetched that he would have all that in place if he wasn't doing shady stuff, but this episode isn't about logic.)

Back on the ship, they test out Seven's nanoprobes to find out if they would activate whether the phaser was fired intentionally at her, as Seven claims, or overloaded accidentally, as the guy claims. They find that the nanoprobes react the same way either way, which everyone inexplicably takes as proof that alien guy is innocent. What?? That doesn't rule out anything, either thing could still have happened! But they don't investigate further, they consider the case closed. How quickly everyone turns on Seven is legitimately the most chilling thing I've ever seen on the show, and all the more so because it wasn't even supposed to be.

The amount of plot holes here are glaring- Seven and Tom are the only crew who go down to a strange planet, full of aliens with guns, and they split up? For two hours? Without checking in with each other, or the ship? What??? How is that safe?!? That can't possibly be Starfleet procedure- that's a recipe for getting your officers killed. Next, Seven remembers seeing a female lab assistant in her flashback- did they look for her and interview her? No. She also saw them inject another guy they had strapped down in the lab with Borg nanoprobes that started to assimilate him- did they look for this other guy? Or a body that's half Borg buried somewhere? No! That's kind of important!! If they really were stealing Borg technology to use as weapons against people, that's very bad and dangerous, and they absolutely had a duty to investigate that possibility and stop it, but no, they don't. As soon as they get their (totally inconclusive) nanoprobe evidence, they decide Seven is just confused/delusional/whatever, and that alien guy is totally innocent (wtf??). They try to track him down to apologize (wtf??) but he kills himself by blowing his ship up (wtf??) and Seven and the Doctor feel guilty about it (major wtf??) and have learned their valuable lesson about how bad it is to make false accusations. (off the charts wtf!!!!!) I just... cannot even begin to unpack everything wrong with this scenario.

First of all, they went to the trouble of setting the guy up as someone who had acted agressively and lied before, yet then turned around and said, actually, he's totally trustworthy, it's Seven who's wrong for suspecting him, which is such a cop out. Making an episode about how it's wrong to distrust strange men, even when their behavior shows that they're disrespectful and aggressive, is a terrible and harmful message to put out there, especially on a show that kids watched.

Meanwhile, showing the audience what Seven saw, then saying it wasn't real, without bothering to explain what it actually was, feels like being gaslit by a TV episode.

Next, the idea that a mere accusation of wrongdoing could ruin a man's life is, quite frankly, offensive. They can say 'oh but it's an alien culture' all they want- the aliens in Star Trek have always just been thinly veiled allusions to our own society, and in reality, accusations against men rarely have negative consequences for them, even when they're true. The accusers usually get worse consequences than their attackers. Men get believed, and continue to work in their fields, respected and celebrated, while women get doubted, and hated, and slut shamed, and sometimes even targeted for more violence. (I recently read an article about a woman musician in the NY Philharmonic who was drugged and raped by two of her male colleagues, and when she came forward with her story, despite having actual evidence against them, the orchestra believed the men, despite the guys track record of bad behaviour to women, and they fired her instead of them, and told everyone else in the orchestra they were forbidden to even talk to her or listen to anything she said. And this was just a few years ago! The parallels between that situation and this episode are so strong, and realizing that a show you love is taking the side of institutional misogyny is like being hit in the face by someone you trusted.) In the real world, any kind of assault allegations ruin the accusers lives, which is why people only brave coming forward if it's true. That these writers have the audacity to say that the (miniscule) possibilty of someone being falsely accused is worse than the possibilty of someone being assaulted, and worse than their attacker going free to harm more people, is apalling. What was the alternative here? That Seven should have just said nothing? Are they saying she should have just let it sllde, because no matter what might have happened, this guy's reputation was more important?? Jfc, these attitudes are exactly why we need the Me Too Movement! And then to blame Seven for the guy's choice to freak out and kill himself is also apalling. His actions are not her responsibilty- putting that on her is more misogyny.

And then, if we're to believe that he didn't do it, and what Seven remembers isn't what really happened, then what the hell did happen??? They never answer that! They never even bother to investigate at all! If she's having panic attacks and flashbacks, they owe it to her to find out what's going on and help her. Especially since she's often performing delicate work that affects the whole ship, they need to figure out what's going on with her for the safety of the whole crew, so she doesn't have random flashbacks and freak out in the middle of an important mission. (And you know, because they should care about her well-being in an of itself!) They wrote it off as 'oh, she experienced a lot of trauma as a Borg, she's probably just remembering that and getting confused!' but even so, that's something that needs to be addressed! But no, they seem content to let her live with flashbacks or delusions or whatever they are, and never addresss it again. (Sloppy writing alert!!) (Also, how come in every other episode they jump to Tuvok mind melding with someone- but not here?? When an investigation (and a main character's mental health) depends on it?? Janeway should never have let the Doctor run around playing unlicensed psychologist, she should have just asked Tuvok to help Seven find the real memory from the start, and not only would it have avoided this whole situation, we would have had a far more interesting episode.)

And then, to top it all off, in an episode where Seven experiences what may have been an attack or a traumatic memory, it then becomes all about the Doctor! The last scene is him going to the Captain saying that he's going to delete his subroutines that make him want to do more than his medical programming because he got carried away with trying to be a psychologist when he's unqualified, and it made him mess with Seven and led to alien guy's death. (Which tbh, is more self-awareness than he usually has.) But then Captain Janeway says no, don't do that! Who cares what negative consequences your actions have, you should do whatever you want regardless of how it affects other people! I absolve you of responsibilty in this because you Learned Something! (She didn't say it in so many words, but that was the gist.)

It's legitimately one of the grossest episodes I've ever seen, and not worthy of Star Trek at all. I just want brain bleach to scrub it from my memory so I can keep loving the show as much as I did before. This is up there with 'Cogenitor' for the Worst Star Trek Episode Ever prize.

(This is another episode that should come with a trigger warning whenever it's aired, although I wish it would be pulled from rotation altogether. This is full of deeply harmful tropes that should be consigned to the past.)

Tl;dr: The most offensive, misogynist nonsense to pass itself off as Star Trek that I can think of, besides Enterprise's 'Cogenitor'. The absolute worst episode Voyager ever did. 0/10, a failure on every level.

(Addendum: I listened to The Delta Flyers ep after I wrote my recap, and they had co-writer Lisa Klink on to try to defend it, but it honestly doesn't change my opinion of the episode. She said the theme they were originally going for was based on some study that showed that people can be easily led into believing they remembered something that didn't happen, but that was totally lost in the final episode. The Doctor didn't even suggest anything to Seven when he tried to help her retrieve the memory, so you can't construe that as a theme of the actual episode no matter which way you look at it. The use of a female character as the accuser and a male character as the alleged assailant, the use of the words 'he violated me' when Seven recalls an incident that's uncomfortably similar to a drugging and date rape- the parallels are undeniable. That, coupled with the constant questioning of Seven's perceptions, and everyone's quickness to sympathize with the male character, despite him already having demonstated his inclination to mistreat women and then lie about it, are just too much to be able to interpret this episode in any other way in good faith. Even in the 90s, for anyone to be so tone-deaf to not see how this looked- I just can't give anyone a pass here. I was disappointed that Lisa Klink didn't just admit she screwed up- as a writer, if you have to explain what you really meant with a story after the fact, you didn't do your job right. The reason audiences 'misinterpret' this one isn't because they're not smart enough to understand what you were saying, it's because you didn't say it well. They made those choices to put those words on the page, put those characters in those situations- own up to it. Reflect on how your words made your audience feel, take the criticism and learn from it, and do better in the future.)

#star trek: voyager #voyager rewatch #rewatching star trek #star trek voyager

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minamorsart · 11 months ago

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Happy holidays to you 🎄🎁🌟❤️

*whispers* , who do you think deserves better

Lotor or Ben Solo/Kylo Ren

First of all: thank you so much! Happy Holidays to you, too!! I hope you are enjoying this holiday season with your loved ones 🎄🎀☃️💖

And second of all: NOOOO Anon how could you make me choose??! 😭😂😂

My gut reaction is to say both of them, but that's not really the answer we're looking for here, is it? Hehe. So I have tried to seriously consider this and provide a sincere answer to your question.

A quick heads up, I will be mentioning reylo and lotura here and there throughout this little essay!

The most fun part about comparing Ben and Lotor I think comes from the fact that these two are suuuuper similar to one another. I covered this a tiny bit in this ask where I talk about how protective the two of them are, but to reiterate:

Both Lotor and Ben are from sci-fi/fantasy franchises that were released around the same time, both have troubled relationships with their fathers, both are great swordsmen and pilots and engineers, both murdered their fathers, have complicated childhoods, rarely show their true faces to others, killed their dads, fell in love with fierce and powerful women, kissed said fierce and powerful women before shortly dying afterwards, said bye-bye to papa by doin a lil stabby stab, became intergalatic leaders of the most powerful empires in the universe -- oh, and did I mention daddy issues? You tend to find that a lot with long-haired emo boys from fiction. It's just the way it is. And for these two in particular you can also sprinkle in a little "mommy issues" just for funsies.

But in all seriousness, Lotor and Ben share a LOT in common, which is pretty crazy! So who deserves better, really? In order to make a fair judgment my first thought was to take into account their crimes and if they were able to redeem themselves in the end. But this is also fiction. As soon as people slap the label "toxic" on a character or ship, I usually tend to tune them out. This is by no means a hot take, but fiction is a form of escapism. It is a way for people to experience a thing (e.g. horror, adventure, romance) without actually having to experience it. So if we have a couple of sad boys who murder and manipulate people but also want to find love, who's gonna stop us from rooting for them? Absolutely no one!

I digress, but my point is that I usually don't care which character did what and why they're a bad person for it. But even then were Ben and Lotor really all that bad? After all, we learned from "The Rise of Kylo Ren" comics that Ben was ultimately not the one responsible for destroying Luke's Jedi school, and in TROS we found out that he was being manipulated by Palpatine the entire time.

For Lotor, we never really got a clear picture of what exactly he was doing with that Altean colony. To this day I still don't get it! In S6E6 he says, "Many Alteans perished in my quest to unlock the mysteries of quintessence." But then in S8E13 Allura says, "Lotor may have been misguided, but ultimately he wanted to preserve life." Like, what does any of that mean?? There are cracks in the armor, Anon! Cracks!!! Not to mention all of the theories with very convincing evidence that there were a ton of changes made to season 8, and unfortunately I don't think we're ever going to get a solid answer from the showrunners as to what was really supposed to happen.

In the end, the complicated and morally gray choices that Lotor and Ben made throughout their lives are what make their characters so interesting! They did the wrong things for what they believed to be the right reasons. If they didn't come across as the mysterious and devious fellas as they did when we first saw them, we wouldn't be such big fans of them. We would've chosen someone else 😉

So any bad deeds aside, maybe we oughta take a step back and do one last comparison. Most notably, comparing how they died. Ben died saving the person he loved, while Lotor died fighting the person he loved. I would have to argue that Lotor's death was far more gruesome and superfluous than Ben's. Not only did he go mad from all of the raw quintessence coursing through his body, but we find out in season 8 that his body had remained in his ship for three whole years, decayed and melted (seriously whose idea was it to share that imagery? I'm scarred for life) and left to sit there by his own mother.

Ben's passing was also deeply upsetting. I cried in the theater. But you can't deny that it was a peaceful one. From the way his body faded into nothingness, leaving beind only his clothes, the audience is able to assume that he became a Force Ghost (or did he? 🤔). He was battered and beaten, but he brought the woman he loved back to life, and in giving his life to her and helping her defeat Palpatine, he redeemed himself. And not only did he redeem himself, but he was also able to reconcile with both of his parents.

Lotor didn't get to do either of those things. He never got the chance. He was manipulated by both of his parents, and he never had the opportunity to redeem himself on his own terms. You know, for someone who directly influenced the entirety of season 8's plot, Lotor is hardly in it! I suppose he sort of redeemed himself, at least in Allura's eyes, but he was long gone by then. He wasn't around to see any of the stuff going on in season 8, stuff happening specifically FOR him because his mother wanted him back. In season 6 he went out like your average cartoon villain--dying because of his own hubris while the heroes looked on. In season 8 we only get: a flashback episode, him showing up in Allura's bedroom ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), and him copied and pasted into the background as a ghost in the finale, almost like something is amiss in this scene (cracks in the armor, Anon!!!). UGH. You hate to see it.

But at the same time, I'm not too upset that Lotor died if I'm being completely honest with you. At least not anymore, anyway. Don't get me wrong, at the time I cried when his death was confirmed, and then I cried again when Allura died. But at least they get to be together in the afterlife. Ben had a lot going for him. He was only 30 years old when he died, and that's still very young. He could have had a long, happy life with Rey, and to truly redeem himself in the eyes of the resistance, could have devoted his time to restoring peace and order to the galaxy, as well as teach the new generation of Force-wielders alongside Rey.

Lotor, on the other hand, was 10,000 years old. The idea of having lived that long is not only unfathomable, but the fact that he probably spent most of that time being completely alone is just... really, really sad. If I were him I would have been ready to kick the bucket, too. I think the kindest thing to do for him at that point was to give him a peaceful, as well as justified, departure in the series finale. Allura had suffered as well. She had lost everything, just like him, so the two of them finding peace in the afterlife would be the most merciful conclusion, I believe.

Soooo I'm gonna cheat again with my answer 😂 Who deserves better? I would say BOTH of them deserve better, but in different ways. Ben Solo deserved to live, while Lotor deserved a better death.

Thank you so much for this question, Anon! I really had to think a lot about this one, and even though in the end I couldn't actually choose between the two, I still enjoyed coming up with this long-winded answer haha! If you have any further insights you would like to add, or if you even disagree with any of the things I've said, please don't hesitate to say so! I am always happy to discuss anything Ben or Lotor-related 😁 My love for these boys knows no bounds 💖

#asks #meta #lotor #kylo ren #ben solo #lotura #reylo

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mythrae · 1 year ago

Text

Invisible String

Part Two: Clues I Didn't See

Summary: As if by fate, Divya and Dammon are reunited. They both wish it was under better circumstances.

Word Count: 3.8K-ish

Warnings: 18+ (minors do not interact), blood/injuries, otherwise some nice fluff

Author's Notes:

sorry this took me so long to write I got ADHD

click here to read pt 1!

click here to read on ao3!

Where's Dammon?

That was the first and only thing on Divya’s mind as she woke up in her tent, all alone.

The last thing she remembered from the night before was resting her head against his strong, broad chest, the beating of his heart lulling her to sleep. She enjoyed her night with him, truly, but now she was worried that inviting him back to her tent was a foolish thing do.

Hells, she thought, did I say anything stupid last night? She tried to think back and recollect her conversations with Dammon, but nothing stood out in particular. Everything between them seemed… normal.

Did… did I fall asleep while he was talking to me?

“Oh Gods, strike me down, please…” she muttered embarrassingly, opening the flap to her tent to see that the sun was already risen, shining bright in the sky.

As she drowsily stumbled out to the campground, she noticed that she was the last member of the party to wake up. In fact, everyone else already had their belongings packed, camp clothes changed, and ready for whatever adventure the new day would bring them.

She stretched her out body, doing anything she could to wake herself up, when she heard the familiar voice of her fiery friend calling out to her.

“Hey, Div! Come here!” Karlach motioned her over.

Still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Divya trudged over to her companion’s tent, praying to whatever God would listen that this wasn't about her midnight visitor.

“Say, I couldn’t help but spy Dammon leaving your tent earlier this morning."

Oh, Nine Hells...

"What fun did you two get into last night?” Karlach leaned in, wearing a shit-eating grin, “Was he… you know? A good shag?”

“Karlach!” Divya almost shouted, causing Scratch's ears to perk up, “You can’t just ask me about my business like that!”

“Oh, come on soldier, it’s just a bit of morning banter, that’s all!”

“You’re one to talk, Karlach.” Astarion chimed in from his own tent, not once glancing up from the book in his hands. “Let’s not forget what you said about what you’d do to Wyll if your internal engine was fixed…”

“Oi, okay, we get it!” The fiery tiefling fussed at the pale elf, lifting her hands up in surrender, “Fine. What happened last night stays between the two of you.”

“Anyways,” she continued, hands lowering down to her hips, “if you’re wondering why Dammon left so early, I believe Zevlor wanted all the tieflings to leave as soon as dawn broke so they could use as much daylight as possible to travel. At least, that’s what I heard him telling one of the others last night.”

Oh, so I didn’t completely embarrass myself? Well, thank the Gods!

“Hopefully they have a safe journey,” Divya replied. “Hells knows they’ve been through enough already.”

“Indeed, they have,” she heard a deep, burly voice reply from behind. When she turned around, she saw that Halsin was approaching her. He must had stayed the night in camp for him to be here so early in the day. He stood in front of the two tiefling women, casting his shadow on their forms.

“I trust you enjoyed your evening?" He continued, "After all your efforts, it was well deserved.

“Oh, I think she definitely enjoyed it, all right.”

Divya wished Karlach wasn’t literally on fire so she could deliver a swift kick to her shin.

Unphased by the woman's banter, Halsin continued.

“It may be some time before you are afforded another such night - there is much to be done, and I promised I would help you however I could.”

As Halsin continued to speak to the party about traveling to Moonrise Towers, she couldn't help but worry about Dammon and the other tieflings. Sure, they were a tough bunch, but to make it through the Shadow Cursed lands that Halsin was speaking about... it seemed a daunting task, even for her.

Will the others make it? What about the children? Will Dammon be okay?

She tried to shake these thoughts out of her mind, but it was no use. Divya found herself unable to focus on anything else.

***

“You there! Step forward and keep your hands off your weapons!”

There was never really much commotion at the Last Light Inn, so when Dammon heard one of the Harpers shouting, his interest was piqued.

He and the other tiefling refugees hadn’t intended to stay there long, in fact, they had planned to be in Baldur’s Gate by now. However, their caravan was ambushed by members of the Absolute’s cult. Some of them were captured and taken to Moonrise, some of them were killed, and only some of them were lucky enough to get away with their lives. Thankfully, they found the Harpers and the inn when all hope seemed to be lost.

“Easy, she’s with me.” Another Harper responded.

Must’ve ran into them while out in the Shadowcurse, he thought. He didn’t blame these trespassers for wanting to tag along with the Harpers, especially after all the tieflings went through.

Dammon’s makeshift forge in the barn of Last Light was a bit ways away from the entrance to their current safe haven, so he couldn’t make out who these refugees — or intruders — might be. He watched as Jaheira strolled over to the party, her gaze focused on the woman who stood in front of the group.

A warm glow emitted from the druid's hands, followed by a burst of green energy surrounding her and the party's leader. Before she could even process it, the intruder's legs were entangled in a growth of vines, holding her in place.

The woman scoffed, clearly annoyed with Jaheira's cold welcome. “Just this once, I wish people would simply say hello.”

Oh hells, he know that voice anywhere.

Divya?

“Hello,” Jaheira replied to the tiefling monk, a sarcastic smile wiped across her face.

“Look," Divya begged, "Can you at least explain to me why you’re doing this?”

Dammon watched closely as Jaheira pulled a curious-looking jar out of her pocket. Inside, a disgusting pale creature squirmed and writhed in it's tiny enclosure.

An illithid tadpole.

He's heard the Harpers speak about them, briefly. That the leaders of the Absolute cultists were infecting people with the tadpoles to eventually turn them into mind flayers. The cult members called the contaminated "True Souls," for they can hear the voice of their God in their heads. Sounded like something from an awful fairy tale, but seeing as that Elturel could fall into Avernus, almost nothing surprised him anymore.

Jaheira extended her arm out to Divya, holding the parasite's jar close to her head. In an instant, there was a connection between her and the tadpole. He could hear the creature banging aggressively against the glass walls, as her brow knit in pain as she held her head in her hands.

So… she was infected? Dammon thought.

“Please!" She cried out in agony, "I am not… a True Soul…”

He watched as Divya struggled to speak, the tadpole in the jar clearly being the source of her struggle. Jaheira did not seem to feel any sympathy for her, just shaking her head as she held up a signal in her other hand. In a heartbeat, the Harpers standing near her had their crossbow drawn, aimed and ready to strike…

He wanted to stop them in that moment, but he was scared. He was only a refugee himself, after all. They could easily turn the crossbow on him.

But he knew Divya. He knew her as the woman who helped save the Emerald Grove, the one who took down the leaders of the Goblin Camp. She wasn't some monster who was here to sabotage them. If anything, he knew she was here to save them.

As soon as he had gathered up the courage to say something, he saw that a little red tiefling beat him to it.

“STOP!”

He watched as Mol ran to Divya's side, arms outstretched as if to save her from the Harper's wrath.

She pleaded with Jaheira to spare the tiefling monk, sharing how she not only saved the Emerald Grove, took down the goblins, but also saved two of her friends. She went in great detail to share how Arabella was rescued from Kagha and her deadly viper, and how Mirkon had been saved by a flock of harpies.

Hells, Dammon didn't even know she had saved the children. No wonder Mol was sticking out her neck to keep Divya alive.

“I pretty much trust her with my life.” Mol finished, giving Divya a genuine, warm smile.

Jaheira looked to Divya, then back to Mol, then back to Divya once more. Dammon could see the two sides going at war in the druid's mind. He knew her priority was to save as many people as she could from the cult of the Absolute, but it would be extremely risky to allow a tadpole-infected person to stay with the others.

Finally, with an exasperated sigh, the magic in her hands faded away, causing the vines to retreat from Divya's ankles. She had earned the druid's trust... for now.

“Congratulations, you’ve earned yourself the benefit of the doubt.”

As the Harpers were given orders from Jaheira to stand down, he watched Divya's shoulders relax. She had found refuge at the Last Light Inn. And she knew her party was thankful they didn't have to camp in the Shadow Cursed lands at night.

Dammon chuckled to himself, finally walking their way. “And here I thought Jaheira was gonna serve you up for dinner tonight.”

Divya’s head swiveled so fast in his direction, he was worried she had pulled a muscle.

“Dammon!” She shouted, unable to hide her excitement as she ran into his open, strong arms.

He held her tightly in his embrace as she wrapped her arms around his neck, rocking her from side to side. The tip of her tail found his as they wrapped tightly around each other, bringing them even closer together. As his rested his chin on top of her head, he caught a whiff of her scent — one he had longed to smell again after the night they shared together — and as it filled his nostrils, and he felt his knees nearly go weak.

Oh, how he’d missed her.

“What are you doing here?” Divya asked, her feet barely touching the ground as he held her. “I thought you would all make it to Baldur’s Gate by now!”

"Trust me, I did too..." He trailed off, lowering her back to the ground, his arms wrapped loosely around her. "Our caravan was attacked. Us tieflings here are the only ones that survived. Some were captured, and...well..."

"Oh Gods, Dammon," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"I feel the worst for Rolan, honestly." Dammon continued, "Cal and Lia were taken as hostages. I suppose they're at Moonrise Towers. Gods know what they're going through over there."

"Hells... we'll find them, I promise." She assured him, reaching her thumb to brush gently against his cheekbone. "No matter what it takes."

She met his steely blue gaze, sending a warm shiver down her spine. Gods, it felt so good to be back in his arms...

"Um, not to interrupt such a tender moment between you two, but..."

"Ah, Karlach!" Dammon smiled to greet her, feeling Divya's arms slide off of his shoulders. "How's the good ol' engine of yours?"

"It still runs hot, but I have some infernal iron that you can tamper with to help me out. If you're willing, of course."

"More than willing," Dammon replied, motioning to his forge in the barn, "Seek me out after you've rested for a bit, and we can talk a bit more about it."

"Oh, I know you'll be making up for lost time with this one right here," She nodded to Divya, "This one has been worried about you like crazy."

"KARLACH!"

The fiery tiefling stifled a laugh as she watched her companion's face turn bright red. "What? You don't want him to know how anxious she was thinking she'd never see you again — or Gods forbid, you didn't ever want to see her. And to think, it's only been a little more than a ten-day since we've seen you at the tiefling party."

"And why would I ever think that?" Dammon half smiled, looking at Divya burying her face in his shoulder. His hand rested on her lower back, gently rubbing it with his knuckles.

"Ah, I think that's enough teasing the poor girl for one day, I suppose." Karlach finally yielded. "Besides, I think Jaheira wants to speak to us. Something about receiving a blessing from the Shadow Curse."

"I'll be there in a moment." Divya replied, her voice muffled from hiding in Dammon's clothed body. As soon as she was sure Karlach had walked away, she revealed herself, her cheeks still flushed.

"It'll be all right, Divya." Dammon comforted her, giving her a light squeeze with his arm. "Go, join the others. I'll seek you out soon."

***

The tieflings refugees really never seemed to catch a break.

After Divya and her party arrived, so did another unexpected guest — Flaming Fist Marcus, along with an army of winged horrors. They fought hard to capture Isobel and take her to Moonrise Towers, but the refugees at Last Light fought harder, killing all the intruders, without any casualties on their end. Most of those that fought were injured, but it was nothing that a cleric or two couldn’t fix.

Divya was injured pretty badly, but still wore a grin on her face as she helped lead the others to the makeshift infirmary on the inn's first floor. Her pained smile was a dead giveaway to those who knew her that she hurt more than she was letting on, but her party didn't dare comment on it. She was stubborn when it came to matters like this, and they all knew better than to bother her when she was assisting others.

“Divya, please. Rest a moment.” Dammon called to her, watching her carefully from the inn's entrance, “You’re going to make your injuries worse.”

He could see that she had been injured, the fabric of her uniform slashed apart and soaked in blood around her stomach and chest. Whether or not it was her own blood, he didn't know. But what he did know was that she needed medical attention, fast.

“What are you talking about?" She nearly snapped at the infernal mechanic, "I’m fine!”

"Divya-"

Before he could finish his sentence, one of the injured refugees accidentally crashed into her.

She stumbled as she wailed out in pain, followed by collapsing, hard, on the wooden floor of the inn. She tried to put herself back on her feet, but her arms gave out, falling back to the ground again.

Dammon was at her side in a heartbeat, positioning himself underneath her so he could pick her up in one smooth motion, cradling her weak body in his arms.

“Come here, dear.” Dammon whispered, his lips brushing against her forehead. "Let me take care of you."

He hastily carried her to the barn where he kept his forge, walking up the stairs that led to the attic. He held her tightly as he walked up the stairs, fearful that he would slip out of his grasp. Her only signs of life were her heavy breathing and the tight grip she had on his tunic.

The door to the attic was slightly ajar, so he was able to enter with little effort. His space was humble, a few of his belongings scattered about the loft, along with a small table and set of chairs. It wasn't a space he spent much time in, so he felt no need to decorate. He set her down gently on his own bed, propping up a pillow under her head to keep her comfortable.

“How are you feeling?" He asked, his eyes filled with worry as hers stayed shut, "Are you okay?"

She exhaled heavily, slowly opening her eyes. "Dammon... please, don't worry about me."

"I don't think I have a choice." He chuckled, pushing back a few stray hairs from her forehead, damp with sweat. "You took quite a tumble back there. If I were you, I would have gone to a cleric right away."

"I promise I'm fine, just let me — argh!"

She tried to sit up, but her efforts were worthless. She fell back into the mattress with a flustered sigh. She hated feeling weak, fragile, vulnerable, especially when others needed help. She would rather die making sure that others would live than be selfish and care for herself first, that's what she learned in the monastery back in Elturel.

But those days were long gone, cast to the side, just as they did to her.

“Listen, just lie back and do as you’re told, dearest.” He walked towards a table on the other side of the attic, with a box bearing a medical symbol on the front.

“You wanna make me?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He joked, making her heart leap in her chest as she propped herself up on her elbows. “Now, where exactly are you hurt?”

“…across my stomach. One of those wretched winged horrors caught me off guard.”

“I see. Can you undress for me?”

Divya knew why he asked her to take her clothes off, but she couldn't help but blush at the... other implications his question could be interpreted to mean.

However, whenever she tried to move her arms to slide her top off, the pain in her core was too much for her to bear. She was absolutely helpless.

"Uh, Dammon, I think I may need your help..." She called to him, rather sheepishly.

"Of course," He grabbed his medic box, carrying it over to the barrel by his bedside to assist his patient.

He sat next to her on the mattress, coaxing his steady hands underneath her body. Hie guided her to sit up straight, the whimpers of discomfort escaping her lips pulling at his heartstrings. He helped guide her arms up above her head so he could gently slide her bloodied top off, trying his best not to disturb her wound, and placed the clothing in a heap on the floor.

But when Dammon turned his attention to her injury, he felt his heart drop to his stomach.

The winged horror had nearly disemboweled her, the gashes so deep he was worried that they may have scratched more than her vital organs. Her uniform was tight enough that it helped stop some of the bleeding, but it definitely was not sanitary. She could potentially contract an infection at any moment, and if that were the case, she’d be in grave danger.

On top of that, her body had new scars, ones he hadn’t seen during the night they shared together. He noticed the new scar on the side of her face, the ones spanning across her neck and chest, even a few on her thighs. They had all ranged in different stages of healing, He could tell that whatever the refugees had gone through while traveling through the Shadow Cursed lands, her battle had been far worse.

“Nine Hells below, what happened to you?”

“A lot.” She sighed, “Lae’zel led us through a githyanki crèche. They… weren’t too kind to us. I'm surprised they didn't hack off my tail."

He shivered at the thought, tucking his own tail close to his body in response. “Looks like it.” He reached into a bucket and pulled out a washcloth, wet with a substance unfamiliar to her. As she inhaled, the scent filled her nostrils, reminding her of a strong alcohol.

“This’ll sting. Breathe in for me…”

Divya hissed through her teeth as he pressed the cloth directly on her wound. It didn’t just sting, no, it felt as if her body was literally on fire. Her breath quickened as the pain swept through her entire body, gripping at the sheets of his bed with her fingers.

“Hells, Dammon, what are you doing to me?” She felt tears welling up in the corners of her eyes as her body contracted from the pain.

“It’s to help clean the wound.” He explained, calmly. “The cut’s a bit deeper than I thought, and the last thing we need is your wound getting infected.”

"Am... am I going to need stitches?"

"Definitely," he replied, disposing of the dirty cloth in a bucket, "but don't you worry, I have everything we need right here."

His fingers worked quickly with the needle and thread, stitching her back together with ease. Divya was in awe at how the man who's rough, calloused hands worked with metal and heat day in and day out, could be so gentle with her injured, delicate body now.

She gazed upon his face, concentrated on his sewing. "How do you know so much about medicine?"

A small chuckle escaped his lips, his eyes still focused on her wounds, "Working in the forge, you can get hurt easily. Best to handle it yourself when there's not a cleric around."

He tenderly pulled the final stitch, tying the thread in a knot and pulling the rest with his teeth.

"Alright, we're almost done." He said, reaching into his medic box one last time. "I know you won't stay out of trouble, so I need to swaddle you up a bit so the stitches won't open."

He wrapped the bandages around her waist, bringing them down to her hips. She winced as he applied pressure to her newly stitched wounds, but she knew that she would rather have them quickly healed than for them to open up again.

"Thank you, Dammon," she whispered, finally feeling relaxed. Their first day at Last Light Inn may have been troublesome, but with Dammon here, she felt safe. "And... I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier. I hate... I hate being weak."

"It happens to the best of us," he replied, putting the rest of the unused bandages back in the medic box. "We all have to rely on others at some point."

"Well, if I'm going to rely on anyone, I'm glad I can rely on you."

"Any time, dear," he smiled, leaning over to place a kiss on her lips. She responded in kind, lifting her head to press her against him. His hand caressed her face, his thumb idly rubbing against the healed scar over her cheek.

Even now, in her most vulnerable state, he still found her beautiful.

It was almost like he always thought of her that way.

#mythrae writes #bg3 dammon #dammon bg3 #dammon x tav #tiefling tav #bg3 tav #bg3 tiefling #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3

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