#this post brought to you by: sad hormones

[wild-at-mind]

I feel shitty because I can't, like, just, appreciate my happy relationship flaws and all. I have to be constantly making up that I'm not queer enough and therefore should be having way more sex positive kinky encounters with dozens of people in order to have value. Isn't it great how my brain has twisted sex positivity into a way to make myself feel like shit again.

[raysrays]

Kyojuro x wife Reader where the reader is pregnant but the hormones are getting to her, she needs relief and kyojuro is happy to help her out?

Keeping Control

Kyojuro Rengoku X Pregnant Wife! Reader

18+ Content MDNI🚫

CW: Pregnancy, Pregnancy sex, NSFW Content, Comforting Fluff.

This was my first request and I do apologize for the wait and appreciate any inspiration given! Ill be posting request in the order they are received!! Thank you!

Y/N Perspective

I never saw myself as a control freak or someone overly concerned about my health, so I assumed that starting a family would be one of the most joyous and straightforward experiences of my life.

Prior to becoming pregnant, I really looked into extensive research on cravings, contractions, and the most effective home remedies for a smooth birthing experience. I genuinely believed I had everything under control; there was no doubt in my mind that I wouldn't be fully prepared for this baby.

However, that changed once I actually became pregnant. Despite my thorough preparation, there was one thing I hadn't accounted for: the unpredictable nature of hormones.

As a woman, I've definitely dealt with my fair share of hormonal ups and downs, but let me tell you, nothing quite prepares you for the rapid change of pregnancy.

Now at around six months along, I find myself facing all kinds of challenges, not just physically, but mentally as well. One moment, I'm overwhelmed with sadness and emotion, and the next, I'm bursting with joy and excitement. It's really a whirlwind of emotions at the moment.

But you know what's been amazing? Kyojuro. He has been an unwavering source of support throughout this entire journey. He's been by my side, anticipating my needs and ensuring I'm comfortable at all times. Even when he's not around, he entrusts Senjuro with the task until his return.

Usually, I'm all about being independent and tough, but let me tell you, pregnancy has a way of humbling you. I mean, just one wrong look from Kyojuro and I'm on the verge of tears.

Truth be told, it was Kyo who first brought up starting a family. He's been pretty upfront about it since the early days of our relationship. Actually, he's even mentioned wanting multiple children, which is something I'm still wrapping my head around as I navigate this first pregnancy.

But, I love him, and seeing him happy means the world to me. So, even if it means dealing with all these crazy emotions for nine months, I'm all in.

As I've been navigating my feelings and attempting to rein in my emotional outbursts, I've noticed a new sensation, one that caught me off guard.

I've always loved Kyojuro and been drawn to him, hence wanting to have his children, but recently, it's been different. I find myself incredibly attracted to him. Whenever he's near or touches me, I feel an overwhelming sense of arousal.

When he's away, I find my heart and body aching more than usual, caught in a constant need for him. I thought I was hiding it well until recently...

"Is something bothering you, little flame?" Kyojuro asks, his hands busy with the dishes from our dinner.

"No, I'm quite alright," I reassure him with a smile.

It's been almost a week since Kyojuro returned from a high-profile mission, and I've needed him terribly.

He turns off the water and dries his hands before walking over to me.

Leaning in, he places his forehead against mine.

"You're warm, and your face is quite red. Did you catch a cold while I was away?" he asks, his concern evident.

I shake my head no, grateful that he's mistaken my longing for him as something else.

Though I've discussed these feelings with Shinobu and understand they're natural, I still feel a feeling of embarrassment bringing it up to Kyojuro.

He pulls away, placing his hand lovingly on my cheek.

"I need you to be honest with me, my love. I'm worried about you. You've seemed reserved since I returned home. Did I do something wrong?"

The look in his eyes breaks my heart—it's the exact opposite. The only reason I've kept my distance is because I'm afraid my sudden neediness and desires will freak him out.

I gently take his hand off my face and hold it in mine.

"No, Kyo, you've been nothing but perfect. I've just been struggling lately..."

"Struggling with what, my love? Whatever it is, I'll fix it for you. You don't have to worry about a thing!" he says in his usual, loud, happy tone.

I could feel my face growing even redder at his words. I knew he didn’t understand. I knew his intentions were pure, and yet they made me feel so aroused.

I drop his hand and quickly stand up, needing a moment to collect myself.

Maybe I just needed a second to gather my thoughts, and then I'll be fine.

"Y/N, where are you going?" he calls out to me as I start to walk away.

"I just need some fresh air. I'll be right back," I begin, but I'm cut off by two strong hands firmly holding onto my hips, keeping me in place.

Kyojuro slowly turns me to face him, his expression now more serious.

"Stop avoiding me, little flame. What's gotten into you?" His tone now stern.

Had he done this at any other time, I would have started sobbing uncontrollably, thinking he's angry with me. But right now...

Right now, the way he's looking at me has me feeling desperate.

I squeeze my thighs together tightly, attempting to avoid his intense gaze. If I don't break away soon, I know I'll cave and lose control.

He gently grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. A wide grin spreads across his face.

"It seems like my sweet wife has been hiding something from me. Am I correct?" he says, referencing my trembling legs.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I reply unconvincingly.

He then pulls my face closer, pressing his lips firmly against mine.

In that moment, I feel like my heart is going to burst. I crave more. I need him.

I accidentally let out a small moan against his lips.

He pulls back, a smirk playing on his lips as his hands trail down my sides, circling around my pregnant stomach.

"I didn't realize my poor wife had been feeling so unsatisfied. Please, allow me to assist you with your troubles."

He then scooped me up off my feet, carrying us back to our room at the back of the estate. Being carried like this by him only intensifies my attraction to him.

Feeling his muscles flex as he carries me and the gentle way he lays me on the back of our shared futon

I watch as Kyojuro sits on his knees beside me, his eyes scanning me hungrily.

He's the one who makes the first move, kissing me gently and slipping his tongue into my mouth.

His hands explore my body, eventually making their way under my clothes.

Kyojuro is normally so gentle and loving when we make love.

However, I've noticed a difference in his approach tonight, a subtle change in his demeanor.

"Little flame, you're driving me insane," he mutters into my ear, his lips trailing kisses down my neck.

A shiver runs through me.

"Kyo, I've been trying to tell you, but..."

"Tell me what, my love? Why you've been avoiding me? Or why you’ve been suppressing your desire for me?”

The way he’s talking is so unlike him. And yet, it makes me feel hot all over.

"Kyo, I..."

"Yes, Y/N, tell me."

"I want you."

"Hmm? That's not the answer I'm looking for. Tell me what you really want."

"I want you inside of me," I admit, my voice quiet.

He smiles before moving on top of me, his body hovering over mine.

"See? Was that so hard?" he whispers in my ear before gently biting it softly.

"Please, Kyo, I want you so badly. I can't take it anymore," I beg, grinding against him slightly.

"You've been such a good girl, my flame. Now, be patient, okay?"

I nod, watching him intently.

He gently parts my clothes, revealing my naked pregnant body.

"You're so beautiful, my love."

He leans in, planting small kisses all over my swollen breasts, causing me to squirm underneath him.

"Don't worry, I won't tease you too much."

He moves further down my body, his mouth lingering at my hips.

I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. I'm already soaked and desperate for him.

"Please, Kyo," I beg again, my breathing shallow.

He grins before parting my legs and running his fingers through my folds.

"You're so wet. Is this all for me?"

"All for you," I breathe out.

"I seem to have kept you waiting my love, I think it's time to reward you."

"Kyo," I call out to him, unsure if this is all real.

I reach out for him, and he leans into my hand.

"What is it, little flame?"

"I love you, Kyo," I say softly, my voice cracking.

He looks at me, his eyes softening.

"I love you too, Y/N. More than anything."

He then leans forward, and with his eyes locked on mine, he licks my slit.

I let out an unintentionally loud moan, my body shuddering.

"You taste so good.” he praises before continuing.

"Kyojuro please. Don't stop," I plead.

He's devouring me like I'm his favorite meal, his tongue running through my folds before settling on my swollen clit.

He sucks on it, his lips gently grazing the sensitive bud, sending the much needed waves of pleasure through my body.

"You're so amazing, I can't get enough of you," he says before going back to work.

His relentless pace, the way he's moaning as he eats me out, the way he's looking up at me, watching me, is all too much.

"Kyo, I'm going to cum. Please, don't stop."

He wraps his arms around my legs, gripping my ass and pushing my hips down, preventing me from escaping his hold.

"Come for me, Y/N," he commands, his tongue circling my clit.

My mind goes blank, my whole body tensing.

I bite my lip til I can’t hold back anymore.

The sensation is overwhelming, and my orgasm rocks through my body, causing me to convulse.

Kyojuro's arms tighten around me, holding me in place as he continues to eat me out, prolonging the feeling.

"Kyojuro, I can’t." I whine.

"Shh, you're okay. You did so well. Let's try for another, shall we?"

I barely have time to react before he's back at it, sucking and licking my sensitive clit.

"You’re doing so good for me my love."

His words of praise are all it takes for another wave of pleasure to roll over me.

"It's too much!" I cry out, unable to hold back.

He finally pulls away, a smirk on his face.

"You did so good my dear. You took that so well."

He then leans back and starts to undress, his eyes never leaving mine.

"God, I've missed you," he says as he undoes his belt, removing his pants, revealing his hard cock.

He takes it in his hand, pumping himself slowly.

"Look at what you've done, little flame. Do you see how good you make me feel?"

"Kyojuro, I've missed you so much."

"I'm all yours, my flame. Just say the word."

"Please, Kyo. Please, fuck me."

He leans in, kissing me passionately before lining his cock up with my entrance.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, I can't wait any longer."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

He slides his cock inside of me, letting out a deep groan as he does.

"You're so tight, Y/N."

Once he's fully inside of me, he pauses, giving me a moment to adjust to his size.

"You feel so good."

"So do you." I breath out.

He begins thrusting, slow and deep.

"Fuck, I've missed this so much. You feel so good."

I felt myself clench around him at his words. Kyojuro doesn’t usually curse but when he does it’s so hot.

He's breathing heavily, his muscles flexing with each thrust.

"You're doing so well, Y/N. You’re already getting me so close.”

He groans, his cock twitching inside of me.

"You're so good, Y/N. You're driving me crazy."

"Please, Kyo. Please."

"You're such a good girl, begging for me."

He pounds into me, his hips slamming against mine.

"I'm gonna cum, my love."

"Do it, Kyo, please."

He grunts, his cock pulsing inside of me, his seed filling me up.

He collapses on the futon next to me, both of us breathless.

"How are you feeling, little flame? I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?" He places a hand on top of my stomach, rubbing it gently.

"I feel so much better now, Kyo. Thank you." I plant a small kiss on his cheek as he pulls me closer, holding me tight.

"You know you don’t have to hide your feelings from me, sunflower. I'll always be here to love and support you, no matter what you need. You're carrying my child, let me ease your body whenever you wish."

I feel him running his fingers through my hair, planting small kisses on my forehead.

Now that I've finally let out all those pent-up emotions, I feel utterly exhausted. All I want to do is lay here in his arms until the baby arrives.

Then, I'm sure I'll be more than ready to give him another one.

[bellaxgiornata]

Cabbage & Tears

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Mom!Reader Word Count: 2.3k [Collection Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: breastfeeding, postpartum hormones, emotional hurt/comfort, and a little sweet Matty fluff

Summary: For the past week since Matt and you had both been home with your newborn, you've been struggling with the initial drop in your hormones post-birth and breastfeeding. But tonight you finally hit a new low while Matt is out.

a/n: I'm attempting to keep these "blurbs" (I know, this one is more of the length of a one shot) as realistic to postpartum and pregnancy experiences as possible. Also, Matt was too perfect for this idea with his senses. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Collection Tag List: @danzer8705 @glowstick-lesbian @flowher @geminadeckerwritesstuff @shiorimakibawrites @beezusvreeland @ebathory997 @maryyymothhh @4happilyeverafter @sleepysleepymom @kezibear @charmedkim @midnightramble @carolinaxvz @1988-fiend @marcysbear

Sliding the bedroom door shut carefully after yourself, you held your breath in anticipation of the oncoming high-pitched wails from behind the solid wood door. It had become quite the familiar sound in the apartment over the past week now ever since you and Matt had brought your baby boy home from the hospital.

Standing entirely still at the door for a good few seconds, you continued to hold your breath, your hands still grasping the door handle in case you needed to head back into the bedroom to comfort your week old newborn. It was a long moment before you dared to finally take a breath in, the tension leaving your muscles when the apartment wasn't suddenly filled with the sound of a newborn crying again. Releasing a sigh of relief, you were satisfied that you'd finally managed to get the baby down to sleep for a bit tonight. 

Hands falling away from the door, you glanced down at your chest. Your breasts were sore and engorged, pain radiating through them as they sat confined in your nursing bra. For the past two days you had been struggling with the increased milk production that your son's recent cluster feeding had brought on. Now the next chore you needed to tackle on your list since you finally had a free moment was to unclog the milk ducts that you swore were leading you straight towards mastitis. From what you'd read about the infection online, and from how you'd been feeling further run down since you'd woken this morning, you figured you were already teetering dangerously on the cusp of it.

Slowly shuffling your way towards the kitchen on bare feet in the silent apartment, the light from the billboard across the street illuminating the space in tones of purple, you felt a wave of unprompted sadness wash over you. Truthfully you'd had these random moments of feeling absolutely miserable ever since giving birth, even if you were still overwhelmingly happy and in love with Matt and your new little addition. But now you weren't sleeping well through the night with the baby here, even if Matt was awake helping you as much as he could. And the over-the-counter medication that you were able to take only mildly helped to relieve the pain you were still experiencing in the aftermath of childbirth. Not to mention, having to wear the equivalent of a diaper afterwards in front of Matt had only made you feel worse about yourself and your changed body.

You knew all the crying you'd been doing lately was due to the significant drop in your hormones that you'd been warned about. The ones that made you an emotional mess far more than you'd ever been on just your period alone. You'd spent most of yesterday at home with the baby just periodically sobbing while Matt was at the office, and more than half the time you were aware the tears were unnecessary. You hadn't wanted Matt to know that you'd been crying at home though, so you'd done your best to fight the melancholic feelings back once it neared time for him to return from work that evening. If he somehow had picked up on the fact that you'd been crying with his heightened senses, he hadn't said anything. 

You had been determined not to bother him with your problems–something you'd been doing ever since you'd first found out that you were pregnant. Your problems just seemed trivial in comparison to what he was dealing with at the law firm and as Daredevil. So you kept pretending like you were fine, pulling out your usual tricks to keep Matt's senses from detecting any lies. Which was why you'd practically urged him to go out again tonight. You knew there was something big going on in the city and he was clearly itching to deal with it, and you had wanted some time alone to stop pretending that you were fine–and so you could deal with your clogged milk ducts while crying in peace. So you’d promised him that you had no issue watching the baby for a few hours more by yourself while he went out. 

And now that you were really alone, you felt the tears coming again as you stopped in the kitchen. Opening the fridge door, you carefully bent down towards the vegetable drawer and tried to ignore the pain shooting through your body at the movement. Reaching your hand into the drawer, you pulled out the produce bag which contained a fresh head of cabbage. 

Gently closing the fridge door with the produce bag in hand, a few tears slipping out of your eyes and trailing warm tracks down your cheeks, you brought the cabbage over to the counter by the sink. Feeling pathetic with what you were about to do as the tears began to pick up their pace, you began to tear a few leaves from off the head of cabbage. Switching on the nearby faucet, you rinsed them briefly under cold water as a choked sob fell out of you. 

You'd already tried many things for the clogged ducts by now, most of which seemed to prove fruitless. Warm compresses, hand expression, steamy showers, bags of ice on your chest throughout the day. You'd even desperately grabbed your vibrator and used it to massage your breasts in the hopes of breaking the clog and finding relief after some tips you'd read online, but nothing had really worked. Now you were so desperate that you'd had a head of cabbage delivered to the apartment this evening–which had woken the baby as he'd just been about to fall asleep on you an hour ago–to try what amounted to an old wives tale. But you were desperate for relief, so here you were willing to stuff leaves of cold, damp cabbage into your nursing bra.

As you stood by the sink adjusting the leaves in your bra, you felt like you'd hit a new low. The tears continued to fall despite the comforting chill of the cabbage that was reducing the burning ache of your breasts. With a sigh you readjusted your shirt before putting the rest of the head of cabbage back into the produce bag. 

Turning and heading back over to the fridge, you placed the bag back into the vegetable drawer just as the sound of the roof access door opened in the other room. The unmistakable heavy footfalls of Matt's boots had your eyelids slowly lowering, a soft sigh escaping you. You'd hoped he would be out for a bit longer still, not wanting him to witness you like this right now. 

“Sweetheart?” Matt called out, his booted feet making their way down the stairs to the living room. “Is something wrong?”

Inhaling a deep breath in, you willed the tears to stop as you closed the fridge door. Wiping the back of your hand across your damp cheeks, you shook your head and tried your best to smile.

“Just tired, Matty,” you answered him. “And I've got a bad headache. You know, from the lack of sleep.”

As you made your way out of the kitchen and over towards the living room, you saw the way Matt’s head curiously canted to the side at your response. The billboard across the street was casting a yellow glow over him as he removed the horned cowl from his head, his sweat-dampened hair clinging to his forehead. 

“So was your night successful?” you asked him, hoping to change the subject.

“Yeah, it was,” he answered off-handedly. “Why have you been crying, sweetheart?”

“Oh, I–I wasn't. Not really,” you said before you could stop yourself. Catching the way the corners of his lips curved downwards, you realized he'd probably caught the lie in your words. “I mean, it was just rough getting him to sleep again tonight,” you backtracked quickly. “And you know–crazy hormones and all.”

Matt tossed his cowl onto the coffee table, his eyes narrowing curiously as they studied you. It didn't escape your notice how he was focused on your chest, clearly listening to your heartbeat and your body. Crossing your arms over yourself, you mentally prepared for the expected onslaught of questions as he made his way towards you. 

You expected him to probe further about the scent of your fresh tears in the apartment, or the skip in your heartbeat when you'd answered him. Maybe even the waver in your voice that you weren't convinced you'd successfully hidden this time. But what you hadn't expected was the way he'd stopped a foot away from you, his nose twitching as he visibly sniffed the air before pulling a face.

“Sweetheart,” he began slowly, his face twisted in distaste, “why do I smell…cabbage?”

It was impossible for you to control your reaction to his question. Your face immediately scrunched up, tears once more filling your eyes and spilling hot and warm down your cheeks. You felt a surge of sadness hit you hard as you abruptly crumpled in half, a sob flying out of you that you tried to muffle behind your hands.

Matt darted forward instinctively the moment you'd moved. His hands grasped tight onto your shoulders, keeping you upright as a look of concern drew itself across his face. His eyes were frantically scanning around you, darting over your face and then jumping down towards your body. 

“Hey, what's wrong? What's going on?” he asked. 

You could hear the strain in his tone as he clearly struggled to remain calm. Eyes snapping shut as the tears continued to race down your cheeks, you shook your head as Matt pulled you tight into his chest. Turning your face, you buried it against the strange material of his red suit, your arms wrapping back around yourself in a tight hug.

“It's me,” you croaked out. “I smell like cabbage.”

Matt's hands, which had soothingly been running up and down your back, briefly paused at what you'd said. You didn't dare move your face from where it was pressed against his chest, too embarrassed to see the expression on his face.

“I…don't understand,” he replied carefully.

Trying to fight back a sob, you answered him, your voice muffled by his suit. “I have some clogged ducts,” you began. “From the cluster feeding. Nothing is–is clearing them. Pretty sure there's an infection starting now.” You paused, exhaling a shaky breath. “I've tried everything. Everything recommended online except–except stuffing stupid cabbage in my bra.”

Your voice broke on the last few words, cracking as more tears spilled faster from your eyes. Unwrapping your arms from your chest, your hands clutched pathetically at Matt’s suit, your body aching from the flu-like symptoms you'd already begun experiencing.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Matt murmured tenderly, his arms wrapping tighter around you. “No wonder it feels like your body is warmer tonight. You've got the beginning of a fever, don't you?”

You nodded wordlessly, your eyes still closed as you clung to him for comfort. Though even you could smell the scent of cabbage filling your nose as you did, the scent of it making you feel even more pathetic.

“Why didn't you say anything?” Matt asked gently “I could have stayed home. Tried to help you or even just watched the little nugget so you could take care of yourself.”

Face still hidden against Matt, you shrugged. “Because it's stupid in comparison to what you're dealing with,” you muttered. “And I thought I could handle it.”

“You have the beginning of an infection,” he countered softly, his hands still making soothing patterns on your back. “That's not stupid, sweetheart.”

“I feel awful,” you whispered into his chest. “Feels like I'm sick.”

Matt sighed, his arms still firmly holding you to himself. Lowering his head, you felt him press his nose into your hair before affectionately placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I can tell,” he told you. “Your body is definitely fighting off an infection. Why don't you get into bed and I'll find a way to help you once I get out of the suit?” 

Reluctantly releasing your arms from around Matt, you leaned back and examined the serious expression on his face. His arms were still loosely holding your waist, his eyes focused around your heart as he waited for an answer. 

“Are you sure you want me to get in the bed? I'll most likely make it smell like cabbage,” you pointed out, half-joking but half-serious. “Knowing you, you'd probably smell it for weeks.”

Matt chuckled before gesturing his head over his shoulder towards the bedroom. “Yes, go on, sweetheart, I'm sure. You could make the bed smell like rotten eggs for all I care if it would help you. Now go,” he pressed, lightly pushing you towards the bedroom. “Go get in bed and let me take care of you for once. And if our little nugget wakes up, I'll take care of him, too. You need some rest.”

A small smile slipped onto your face as you nodded. “Thanks, Matty,” you murmured. 

“Don't thank me, angel,” he replied. “We're in this together, right? You, me, and the little nugget you’ve got sleeping soundly in there.”

“Right,” you agreed softly.

Matt released his hold on you slowly before you began making your way around him and towards the bedroom. As you neared the door, you heard the familiar sounds of Matt beginning to slip out of his suit and you found yourself grateful that he'd come home when he had to help you. Even if you felt absolutely foolish with cabbage currently stuffed in your bra, because you had a feeling this would be a moment you both looked back on and laughed about in the future. 

[angelicnymph]

♟Mafia Boyfriend Geto Suguru comforting you during your period♟

!!Cw: Slight Mafia mention, Both reader and Suguru are consenting adults, no kidnapping involved, reader voluntarily went to Suguru, abusive family.

NOTE: You are still living at your old house with your family.

Kindly please support me by liking and reblogging my posts. It helps a lot. <3

You woke up this morning feeling something wet dripping in your underwear. You quickly went to the bathroom and took a warm shower, pour hot water in your hot bag and flop back to bed as you were in excruciating pain due to your cramps. You curled yourself into a ball, and fell asleep.

You woke up again in the afternoon and exchanged texts with your boyfriend. He apologised that he wasn't available this morning as he went on a mission. You shrugged it away and told him it was alright as you could manage your period.

18 00

You got out of your room, passing by the living room to go to the bathroom to do your business when you heard your bitchy aunt mentioning your name.

"You see Y/n could have done the job. After all, she just laid on her bed all day doing nothing.",

upon hearing this from your aunt, knowing she brought this up because she knew you were passing down and could hear her, your anger got the best of you. Your hormones were kicking you as well. You were in excruciating pain since this morning.. you were tossing around in your bed, hell you could barely make it to the bathroom without fainting.

"Well if you checked up on me, you would see why I was laying on my bed whole day. I was in pain."

You were going to rant on more to her but you decided to cut your conversation short as she would only give you a migraine with her bitchy attitude.

You went to the bathroom, did your business and then went to your room and started overthinking about your recent interaction with your aunt.

Just then, like an angel, your boyfriend, Suguru, called you.

Suguru: Hello Princess. How are you doing ? Is it paining too much?

You: Hi baby. Uhm it's- it's okay.

<Suguru could sense you weren't doing good. In fact he knew about your household issues>

Suguru: Baby. Dont lie to me. Tell me what's going on? Is it that aunt of yours again?

<you couldn't bear it any longer, as your hormones were really kicking in, your cramps came back as you started rambling about everything to him, how you were basically suffering since you woke up, the comments your aunt made about you despite you ignored her and how you feel so sad right now>

Suguru: That bitch!

Suguru: Baby. Do me a favour. You know that convenience store in your locality ?

You: Yeah. What about it?

Suguru: Come.

<Suguru actually just wanted to see you. But given the incidents, he decided you'll be spending a few days at his place. He happened to be in your hometown as he had his mission in a nearby town and he had to pass by to get home.>

You: What? Baby you are here?

Suguru: Yes sweetheart. Thought I'd just come to see your pretty face but given the recent incidents, I'm taking you with me babe. Ain't no way I'm letting my girl spend her vulnerable days in such a shitty house with a bitchy family. I'll be waiting for you Princess.

With that, you both cut the call as you took a small bag, put your necessary underwears, pad, a few other essentials. You didn't bother to bring clothes except a few comfortable nightwears as you already had a few t-shirts at Suguru's, more like his t-shirts which he gave you.

You quickly made your way to the convenience store as you spot a familiar man with a halfbun, long hair draping over his back leaning over a familiar range rover.

You couldn't bear it anymore as you launch yourself in his arms. Fortunately, Suguru parked a bit further away in the dark where people wouldn't really spot you both.

You held him tight as you buried your face in his chest as you cried your heart out and ramble everything to him, while he just hug you tight, pressing kisses on your forehead and whispering "it's okay" "I'm here now" "I'll take care of you" to you softly.

He waited for you calm down by yourself as you pulled away from him sniffing with glossy eyes, his arms still tight on your waist. He looked at you for a few seconds before pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

"You feeling better baby?"

You just nodded as he took your small bag, took a peak inside and put it in his car.

"Do you need anything more princess? Are you having a particular cravings?"

You simply whispered no.

"Hmm okay. Let's get in the car then baby.", he said as he opened the door to the passenger seat. You climbed inside as he quickly went to the driver seat. He reached a bag from the backseat as he gave it to you.

You looked inside as you saw your usual period cravings and the tampon/pad you used in the correct size. You simply smiled as you looked at him, noticing that he was already looking at you.

You leaned to hug him again which he gladly obliged as he pressed a kiss on your forehead, another one your nose and finally one your lips before you both pulled away and Suguru fastened your seat belt before fastening his and he took off.

While Suguru was driving, you texted your mom that you went to stay with Suguru. Your mom knew your relationship with Suguru and was supportive about it given how much hardships you go through with your other family members and she knew how much you deserved to be with Suguru.

You put you phone in the cup holder as you finished texting your mom and sighed as you looked outside the window.

Suguru reached a hand on your thigh giving it a squeeze as you looked at him.

"Thank you so much Suguru. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Baby it's okay. Afterall what kind of man would I be if I let my girlfriend suffer in such a shitty environment? You don't deserve this babe. You deserve so so much better. "

The rest of the ride was silent with the music playing in the background as you looked outside and Suguru focused on the road.

Suguru knew that as much as you crave contact, you needed mental space sometimes so he did provide it to you. But he also let you know that he's there by constantly keeping his hand on your thigh.

20 15

You both reached Suguru's penthouse in the City as he parked his car and get you out of the car.

He quickly gave you your bag and the other bag containing the things he brought for you before scooping you in his arms and carrying you upstairs claiming that he doesn't want to let you climb the stairs because he's the man.

He let you down as soon as you both reached the kitchen as he told you to make yourself home.

"Baby did you eat yet?"

"Uh not really. But I'm kind of craving potato Wedges and I was hoping if I could bake some?"

"Oh- how about you go have a shower and I bake you some?"

You insisted that he went shower first given that he was working all day but he simply urged you to go first and that's how you found yourself having a hot steamy shower while he was preparing your potatoes.

You came back to the kitchen in a pair of shorts and Suguru's old t-shirt. Suguru quickly saw you as you ran into his arms once again. He kissed your cheek as he told you he's going to take a shower and if you could just bring out the baked potato Wedges once it was ready.

You sat on the counter of the kitchen watching tiktoks before the oven clicked and you took out the potato Wedges.

That's when you noticed the smoothie in the blender. You assumed that it was protein smoothie for Suguru which he was preparing as the smoothie was still cold.

You poured the smoothie in a beer glass and you brought the blender to the sink.

As you were washing it, you felt someone behind you and before you could tell anything, you felt a hot water bag pressed to your tummy.

"What's my princess doing?" he whispered in your ear.

"Was just washing the blender."

"Oh- my protein shake is ready.", Suguru said as he took at the glass of protein shake on the counter and drank it.

You looked at him as he was drinking the protein shake as he raised an eyebrow at you.

"You want some?"

"Yeah. I was actually craving some milk."

Suguru smirked at you as he got out a shot glass and poured some for you as he handed it to you and continued drinking his own.

You looked at the shot glass and then drank it up. It was thick.

"That's not milk."

"It is. I just mixed oats and protein powder with it."

Suguru said as he finished drinking his protein shake and put it in the sink.

You put yours too and was going to wash it as Suguru stopped you and started washing it himself.

"Take the Wedges and go sit on the sofa baby. Pick a movie."

You complied to him as you went to the sofa and picked a random movie as he came to you not so long after. You both shared the Wedges as you watched the movie, occasionally laughing and giggling and throwing comments about the film.

As soon as you finished eating, Suguru paused the movie and took you to the bathroom where he passed you a new toothbrush and toothpaste as you both carried on with your night routine.

You both then returned to the living room to continue your movie. You snuggled to him as you loved his body warmth, it was better than your water bottle. You cling onto him like a koala as he circled his arm around you and started massaging the knots in your belly, providing you comfort. Your eyes started feeling heavy listening to his heartbeats as your head was on his chest as well.

22 15

It didn't take long for you to fall asleep as Suguru switched off the TV and picked you up and went to his bedroom. He removed his shirt as he wanted to provide you much body warmth as he could, checked if your water bottle was still warm enough and then slid behind you and spooned you.

You sighed in content in your sleep due to the surrounding warmth as Suguru turned off the lamps and pressed a kiss on your nape and drifted to sleep himself.

[professional-benaddict]

part 19 of the omegaverse au🖤 and previous part by @winterspiderpurrs in the reblog here

everything is being posted on AO3 so follow the story here 🖤

“All right, let’s get started. Calling Doctor Stephen Strange to the witness stand.”

The doctor in question stood up and straightened his suit as he headed up to the wooden witness stand.

Tony had mostly spent the day at court keeping his head down a bit. His lawyers adviced him to try and seem as non-threatning as possible. Luckily, the judge wouldn’t cave into OPS’ lawyers demands to have Tony handcuffed, so he was free to move around.

The shaved patch on Tony’s head had started to grow again, and his scar was mostly covered by hair now, but still a bit pink and soft. He had gotten to shave his facial hair before the trial, so he was back in his beloved goatee. He felt more like himself, but not entirely. He didn’t have much of an appetite, so the suit that Ben and Harley had brought him from home sat a little more loosely on his frame.

The Alphas hands, and whole body frankly, ached for the feeling of having his Omega close. Peter’s scent from behind him gave him some comfort, and hope. As did the fact that Stephen was going up there to defend him. Even if he had a bruised jaw which he could have used to get Tony in prison, easily.

Tony’s lips twitched upwards in a shaky smile as he met Stephen’s eyes from where he now sat on the stand.

The judge had the doctor go through the formalities, stating his oath to speak the truth, then his full name and profession. And, his relation to Tony.

“Tony’s a good friend, an old friend, and now very recently he was also a patient of mine.”

“How did you first meet the defendant?”

“Oh… At a party, when we were in college. Then we started hanging out more and more. We were friends for many years before he even met Peter, and have been ever since. I love their three kids as if they were my own.”

“And then he was your patient?”

“Yes. Tony started showing strange symptoms, changes to his behaviour.”

“What kind of changes?”

Stephen paused a little, looking over at Tony, and the man nodded a little.

“Increased aggression. And protectiveness towards his Omega.”

“And you, Doctor Strange, you were a victim of his aggression, correct? The defendant attacked you, in the hospital.”

Tony nodded towards Stephen again. It pained the doctor to say these things, even if they had all talked it through with the lawyers.

“Yes, your Honor. Peter was having surgery, and there were some complications, so Tony and the boys weren’t getting updates for a while. I went to find out what was going on and came back to tell Tony that Peter was okay, but- but he became upset. He punched me. I didn’t press charges, and I won’t- I told the police and the OPS, because Tony was sick.”

The OPS lawyer, Samson or something, stood up.

“Your Honor, we have Doctor Strange’s statement from that incident, as well as the nurses who were on call. They told us that the defendant had threatened them multiple times, yelling and harrassing them. Even if altercations between Alphas are not our concern, we cannot ignore how the defendant harrassed and threatened the Omega nurses. Who knows how many other Omegas the defendant could hurt if he goes unpunished?”

Tony swallowed thickly and turned to look at Peter behind him. The Omega gave him a sad little smile. He mouthed “it’s okay” and the Alpha felt a bit better.

The lawyers argued back and forth for a bit longer until the judge grew tired of it. He told them to sit down again, and directed another question at Stephen.

“Doctor, I have all the paperwork from the hospital that the defendant shared, as does the jury. We will have time to read through them thoroughly concerning the defendant’s health. But, in your professional opinion, was the defendant sick and does it explain his behaviour?”

“Yes, Tony was sick. The tumor in his brain was releasing excess adrenalin and also messing with his hormones. Tony’s testosterone levels were off the charts, which explains his aggression. But, once I removed the tumor a month ago, Tony has shown no signs of that aggression. He is back to his normal self.” Stephen paused a little, looking over at Peter and the boys on the first row of benches behind Tony and the lawyers.

“A loving father and husband. An Alpha who will protect and love his family and friends, but he would never hurt someone.”

The judge hummed a little, and all eyes were on him.

“Thank you, Doctor. The court will be on break for an hour. Dismissed.”

[sunshinevanfleet]

the magic shell - s. kiszka

request: omg please do a sequel of daisy where they tell daisy that they’re having a baby

pairing: sam x reader

a/n: hi cuties long time no see! i'm back again with another sammy fic <3333 this request was super cute and i've been having dad!sam thoughts again (thanks beth if ur reading this), so i had to write this one. i'm hoping to be back on a normal posting schedule soon but until then please enjoy<3 ok love ya!!

genre: fluff

word count: 1.9k

summary: the reader and sam reveal to daisy that she's going to be a big sister.

warnings: pregnancy, kids

“Dada look!” Daisy’s high voice barely crested the sound of the wind coming off the ocean. She stood, her tiny fist thrusted into the air with a large seashell clutched between her little fingers. The lazy smile spread across her face was the mirror-image of Sam as he stood beside you, his shadow cast down over your figure as you relaxed on the blanket in the sand. 

He laughed softly, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand across his brow. “Wow, that’s a big shell!” He said proudly. The pair of you watched with soft eyes as she dropped it into the pink bucket at the edge of the water, where she was keeping all of her spoils. She had been sure to show the two of you all of her little treasures: dozens of colorful shells, a sand dollar, some seaweed, and even a bottle cap she found floating along. You oohed and ahhed at every little thing she brought along, relishing in the proud grin that danced across her sweet face.

She went back to searching for more shells, while Sam glanced down at your relaxed form. “Feeling okay, sweet girl?” 

“I’m all right,” you said, brushing a hand over your flushed face. He peered at you, a slight worried look in his eye. He knelt down and retrieved a bottle of water from the cooler, pressing it against your cheek as he watched your expression. 

“You’re burning up out here,” he said, noticing the heat coloring your cheeks, 

“Sam,” you said, grasping his hand and taking the water bottle from him. You placed a kiss on his palm, smiling softly. “Stop worrying. I’m okay.”

“No nausea or anything?”

You shook your head. This was the first time in weeks that you felt like your normal self. You’d been feeling extremely nauseated for about two weeks before you finally broke down and took a pregnancy test. The two little lines had sent a jolt through you. You knew Sam would be excited. It was as if he were put on Earth solely to be the best husband and father. But the truth was, you weren’t sure how you felt about it. You loved Daisy with everything in you, and adored being her mother. However, somewhere along the way, you’d solidified the idea that your family was complete–just the three of you, forever and always.

“The baby’s noticed,” he said, sitting down in front of you and pulling your feet into his lap. Absent-mindedly, he massaged the skin of your legs and feet, making you sigh. This pregnancy was especially rough, compared to the breeze that Daisy’s had been. You felt like you were getting all of the side effects and sickness from both of your pregnancies rolled into one. You’d been confined to your bed or the bathroom floor for the past two months. It would be a wonder if Daisy didn’t notice.

“I know,” you sighed, brushing your hair out of your eyes. Then, you had a thought, “How are we going to break it to her?”

Sam turned away from watching Daisy, to watch you for a second. He laughed gently, “You make it sound like she’s going to be devastated.”

You smiled, “I mean–what if she is? She–she won’t be the baby anymore,” you said, and a wave of sadness washed over you. A sudden wave of emotion slammed over you, and you felt yourself tearing up. You tried to blink them away, but the tears had a mind of their own, and you started to cry. Stupid hormones. 

“Hey,” The softness in Sam’s voice engulfed you, along with his arms as he pulled you into his lap. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back. Despite the burning heat of his skin, you leaned into him. You muffled your cries into his shoulder, embarrassed to be crying over something so small. 

“She’s still our baby, my love,” Sam said softly, his voice dripping honey. He brushed the hair slicked down on your forehead off of your face, and met your eyes. The warmth of his gaze eased you, your tears slowly drying as he hushed and soothed you. 

“But she’s gonna be a big sister,” you said, tearfully. “She’s three years old already, and she’s not gonna be the baby anymore…” The last part came as a whisper, and you choked back more sobs that threatened to spill out. 

“She won’t be the baby. She’ll be one of our babies. Isn’t that better, honey? We’ll have two babies,” he hooked a finger beneath your chin, titling your face up towards his. 

You brushed your tears away, nodding, trying to force yourself to pull it together. Taking a shaky breath, you rested your head on his shoulder and watched Daisy playing in the water. She appeared to be singing quietly, cradling a handful of shells in her hand. She placed them gently into her bucket, and straightened up to glance at the two of you, as if checking to ensure that you were still there. It was one of her quirks at home, too; if it got too quiet after she went to bed, she would tiptoe out of her room just to be sure that you and Sam were still around. Whenever she skipped ahead of you at the park, she was sure to turn around every few seconds to keep an eye on you. She kept track of you as much as you did her. 

She met your eyes, and you forced a smile and a wave. The little girl grabbed the bucket, lugging it up the sand towards the two of you. Her lifejacket and bucket weighed her down slightly, and Sam giggled at the sight of her struggling towards you. 

As she approached, she placed her bucket beside you on the sand. She began to rifle through the shells, searching for something. Once she found it, she placed it delicately in her hand and held the shell out to you. The pink-toned, scalloped shell glittered in the late afternoon light, and she beamed at you as she offered it to you.

“It’s for you, Mommy!” she said excitedly, placing it into your cupped hands. “It has magical powers,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, looking at you as if she were telling you a crucial secret.

“Wow, honeybee,” you said, smiling gently. “It’s beautiful, just like my sweet girl…” You brushed her hair out of her eyes. It was sunbleached, lighter than it usually was. With the natural highlights and soft glow from being out in the sun, she looked even more like Sam. Your heart swelled with affection.

“What kind of magic powers does it have, Daisy Lou?” Sam asked, peering over at the shell with a proud smile on his face.

“I can’t tell you,” she said. Her expression shifted to mischief, “It’s a secret.”

“A secret?” Sam gasped dramatically, clutching his chest.

Daisy giggled, and you peered at Sam, feigning the same drama. “Uh oh, you know what that means…”

“A secret for a secret,” Sam and Daisy said in unison, the latter breaking out into giggles as you reached out to tickle her side. It was something she’d come up with recently, trading silly secrets in exchange for one from you or Sam. Sam adored playing along, and you quickly grew fond of listening to them trading their ‘secrets.’

“Who’s first?” you prompted.

“Dada, you first!” Daisy insisted.

Sam shook his head, “No way, Miss Daisy,” he said, “Dada went first last time, don’t you remember?”

She wrinkled her nose, but huffed in defeat. “Fine,” she said sassily, sticking her tongue out at Sam before leaning down to tell her secret. “The shell’s magic powers will make Mommy feel better,” she said quietly. You smiled sadly, knowing she had been worried about you for all these miserable weeks. 

“Wow,” said Sam, glancing between the two of you. “I think it’s working already,” he whispered, nodding towards your smiling face.

“It’s true,” you agreed, nodding. “I feel much better.”

“I knew it would work,” she said, matter-of-factly. Then, she turned to Sam expectantly. “Your turn, Dada.”

He smiled, then glanced at you as if asking for permission. You nodded. Now was as good a time as any.

“All right, but this is a very important secret,” Sam said, playing up the drama. You rolled your eyes. He always had to put on the theatrics for Daisy. She was giggling already, prepared for Sam to tell her something outrageous. 

“I’m good at holding secrets,” Daisy said. You watched her with stars in your eyes, adoring her little quirks and phrases. Even when Uncle Jake once tried explaining to her that the phrase was ‘keeping a secret,’ she refused to change it. You supposed holding a secret described it much better, anyway. You always held her little secrets close to your heart.

“You are, honeybee,” you agreed. You brushed some sand off of your magical shell, and watched her eyes widen as Sam began to speak again.

“Well, you know how Mommy has been really sick lately?”

Daisy nodded, looking at you briefly. She quickly returned her attention to Sam, enraptured.

“It’s because she has a tiny little baby in her tummy,” Sam said. He placed a large hand against your stomach, rubbing soft circles into your skin with his thumb. “Right here.”

“A baby in your tummy?” She blinked at you, her eyes as wide as saucers. “How did you get a baby in your tummy?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, I guess it was some kind of magic, Daisy Lou,” you said, winking at Sam. He grinned, leaning over and planting a chaste kiss on your lips.

“But you didn’t eat it?”

You wrinkled your nose, “No way.”

“How long is the baby gonna be in there?” She stepped closer, leaning down to peer at your stomach. You were barely showing, not enough for anyone else to notice and especially not enough for Daisy to notice. She screwed up her eyebrows and stared hard as she reached out to place her hand next to Sam’s. Her touch barely ghosted your skin, delicate as butterfly kisses. 

“Nine months,” you said.

“Then you’ll have a little brother or sister,” Sam continued. “Would you like that?”

She hummed to herself, mulling it over. “And I’ll be a big sister?” 

“You sure will.”

“Wow,” she said, straightening back up with a sparkle in her eyes. “Where will the baby sleep?”

You smiled. “Probably in our room, at least for a little while… We’ll figure it out.”

“And what will we name the baby?”

“We have plenty of time to decide,” Sam said. Daisy still seemed to be processing the information, though you were glad she seemed to be taking it well. A tiny smile brightened her expression as she looked curiously at your stomach.

“I hope it’s a baby sister,” she said. She peered at you as if she were going to decipher it just by looking at your stomach. “Maybe, we can name her Ocean…” Daisy waved her arms, gesturing to the expanse of water behind her. 

“That’s a beautiful name,” Sam said. His expression was flooded with warmth and affection, his eyes glowing as he watched Daisy process the fact that she would be a big sister soon. You leaned into him, smiling as Daisy stared out into the water. 

“I think Ocean’s pretty,” you agreed. “That’s where our little piece of magic came from…”

You stared at the shiny pink shell in your palm and felt at peace. Maybe you were meant to be a family of four after all.

[poetryismypainrelief]

Cathartic Poetry: A Means To Take Control of Pain Without Medicine

As much as it pains me to admit this, much of my exploration of poetry has been through the internet. I have longed to hold a thick, yellowed book in my hands, an intimate collection of words composed by humanity's greatest, read, dissected, and admired by many before me, but modern-day convenience is its own blessing and curse. I have come to admire the works of many tragically talented poets, Sylvia Plath, Nizar Qabbani, and Mahmoud Darwish. If these people all wrote poetry to process the pain they felt, could the opposite hold true as well? Historically, Art has been seen as a cathartic process, but what if it were to work on a larger scale? This thought is what propelled me to begin my research on the topics of pain, poetry, and the human brain.

Pain in the Brain

I will attempt to keep this brief so as to not bore you all to death immediately. Humans have been blessed and cursed with intelligence and emotions; they allow us to better comprehend ourselves and the world, perceive situations more accurately, make connections, and decide how to react based on all these stimuli. These processes are like intricately woven webs.

This immensely overwhelming image is essentially a map of connections in the human brain: neurons, nerve fibers, and synapses are all depicted. They mingle, send signals, and interact with each other at lightning speed to allow us to do what is necessary in what feels like an instant. All perceptions happen in the brain. Pain, love, disgust, fear, surprise, happiness, sadness, every single feeling is conjured up in the brain in milliseconds due to these tendrils sending electric signals to each other. This is why it is so easy to distract ourselves, to confuse and trick our brains. Optical and auditory illusions are great examples of it.  The brain is the CEO of the body. When an injury happens, the tissue in the area where the injury occurs releases pain receptors known as nociceptors. These neurotransmitters send signals to the brain along the spinal cord, alerting the brain of possible danger. Note the use of the word potential. This is because there may not be damage. Your brain then evaluates the situation given the circumstances, environment, and body conditions and relays the message to the rest of the body to react. When injured, the brain sometimes releases feel-good chemicals known as endorphins, natural pain relievers. For example, sometimes you just stub your toe on the edge of the door. The pain signals that hurt, and not to do that in the future because that could potentially harm the body. The brain made this assessment because it realized no severe damage was done, but the pain serves as a warning, and pain reliever hormones are released to resolve the problem. Sometimes, you cut yourself with a knife by accident; the pain is a sign that your body needs to start the healing process and up its production of what is associated with the healing process. Your brain made this assessment at the sight of blood coming from your hand, the blood pressure in your hand changing, and other signals from inside and outside your body. The brain makes all major decisions when it comes to the body. While this is all good to know, why am I telling you all this?

The Research

In my deep dive to understand why poetry, in particular, would help people cope with pain, I came across many articles and studies already in the field. This extensive field still has much to explore, but I will share some important or interesting findings here. In a 2016 study with 75 hospitalized cancer patients, they found that poetry improved their pain scores and depression scores, and additionally, it increased subjects' hope scores. A 2015 study about Poetry Therapy in Post-Stroke patients found that poetry brought back parts of patients' personalities by allowing them to rediscover themselves through poetry. It allowed them to stop living passively and instead add brightness to what may otherwise be a lethargic way of living, working as a natural treatment. A 2022 study about the impact of poetry therapy on the self-esteem of patients with mental illnesses like schizophrenia and bipolar syndrome found that there was a significant increase in self-esteem scores, personal performance, and social performance scores. A 2021 study with children, published by the American Academy of Pediatrics, evaluated how poetry was helpful for children in the hospital. The study revealed that poetry revealed feelings of fear, sadness, anger, worry, and fatigue in children. The children in the study reported that the poems allowed them to process their feelings. One of the poems used was Hope is a Thing with Feathers, by Emily Dickinson, a famous American Poet.

The Understanding

While reading through these countless research studies and what they outlined as criteria, I realized many of those being researched were people with longer-term illnesses. The studies I felt were the most thorough were on cancer patients and those with PTSD. It made me wonder why, in theory, that poetry would be so effective on them. But it began to click when I saw a certain word being utilized. Catharsis. Catharsis, as defined by Merriam-Webster Dictionary, is the purification or purgation of emotions, primarily through art. For those suffering from some kind of long-term pain, not something that can simply have a bandaid placed over it, catharsis is necessary.Unlike when a toe is stubbed or even when you accidentally get cut, the pain does not go away for these people. Their brain does not naturally release those feel-good hormones because the issue has not been resolved somehow. This festers, this bothers, and this begins to affect someone physically and mentally. It becomes easy to get tunnel vision and believe that this is how life will always be. Reliance on pain relief drugs, other people, machines, and so forth. It feels belittling to become unable to live by oneself. The reason why poetry worked was because it provided catharsis for these people. It allowed them to release their emotions, their fear, and their hesitance and allow them to take control of their lives again. Poetry is not only a balm to soothe the soul but also challenging and complex. It forces one to think about oneself and how one chooses to understand and interpret things; it makes one reassess oneself. It is like a workout for the brain. This sense of being challenged is part of what makes it so rewarding to read poetry. It is a highly interactive piece of art.

Please listen to the poem above and allow it to sit with you. I'd like you to focus on how the words are being spoken. Are they different from how you would have said them in your head? Poetry is deeply personal, after all. For this exact reason, poetry cannot work for everyone. Some people simply do not wish to sit there and introspect; they would much rather do something or do nothing at all. However, poetry may be the perfect tool for those who genuinely want to cope with their pain. It allows for something that is not synthetic, like a drug; it does not feel inauthentic or corporate. It is deeply human. Poetry offers a gateway into understanding the links between the human brain not previously thought of and alternative methods of treatment when medicine is not viable or for people who want to slowly get off of medication. It allows a whole new world of opportunity to be explored and lets the healing power of the human spirit.

[mythical-illustrator]

For the ship ask game...

Grace, Bly, and Aayla 👀 😏

Let me tell you I have been thinking about this for two days! Thots be happening

*this will have two endings, a Happy endings and a post order 66 ending* I'll put the sad one below a cut.

Anyway

Grace - half twi'lek former night sister turned jedi x Bly- commander clone xAayla- Jedi knight

(can't have one without the other 😊)

So Grace and Aayla grew up in the temple together since they were brought in. Ayala trained under Quinlin Vos and Grace under Shaka-ti.

Grace definitely developed a crush on her childhood friend.

They've been friends which switched into keeping each other company as hormones kicked in. Definitely each other first's - trust and safety to explore.

Grace's crush got worse because her friend is competent and beautiful and shes dying but it's fine. She will be content with what she has.

Ayala also has a crush but it's slower to build, taking trust and suddenly it hits her she likes her friend more than she should.

Jedi are not able to form permanent attachment (despite doing so often ) they trust and care for each other.

Then the war happens. Aayla fell in love with Bly because competent abilities, and sunny disposition.

Bly screams the - you get them sweetie I'll hold your flower. Tell me if you need me to shoot something.

Grace being a healer gets moved around a lot- and eventually gets stationed with Aayla and Bly.

She calls Aayla out on her crush and wonders why the Jedi hasn't slept with the man yet. Aayla makes some stuff about authority and inappropriate nature and Jedi codes.

Grace calls bs so she goes to set them up- she has the entire battalions support -they're tired of the pining.

She starts spending time with Bly, trying to get to know him. She trains, spars, talks to him. She gets why her friend likes him so much

Now she's got a crush on two beautiful competent people and she's dying inside.

Bly loves Aayla and would never do anything without her and wishes her all the happiness.

He spies in Aayla and Grace sharing a kiss one night and decided he would back off. He loves her and wants her to be happy even if that isn't with him.

Ayala - who has accepted her crush on both people and content to have what she can without asking for more is confused about all the time Grace is spending with Bly and starts to feel jealous - of which person she doesn't know.

The battalion is now groaning because they've got three miserable pining commanders now.

This goes on for a while- so much getting close and pining and trying to back off the other. The other clones are miserable

The command squad is miserable because now Bly won't shut up about two twi'lek Jedis.

Eventually it will all come to a head- via Quinlin

Quinlin id visiting his Padawan between missions at the same time Grace has been stationed (he always thought the crush the two twi'leks had in each other was adorable but didn't want to interfere i.e he promised Shaka-ti he wouldn't)

He whiteness this massive cluster fuck that is these three and is in pain. He calls obi wan- to complain about it, gets no help on that front and decides he's got to do something about it.

Organizing stranding them somewhere, temporarily of course. Finds a nice little planet the troopers can take their shore leave on. It's got beaches and lush landscapes and little huts.

Sends a message to the three of them- all marked with various urgency.

The three get there only to find everyone fine and I'n health and a letter from Quinlin telling them they should all just bone now.

Que blushing, explanations, clearing up Blys misunderstanding of Jedi rule of attachment. Grace explains poly relationships, crushes are revealed. Bly gets to watch two beautiful women make out then their eyes to him. He'll die happy now thank you

Bly gets to catch up on years of exploration and experience with two women showing him how they like to be touches

They spend the entire shore leave in that Hut.

Everyone is happy - only they're worse now. You thought these fools were love-sick before. Oh no, there complements and subtly flirting and looks across the room.

They create a force bond with each other, Bly can't feel them but they can feel him and support him emotionally as much as they can when times get hard.

Sparing is foreplay. I will not take any questions on that.

This will be the happy ending -

The war ends, Palps is discovered just in time, chips are removed. Bly gets two women cuddling him during his recovery, spoiling him with affection.

the Jedi who have grown to love their clones and the clones who love their Jedi start working towards going back to their peace keeping ways.

The three of them start going out together, helping villages negotiate peace talks, supply healing and care. Repairing the reputation the two have in the galaxy as a whole.

They never actually get married but emotionally they are as tied together as a clone and his Jedi ever can be. Aayla will one day take on a Padawan, and Grace will adopt a small company of baby clones to train as the next Clone / Jedi team.

Below is Cannon compliant ending

Oder 66 ending

Order 66 goes out when they are together but opposite sides of the scouting mission.

Bly turns his blaster on Aayla without hesitation and kills her. Grace feels it in the force just as the men turn in her.

She escapes, after killing so many men. She rushed to where she last felt Aalya and Bly, wondering what was wrong, what happened. Why why why !.

She gets there only for Bly to turn his blaster on her. He gets her across the chest as she turns to flee- injuring her greatly but she does escape.

She has to fake her death to do so, injuring herself further, and blowing up a few ships to sell it. But the clones think she died in a fiery explosion.

Grace steals a ship and escapes, hearing Obi wan's message. She flees to her birth planet Domthir to try and wait for the strange mess out.

Eventually Blys chip wears off, and he remembers what he did, he takes his blaster to himself.

Grace, trapped in Domthir feels him go. And it breaks her. She gives back into her night sister roots. Falls but is empty, she feels nothing.

She wanders the waste land of Domthir like a wraith, a witch that will kill anything she comes across. Even the surviving zabraks and other night sisters stay out of her way.

She wanders, waiting till she can be reunited with her loves, always muttering to herself

Why why why .

She will wander there till a surviving Jedi Padawan lands on Domthir many years in the future where he will eventually help put her out of her misery.

Thank you for the ask- i hurt myself.

But I love this ship now not gonna lie. Got to do some drawings of them now.

Tag list

@anxiouspineapple99 @sev-on-kamino @dangraccoon @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @secondaryrealm @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @starrylothcat

[mothman-rewatches]

Post Season Review: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, season one.

Hello everyone! I have such mixed emotions as I’m typing this. We have reached the end of season one, which means we get to talk about the season as a whole. I’m sad to have finished this season, but I’m excited for what’s to come. I have a lot to say, so let’s get on with it.

WARNING: This post contains spoilers.

The Good: First, we have to talk about the Master. This might be an unpopular opinion, but the Master is one of the most memorable Big Bads of the series for me. He stands out from the rest of the Big Bads in the same way he is different from the rest of the vampires on the show. I would have loved to see more of him, even just little pieces. His story is something that I am so deeply curious about. Mark Metcalf and the costuming department made him who he is, and I commend them. 

Speaking of costuming, it was unexpectedly one of my favorite parts of the season. When I decided to include a fashion corner section in these reviews, I wasn’t sure I would have anything specific to write about. I don’t pretend to know anything about fashion, and there were a lot of times my comments felt a little silly, but costuming made the experience worth it. I loved seeing the small details that set Buffy apart from the other characters, and personally it added so much to my watch through of this season. 

Buffy’s character arc is a huge note I have. I felt like almost every episode I brought up her arc, and for good reason. Buffy’s attempt to find normalcy sets her apart distinctly, and it makes some of the underlying themes in the episodes so much better when you look at it through that lens. Slowly, as the season progresses, we watch Buffy learn to accept her fate as the Slayer. She still tries to balance being a normal girl and the Slayer, but the pressures on herself to be normal wane as she realizes she cannot ignore her duties. In the last review of the season, I pointed out that the underlying theme of “Prophecy Girl” was grief through the lens of a teenager, and that particularly ties into Buffy’s arc. She learns she is destined to die, and immediately shuts down. She quits, but is unable to ignore her fate. Her grief is centered around the loss of innocence, the loss of the ability to be a teenager, and it’s heartbreaking. It’s what perfectly ties the arc up at the end of the season.

Again, I loved the themes in certain episodes. They add another layer to each episode, and it’s fun to look through that lens and understand the episode a little deeper. Witch, Nightmares, Out of Mind, and Prophecy Girl pull this off wonderfully, and I wish they had a larger narrative theme for each of the episodes this season. I cannot wait to see this used in later seasons.

Lastly, I loved watching the character relationships grow. Watching how Buffy and Giles’s relationship progressed, or Buffy and Willow’s relationship progressed, and knowing where they end up is something special. You get to connect to these characters this way, and it’s worth it. I am going to love seeing where they go. 

The Bad: As much as I loved this season, there was actually a lot I didn’t like. From the overuse of certain tropes, to characterization, I have things I wish had been better. 

To start, Xander’s character. I really didn’t like Xander this season, and I will admit I did sort of ruin him for myself early on. Xander Harris is a rough character to begin with, and when you add in the context that he might be based on the creator, it gets worse. I spent a large chunk of the season cringing at every line he spoke, because most of the lines he had this season include sexual and perverse comments about his female friends or about the female classmates around them, or making snide comments because they rejected him. It’s easy to brush it off as him being a hormonal teenage boy, but at some points it crosses a line into creepy -- like the time he “joked” about taking pictures of Buffy through her bedroom window -- and it really feels like you can hear Joss when he says those things. I would like to see Xander move away from this part of his character, but I don’t have a whole lot of hope for it.

Another character I really struggled with this season was Cordelia. I don’t even think I have to say it anymore, I’ve said it what feels like a million times. Cordelia’s characterization was grossly mishandled, and I remember at one point thinking it was some sort of attack on Charisma Carpenter. She has very little growth throughout the season, until the very end when we actually see her character come through. We spend most of the season with the same one dimensional trait, the shallow and vain and bitchy Cordelia. It’s exhausting, and I still wish we had seen more of who she ends the season being. Even then, it took them ten and a half episodes to even try to make Cordelia likable, and it doesn’t feel fair to the character or the audience, let alone the actress. 

Additionally, we have to talk about “The Harvest”, particularly Jesse’s character. Twelve episodes later, and I’m still irritated that they spent so much time discussing Jesse in that episode just to never mention him again. I’m not asking much, just a name drop or even a reference to him would be enough to sate me. I just don’t love how they did that, it feels like a waste of time. Narratively, I hope they make strides to change this with other characters, but we’ll see.

Also, it’s the elephant in the room. We all know I’m going to bring it up: the fucking fake outs. It got old by the second episode, but they continued to use it as a narrative tool. I don’t know why they loved it so much, but they did. It really reached a point of irritation for me in “Puppet Show”, and I’ve been stewing about it ever since. They used the fake out at almost every given chance in that episode, and it kind of ruined the episode for me. That being said, I can’t remember any major uses of this trope again in the series, so I’m hoping we can leave it behind in season one. 

Lastly, the end scenes didn’t work for me. It’s a mini fake out, but it does nothing narratively for the rest of the series. The only time we see something that actually comes back up in the larger narrative is the reveal that the Anointed was alive. I think the use of the end scenes could work, but in moderation, with things that come up later. Until then, I see no point in using them.

Episode Ranking: This was actually so hard to do, because I didn’t really know where I wanted to put some of these. It was fun though, and it made me think about why certain episodes did better than others.

Twelfth  - “Never Kill a Boy on the First Date”

Eleventh - “Teacher’s Pet”

Tenth - “I, Robot…You, Jane.”

Ninth - “Welcome to the Hellmouth”

Eighth - “Witch”

Seventh - “The Harvest”

Sixth - “The Puppet Show”

Fifth - “Angel”

Fourth - “Nightmares”

Third - “Out of Mind, Out of Sight”

Second - “The Pack”

First - “Prophecy Girl”

Reflection: This season has been a journey, in the best way. As the show found it’s footing, I too had to find mine while starting this blog. I know I have a long ways to go, but I am so proud of this blog, and I cannot begin to express how much it means to me. 

The opportunity to sit down and watch one of my favorite shows and then talk about it is one I am incredibly grateful for. I got to know the show so much better this way, and my love for it really grew over the last twelve episodes. I can’t wait for the next six seasons, because I get to make this mine. 

I was, admittedly, terrified when I started this blog. I didn’t think anyone would like it, or interact with it, but I took the risk anyway and I’m glad I did. I’ve struggled this season to try and find a balance between just analysis and personal experience, and how to find my voice while writing about this. I think I’m getting to a place that I like, but I’m always afraid it’s going to be too personal for anyone else to understand. I’m learning, and that’s all I can ask.

I have some ideas for next season, things I want to add to the reviews, and I’m excited to try them out. I put this on the end of each post, but I really do want to hear other people’s input. It’s not just my blog, it’s kinda supposed to be yours, too. 

Out Takes/Funny Notes: These are gold in my opinion and I can’t leave them in my google doc. 

Welcome to the Hellmouth: 

-Because “try not to get kicked out” is a normal thing every parent tells their child on the first day of school. 

-Why Sunnydale has a starbucks is beyond me, but they also don’t actually have a starbucks.

The Harvest:

-I would have staked Darla for the disobedience, honestly.

-Harmony is not as clueless as she becomes later in the series, she even seems sort of sweet. 

-Nevermind she’s a raging bitch

-Yes Willow, go!! Sabotage them!

-Doesn’t it seem a little…coincidental you found Jesse, all alone, passed out in the tunnel? 

-Is it just me or is Luke a little…damn

-This whole ritual is kinda…sexual? 

-I feel like the vampires rolling up with their vamp faces isn’t the best tactical choice. Going in looking normal and then vamping out would have been more effective, I think.

-And it never was the same, good call Xander.

Witch:

-I would have thought something bad happened but no, it’s Buffy trying out for the cheer team

-NOT THE BARBIE DOLL

-”That girl’s on fire!!” Yes she is Willow!!!

-Buffy is the kind of friend I’d want because she’s always good in a crisis. If I caught on fire she’d be the first one I’d call

-Is that a scrunchie she’s wrapping around Cordelia-Barbie’s head?

-Joyce had Gidget hair? Incredible 

-They’re all surprised that its witchcraft like?? Obviously?

-It’s a perv thing isn’t it?

-IT IS A PERV THING!!

-Are we about to get a shining reference?

-This whole episode is basically because Amy’s mom peaked in highschool

Teacher’s Pet:

-The whiny music is perfect for a Xander episode

-Oh my god, fork guy is scared of mantis-people

-I love that his name is fork guy

-Serving alcohol to minors is frowned upon, even if you’re a giant bug

Never Kill a Boy on the First Date:

-Giles forgetting he works as a high school librarian is so funny to me

-New game: Take a drink any time the scoobies are in the library and get all in a tizzy because someone else comes in

-What’s with the Master’s voice? He sounds like he’s choking back a cough or something

-The Scooby gang really needs to work on it’s barricading skills

-Why put random objects tossed around? Heavy!! Heavy objects!!

-This episode’s “gotcha”: The Anointed survived…and he’s a little boy

The Pack:

-Why are a bunch of high schoolers going to the zoo for a field trip

-And why is the principal there too?

-This is going to break my heart isn’t it

-It broke my heart

Angel:

-I’m glad the master’s voice is back to normal

-Fumigation night at the Bronze is simultaneously such a fun (interesting?) idea but so gross at the same time

-Okay, I don’t like Xander’s crush on Buffy obviously

-But the ideal situation here is a triad relationship

-They could all date each other

-Has anyone ever thought of that?

-Angel literally tells her that a vampire can’t come in uninvited two seconds after one of the three’s hands was in the house?

-Make it make sense

-God I really like how they dressed Angel this episode

-He’s tastefully slutty with the white v neck

-How awkward to have to explain to your crush that you’re the vampire who killed your family

-So Darla can’t go after Buffy, but she can kill the three? Idk man the Master needs to make up his mind

-The Master really should kill Darla

-He’s one of the oldest vampires alive! He’s her sire! And yet she talks back to him and defies him

-Not through the front window! That’s gonna cost a fortune!

-It’s so weird to hear him be called “Mr. Giles” because everyone else just calls him Giles

-Sometimes I forget his first name is Rupert and not Giles

I, Robot…You, Jane:

-Now that I think about it, Xander gets a lot of flack for dating girls who aren’t human or ordinary by any means, but Willow has a similar history?

-Moloch, a demon. Oz, a werewolf. Tara, a witch. And Kennedy, a potential Slayer

The Puppet Show:

-Giles can handle himself they say as he is about to be killed

-Like have you met the man

Nightmares:

-The guy with the ponytail kinda cute

-Honestly the kid is probably more terrifying than the actual anointed

-Just pops out of nowhere

-Do these kids ever go to class? I’m gonna start a class counter next season where I count how many classes they are shown to actually go to

-No one else notices the little boy wandering the halls?

-Who smokes in the school’s boiler room? I’d be worried it would blow the whole building

-The parallel  between this girl literally being beaten to death and the sign that says smoking kills is so fucking funny to me

-No don’t go into the basement the basement has bad vibes!

-The only thing scary about that clown is his laugh tbh

Out of Mind, Out of Sight: 

-God what a sexist pig

-I’m glad Marcie beats the shit out of him

-Clea DuVall!!

-A win for the lesbians

-I’m sorry you’re telling me the ceiling is stable enough to support three of you UNTIL you trade blows with Buffy? The math ain’t mathing

Prophecy Girl:

-Earth quake babey!!

-He’s dissociating Buffy, chill

-Go Willow go!!

-Buffy’s getting a little cocky with the stake isn’t she?

-I love when blood comes out of the sink! It’s so fun

-If Giles is the dad is Jenny the cool aunt or the step mom?

-Love how Buffy came back from the dead and said “fuck this it’s game time”

Thank YOU: You didn’t think I forgot my dues, did you?

First and foremost, I want to thank the team at @sunnydale-digest. You have given me a platform, and while I know that’s the point of your blog, I am forever grateful for you all. I have been following your blog for as long as I’ve been on tumblr (or at least, for as long as my main blog as existed), and I can’t tell you how much it means to me each time you reblog my posts. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 

A special thank you to Kay (@goblinagenda), who won’t see this. When I told them about wanting to do this, they were so supportive. He pushed me to do make this blog, and I wouldn’t be here without him. 

Of course, I cannot go without thanking Li (@voltrontrxsh). Li, mother of my children, my partner in crime, the person who is all but my creative director. Thank you so much, for all of your input and all of your support. You, whether you knew it or not, were a huge help at the beginning of this process, and I am so grateful for you.

Lastly, to the people who interact with my post and this blog. Thank you. I didn’t expect anyone to see this blog, I was fully prepared to be speaking into the void. Each like or reblog makes my heart swell, and it’s what pushed me to keep going. Thank you, I hope you see this blog as yours just as much as mine.

Final Notes: As always, feel free to leave any comments, suggestions, or questions in the ask box!

[psykoticrefuge]

Trans stuff:

So my doc follows wpath standards and it's honestly frustrating. Cause when we started all this and grabbed my baseline hormone levels, I'm a heavy T producer. Not extremely high but we'll above the average for a cis male. I was a hairy boy, this made/makes sense.

I got my refill of sublinguals over a month ago and knew that we were gonna discuss injections this most recent appointment and so I changed it up how I was taking them. I added an extra pill in the middle of the night. Which brought me to 8mg a day, 2mg every 6 hours, and let me tell you.. I felt great.

Had a noticeable surge in breast tissue development, libido came back more (which helped with atrophy issues), and just mentally I was doing a LOT better. When we did blood work I didn't think far enough ahead to drop the 4th pill a couple days in advanced and so the levels were "high" and comment was made about that.

I do wanna pause and say, it's really hard to get a read from my doc. He's made some positive remarks about transition but also there is almost a layer of a condescending tone during appointments. My wife has gone with for in person visits and agrees it feels off.

Anyways, still got to go on injections (Yay!) and I know I'm not a doctor. But my organ function was perfect. Liver, kidneys, thyroid, heart, all that, was within the appropriate levels. So it makes sense to me that if my cis body is producing higher T then it would be more in line with its base functionality to have higher E as well. Anecdotal and blood evidence supported this. Wife says I was doing better and I felt better. As a severely traumatized AuDHDer this is rare for me. I've had depression/anxiety since my teens and am currently working through an incredibly rough burnout.

The point?

I wish transition stuff was more in the hands of the individuals rather than doctors. I'm thankful he's there to read and interpret my blood work results but it sucks that we have to fit ourselves into these standards of care rather than forge our own path. It's why I support DIY and truly believe that HRT should be over the counter. All of it. All. Of. It.

Because of money stuff I haven't been able to get my injections yet and the pharmacy said it's on backorder so that's been a fun scramble to try and find it. Because of this I'm still on my 6mg a day and just, I can feel it. I can feel that difference in me. My mood has been lower (lot of extenuating factors tbh) my drive has gone back down, and in general I feel.. worse. Not bad bad worse but, noticeable.

And I can't help but relate the whole thing to disability justice and the Healthcare for All fight. We may not be doctors but we live in our bodies every day and we know our bodies best. (Also neurodivergent justice, like it's just so connected! >.<) If a patient feels good/better and organ function levels reflect no worries, we should be able to have a say even if other levels are "outside standard deviation". We should have a say no matter what, but you get what I mean.

It makes me sad/mad that the Hirschfeld institute was destroyed and all that research with it. So much was lost. Most of our data on feminization comes from post menopausal cis women.. trans bodies are different! And being the target of the far right (more connectivity: also being disabled I'm a double target) it's just.. *sigh* this will turn into a completely different post if I continue this route.

HRT should be over the counter and medical patients deserve a greater say in their care. If you've made it this far, thank you for reading. If you're cis, please think about what I've said when you vote or when you join us in the fight for liberation. Our struggles are not that far from each other.

Peace, Panache, and Pancakes,

Rivr

[askthealternateakis]

So, What's The Deal With Schematics?

As I’ve been putting off answering asks and working on designs for a while now, I figured that in the meantime I could sate your cravings for more AU Aki content by going more in detail regarding certain aspects of the lore of my AUs that double as my headcanon explanations as to how things work in canon MMFC that I’ve been working on in my free time. In particular, given how I’ve brought this idea up in an earlier post, I thought it might be fun to explain how schematics work in these universes and how they affect both the Blue Bomber and his many variants. So here you all go: one overly long ramble, completely on the house! /lh

Before we get started, though, I think it’s important to answer a question some people may have regarding the original MMFC’s lore: why do schematics even have side effects in the first place? Well, you see, whenever a Mega Person activates their replication beam on a Robot Master, in order to actually obtain said Robot Master’s ability, the beam needs to replicate their coding as well so that the Mega Person in question can store this new information into their database for future use. However, given how this is essentially the robot equivalent of replicating someone’s DNA and brain chemical makeup and assimilating them into your own, it’s only natural that certain mental and occasionally even physical side effects would emerge as a result of what is essentially rewriting part of your genetic code to incorporate other people’s. In fact, physical side effects in particular may come about as the result of a Mega Person’s body getting used to this new data that it’s just obtained, similar to how some people might not feel very well while on a new medication for the first few days of taking it. Now, I know some of you might be getting worried that a Mega Person is essentially eroding their sense of self with each schematic they replicate, but don’t worry! A Mega Person is still fundamentally themselves at the end of the day. Think of it as similar to a hormone imbalance or mood swings: even though you’re feeling intense emotions you may not normally feel on a day-to-day basis, you don’t suddenly become a different person because of it. You just have certain traits of yours intensified or muted and may feel compelled to say and do things you wouldn’t normally say or do because of it.

However, just because schematics cause a Mega Person to experience emotional side effects doesn't automatically mean they’ll express these side effects in the exact same way. Emotions are obviously universal, but people don’t always express joy, sadness, or anger the same way other people do. Therefore, how a schematic’s side effects manifest depends on two things: a Mega Person’s environment/upbringing and personality. This is why Daini doesn’t seem to have any side effects despite having the same schematics Aki does; because of both the environment he was raised in and the troubled personality he has that stems from the trauma he’s undergone making him repress most if not all of his emotions and bottle them up (along with Night potentially modifying his systems to downplay the side effects as much as possible). The emotional side effects of schematics are not universal but rather exist on a spectrum; they cause a Mega Person to feel a certain way, yes, but how intensely they feel it and how they express that feeling varies from robot to robot. 

For instance, the Air Man schematics give a Mega Person a bigger ego, yes, but this can manifest on a scale of them getting a slight boost in self-confidence and self-importance to them getting a full-on god complex. Or the newfound "everything is about and because of me" mentality that comes from the Air Man schematic could make a Mega Person feel especially and uniquely terrible rather than especially and uniquely amazing, believing that every bad thing that happens is their fault somehow because they're a special sort of evil who makes everything worse. Or, alternatively, it could make them obsessed with everyone seeing them as a good person and as such start doing as many nice things as they possibly can so they can soak in the praise of all those around them. 

Another good example of this is the Guts Man schematic. I’ve reworked it slightly (mainly for my own sanity) so that instead of giving you an insatiable appetite, it lowers a Mega Person’s inhibitory control and potentially makes them go overboard indulging in just about anything. So while it may compel them to eat a lot, it could just as likely compel them to buy tons of stuff they don’t need, binge-watch cartoons for hours on end, or accrue as much power or knowledge as possible to become the absolute strongest or smartest. And again, how strong these urges get and how easily they can be controlled depends on the Mega Person. 

This goes for every single schematic a Mega Person could hypothetically obtain. The Fire Man schematic can manifest on a scale of becoming more rude and passive-aggressive to becoming incredibly bloodthirsty and always on the lookout for an opportunity to get into a fight, the Hypno Woman schematic can manifest on a scale of becoming more parental and manipulative to becoming a full-on control freak, the list goes on and on. Of course, as I’ve mentioned in a different post, each Alternate Aki will be immune to the side effects of the respective Robot Master they’re associated with. This follows the same logic as vaccines, mithridatism, and allergen immunotherapy: thanks to their systems being modified to be more similar to their respective Robot Master making the respective schematic their default, their body has been exposed to it for so long that they’re immune to any side effects that schematic may give to any other Mega Person. Naturally, this means that their universe’s versions of episodes where Aki gets affected by the side effects of their respective Robot Master’s schematics will be rewritten and/or reworked to accommodate this. The same goes for “Minus Mini” (since as mentioned previously, none of them have a Mini due to being stolen before Dr. Light could give them one) and potentially “Too Much Is Never Enough” (since I’m debating as to whether or not the safeguard Aki has that prevents him from having more than three schematics is something Dr. Light added to him after Daini was stolen or if it’s something he always had and Sgt. Night removed Daini’s to make him stronger at the cost of his mental health). Additionally, other episodes will be rewritten or reworked as well due to both their new family situation and certain plots potentially requiring a certain Aki to act out of character in order to properly work.

I hope this is all easy to understand or at least not too dense, sometimes I get a bit carried away with these kinds of things. If you have further questions regarding how schematics work or want to see me go more in detail regarding either each schematic’s spectrum (including what side effects I think the Blasto Woman, Chemistry Man, and Skull Man schematics would have) or how certain episodes would be reworked for each Aki, just let me know and I’ll be more than happy to oblige! Oh, and if you want to incorporate these headcanons into your own AU, you’re more than welcome to as long as you give me credit!

[inkhansky]

Lonely

Suddenly I feel lonely. I like being alone, but there are time like this that I feel so lonely, like I have no one to tell them that I'm lonely. I have no one that I feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable with. I can't tell anyone that I'm not ok, because I don't want people to worry, and I feel bad if I make people worry. I mean I just want someone to acknowledge my feelings without any judgement, or feeling like they have to do something for me.

There was a time that I had someone that I can talk about all this stuff. It was a time that I feel like I was allowed to be emotional. But, thinking back, I don't think it was good for me. I am not meant to be emotional. As cliche as it sound, emotions made me weak. I grew up believing that I have to do everything for myself and never able to rely on anyone. Then, things changed and I started to rely on someone else beside myself at probably one of the most difficult time in my life so far. And what did I get? I was discarded the moment I needed help the most. I was right all along, I am the only person in this world that will be there for me, no one else. But it's lonely.

There is so much that my cat would listen to me before she gets annoyed and just go inside her nook to take a nap without having me disturbing her. There is a friend that so similar to me that I know they wouldn't like it if I to be dumping all this emotional crap on her. There is a friend that I don't even know we are even close enough to be talk about this stuff. There are so many people I thought about sending a message asking them if we could talk, but stopping myself as soon as the thought came out, not wanting to burden them.

So here I am, on this blog that probably no one will read, unless I randomly disappear and my family care enough to hire a PI to look into it, and they find this. Hi person who was hired to look for me. I swear I am not depressed, well maybe I am, I can't say for sure since I'm not a psychiatrist. Anyway, I lost my Switch at the airport few weeks ago. It was my fault, I was half asleep. I am so grateful that I was in a financial stage where I literally got a new one within the day. And I was able to recover almost all of my data, even one that I thought I forever lost, which I would be super devastated about, but wouldn't be able to tell anyone (talk about 770+ hours on ACNH). I have been dealing with this all by myself. I can't tell my mom because she would say that I shouldn't have spend money on something so trivial. I have come to an acceptance that my mom will never see gaming as something important. I can't tell my friend because they would think I wasted money. So here I am grieving my limited edition switch, and my first pair of custom joy-con that I did myself. It's not the monetary value that I'm grieving but the sentimental value of that thing.

Wow, that was a tangent. Maybe what I'm feeling right now is not just the random loneliness, maybe it has been building up for a while. ORRRRRRR maybe I'm just PMSing. Honestly, why is being a girl so dang hard. I don't even know if I'm actually sad or my hormones are just going crazy.

Well, at least I feel better after letting all that out.

To the unfortunate PI that has to go through all these posts. If I really disappear, I probably don't want to be found. So you can use this section to tell my family to stop looking for me, or do look for me, I'm not the one paying you, so what power do I have.

To the person who is not a PI reading this, I don't know what brought you here but you should leave. I already felt mortified by the thought of someone reading this ( as I am writing as posting this on the internet, yes).

[sylkweaver]

A heads up for the upcoming being a little sad and personal, but... this post made me think about something that happened to me.

The thing that made me and my mom stop talking was... well, it was a lot of things. But it basically boiled down to one big argument. The argument was about a lot of things, mainly me being trans and what I planned to do with my life.

I had just gone through hell and majorly changed up my life. I had just become stable and gotten a new job again. I was seeing a therapist for the first time and feeling like it was really helping. I was doing everything I could to improve myself and... make somebody proud.

But it was never enough for her. Despite all the things I had to tell her, the changes I had made, she wanted to focus on what I hadn't done. On the things that she was disappointed in me for and that she disapproved of (one of them being me starting hormones secretly while under my grandparents roof [nevermind that it was literally saving my life and also curing my depression]). She wanted to focus on what I wanted in life and how I was going to eventually become independent again.

The end of our conversation came to a head when I was full on crying, admitting to her and to myself for the first time what I wanted in life. That I wanted her to tell me that she was proud of how good I was doing. For once in my life, I just wanted her to tell me that she was proud of me. I was sitting in my room full on sobbing that I had done so much and I just wanted her to say that she was proud of my progress and that I was doing well.

She outright refused me. She told me "I can't." She left me there after that, crying alone and confused about why she couldn't do something so simple.

It destroyed me. That was the last time I talked to her for two years. I had full on panic attacks when I heard my grandparents (whom I was staying with at the time) talking to her on the phone in another room. I was, still am, terrified of her.

But I didn't want to just talk about that.

It was sometime two years after that I realized just how much damage she'd done to me. I forget what I was doing at this point. I think maybe I was talking to a friend about something? I think maybe it might have had to do with my writing, but who's to say. I was telling this person about something I had done and I was happy with it.

She said "I'm really proud of you" and I froze in place. Instant tears. Like, full on sobbing, heavy stream of tears. Nothing before had ever brought me to tears so quickly. I could feel those words piercing straight through my soul because it was all I wanted to hear for so long. I had long since giving up on hearing it from anyone and I didn't realize just how sad that was until that moment. Those words broke me and rebuilt me. I didn't realize how powerful five words could be until those five words reached into my soul and freed me from the years of trauma I had weighing upon me. I didn't realize until then just how much she had broken me.

My mom will never be proud of me. She still hasn't said it. We've talked a few times since, once in person, and she still didn't say it then. I know she won't. I don't talk to her anymore. If she called me, I know I'd be anxious and terrified, so I'm glad she doesn't care enough to call me.

But there are other people in my life who tell me that they're proud of me. Sometimes I finish a chapter and one of my friends will say it. It doesn't make me cry anymore, but it still means a lot to me. So... thanks to everyone who's proud of me. All I want is to continue to make u all proud.

consider: teenagers aren’t apathetic about everything they’re just used to you shitting all over whatever they show excitement about

[raw-eggy]

Just a personal depressing ramble, nothing fun here, will ruin your mood if you finish reading so don't do it lol

It's weird to me once I've realised, since I know 1. I'm a hopeless romantic 2. I tend/try to give almost all of me whenever I'm in a relationship 3. I've always been clingy+attached+needy in most, if not all of my past relationships but:

I've been in first/puppy love, infatuation mixed with hormones and some other shi, love out of longterm companionship and familiarity, mind fogging infatuation again + horniness after peacefully parting with the longterm relationship, then now where it's just two people who are interested/who like each other but are still trying things out with a special open agreement on my side due to lack on his side that leads to me having another special precious someone but it's complicated too-

What I'm trying to say is, I don't think I've ever gotten the chance yet to fall in love, like really in love with someone and that makes me sad. It's no one's fault tbh, it's either because I never had the chance to get to know them better before it came to an end or reality problems like they're in school/have work so we can't spend enough time together or we were both just mentally unwell or just because my self aware mind was holding me back just because she knew I wouldn't receive the amount of feelings I needed to feel wholely loved and it would have just brought me pain rather than the decently happy memories and experiences I have now-

Ah,,,,, so it's because I've never had or felt like someone actually was in love with me? That's why she didn't let me? Well that realization while typing whatever came to mind just made me cry a bit. And the fact that 60% (remaining 40% is my optimistic side taking control and just hoping for a chance) of me believe I probably won't find someone who will be in love with me like I need because I'm just so average and not fucking enough just makes me cry more and I hate it.

I know I'm good, I'm great, I'm not bad, I'll be an above average gf to any lucky guy with a good eye; I appreciate/am grateful for any feelings towards me lots and will love you back the same amount or more but why? Why can't anyone be interested in me enough to want to learn all of me? Even if it takes a lifetime. And then be in love with everything of me that you've found out? Why can't anyone only want me and be sure that no one else can compare and never ever want to let go of me? Try your best with me even when reality is being an ass? Why can't someone just be unconditionally in love with me all because it's me? Why? why? why why why

I want to be fully trusting hopelessly in love with someone, but I can't as long as I feel like there's any risks or possibilities of me getting hurt or it not working, does that mean I'll never get to experience being mindlessly in love? It's a good thing ig that I have a defense mechanism in place,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, I'll still be insecure and have bad feels and get hurt sometimes cause I'm a crybaby but at least I won't feel anything lasting haha~ tho then that makes me worried if there's something wrong with me cause after every relationship I just cried and mourned a lil then was totally fine-

(Okay that was a big spiral LMAO imma just leave this here so I can clear it out of my head and not revisit those feelings again) (also in no way does this post means I'm not happy with what I have right now, everything's reasonably balanced and it's perfectly fulfilling for what I need right now, I like both my darling and sweetheart a lot and wouldn't trade them for anyone else.)

[megmcgouraud]

Took you Long Enough

Galway, 19:34 pm 

I approach the house, double checking that Google Maps has led me to the correct address. I don’t really need to though, the place is basically an advertisement for university accommodation. There is a mountain of bins piled up along the little stone wall, and an impressive collection of beer cans and wine bottles. I can even see the corner of a neon road sign peeking through an upstairs curtain. This must be the place. I unlatch the gate, proud of myself for getting it to open smoothly on my first try. Then immediately ashamed of myself for feeling proud of that. 

I press the buzzer, avoiding eye contact with the spider resting in a nearby cobweb. We don’t have to be enemies, I try to communicate with her telepathically. She seems to understand the message. The tinny sound rings out, and I wait, feeling as exposed and naked as I did that time I had to get a lump checked out under my armpit except this time there is no kindly middle aged woman with cold hands gently poking my boob. 

I spread a smile across my already chapped lips, and hitch my bag up more securely onto my shoulder. My palms are sweating slightly. I wipe them roughly on my jeans, praying that nobody will shake my hand. Why on Earth would you shake anyone’s hand in the first place you actual gobshite I chide myself, shaking my head at the notion. Then I grow alarmed at my negative self talk, which I know is a huge no-no. I had read an article during the Summer saying that the key to making friends at college was to ooze confidence. All I am currently oozing was perspiration. I shift uncomfortably in my boots, annoyed at myself for not having worn my runners.

It had taken me hours to choose my outfit. I had scoured the social media posts of other girls from my class at school, zooming in on their faces and torsos, trying to see what intrinsically existed within them to make them so pretty, so natural, so happy. I tried on every item of clothing I owned, and tore them off of myself with the same frantic energy that doctors do to each other during heated moments of passion in medical dramas. It didn’t matter that I combed my hair parting just right, or that I flicked out my eyeliner the way they did. My reflection looked sad and empty, like a very lazy artist had given up trying to get the proportions right. After my lonely fashion show, I scrubbed my face so harshly with a Kleenex that I thought I’d find fragments of skin in the tissue. In the end I just made do with jeans and a black top, it was safer than continuing to torture myself. “You look super cute!” my older sister Astrid had encouraged me over Facetime. I knew she meant well, but the word cute made me feel like one of those crusty old dogs that was missing an eyeball, endearing in a pathetically harmless way. I quickly rub at my temple, scared that the evidence of my earlier desperation is somehow still evident. 

A beat passes, and then another. The silence of nothing happening washes over me. And then the stages of panic begin to set in. Why is nobody answering? I can hear the sound of music inside, a clamour of male and female voices blending together. It’s like one of those cheesy high school movies brought to life, I swear you could smell the hormones and alcohol from here. 

 I strain my ears to see if I can catch the sound of Briana speaking, but no such luck. I’m not fully confident I could recognise her lilting Cork accent yet, I had only met her earlier that day in our Introduction to Political Studies lecture. I had slipped into one of the seats in the back, still waiting for the official task force of the Universe to swarm the building screaming “There’s an imposter here! Get her boys!” However all that occurred was I sat down on the cold plastic, but before my relief could fully set in; I realised in horror my left ass cheek had acquainted itself with a carton of not yet empty Ribena. The liquid seeped through my pants and I felt stupid tears prick at my stupid eyes because stupid me is the only stupid 19 year old literally on the planet who would cry over stupid Ribena, and now this big purple stain was a stupid reminder matter where I would go I would always be stuck as stupid me but then a hand touched my arm; 

The hand was in fact attached to a body, who I would later learn was named Briana. She smiled at me through two chocolate brown curtains of hair. “Sorry girl, I should have given you the heads up about that chair, but at least now we match!” she said, twisting around to show me a matching grape tattoo on her thigh. I blinked, scared to move too suddenly in case I broke the magic. “Was that your evil plan all along?” a voice said, only after the words left my lips and floated out carelessly into the atmosphere did I realise they were in fact mine. Oh no I thought, let me pull them back in. But it was too late. Here it comes. 

 “You’ve caught me red-handed I guess”, she giggled, wiggling her thick eyebrows.   

“You’ve caught me purple-assed,” I replied. At that she snorted, lightly smacking me.  I watched her in amazement, like a kid transfixed by an acrobat doing tricks at the circus. This girl was audibly laughing, audibly laughing at words that had come from my, Ellen Byrne’s mouth? “You’re gonna get me in trouble with the professor,” she said, indicating to the stern old man pointedly shuffling his notes. He cleared his throat.

“Can the ladies in the back quieten down please,” he said sternly “ You can discuss whatever is so amusing to you both after our lecture.” A few heads turned subtly to see who had been the perpetrators. I felt a blush creep up my neck, while simultaneously a weird sense of pride washed over me. Adrenaline rushed through me, like how I felt when I’d accidentally miss a step on the staircase, but better in every conceivable way. It was only heightened by Briana catching my eyes and tapping her pen meaningfully beside the ten digits scrawled at the top of her notebook. 

It was a simpler time then, and I missed it dearly, despite the fact that it literally happened only this morning. I was jealous of my past self, soggy trousers and all. I debated pressing the buzzer once more, my nerves building. 

What if I rang the bell a second time, but whoever was going to answer was just busy the first time? What if they think I’m a diva, someone who expects people to immediately tend to my beck and call? What if they were literally having a final phone call with an elderly grandparent, about to have the first of many kisses with their longtime crush, mid-way through changing a tampon? The possibilities all flash before my eyes as I picture in horror the different versions of the either tear stained or lipstick smudged, but most definitely pissed off face of the host opening their home to me. Who am I to decide when they need to come to the door? A double-buzz is far too risky. Not when the stakes are this high. 

“Who wants a shot?” I hear a female voice slur. The knot in my stomach kindly reminds me of its presence, wrapping itself even tighter around my insides. Me! I do! Please answer the door! I scream internally. Wait I contemplate for a wild moment Would that actually be a cool way to announce my presence? My clarity of mind returns just in time to ground me from my delusions. I glance at my phone, it’s been three and a half minutes. Three and a half minutes I could have spent inside, having a normal college experience. I could only picture my mother’s exasperated face “ Just open the feckin thing Ellen!” Mam is full of classic one-liners like this. Some other popular contenders included “Just tell the teacher you need to go to the toilet Ellen!”, “ Just call them on the phone Ellen!”  and not forgetting my own personal favourite, “Just go up and introduce yourself Ellen!” She makes it all sound so simple, I put it down to old age having wreaked a bit of havoc with her critical thinking skills. But sometimes I have to wonder if she’s right; most of the time I feel as though I’m still waiting for some sort of letter in the post to inform me of how to actually function as a living breathing human. 

Maybe it was all a big joke, the words penetrate me before I can stop them. There’s a sudden roar of laughter from inside. Oh God, what if they can see me. Is Briana recounting the tale to everyone of how she took pity on an awkward saddo, and they mistook her charity for genuine interest? Are they all crouching behind various items of furniture, giddily telling each other Shh, she’ll hear. Maybe they have a pool going for how long I’ll stand here, an eager idiot. 

Defeated, I turn around, and walk back down the overgrown garden path. I’m shivering in the cold, but I hadn’t wanted to bring a jacket because in the films the girls never wanted to wear them either. I had wanted to be like them so badly, and I thought tonight would finally be my chance to shake off  the frumpy, plain, painfully dull old skin I had found myself sewn into over the years. But maybe it’s too late, the damage is done now. Being me is a life sentence, different scenery doesn’t fix it.  

I reach the end of the lawn, imagining the awkward follow up call I’ll have to go through with Astrid tomorrow. Should I just lie to her? Fabricate an incredible evening full of firsts, maybe even feign a hangover for good measure? She’d know, Astrid always knows. She knew when I started missing school for weeks on end that it wasn’t just my period cramps getting the better of me, or that I didn’t just not go to the debs in order to protest the patriarchy. She was there with me on every birthday I insisted on not celebrating, neither of us willing to acknowledge the fact that we both knew nobody would come if I invited them. “Forget all them Ell,” she’d say, curling up beside me on the couch. “Your people are out there, you just gotta find ‘em,” she’d tell me wisely through a mouthful of microwave popcorn. I feel a pang at the thought of the ill-concealed disappointment on her face when she would realise I spent yet another evening holed away in my bedroom. 

I look back at the door. What if my people are behind it? 

“Excuse me?” a voice squeaks, breaking me from my inner trance. I see a girl in streaky fake tan, her eyelashes like large black feathers glued to her lids. She looks about twelve years old, teetering on high heels uncertainly. She gives me a timid smile.

 “Are you heading into Briana’s?” she asks, nervous excitement coating her voice. 

“Yeah, actually I am,” I reply, “I’m Ellen.” 

“Grace,” she says, extending her arm over the wall. We shake hands, her skin slightly clammy to touch, but I don’t mind. “I’m such an eejit," she says, rolling her eyes lightly “I can’t even get the stupid gate open!” She giggles self-consciously.

“Don’t worry, it was tricky for me too,” I lie, unlatching the bolt. She enters the garden, her eyes large as she looks up at the building in front of her. “This is my first proper party you know,” she almost whispers to me, like she’s just confessed a murder. 

“Mine too” I whisper back. We both laugh. I offer her the crook of my elbow so she can hold it while we half hobble up to the house together. It looks a lot less threatening the second time around. 

Before we reach the steps, the front door swings open. Briana emerges, a rolled cigarette pressed between her lips. 

“Ell!” she beams. “Took you long enough!” 

 (© 2023 by MegMcGouraud)

[yourflowersfirst]

day 1,431

okay, i'm gonna speak to you very candidly. i hope that's okay. i think conversation type writing is fun, and i'm in the mood for it. imagine this just two guys, getting dinner, chatting. well. i'm talking at you; you're half listening, half noticing the hot bartender in the corner, not noticing me so much. you steal a few of my fries. whatever. i'll take what i can get.

i've been a little sick all week. good enough to still do my assignments and go for runs and work, you know, manageable. today though, i woke up with a throat so agonizingly painful i could hardly swallow water (let alone those big ass dayquil pills). (but seriously, why are they so huge? it's hell for a sore throat.) something something big thing in my throat, there's a funny joke to be made there if you want. i don't care.

maybe i should stop going for runs when i'm feeling even a little sick. they probably don't help me, and my immune system is already ass as it stands. just to brag a bit though, i ran 6.5 miles earlier this week. i got my hair done the other day, but i've felt too sick to even wash it. do you know how heavenly washing your extensions is? i cum a little just thinking about the concept. but i can't, because i had to be a stupid fuck who got herself sick. washing all of my hair is not only a 2-3 hour long process, but wet hair like that makes illnesses worse for me. yeouch.

i'm sick of things, too. myself, mostly. i'm sick of feeling rotten and not good enough for anyone, anything, any man. my grades are still okay despite me being so bleh i can hardly focus on anything. it'll be a miracle if this post even makes sense. anyway, point is, no amount of male attention could fill the hatred i have for myself in my heart. i'm sick of that. if you know how to fix this carnal need i have to please everyone and give away all i am for someone else, hit me up. tell me what to do.

yesterday after my run (that definitely made my illness worse), i went to get chipotle, as i do. i'm addicted, seriously. as i was walking to the building, a guy driving past me in the parking lot and shouted "BALLS!" at me after rolling his window down. i shit myself laughing. much better than some male attention i've gotten, as you well know if you've read my other posts on this pretentious little blog.

i go back to ohio 8 days from now. if i still feel like garbage even then, i'm rioting, and then donating my organs to science. shit. my lips are chapped because drinking water, as i said, it really fucking hurts. it's 105 ish degrees here every day now, and i can't keep myself hydrated. i don't genuinely pray to god much anymore but i have been all day, reciting mantras to heal my body, mind, and soul.

i'm gonna get my period any day now too. just icing on top of the cake. here's how i know: the other day, before my sickness worsened, i went to hang with vincent (ex roommate) at his new place. i brought fuji so she and lupita could play; i also brought cane's for us to enjoy. jesus. cane's and chipotle in one post, no wonder i'm huge.

so, i went to hang with the fella. he put on dawn of the planet of the apes. i'd never seen any of those movies and there's a new one in theaters right now, so i figured, why the hell not? it'll be a silly time. the movie was shockingly serious. i was invested. (spoilers) when caesar got shot, i yelled, "no!"

"i know, very sad," vincent said while stuffing his face with crinkle cut fries.

i felt my eyes welling with tears. "he was a good leader, how could koba do that?"

"whoa, dude, are you good?"

"he's just... such a good dad... but he was shot! it isn't fair! he just wanted peace with the humans!"

vincent patted my shoulder, confused. "there, there."

i swatted him away, tears falling. i wiped them with a greasy hand. "don't make fun of me! it's so sad. oh god. i need napkins."

my hormones love to go batshit crazy the few days leading up to my period, rattling around my endocrine system like ping pong balls. today i was crying because i just hate being sick so much. go figure. i need to stock up on sanitary napkins (hardy har) and get my heated pad ready.

when i was on birth control, my PMS was manageable. i'd never get upset, never cried over stupid shit like dawn of the planet of the apes. now look at me. 2022 me would be horrified. in the end, though, i prefer this to the nasty side effects of tri-sprintec.

why am i rambling about my hormones and my period? sorry. i'm truly sorry. i just find it amusing in a certain light. i've been listening to "somebody else" by the 1975 a hell of a lot, and it's got me all nostalgic and weepy. really reiterates the fact that i'm a tiny bit unlovable, but hey, fuck that. get money.

i try not to dwell on "situationships" too much, but i can't help it. hot, late summer nights are the perfect time to wallow in your own self pity. i'd smoke a cigarette but i don't wanna make my throat worse. i say that, but cigarettes cause throat cancer. my priorities are truly in order, my friend.

i'm gonna try to go to bed and sleep this shit off. it feels like strep or a sinus infection. don't worry, i'm gonna see a doctor tomorrow, even though i'm cheap and hate paying people to tell me what's wrong with me. ironically enough, this is also why i can't keep a therapist, minus the one i had in high school for my eating disorder. i saw her a bunch last summer, which was cool, except i was seeing her for **** trauma and PTSD so bad i'd have panic attacks every day. good times. i've come a long way in a year. i can't really trust any other therapist except her. why, oh why, must she only do in person sessions in ohio?!

okay, i don't know how to end this one. i'll just share a poem i like, hehehehe. i'm biased toward it, because i'm a redhead, but hopefully you like it too.

"Ash, ash—

You poke and stir.

Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——

A cake of soap,   

A wedding ring,   

A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer   

Beware

Beware.

Out of the ash

I rise with my red hair   

And I eat men like air."

-Lady Lazarus, by Sylvia Plath