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atlafan · 5 months

Note

20 & 28 from the prompt list pls!

20. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard.”

28. “I love that we both already finished and your legs are still shaking.”

smut prompts

—————————————————————-

“He did what?” Harry’s jaw fell open as his dear friend, Y/N, told him about why she was newly single.

“He accepted a job across the country and expected me to drop everything to go with him! He didn’t even tell me he was looking for other opportunities. I mean, it’s a big step up for him, but to assume I’d quit my own job to go play house with him??? My whole family is here. I’d be sick to my stomach knowing I couldn’t see my nephews as regularly as I do now.” She sighed heavily and looked at her friend. “Can I crash here for a few days? If I go back to my place, I know he’ll show up and try to convince me to go with him again.”

“So, it’s over, just like that?”

“Yup. I’m not sabotaging my own career for a man. We’re clearly on different wave lengths, I guess it’s better to find out now.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Of course you can stay with me. Stay as long as you like.”

“Thank you.” She wraps her arms around his neck and sighs. “You’re such a good friend.”

Harry’s been waiting for Y/N and her boyfriend to break up for ages. He’s not one of those guys who’s only friends with a girl because he wants it to lead to more. That would be shitty of him. But he and Y/N have been friends for a while now, and as years have gone by, he’s started looking at her differently. A tiny crush started to bloom. He noticed how her laugh made him feel and how her smile gave him butterflies. It was gradual, natural. But he wasn’t sure how to bring this up to her, and there was never a good time. She was in a relationship, and he assumed she was happy, so he never let on about his feelings.

But now, Y/N is single. Harry’s not going to pounce on her right away. He knows she’ll need time to grieve the loss of her relationship. He also doesn’t want her to think he’s taking advantage of the vulnerable state she’s in. So, he’ll continue being the good friend that he is, and when the time is right, he’ll tell her how he feels.

Y/N was never one to wear her heart on her sleeve. She didn’t cry in public. She wanted people to think she was fine at all times. But after a month or so of being single, she found herself moping around a lot. She thought about her ex all the time. She hated it, but it was hard not to think of him. She wanted to know how his new job was going because she still cared. But then she’d remind herself that he probably doesn’t care how she’s doing, and then she’d distract herself with something to do.

Then, on a random Tuesday, two months later, a mutual friend sent her a message saying her ex was in a new relationship. He was posting her on main, laughing and smiling.

And that’s when Y/N finally cracked. She cried. She cried her eyes out until they were swollen and puffy. She couldn’t sleep when she tried to go to bed, so she texted Harry and asked if she could come over. He said yes.

“I don’t even know why I care.” She groaned as she told him about the ordeal. “How are men able to move on so quickly? I think about him every day. He always crosses my mind. I’m not even doing it on purpose. He probably never thinks about me.”

“He probably thinks about you all the time and started dating again to fill the void. That’s what I would do if I fucked up as badly as he did.”

“You know what bugs me the most? I have confirmation that he’s having sex. Someone else is giving him orgasms when all I’ve had for the last three months are my own hands and my vibrator. I’m too scared to meet some random dude from an app. I’m losing my mind, Harry. I feel like a feral cat in heat.” She chugs some water and takes a deep breath.

“You’re that horny, huh?”

“You have no idea. Masturbating and watching porn is fun and all, don’t get me wrong, but after a while it’s not exactly exciting. Feels like a chore.”

“I’m going to propose something, and I really want you to think about it before you decide it isn’t a good idea.” He runs a hand through his hair. “What if we had sex?”

“We, like, you and I?”

“Yeah.”

“No offense, but the idea of being pity fucked by my friend isn’t exactly getting my panties wet.”

“It’s not a pity fuck. Don’t be mad, but I’ve wanted to have sex with you for a very long time.”

“Great, so you’ve only been friends with me-“

“Don’t even go there because it’s not like that. We’ve been friends for five years. The last two, you were dating that asshole. A crush sort of snuck up on me around the time you and him started dating. I felt weirdly jealous every time you’d blow our friend group off to go be with him. And when I really thought about why, I realized that it was because I liked you as more than a friend.”

“You’ve liked me for two years?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“You were in love with him. I didn’t want to get in the way of your happiness. I’m fine if we just stay friends. I want you in my life, I don’t care how.”

“Why didn’t you make a move right after we broke up?”

“Other than not wanting to be your rebound, I knew you just needed a friend. You were vulnerable, I couldn’t take advantage of that.”

“You’d really want to fuck so quickly? Don’t you want to take me out on a date first?”

“You’re not the only one who feels feral, Y/N.”

“I can’t believe how stupid and oblivious I am.” She slides her hands down her face. “You’re a great guy, I’d be lucky to date you. My family already adores you. We practically go on dates all the time as it is.” She facepalms, then looks at him. “You really would fuck me right now?”

“Yes. Do…are you even attracted to me…sexually?”

“Harry, you’re the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen. Of course I’m attracted to you.”

“How would I have known that?! I’m not a mind reader!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me, I’m sad!”

“You’ve been sad for three goddamn months.” He steps towards her, backing her up to the sink counter, caging her in. “And I’m over it. I’m gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard.”

“Oh, wow.” Her eyelids become hooded as she looks at him. “Yes.” She nods. “Please, I want that. I want you to fuck me, Harry.”

“Good. Jump.”

She puts her hands on his shoulders and jumps so she can wrap her legs around his waist. Harry’s mouth crashes to hers as he carries her to his bedroom. Y/N feels lightheaded as he lays her down, staying on top of her. Her fingers squeeze at his hair as she licks into his mouth. He tastes like mint, and it makes her moan. His hands slide up under her shirt, pawing at her breasts over her bra.

“Fuck, just take it off. Take it all off.” She whines, and he smirks down at her.

“Look who’s all eager all of a sudden.” He sits up and takes his own shirt off. Before he can reach for Y/N’s, she’s tackling him down and sponging kisses to his chest. Her tongue glides down over his butterfly tattoo. She inches further down until she’s nosing at his erection over his joggers. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

“Don’t care, want it.” She tucks her fingers into the waistband of his joggers and looks up at him. “Can I?”

“Yes.”

He lifts his hips to help her and she gets the garment off. She kisses him over his briefs and licks his tip through the material. She even takes it into her mouth like this, and it rips a moan from Harry’s throat. Her eyes snap to his, completely blown out.

“God, I should have known you were vocal.” She whimpers. She tugs his briefs down and wastes no time getting the head of Harry’s cock into her mouth. She runs her tongue over his slit and suckles on the blurts of precome oozing out. She wraps her hand around him and slides her mouth off. “Jesus, you’re so big. I’m gonna see if I can get it down my throat.”

“You don’t have to, what you did before felt great.” He runs a hand through her hair and whimpers again.

“No, I want to choke on it. I really like giving head.”

“That’s something we have in common.” He smirks.

She spits onto his tip and takes him back into her mouth. She doesn’t go slow, she goes down fast and chokes, then pulls off, spitting on him to make it wet and messy, then she repeats. She does it until her throat can handle keeping him there for a moment. She swallows around him a few times before coming off and pumping him with her hand.

“Do you want to come in my mouth?”

“Are you gonna be a good girl and swallow it?”

“Fuck, and you’re kinky?! Should’ve done this a long time ago, Harry.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

��Yes, I’ll swallow it.”

“Then go on and take it.”

She’s not pretty about it. She chokes and gags and sucks and bobs until Harry’s spurting rope after rope down her throat. He sits up after she pulls off and slots his mouth over hers. He grips the hem of her short and lifts it off. She unhooks her bra and lays back on the bed. Her back arches the second Harry’s tongue is circling her nipple.

“Best tits I’ve ever fucking seen.” He growls as he works his way to her other nipple. “So big and soft.”

“You don’t mind that they’re not all perky?”

“Why would I? A boob is a boob is a boob.” He sucks a good amount of one into his mouth, leaving marks from his teeth on her sensitive skin. He kisses down her stomach and hooks his fingers into the waistband of her leggings. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes.” She smiles softly. “And my panties too, please. I don’t like the feeling of sitting in my cold, wetness.”

“Heard.” He pulls both of the garments off and tosses them to the floor before splitting her thighs open. She’s glistening for him. He wells up some spit and watches it fall on and down her slit. “So fucking pretty.”

He spreads her lips apart, running his fingers through her sticky folds. His thumbs spread apart the top so he can find her clit. He taps on it with his finger, making her gasp.

“Did I find it, baby?” It’s rhetorical because before she can answer, his licking over it.

He wraps his lips around it and sucks hard, rapidly. He flicks the tip of his tongue over it, swirls it around, spits on it, then goes back to sucking. The sounds are wet and obscene. Y/N has a hand stuffed in his hair while the other clutches at the sheets. She moans out when she feels his middle finger sink inside her.

“So fucking tight.” He groans.

“I can take another, please, wanna feel you stretch me out.”

Harry grins and lets his ring finger join the middle. He works them in and out of her, wanting to prep her hole for what’s to come. Then he lets them stay deep inside and curls them to her front wall as he shallowly thrusts in and out. He gets his mouth back on her clit and uses his free hand to keep her thigh down and open.

“Fuck, just like that.” Her head rolls back and her mouth hangs open as she rolls her hips forward to meet his thrusts. “Harry, shit, you’re so good. Don’t stop.” Her toes start curling and her legs start shaking, and Harry laughs so sinisterly low that it makes her head dizzy. One of her heels digs into his shoulder blade. She’s panting and moaning and writing under him. “Oh, oh fuck.” She feels the coil deep in her belly about to snap. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come, don’t stop.” The bed starts creaking and the headboard starts thudding against the wall. Harry’s rutting his hips into the mattress and moaning into her. “Harry, Harry, Harryyyyyy, fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming.” Her back arches off the bed as she lets go. Harry fucks her through it, keeping his fingers deep inside her. He gives her throbbing clit a break, then slowly takes his fingers out when he hears her breathing evening out.

He sucks his fingers into his mouth, and his surprised when Y/N grips his jaw to pull him down to her. He takes his fingers out and replaces them with her mouth. They moan against each other, both relishing in the filthy kiss.

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks.

“Are you hard again?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s some good stamina.” She smirks.

“Eating you out made me hard again. Taste so fucking good.” He reaches into his side table drawer and pulls out a foil packet. He sits back on his feet and rips it open to roll onto his cock.

“Do you mind if I play the role of a pillow princess? Kind of want you to just do what you want with me.”

“Yeah? Does being used turn you on?”

“Like this…by you…it does.”

“This might hurt a little since it’s been a while for you. If you need me to stop, just tell me and I will.”

“Okay.”

Harry lines himself up and slowly pushes inside. Y/N bites into his shoulder. The stretch burns, but the pain soon turns to pleasure once he’s all the way in. His tip is already nudging into her g-spot.

“Good?” He asks.

“Yes, thank you. You can move.”

He pulls out about halfway before thrusting back in. Y/N is so sweet for him, he slips out a couple of times before he can get a rhythm going. He sits up and throws her legs over his shoulders, pounding into her. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. She raises her hips and starts moaning uncontrollably. The angle is perfect. He thumbs at her clit, and her nails dig into the meat of his thighs.

“I’m getting close.” She twitches under him, wanting to close her legs to get some relief, but she can’t. “Please, don’t stop.” She whimpers up at him. “Feels so good.”

“Love watching you take it.” He grunts. “We fit so perfectly, your pussy was made for me.”

“Oh, fuck!” Apparently, that’s all she needed in order to come. She drenches his cock, which surprises the both of them. “Oh my god!” She cries out, a second wave of pleasure washing over her. It’s like the never ending orgasm. “Please tell me I didn’t just pee on you.” She sits up on her elbows and is mortified by the wet spot between them. “I had all that water beforehand-“

“You didn’t pee, Y/N.” Harry chuckles. “You just squirted a little. Well, a lot, but you know what I mean.”

“I’ve never done that before.” She blinks.

“Poor thing.” He pouts down at her. “Didn’t it feel so good to get a release like that?” He places his hands on the back of her thighs and pushes them down until her knees are on either side of her head. “Hm?”

“Yes, felt amazing.”

“I’ll make you do it again, baby, don’t worry. Gonna give it to you like you deserve. Hold your legs there for me.” He grips her hips and starts moving her on and off his cock. He watches as her eyes roll back and he laughs lowly. “Feel good?”

“Soooo good, oh my god.”

His fingers comes together and he slaps her clit, over and over and over until she’s panting and crying out and making a mess. He pulls out to move her onto her side. She sighs contently, happy to give her legs a break. But it’s not long until Harry is putting one of her legs over his shoulder and sliding back in, fucking her from the side.

“Christ, can feel you in my guts.”

“M’not hitting your cervix right? It still feels good?”

“Feels amazing, keep going.”

“Rub your clit. I wanna come at the same time.”

She slides her hand down and touches herself. She could honestly come from the sound of Harry moaning alone, but his cock beating into her g-spot is also a big help. She screams his name as she comes, making another mess. Harry grunts and whimpers and moans as he fills the condom.

He waits until they’ve both caught their breaths to pull out. Y/N rolls onto her back while Harry throws the condom away. The bed creaks as he lays back down next to her. Her lower half twitches every so often, her thighs still quivering.

“I love that we both already finished and your legs are still shaking.” He turns onto his side and draws shapes into her belly.

“Shut up.” She breathes. “I can’t even feel them.”

“You should really come with me to Pilates more often.”

“Who needs Pilates when you’re going to be fucking me like that regularly?” She turns her head to the side to look at him.

“Oh, am I going to be fucking you regularly? I didn’t get that memo.” He smirks.

“Yes, generally, when two people start dating, they fuck regularly.”

“Are you serious?” He sits up, hope painted all over his face. “You can really see us being a romantic couple?”

“Yeah.” She smiles up at him and caresses his cheek. “I’d really like to give this a shot.”

“Oh, Y/N, that makes me so happy.” He moves to lay on top of her and buries his face in her neck. She holds him to her chest, content with having his weight on her.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being you.”

He moves to look at her and pecks her lips. “You’re welcome.”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #prompts

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junipers-archive · 1 year

Text

And They Were Roommates

Word Count: 1k

Includes: Fluff, fluff, some more fluff and a kiss? You confront Spencer about your relationship status after Penelope informs you of everyone's belief of you being more than roommates :)

(Prompt from this challenged by @imagining-in-the-margins)

You were at the coffee shop nearest to the apartment, desperately trying to find a pick me up. It was 6:30am...a new record for you. Seeing as your roommate and best-friend Spencer hadn't alerted you that you guys ran out of coffee at home, you were now standing in what you deem the longest line in the world you'd ever seen for coffee.

Then again it was one of the first times you'd been up this early to see people who actually got up early. It'd only been 10 minutes but you swore if you didn't get your daily caffeine boost soon you'd start to shut down.

The line was moving at snail pace so you decided to see what the problem was, only to catch a Penelope Garcia with 8 coffees in her arms, trying to balance her way out of the crowd.

Fortunately for her, Spencer had introduced you to the team a few months ago after they'd wanted to see where he lived and he was essentially peer-pressured in showing them by Derek. You'd been given a 5-minute notice at the late hour of 11pm and to this day are still making him pay on movie-nights where you got to choose the film.

You were torn between helping Penelope and staying in your spot in line, but seeing as you remembered how kind she had been and she was about to drop all that coffee, you took pity. Rushing over and calling her name,

"Penelope, you need some help there?"

"ah!-oh hi Y/n, sorry you scared me for a moment! And yes please."

You took one of the trays of coffee from her, holding her purse around your other arm. "Not that I mind helping, but why all the coffee?"

"Well" She was now wobbling over to a table that was just freed up by a couple, talking to you while placing her many belongings on it,

"Sometimes, I like to get up really early and get coffee for the team, cause you know the coffee at work sucks and I'm sure Spencer's already alerted you, but someone's been stealing the curate cups from the kitchen!"

You now placed the tray you had been carrying on the table as well,

"No...uh Spencer doesn't exactly talk about his job much, we usually just talk about other stuff"

She looked surprised at this, "Really? I thought he'd be more open about what he does with his girlfriend. But I guess thats just Spencer."

Now it was your turn to be surprised. "I-I'm sorry, did you say girlfriend?"

"Well, I mean yeah, you live together, he talks about you all the time, and when we went over you two just had so much chemistry we all just assumed-" she stopped talking as she saw the growing disbelief on your face, "I-I just- I'm sorry are you not dating?"

You were speechless. Absolutely speechless.

I mean sure you liked Spencer, he was one of your best-friends and you did live together and yea maybe you had feelings for him. But could other people see it too?

I mean, it made sense, now that you thought about it, you two were practically never seen apart, having roomate-movie-nights, going on consistent 'friend-dates', eating almost every meal together and getting each other gifts for holidays, even sometimes falling asleep in each others beds when you both got black-out drunk on occasion...

Were you dating?

Penelope had taken your silence as her cue to leave, gathering her things, but you had another idea, one that wouldn't leave you overthinking for the rest of the day.

"Wait- I- I'll help you! I mean you can't carry this all yourself!"

"Thank you" she smiled " but you're sure you don't have anywhere to be?"

"Not a place in the world." You would just call in sick today, you thought.

On the drive to the BAU as you talked to Penelope who you found was alluringly talkative, you also realized you might not even be able to get into the building. When you asked she waved her hand, shooing away your worries it seemed as she explained that as long as you weren't a spy you'd be fine for staying a couple minutes since she had clearence.

The topic of Spencer didn't come up again.

Once you got there and helped Penelope up to the office you caught sight of your roommate sitting at his desk. Excusing yourself, you began walking over, It was more decorated than you assumed, containing his adorable action figure favorites and small trinkets you'd given him over the years. And as you got closer you even found he had a picture of the two of you posing at a theme park you'd forced him to go to with you.

He saw you before you were closer, standing himself up as well.

"Y/n? What-What're you doing here?"

"Are we dating?"god you needed to get a filter, but you were really curious.

He sputtered at that, which admittedly made you smile, "I-uh-Who-did Garcia?-What?"

By pure instinct you grabbed his face so he had to look at you now, as he had a habit of looking down when nervous.

You asked him once more,

"Doctor Spencer Reid Are you dating me?"

You could feel him blush against your palms as he answered,

"Uhm...do you want me to be dating you?"

You don't know what had gotten into you that morning, but the next thing you did surprised both of you, pulling him closer as his hands circled your waist hesitantly and you kissed him.

It was soft at first, almost gentle in the way the both of you were nervous, but eventually he deepened it, grabbing one side of your face, the other circling your waist completely now as you arms came to rest around his shoulders.

When you both had to finally come up for air you breathed out your more than obvious response, "yes."

And while you both grinning like idiots at one another, Penelope was adamantly taking photos of the two of you for your wedding which she had already informed Spencer was to be on October 31 of next year.

You never even noticed you didn't get your coffee, knowing you were now with the Dr.Spencer Reid was enough of a pick-me-up to last you a lifetime.

Reblogs and Comments appreciated!!

Update: Part 2

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fancfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #please please let these tags work tumblr im begging #junipers-archive

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miloformula123fan · 4 months

Note

PART 2 OF THE LOGAN SISTER FIC PLEASE

okay, I know this is short, and yes part 3 is coming and yes it is angsty but I need to get it done

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist, anyone tagged is just people who asked for a second part :)

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

part 1 is here

part 3 is here

george russell x sargeant!reader

---

“SO YOU’RE TELLING ME OUR ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP WAS A LIE GEORGE.”

“No, no, it wasn’t. Y/N, you have to understand…-”

“UNDERSTAND WHAT? THAT YOU TREATED MY BROTHER LIKE A HUMAN BEING JUST SO I WOULD FUCK YOU? OUR ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP WAS BASED ON YOUR KINDNESS WHICH WAS A LIE! WHY, WHY WOULD YOU FUCK MY BROTHER OVER LIKE THAT JUST TO WIN A GIRL?” she took a deep breath ‘I’m done.’

“What? What do you mean, you’re done.”

She looked won, took another deep breath and looked George in the eyes. ‘I meant, I’m done george. I’m done with this relationship. I’m finished. I can’t forgive you after learning that our relationship was based on you treating my brother like a decent human being, and you planning on winning me over ike that. Well congratulations it worked. And now you’re back to treating my brother like absolute shit, because you finally got the girl. Congratulations. If you want to ‘win me back’, then maybe start with treating my brother like a human being again. But you’ll have to do more than that, Russell.’

And she walked out. George put his head in his hands. He’d signed so many NDAs, you would’ve thought he wouldn’t have left his laptop open and unlocked, particularly with Logan coming over. He really should remember to close his old files. Particularly when your girlfriend, no ex-girlfriend, had looked through your old powerpoints and found an old presentation he’d made to alex about how he was planning on wooing y/n. With the first slide being ‘treat logan nicely.’ and yeah maybe after he’d started dating y/n, his priority to include everyone had fallen behind.

And yeah, Logan was nice. He had learnt that after many morning jogs and coffees and dinners and hanging out after races. He still remembers how scared he had been a year ago, when he had first officially met Y/N.

“Well, then why is he telling me that there have been 2 people, Oscar and Alex, who have actually welcomed him to F1. Everyone else has snubbed him and he doesn’t understand why you don’t like him. He’s lonely. So fucking sort your shit out.”

And he had. Or at least he had tried. And Logan had really warmed up to him and started participating in the driver evenings, but George always visited his house, partly for the runs, partly because his trainer was less strict and he could make a better breakfast at Logan’s, and maybe partially for the hope that Logan’s sister would rock up.

And then she had. And logan had still been asleep. And she obviously still was a professional athlete so she had been more than willing to do a run with him. And then have breakfast when Logan had finally stumbled out of his bedroom. And then get her phone number

And then yeah maybe he had deserted Logan, assuming he now had enough interaction with the rest of the grid to be okay.

Until Logan had called Y/N last night, asking her to come over because it turned out the grid had gone to dinner without him, and he was feeling a little hurt. And she had promised to once George got home, and then she had absolutely laid into him. And now she was gone, presumably to Logan’s and George didn’t know what to do.

---

taglist: @folklorsweet @the-untamed-soul @thatgirlmj @cstads-blog

#f1 fic #miloformula123fan #f1 x reader #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #f1 fanfic #logan sargeant x you #george russell x reader #george russell #george russell x you

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multifanhoe99 · 8 months

Text

Kinktober Day 10- Public Sex

I am basing this one off a true story please don't do this it's so risky and unsanitary.

Paring: San x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Sex in a port-a-potty, FWB, degradation (calls reader a slut), he likes the reader but doesn't know how to tell her so he's kinda mean cause she likes his bad boy act.

=Let me know if I missed any.=

18+ MDNI

PROMPT LIST

MASTERLIST

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wondered how it was exactly that you found yourself in this position. Never in a million years did you think that resident bad boy Choi San would even glance in your direction much less have you bent over for him on the regular. The truth is though that San is about as close to a real bad boy as a puppy is. His cool demeanor and sharp gaze always seemed to convince people that he wasn't up to any good but to those who knew him best he was a big softie. He lived to cuddle and was a real romantic and he truthfully had the biggest crush on you.

You were so sweet and beautiful and always seemed to make whomever you were talking to smile. He's been playing into the bad boy act for so long now though that he has no idea how to ask you out properly or even get your to see the real him. His best friend Wooyoung tells him that he just needs to do it but is he's being honest he's scared. That's what got him in this mess in the first place. He was finally going to ask you out. He was preparing himself all week but when the time finally came he chickened out. Then, he saw you at a party. He decided he was going to tell you then, after plenty of liquid courage. Maybe, he had a little too much because then next thing he knew was that he came up to dance behind you and instead of asking you or properly like he planned he ended up saying, "What is a pretty little thing like yourself doing all alone?"

"Um, well I w-was just looking for my roommate. She's here somewhere," you stuttered feeling hot with San being this close to you. You had no idea why he was choosing to talk to you but you couldn't deny that it made you feel good to have this resident bad boy all over you for the moment.

"Forget her, let me be your roommate tonight yeah? I'll make you feel so good you'll be begging me like a desperate slut by the end," yeah he definitely had to much. Be want supposed to say any of that but his mouth was moving faster than his brain. That is how you both ended up in your friends with benefits relationship. He would come over and fuck your brains out, saying the nastiest things to you and you loved it. You assumed that was all it was but to him, he used it as a twisted chance to get to know your and spend time with you. Unbeknownst to you that is why he so often chose to stay at your place even though he said it was just because he was to tired to go back to his dorm.

One day he invited you to go to a concert with him. He said he got the tickets for free from a buddy but he had actually bought them and planned on taking you because you're favorite band was headlining. You played it off very cool but on the inside you were screaming you were going to see your favorite band and with none other than Choi San. You couldn't get your hopes up to much though this was definitely not a date even though it did kind of feel like one.

Soon it was the day of the concert and right on time at 4:30 San was at your dorm ready to pick you up. You got there early even though you had seats but you didn't want to miss any of the openers either. Everything was going well and you were having a great time. You and San jammed out to the music and you were dancing and having fun.

"Hey," you said after a while, "I'll be right back I am going to get another drink."

"Wait," he replied also getting up, "I will go with you there are so many people I don't want you getting hurt." You thought it was strange that he would care but you couldn't think on it too much or you would stay deluding yourself into thinking he actually liked you. In his mind it was now or never. He had to confess to you before things for any further and his chances are ruined. He wasn't exactly thinking straight he just needed to get you somewhere he felt he could talk to you without so much distraction. He grabbed your arm and pulled you into the closest room he could find and that just so happened to be the wheelchair accessible port-a-potty. It was not his best option but it'd do for now. What he didn't expect was to feel you so close and he couldn't help himself. He kissed you deeply and passionately. It had you morning into his mouth.

He pulled away saying, "I am sorry I just couldn't wait anymore."

"Neither can I," you replied reaching to palm at his cock above his pants.

"God, you are just a desperate slut for my cock huh? Can't get enough that you're willing to let me fuck you right here and now," he said while turning you around so he could grind his bulge against your ass. None of this was part of the plan but you seemed to be enjoying yourself there for her just went with it loving the feeling of your body against his. Luckily for you both you decided to wear a sundress with no panties. You knew how much that drive him insane.

He lifted your dress bunching it together at your lower back. There you were bent over holding on to a guard rail in a port-a-potty with no panties and dripping wet just for San. That was it for him, the congestion could wait he needed to be balls deep in your beautiful pussy right now. He wasted no time using his pants and pulling both them and his underwear down to his mid thigh letting his cock spring free. He guided his tip to your entrance tubing his tip up and down your wet folds. Them, he started to push in.

"Fuuuuck you're always so right for me. I love fucking your pretty little pussy. That's it take it like my good little slut," he said. Officially lost in the high of pleasure he just said whatever he thought. He began to move faster slamming his hips into yours. One of his hands on the same guardrail you were holding on to the other covering your mouth muffling your sweet sons so you don't get caught. You were surprised you didn't get cause already though with the way the whole thing seemed to be shaking. Eventually he moved his other hand from the rail to snake around your body and start rubbing your clit. Your mouth was still covered but you still screamed that you were gonna cum and hopefully he'd know your were close. Which he did, he could feel it.

"You gonna cum for me little slut huh? You gonna cum all over my cock? That's it, cum for me go ahead," he encouraged. The feeling of his cock and his hand and then the words he spoke had you coming undone. He was not far behind and when he was just about to cum he pulled out of your letting it all drip onto the floor. When all was said and done and you were both satisfied and clean, at least as clean as you could get, he finally spoke the words he's been waiting ages to say.

"Y/N, I really like you and I have for a while and I'm not good with my words really but I want to ask you out on a real date. Honestly I've been wanting to do that for a long time. I want to make you mine for real."

You were too stunned to speak you thought it was a joke but he seemed so sincere. You decided to agree under some conditions.

"Okay," you began, " you can take me out on a real date. I really like your top but you should know that if I get any sense that you're playing me at all I'm done and this whole thing will be over. I won't let myself get heartbroken like that."

"You don't have to worry about that," he said, "I don't even plan on letting you go now." You two say back in your seats and enjoyed the rest of the concert. It was amazing and you couldn't wait to see where this will go.

A/N: Yes, this situation was a thing. No, I will not be doing that ever again. Highschool was a wild time and that is all I will say. Anyway once again don't have sex in a port-a-potty it is not great but it did give me the inspiration for this so at least it was good for one thing. Asks are still open and I am ready to get writing.

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #x reader #ateez smut #k pop smut #san smut #ateez san #san x reader #ateez #choi san

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x-bluefire-heart-x · 8 months

Text

Mr Fancy Pants

Alright, so here is another Rafael Barba/Gender Neutral story. The reader is undercover, they don't work for SVU but Finn and Liv know them. Amanda arrests them, and Rafael sits in on the interview, where the reader flirts with him.

Feel free to make requests :)

Warnings: Sexual under tones, discussion of violence, but not overly detailed. And I think that is it.

Masterlist

Prompt List

Your hands were finally free of the hand cuffs as a detective lead you into an interrogation room. You rubbed at your wrists, pretending that they were chaffed a little, pouting at the blonde detective when she pushed at your shoulder to force you into a chair across from where a man in a suit was standing behind another chair.

“No need for the rough treatment detective,” you whined, slumping a little into the back of the incredibly uncomfortable chair. “I didn’t consent to that. And aren’t you sex crime cops meant to be all about that?”

“That wasn’t rough, Sunshine,” Amanda said stopping herself from rolling her eyes. The man however, did not contain himself.

“Sunshine?” he looked at Amanda with an eyebrow raised. You studied his profile allowing a sly, flirty grin to pull at your lips.

“Yeah, Sunshine,” you answered drawing his eyes to you. “Cause I’m just all smiles and happiness. And anyone who leaves my bed is smiling like sunshine.” You winked at him, eyes slowly moving up and down his body. “Could give you that experience, cutie.”

“You’ve been brought in on charges of solicitation and you’re soliciting an ADA?” he’s voice was full of disbelief at your actions.

“No, I’m offering you the chance to experience my full attention on you and only you, a fun time between two adults, a hook up if you will, people have them all the time,” you said narrowing your brows, grin changing to a pout again as you puffed out your cheeks a little. “I have no idea why little miss south here arrested me. I didn’t do a thing. Won’t be asking her if she wants to come to bed with me that’s for sure. Not asking before handcuffing me and being all rough.”

“I’m a cop arresting a suspect in relation to a crime, I don’t need to ask your permission,” Amanda stated. “Now, you can pretend all you like, but we know you were seen around other workers. We want to know if you’ve ever seen this girl before.”

Amanda opened the folder that was on the desk as she took a seat. The ADA still standing. Amanda put a photo in-front of you of a girl who looked barely in her twenties, with long red hair and freckles spattered across her cheeks. You looked down at it before looking back at the ADA.

“Don’t I at least get to know your name?” you asked, looking at him from under your lashes biting your lip. “I mean I don’t mind calling you sexy or handsome or stunningly gorgeous man but I also wanna know your name.”

“I’m Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba,” he ground out, ignoring your weird flirting. “And enough games, Sunshine.”

“Games? You think I’m playing games?” you asked innocently, blinking at him. “I could show you some games. With consent of course, might not mind getting cuffed if it’s by you.”

“Sunshine! This girl have you seen her?” Amanda interrupted her voice sharp, the anger bubbling underneath. “We have enough to charge you.”

“With what?” you asked, finally turning your gaze to Amanda’s the teasing glint in them gone, replaced by a sharpness she did not expect. “Just cause I was seen around other workers you just assume I’m also a worker? Have you seen me approach a John? Seen me exchange money for sex? Do I have a record? And last I checked you lot weren’t ones to arrest sex workers.”

“This girl was brutally attacked and murdered, don’t you care?” Amanda asked pulling out more photos, this time crime scene photos, slamming them down on the table in-front of you.

“Rollins, enough,” Finn’s voice cut through the silence that had followed. You turned in your seat to look at the new arrival who was already looking at you. “You gonna help or you just wasting our time, Sunshine? Cause we can put you in lock up for 24hrs. Capice?”

You worried your bottom lip as you looked at Finn, glancing back over your shoulder to Amanda and Rafael. Your eyes eventually were drawn to the crime scene photos of the girl, you sighed rolling your neck before looking back at Finn. You raised an eyebrow, nodding towards the other two. He inclined his head.

“Wanderlust,” you muttered standing up, posture changing as you did. The set of your shoulders pulling back and your face losing any trace of teasing as you indicated the door Finn was standing in. “Her office?”

“Yeah, come on you two,” Finn went back through the door with you close behind. Amanda and Rafael shared a look of confusion before storming after you two.

“What is going on?” Rafael demanded looking at Liv only to see her in the middle of a hug with you smiling widely as you greeted her like old friends.

“You two know each other?” Amanda asked.

“All three of us do,” you answered turning around and crossing your arms across your chest. “Met on another undercover job of mine, where our two cases intersected. Ended up helping each. After it happened for the third time we decided to work out a way to let each player know if we could discuss our cases and provide assistance.”

“You’re a cop?” Amanda asked.

“FBI,” you nodded. “Good tactics by the way but you might want to be careful who you bluff with, you had nothing to charge me with, though I am curious as to what made you decide to arrest me.”

“You matched the description we had of someone who was seen in the same area the girl was attacked,” Amanda answered. “And we had quite a few people mention this new worker who had shown up called, Sunshine.”

“Ah, well, fair enough,” you nodded winking at her a little. “Still not enough to actually arrest me. Could get it thrown out myself.”

Your gaze drifted to Rafael who was leaning against the observation window, arms crossed and his face pulled into a frown as he studied you. His eyes seeming to run up the length of your body before he caught your gaze, he quickly looked away turning his attention to Finn his cheeks turning the smallest bit red.

“Hey, Rafael,” you wanted his attention back on you. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Sunshine’s personality is a little…frisky.”

“It’s fine, Agent,” Rafael muttered. “So, do you have anything that can help our case?”

“Maybe,” you nodded. “I haven’t actually seen that girl but I know a few other workers who have mentioned a particularly nasty John lately. It doesn’t seem like our two cases are directly intersecting beyond me being here but I’ll help in anyway I can, so long as it doesn’t jeopardise my case.”

“Can we expect a lawyer showing up for you?” Liv asked.

“Potentially, Sunshine isn’t working for anyone at the moment, my goal is to try and get the attention of a pimp who has ties to an international trafficking ring, so if I have got their attention they could use this to try and get me to feel indebted to them,” you explained. “Last our contacts said they were here, my job is to get close and get picked to tag along to where the head creeps hang out.”

Rafael’s eyes had turned back to you, without his conscious thought prompting them. Your job sounded dangerous, with quite a few unknown variables. And it didn’t look like you had any gear on you that allowed your handlers to track your movements.

“We’ll keep our ears open for anything that sounds like it could be your guy,” Finn promised. “What can you tell us about this John?”

“From what I’ve been told, he drives a four door Sudan, it’s a blue/grey colour one of those ones that seems to shift a little in the light, no-one’s been able to give a full number plate but one of the girls I talked to said it ended in 4KY,” you said. “The guy apparently gets them into the back, the with seats laid down and it starts off normal but he starts to get rough, holding them down hard enough to leave bruises, slapping them. One of them said he even pulled out a knife on her, which would match the marks left on your victim.”

“He’s let some of them go?” Rafael asked, a little surprised considering the extremely violent nature of the attack on their victim.

“He might not be looking to actually kill people,” you explained. “The girls I talked to said they didn’t struggle, they kept up the act. One of them started to struggle and fight him and apparently that set him off but once she stopped and even said sorry he calmed down. He sounds like a sadist who gets off on other people’s pain and fear but he doesn’t want them to struggle for real, to fight him. Most likely he wants the fantasy of them fighting but for the most part wants them to appear as if they are enjoying what he is doing, playing a part to whatever desire he has.”

“You get a description?” Amanda asked.

“Yeah, guy was tall and bulky, he had brown hair that was wavy apparently, he was a smoker, and one girl said he had little scars all over his arm,” you listed. “I can point you in the direction of some of the girls, but I can’t talk to them about helping you guys and you can’t mention that I told you where to go.”

“Don’t worry we will be discreet, you can trust us,” Liv squeezed your shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Course, now, as much as I would love to catch up with you two and get to know the rest of the squad we need to get the show on the road,” you grinned. “And by that I mean letting Sunshine go, you have nothing to hold me on.” You cheekily tsked at Amanda, throwing her a wink making her giggle a little.

“Alright you, back in that room,” Liv smiled pulling you into a hug, before moving out of the way for Finn to squeeze you.

“Next time we see you, it better be as you so we can chat,” Finn demanded.

“Alright big guy,” you laughed. You walked to Amanda and held out a hand. “Nice to have met you Amanda, hopefully next time it will be when I don’t have to be undercover, Finn and Liv have a way to contact me, they can pass it on.”

“You too,” Amanda smiled taking your hand. “Be careful, sounds like a tricky undercover op.”

“That just makes it fun,” you winked at her again. “But thank you, I promise I’ll be careful little miss south.”

“Agent,” when you turned back to the door Rafael was already standing there with a hand out.

“Counsellor,” you gripped his hand. “Shall we continue?” he stood to the side to you allow you go through, following in after you with Amanda on his heels.

The two of them watched in interest as you easily slide back in the persona of Sunshine, you slumped back in the chair as they took the seats across from you. You passed your eyes over Amanda to settle on Rafael, your teasing flirty smile appearing again.

“Well, cutie, you gonna cuff me or let me go?” you asked, putting in a purr to your tone.

“You’re free to go Sunshine,” Amanda sighed collecting the photos. “I suggest you find other places to hang out.”

“Aw, you worried about me blondie?” you cooed. Amanda ignored you as she stood up and opened the door to the corridor. You stood up, strolling around the door passing by Rafael who had stood up. You paused for a split second, making sure to lock eyes with him. “Well, Mr Fancy Pants, be sure to give me a call. I promise it’ll be worth it, sexy.”

You winked at him as you passed, subtly slipping a piece of paper into the pocket of his pants as you trailed your fingers over his hand. You pouted as you passed Amanda wiggling your fingers at her as you left but before you left her eye sight you blew her a kiss. Rafael slipped his hand into his pocket to pull out the piece of paper. It was a name and a number, with a question. ‘My flirting was over the top but doesn’t mean it wasn’t true. Call me?��.

“You know, it took them a while before giving me or Finn their personal number,” Liv’s voice said from behind him.

“Hmm,” was all Rafael said, pocketing the piece of paper. He had to forcibly prevent himself from smiling as he joined the squad to discuss their next move, his fingers every now and then touching the piece of paper.

#writing #imagine #law and order svu #imagines #gender neutral reader #rafael barba #rafael barba x you #gender neutral y/n #law and order svu imagines #rafael barba x reader #Rafael Barba is a little confused #Reader Undercover #Reader is a tease #Reader loves to flirt #Especially with Rafael #Don't we all

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olderthannetfic · 14 days

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Wondering if you and/or your followers could potentially help me with a fandom etiquette problem.

A couple months ago, I commissioned a friend and fellow fan for a fic (say that ten times fast). I paid them, the money went through, they messaged me to make sure they had the details they needed, and I was very excited.

Fast forward to now. It's been a couple months, they've mentioned commissions again, and having none left, and other people have received theirs, but I have not. In fact, they haven't even spoken to me much or really acknowledged me much since. (I'm not blocked, and I think they're still following me). I'm not mad (they were between jobs and needed the money, and they've never previously given me any reason to doubt them following through on something like this), but I am pretty disappointed and kinda sad about it. I was excited for their take on the idea I gave them (since they're a good writer, which is why I commissioned them), but it looks like I won't see it.

So, my problem is...do I message them and ask about this? Do I work under the assumption that they just forgot? Do I just accept disappointment and write this off? I'm really not sure. I've only had this kind of thing happen once before (I later left the platform that particular friend and artist was on and we haven't spoken in years, even though I miss them), so I don't really know what the "best" option is here (assuming there is one).

(Also, if I should ask them about this, what would I even say? "Hi, you forgot my commission and I'm sad" seems direct but much too awkward).

I would check in. Something like "Hey, just checking on the progress of that fic!" Keep it low key.

Sometimes, trying to do things on command dries up the creative juices. That's why I don't take prompts or do commissions. It can hit even people who are normally fine. But they should be able to tell you if that is what has happened.

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theebubblegumbitch · 1 year

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i have been thirsting, extremely dehydrated beyond repair for the past three days now bc of Chad Meeks Martin. i beg of you, i need more content, he’s just.. so pretty.

hi hi so if it’s not too much to ask, perhaps could i request a fic where the reader is more so friends with Tara and Mindy since she’s a bit more shy and they invite reader over for the movie night and that’s when she meets Chad?? and he’s being his usual beautiful and charming self and she’s just overwhelmed and flustered

xtra brownie points if they give off bratz doll gf x himbo jock bf pls 🥺🫶🏽💞 i love your fics, your writing is inspiring tbh ahsjwjd

Girl's Night Interruptions~

Chad Meeks Martin x fem!reader

Request: ahhhhh you’re a GENIUS bunny!! I love this idea!! also i’m so happy to hear that my writing inspires you! ngl that almost made me cry- anyway I hope you love it gorg <333

Synopsis: At first you were reluctant, but when your two closest (and only) friends Tara and Mindy convince you to come to a movie night, you realize sometimes meeting new people is a good thing…

Warnings: none really since this is basically just fluff, use of profanity, Chad being an absolute himbo, reader being a flustered mess!

Series: Pt.1 , Pt.2

You weren't really sure why you agreed to this. You had told Mindy and Tara time and time again that you didn't really like the idea of parties, or gatherings, or anything of the such. It's not that you were super anti-social, you just- had problems starting conversation is all. Which is why the only friends you had made all of freshman year were Mindy and Tara, who were really good at easing you out of your tiny little comfort zone. Today that came in the form of convincing you to join them for a movie night. They promised it would be super chill and fun, the perfect girl's night to end the year off! So of course, you accepted.

You were now all about halfway through the first movie on the list, Legally Blonde, which was one of your favorites. All three of you quickly ran out of popcorn to share, prompting Mindy to get up to refill the bowl. "I'll be right back guys, pause it please!" Mindy had called out on her way to the kitchen. You were now left with just Tara, who quickly filled the silence by asking you questions. "Soooo how's your college love life been going so far? Had any steamy hookups?" She asked with a laugh as she nudged your arm. You felt your face get warm quick. "Cmon Tara, you know I don't like talking about that stuff." You said casually, not really mad at her for asking. "I know, I know, I was just curious." Just as Tara said that you heard Mindy walking back into the living room, and it sounded like she was talking to someone. "NO Chad, I already told you it's a girl's night. That means you can't join." Mindy had now taken her place sitting next to Tara again, leaving who you assumed was Chad standing in front of the couch.

Did Mindy have a brother? You didn't remember her ever mentioning him. "Cmon please, you know I'm not gonna bother y'all I just wanna watch the movie!" He was looking directly at Mindy as he gestured to the still paused TV, his request being promptly ignored. "You want to watch Legally Blonde? Really Chad?" Tara was questioning him, not fully believing his motive for joining the three of you. "Yes okay? It's one of my favorites I have like half of it memorized." Mindy scoffed at that, but from the look on her and Chad's faces you could tell it was probably true. "It's still a no Chad." He didn't seem to like that answer, continuing to practically plead Mindy to join in. "Ya know what fuck this, I'm watching it." And just like that he plopped down on the couch, right next to you. It was a fairly small couch and even just the three of you had barely any wiggle room, but with the addition of Chad you were definitely squeezed together. Chad didn't seem to mind though, quickly settling in and draping his arm over the back of the couch. Mindy, feeling defeated, grabbed the remote with a sigh as she accepted the crashing of girl's night.

"Fine, I guess you're staying..." She rolled her eyes at him, and he only grinned back. "Thanks, sis!" It was only now that he realized he was sitting next to a completely random girl as he raised his eyebrows at you. "OH I'm sorry, have we met before?" He asked, hoping the answer was no so he didn't have to be embarrassed. "Oh right, no you haven't. Chad this is our friend Y/N; Y/N, this is my idiot brother Chad!" Mindy quickly answered Chad's question, being sure to emphasize the word idiot. "Well thank you Mindy for that, charming- introduction, but I was asking Y/N, not you." He gestured to you as he said your name, now making direct eye contact with you. He was probably waiting for you to say something, considering you had been silent thus far. "O-oh yea I'm Y/N and uh Mindy never mentioned she had a brother." You stuttered out, hoping you didn't offend him in the process.

"Oh she didn't huh? Well now you know!" He said as he shot Mindy a glare and then you a grin. "Anyway it's lovely to meet you, and don't listen to Mindy about me being dumb okay? What I lack in brains, I make up for with Hobbs and Shaw here." Chad flexed each of his arms as he said that, and you now realized how attractive he was. Your felt your face get warm again, now hyper aware of how close the two of you were sitting. "Ah yes classic Chad, flex your muscles within the first five minutes of meeting a girl." Tara had said snarkily, perhaps hoping to annoy him into leaving the three of you be. "Hey they're my greatest accomplishment okay! Plus I'm sure she doesn't mind, do you?" Oh you definitely didn't mind. "N-No it's fine I don't mind." You were sure your voice sounded shaky as hell as you spoke. The longer this gorgeous man was next to you, the more flustered you got. So much for a peaceful girl's night...

Some time had passed as the four of you watched the movie in what was mostly silence, besides the occasional comment Chad had made on Elle Woods being a "girlboss" and Mindy having something snide to say in return. Their dynamic made you glad you were an only child. You had now reached the scene where Elle Woods figured out that it was actually the daughter who had killed her dad. You loved this scene, and you had the monologue memorized since you were a little girl. You quickly went to match Elle word for word. You didn't even notice that Chad had gotten excited about the scene too. "...at the risk of deactivating the amonium thyglocilate!" You had both said, or rather yelled it, at the TV in perfect unison. You saw Mindy and Tara's heads snap to the both of you in shock. "I guess he really does like the movie..." Tara said as she grabbed another handful of popcorn. "I told you it's one of my favorites!" Chad said before turning his eyes back to the screen. The shared moment between you two made you feel more at ease, so you went to agree with him.

"Yea it's mine too." You were still pretty soft spoken, but at least you had found some more confidence. You had also found hunger. "Hey Tara, can you pass me the popcorn." She swiftly handed it to you and you set in your lap, going to grab a handful. Just as your hand reached the inside of the bowl, you felt Chad's hand bump against yours as he also went to grab popcorn. It was brief, but his hands were so pretty and soft that you felt like you would remember those two seconds for the rest of your life. You were basically gawking down at the popcorn bowl now, hand still in it. "Oh, sorry." Chad said, muffled through his mouthful of popcorn. God he was so cute."Oh it's fine, don't worry about it." You said as quickly as possible, avoiding looking directly at him. He only shrugged as his attention went back to the movie. It was only silent for maybe ten minutes before Chad spoke again.

"Okay it is literally so hot in here. Is the AC broken or something?" Chad asked as he looked towards Mindy. "Yea it stopped working like two days ago, I have to call and have it fixed." Mindy replied, still not taking her eyes off of the movie. "Well it's like unbearable, I don't know how y'all are wearing jeans." He gestured towards you and Tara as he said that. You didn't realize it was hot, you probably thought it was just him. But to be fair you were wearing your favorite bell bottoms and your thin pink tank-top with a black star in the middle. So it wasn't a very warm outfit to begin with. While you were busy reflecting on your clothing choices Chad had found time to stand up in front of the couch. And now he was taking his shirt off...

You thought you were going to pass out. "Cmon seriously Chad! Do you have to find every excuse to take your shirt off?" Mindy yelled out at him. "What I'm hot okay! Leave me be." He sure was hot. Way too hot... You almost wished it was just you and him so- "Hey! You okay there? You were kinda staring off." Chad said as he waved his hands in front of your face. Oh shit. You were staring, and everyone had definitely noticed now... "Oh my god Y/N! Were you staring at Chad's abs?" Tara asked in an almost squeely voice. You wanted the ground to swallow you, mainly because she was right. "What no! I was staring at the movie!"

You rushed to defend yourself, hoping it was believable enough of an excuse. Chad wasn't buying it though. "It's okay if you were I totally get it, I would stare at me too." You were definitely blushing now. Mindy once again rolled her eyes at Chad's comment, causing them to exchange another death glare, which gave you time to change the topic. "Anyway, we should probably keep watching the movie." Chad jumped a little as you said that, realizing he was missing it and going to sit back down next to you. You now realized what Chad meant by it being hot. You only hoped you weren't sweating from the intense shared proximity.

The rest of the movie went well, although there was one moment where Chad went to adjust next to you, spreading his legs open just a little wider so that he was touching yours. You swore you almost passed out. Finally the credits rolled and Chad stood up to start clapping, it was kinda cute. "Wooooo great movie! Gets better every time!" Chad yelled as he turned to face the three of you. "Yea whatever Chad, you done bothering us now?" Mindy asked as she also stood up with now once again empty popcorn bowl in hand. "Yes in fact I am, I will leave you ladies to the rest of your girl's night." Chad said as he grabbed his shirt off of the coffee table. He went to walk back to his room before stopping to lock eyes with you. "And hopefully I'll see you again later Y/N." He said with a wink that hopefully Mindy and Tara didn't catch.

Oh yeah. You would definitely be seeing him again.

A/N: ahhhhhhh I love this one so much! i hope i did the prompt justice even though i struggled with the Bratz vibes thing. also i feel like i could totally turn this into a series if y'all wanted, just say the word! Happy reading my gorgeous babes!

-With love, Miss Grace<33

#~grace writes!#writing #chad meeks x reader #chad meeks martin #chad meeks martin x reader #scream #scream 6 #chad meeks #chad meeks fluff

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baskeigh-ball · 5 months

Note

Ignoring the fact that ibis had the ai paint feature a couple years before this whole ai fiasco, after seeing your post, I decided to try it out to see if it really held up. I already knew what you said made no sense, as even stuff like ai painting requires heavy human input that isn't just someone typing a prompt in a thing and looking through thousands of images and somehow still calling it 'art'. Really, it's just some weird advanced bucket.

The ibis ai paint... really sucks. I'm pretty sure it hasn't even been touched since it was added. No matter what I did, I got random colours and whatever colours I had put there looked like it were from a filter, not to mention how my lineart bled everywhere like it was blurred out.

Ibis isn't problematic for adding that feature as not only was it added ages ago, but it was also just a gimmick only added because a few more popular paid programs added them, like Clip Studio Paint. I highly doubt even the company took it seriously considering how poorly built it is. This is actually the one time I'm glad some feature in an app sucks so much.

Another reason why ibis isn't problematic by the mere feature alone is that, when you look at the artists making content during the time of that update, it was received with humour. It was something fun to try, but ultimately dismissed for actual artwork, as nobody would use it to fully paint their works. Nowadays we see something slapped with the words 'ai' and think that it's instantly bad due to the latest issues with it and big corperations/ certain production companies but it isn't. It's just a lot of people abusing what was previously some fun gimmick, which it can still be, and for certain apps, still is. Nobody throws pitchforks at character ai, after all.

You can tell just by the size of this that I'm procrastinating on something. Ima go and let this rot away in your askbox now lol

You really thought this would fade away in my ask box, mwahahaha /j

I wanna start off by saying thank you for holding me accountable, I will admit that I got buzzworded pretty hard in this situation lmao

This information came as a surprise to me-- I was seeing posts pop up within the past week complaining about the ai feature on ibis, so I assumed it was recent. As it turns out, after reading your ask, I discovered that I got a few wires crossed! Because yes, the auto paint feature I referred to in my post has been around for years now, and was never taken seriously anyways

So that was my bad (and yea ur right it's completely unusable, lmao)

But as it turns out, the feature that people have been complaining about DID come out recently. It was called the AI Example feature, I think the idea was that you make a simple drawing and the AI adds 99% of the detail and color, which I've seen a bunch of other programs do.

...and then it was immediately removed due to some pretty major backlash, which, duh

^ This is the only evidence I can find of the 11.2.0 update that included the AI feature on the actual site; their update history stops at 11.1.0. But there's also the news page about the removal of the update, so it's not like they're trying to pretend it never happened.

So tl;dr, I jumped on the hate train a little too quickly and never did enough research to figure out what the actual update was, and that it's been removed by now anyway (which I couldn't have known until today, ofc, but i did kinda post that thing about ibis today so it's still a pretty major oopsie)

I think I can say with confidence now that I agree, ibis paint isn't problematic to use-- they made a mistake with this update, but they actually listened to their users and removed it LITERALLY the next day. So, thanks for letting me know! I'll also edit my last post to prevent any misinformation, just in case people make the same mistake I did :]

#its a big relief that i dont have to learn how to use an entirely new art program anyway #so this ask came as a pleasant surprise #asks open #ibispaintx #now i just gotta hope i didnt get anything else wrong about the update

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wingedcat13 · 2 years

Text

Synovus: A Wishing Star

[Canonically, this takes place before ‘Call Me Menace’ - which is why there’s a notable lack of Alexandria and Minerva in this segment. This was requested by an Anon, with the prompt of Synovus being asked for by a Make a Wish child, through the Make a Wish foundation.]

[Trigger warnings for childhood cancer, descriptions of illness and hospitals, and discussions of suicide. Reference is also made to the possibility of substance abuse. Unlike most of my writing, for this, I cannot promise you will find this ending happy.]

“Your name came up today,” Rosie called up to you, laboriously walking laps around the cafeteria.

“Of course it did.” You replied laconically, keeping a careful eye on her progress from a perch in the rafters. Your shadows were ready to catch and steady her if she stumbled, though you both pretended you were too occupied with your knitting. “I am an incredibly interesting person. On a completely unrelated note, tell Dr. Grouch that he will receive payment shortly.”

That wasn’t an epithet, ‘Dr. Grouch.’ It was genuinely the man’s name. Dr. Jeremy Grouch, a pediatric cancer specialist, who had the good fortune of being the best choice for you to kidnap when Rosie had finally told you why she’d been half-joking about retirement. He was no longer your ‘guest,’ having returned to the mainland full time a few weeks prior, but he still communicated with Rosie quite often.

A bark of laughter had Rosie pausing, out of breath, to brace herself against the wall. She turned to rest her back against it, but since she didn’t sit, you didn’t jump down to see if she was alright. Even if you had stopped knitting.

“Not for the money.” Rosie assured you, when she had caught her breath enough to reply without wheezing. “He thinks you’re more than generous.”

“Dr. Grouch could stand to live up to his name a bit more.” You tsk’ed, “I kidnapped him, forced him to work for me. He didn’t even haggle.”

Not that this would have done him much good in the beginning. Historically, you did not respond well to threats or extortion. But you did respect a good hustle, and you were fairly certain that Dr. Grouch had been aware he could’ve pushed for more of a reward once Rosie was declared in remission. He hadn’t taken the opportunity.

“He isn’t hurting for wealth.” Rosie pointed out. The sardonic note to her voice had made you smile. You and your minions were in the business of exploiting greed and committing evils, but that did not make any of you less inclined to judge others for anything less than your own morality demanded. And that often included each other.

But Rosie’s tone shifted, becoming something lighter, “He said one of his patients asked to meet you.”

“What?”

“One of his patients wants to meet you.” Rosie repeated patiently. “Wished for it, even.”

You forced your tone to remain light, glad you were up in the rafters where she couldn’t see your body language. “Well, there’s a rarity. How many people ever say ‘I wish to meet Synovus?’”

Rosie sighed. “Usually just people who want to kill you.”

“Are we certain that isn’t what the child wants? I’m assuming it’s a child, adults usually know better.” You picked up another stitch, fumbled it, did it again. This time it stuck.

It wasn’t the idea of a child trying to kill you that had you so… disoriented. You’d been responsible for the deaths of a lot of parents over the years - you wouldn’t be surprised if there had been hundreds of vendettas sworn against you, or all villain kind, or even the heroes who had failed to stop you, over the years. But kids - children - you had a soft spot for.

You remembered too clearly what it was like to be young, sheltered, and out of control of your life. It was debatable, some days, how much of that still applied to you in some way or another.

“I’d bet on the kid.” Rosie remarked.

“I-“ You twirled one knitting needle, intending to point it at her, and snagged it in the trailing end of your yarn instead. It didn’t matter, because she couldn’t see you. “- take offense on the child’s behalf that you would doubt them.”

“Oh yeah?” Rosie perked up, “Offended enough to defend their honor in person?”

Frowning, you set down your knitting again. “What are you asking me here, Rosie?”

“I want to know if you’ll honor the kid’s Wish.”

There was something in the way she said it that gave you pause. You mulled it over.

“When you say ‘wish,’ you don’t just mean a general expressed desire, do you.”

It wasn’t much of a question, but Rosie answered anyway, “Nope. I mean the Wish. Apparently they hadn’t wanted to say anything, because they didn’t think anyone would let them, but they were talking to Dr. Grouch, and asked where he’d been -“

You groaned. You’d been assured of his adherence to HIPAA, but hadn’t pushed too hard on the ‘never tell anyone where you’ve been, ever, on pain of excruciatingly over described death’ angle. Maybe you should’ve.

“- yeah, I know, but apparently he only told the kid and asked them to keep it a secret, and the kid ‘lit up like it was Christmas.’” Rosie relayed this information, complete with air quotes, without moving from the wall.

To avoid thinking about the idea of being anyone’s last, true Wish - the big W, the heart’s desire, the crown of a bucket list - you instead thought about how Rosie had trapped you. You couldn’t just disappear because then she’d be alone, and could still collapse. You couldn’t call her physical therapy completed for the day yet either, because she hadn’t finished this lap.

Evil, your minions. Absolutely evil.

You sighed, sure Rosie would feel it, even if she couldn’t hear it at this distance. “Very well.” You conceded, morose. “When are we meeting this little miscreant?”

—-

Hospitals were not easy for you to break into. Not when you were in costume, at least. You could get terrifyingly far in a white coat with a coffee cup and a clipboard, but that came down to timing and confidence and an aura of ‘fuck off, I am incredibly busy’ that you’ve always felt most doctors cultivated on purpose.

That didn’t really work when you were in all black with a cape and a helmet. And this was a children’s cancer ward, so it wasn’t like you could just wait till everyone went home. Windows didn’t open up here either.

So you’d had Dr. Grouch let you in from the helipad on the roof.

“You’ve taken the precautions I requested?” He asked, as you paused outside of the ward itself. “Fully clean, as you would have for Ms. Rosie? You will not touch anything you do not have to, and will call for assistance if she seems overwrought?”

“Yes, Dr. Grouch.” You replied, accepting another antiseptic wipe for your gloves. “I am here to answer a summons. That is all. I swear that your charge will not come to harm from me.”

You did not point out he had been the one to arrange this meeting. His face made a strange expression, as though he were surprised, and surprised at being surprised, and a bit disappointed in himself for that sequence of events. Still, he recovered quickly.

“At least I do not have to remind you to wear a mask.” He granted, in an attempt at levity. Luckily for you both, you didn’t actually need to reply, because he was already triggering the ward doors for you to enter.

While Grouch moved to the ward station, motioning to calm the various staff on duty, you moved with purpose for the room you’d been directed to earlier. Grouch was telling the staff that he’d found someone willing to stand in for you, as a way of reassuring them. You weren’t sure they’d buy it, but it really wasn’t your problem for the moment.

You moved quietly. You weren’t sure whether or which other rooms were occupied, and you didn’t intend to scare anyone who hadn’t requested to see you tonight. For that same reason, you double checked the number on the door you opened, and lifted it faintly on its hinges, that it would open smoothly and as silently as you could make it.

The room beyond was dim, if not completely dark. The corridor behind you was also dimmed for the night cycle, trying to give the ward’s occupants a chance at sleeping, though the ward station was still well-illuminated. You made sure its light wouldn’t give you a halo or shadow as you entered, and quietly shut the door behind yourself.

You aren’t familiar enough with hospitals to say whether this room is average or not. Tiled floors, the bed that is also a gurney, sparse furniture, windows on the far wall. There are signs of life here, in the form of some decaying flowers on the dresser, with several cards propped around their vase where the bed’s occupant can see. A television is mounted near the ceiling on an extendable arm, but it’s off for now.

There’s a few sources of dim light - the distant aura of the streetlights casts the bars supporting the windows on the wall across from the bed. A floor light illuminates the tile enough to show any potential tripping hazards. The odd blinking light on the medical equipment provides a dash of color to the gloom.

And in the bed, there is a lump curled on its side, as far as the IV line and monitors will allow it, blankets pulled tight over the shoulder and tucked near the chin. Dr. Grouch told you some basics about the patient before you reached this floor, so you know who you are supposed to be meeting. You feel bad for waking her, but you’ve been assured she doesn’t sleep well anyway, and is likely awake. Judging by the faint rustling of a body’s small movements, that judgement was accurate.

You are reminded of Dr. Grouch’s planned lie, out in the hall. You do not want this child to think they are being tricked. So you stay where you are, in the deeper shadow of the door-well, and you summon your shadows to life.

The window frame shadows make an excellent trellis for your branching additions - they stretch out, forming words in deeper darkness than the natural shadow from which they are woven. If you are mistaken, if this is the wrong room, if the girl sleeps, you won’t have disturbed them.

But you see the streetlight illuminate the planes of a too-sharp face as it turns to focus bleary eyes on what you’ve written.

Hello, Loralai.

At fourteen years old, Loralai should still have the roundness of youth. She does not. Nor is she quite skeletal, despite the advanced nature of her illness. It almost seems, in the half light, as though a slight push would be all that was necessary to send her in either direction: back to the hale softness of health, or further on to the sharp stillness of death.

She blinks. Her eyes widen, then narrow, then widen again. You belatedly wonder if perhaps she needs glasses. Or what if she’s dyslexic? Your shadow-words are hardly the easiest things to read. Damn it, Synovus, now is not the time for posturing and-

“Synovus?” Asks a breathless, whispering voice.

“In the flesh.” You reply, because you are a melodramatic moron. Still, your voice is quiet, and you remain unmoving.

There’s some more rustling. The bed is already mostly elevated, so Loralai doesn’t need to try and sit up so much as readjust how she’s sitting. There’s a click of a lamp - and then there’s a real light source in the room, even if it’s dulled by the lampshade.

You step forward as Loralai rubs the spots from her vision with one hand. There’s an IV catheter taped to the back of it from some recent event, the bruising around it just beginning to ripen. You don’t remember what that might mean, if anything.

As she gets her vision back and examines you, you turn your helmet, pretending to survey the room. Eyes bright with curiosity flick from the helmet to the cape to the patterns of padding over your torso. She does not seem scared, but then, why would she be? Dr. Grouch had informed you she was well aware her case was terminal. You may be a specter of death to some people, but this child has already started staring down the real thing.

“You are Loralai Weber?” You ask, turning back to face her directly.

She nods, leaning back against her pillows. You can see exhaustion on every line of her too-young face, but it seems not to have any power over her at the moment. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d actually come to see me.”

You gesture aimlessly, “I am not often asked for.” You reply candidly. “You’ve piqued my interest. And.. one could say I was in the neighborhood.”

Loralai’s expression brightens, “Are you going to attack the hospital?”

You frown. The prospect seems to excite her. Still, you keep your voice casual, noncommittal, “Not tonight, at least.”

“Damn.” Loralai sounds disappointed now. You muffle your amusement at her cursing as she continues, “Any time soon, maybe? Like, in the next week?”

She can’t see you raise your brows, so you tilt your head to one side, “You sound almost hopeful, Ms. Weber. Why could that be?”

Loralai averts her gaze for a moment, plucking slowly at the top blanket of her bed. This is the moment of truth, really. You spent hours trying to figure out what you might be asked for:

Could you kill someone for her? A doctor, a nurse, another patient who was really annoying? Or could you attack the hospital, so she could help you wreak havoc, and have the chance to feel as powerful as a Villain? Alternatively, what if she were the one to stop you? You were dreading the deathbed request that you ‘turn good,’ but that doesn’t seem to be forthcoming. Maybe she simply wishes to witness a hero battle up close, and needs you to initiate it. Or-

“I want you to kill me.”

You freeze. Most of you, anyway, as your stomach seems to have left out the ground floor entrance. You had not anticipated this. You feel like you should have.

Remorseless for your shock, Loralai continues, managing to look directly at your helmet face as her words spill over each other, “I know I’m dying, and that I don’t have long left, but I’ve been dying for months, and I just feel worse and worse every day, and I - I want to die fast, not slow. I want it to be over. You - you could make it quick for me, couldn’t you?”

You have not been inclined towards religion for a very long time. Yet, in this moment, you see the appeal of dropping to your knees and offering a fervent prayer of gratitude to whoever or whatever might be listening that you gave Dr. Grouch your word in the hall. You do not want to answer Loralai’s question, or know what your answer would be. You refuse to acknowledge the burgeoning answer within you.

The horror of it all still threatens to overwhelm you. The shadows in the room thicken, automatically reaching for you to provide shelter from unfortunate truths and uncomfortable conversation. This is why she asked for you. Because you are evil. Because you are terrible enough to meet a child face to face and kill them at their own request. Because you are not beholden to law, morality, or sympathy.

The black pit of despair yawns, and it is only by the barest shred of your willpower that you stay out of it - as awful as you feel in this moment, as much as you know you have only delayed your own suffering, the fact remains: you are not the one dying here.

It does not matter how you feel, looking at someone younger than you were when you finally found freedom, and knowing they will never reach the same age, the same feeling. It does not matter how you feel about their request. Loralai Weber sits in a hospital bed, terminal at 14 years old, and she is suffering badly enough to seek the Scourge of the West Coast.

So you scrape yourself together, and move to the end of her bed.

“May I sit?”

Loralai nods, brow still furrowed, and shuffles her feet so you can avoid accidentally sitting on them. You perch there, partially leaning on the rail at the foot of the bed, and watch her for a long moment.

“Yes.” You say, finally. “I could make your death swift. There is little you could do to stop me.”

You have Loralai’s undivided attention. When you stop speaking, she waits. The clearer it becomes that you will not say more, the further her face falls. “Could.” She says tonelessly. “But won’t.”

“No.” You confirm quietly. “I will not.”

“Why?” Loralai cries. She tries to gesture to herself, to the room that she’s in. “You’ve killed so many people! What’s one more to you? Why not me? Is it - do you want me to suffer, is that it? Would this be too merciful for you?”

You let her yell, and gesture, even when she comes within several inches of you. “No, Loralai. I do not want you to suffer. But nor do I think this would be an act of mercy.” You avoid addressing the issue of your body count.

Loralai looks offended and confused, gaping at you for a moment. “Does this look like a life worth living?” She demands.

Your answer is without hesitation, “Yes.”

The girl’s face contorts with incredulity, then despair, then anger. Her eyes are increasingly red-rimmed, and there’s a wet quality to her wavering voice when she responds, “Fuck you.”

Grimly, you brace yourself for much worse before the night is over. She hasn’t ordered you out yet, so you have to attempt to explain. Even if you cannot give her what she wants, you can be an outlet for her anger, and the face she cannot show to her doctors.

“There are cards on the dresser.” You point out.

“Classmates I’ve never even met.” Loralai responds flatly.

“Flowers, too.”

“Another parent bought some for the whole floor after their kid bit it. It’s a pity gift to make them feel better, nothing to do with me.”

“You still have family.”

“So they should get the honor and joy of watching me die? Paying a fortune for every extra hour I sit here and wait for it to be my turn?”

“It is worth it, to them.” You explain, matter-of-fact. “Every penny. Every extra shift. Every loan. Every night on your fold-out couch. How did you convince your mother not to be here tonight?”

Loralai flinches. “She has a bad back.” She mutters, “She - it’s better for her to be home, in a real bed. And so what if it’s worth it to them? What if it’s not worth it to me? Can’t I choose how and when I die?”

You sigh, “If that were true, the world would be full of immortals. And suicides. You realize that is what you asked of me, yes? An assisted suicide?”

Loralai draws back at the word, but doesn’t deny it. “It’s not like it would be anything new for you.”

The truth of that statement is painful. For a moment, you hear a distant ringing with no physical source. You are acutely aware of the shadows in this room - their patterns under the bed, on the wall, the sky behind the window, in the spaces under your skin-

“I am not your tool.” You rasp, before remembering that Loralai couldn’t possibly know about your past. She is a teenager. A hurt one. They always have a gift for striking true, even when they lash out blindly.

You take a deep breath, and suppress the shadows again. You don’t want to know how far up your arms they reached before you regained your senses. “And I will not be baited into killing you either. You are right - I’ve killed. Plenty. I will again. But I do so for my own reasons, and not because someone asks me to. You asked for me by name, Ms. Weber, out of all of the villains on the West Coast, so I’m guessing you know that.”

Loralai opens her mouth to respond - then looks away.

“You have every right to be angry.” You continue into the silence, “With me, with the people around you. With the doctors and nurses for how often they check in and the poking and prodding they do. With the kitchen for the quality of the hospital food. With your parents for not sparing you this life, or being overbearing in their concern, or not being able to balance what it is you really need.”

You pause. Loralai doesn’t respond. You continue, “I would be angry. I would be furious with every car that passed by and honked its horn, because I’m stuck up here dying, and they only care about the stupid traffic. And I would be even more angry about the fact I can’t tell anyone that without becoming the bad guy, who can’t take their situation with grace.”

“But you won’t kill me.” Loralai says finally, “Before I do something I regret. Or become a husk of myself.”

This time, it’s your turn to remain silent. Loralai turns to look at you, even if she can’t find your eyes in the mask. She’s crying now, but so far managing to hold off actual sobs, “Why can’t I be selfish? Just once?”

You offer her your hands, and aren’t surprised or offended when she doesn’t take them.

“You should be selfish.” You tell her, and the ferocity in your voice takes her aback. “You should be as selfish and greedy as you can. You should seize every moment - every conversation with your parents, every breath of conditioned air, every chance you get to actually smile. Even if you only get one more of those, Loralai, it’s one more than you would get if I did what you’ve asked. Dying isn’t selfish. It isn’t selfless either. It just is, the same way taxes are due and commercials always take too long and the drivers outside your window have road rage. It’ll happen whether you want it to or not. Don’t lean into it.”

Converse to your own advice, you lean towards Loralai, adding, “Kick the bastard in the balls.”

On reflex, she gives you a confused, watery half-smile.

“Yes!” You cry, as though this is a great victory. “Just like that! Rip and tear your joy from the universe.”

That wins you a snort - though the amusement doesn’t last.

“I’m not strong enough to do that.” Loralai deflects, turning a hand over in your general direction. “I’m not like you. I can’t literally steal happiness from - banks, or whatever it is you rob.”

“Banks.” You admit, “Though usually their corporate offices instead of the average buildings. Irrelevant, however: how many of my fights do you actually see me win?”

Loralai frowned. “Uh….”

You don’t leave her hanging long, “It depends on your definition of ‘victory’ really - but if I count it like the heroes do, where a victory is when I have my opponent in my custody, I haven’t won a single fight in over ten years. My track record is abysmal.”

(This is not strictly true - but it does count for your fights with heroes. Interpersonal villain matters you handle rarely make the news.)

“So, what, you’re bad at your job?” Loralai says bluntly, sarcasm tingeing her voice.

“I’m fantastic at my job.” You can’t help the rebuttal, it’s too much in your nature. “Because even if I don’t take down the hero who comes after me - and let’s face it, they’ll keep sending them endlessly, it’s exhausting - I still do what I set out to do. Sometimes that’s steal something. Kill someone. Make a scene. On bad days, just get out and away. And if you use that metric, well, darling, my track record is spectacular.”

Loralai considers this for a moment, staring into the middle distance between you. It’s impossible to figure out what she’s actually thinking of.

“Your metaphors suck.”

Well okay then. “My metaphors are elegant contrivances -“ You give up when Loralai gives you a look, and sigh instead.

Still, what you’ve said seems to have made some difference. Loralai has stopped crying, and she doesn’t feel as.. raw, as before. You hope it’s the right kind of difference, and that you haven’t just chased her further into a shell. You wait for her to break the silence again.

“So you think I should live, for the people around me?” She challenges, indicating the flowers and cards. You both know that’s only a fragment of your argument, but you’re willing to play ball.

“Nope.” You reply succinctly. “I think you should live for you and your own experiences. However, I think you are currently in a position where you have to see your joys in others before you can see them for yourself. If they anchor you, use it.”

She’s staring at you now, expression unreadable. “And you think that will get better.”

You almost answer ‘yes’ - but you know that isn’t quite what she’s asking. There’s a second half to that statement that is a question, left unspoken: ‘will it get better before I die?’

And for all of your lies, you answer her honestly. “I don’t know.”

Loralai nods. You want to clarify, to explain that even a chance is a chance worth taking. You want to give her some of your own rage at the world, the defiance that makes it possible to simply refuse to die. The conviction that let you kill a god.

No, maybe not that. You’re not sure that would be a blessing after all.

“Okay.” She says, after several moments. “Fine. I get to live. For now. But when I die -“ Loralai’s attention abandons the far wall and the middle distance, zeroing in on you, “- if my life gets any worse between now and then, if I don’t get any more good stuff like you’ve described, I’m haunting you.”

You believe her. “I believe you.” You say solemnly. “And there are few things in this world more terrifying than a teenage ghost. No, that isn’t sarcasm, I’m serious. Once-“

—-

You spend the rest of the hour telling stories of the teenaged ghost you’d met once in New Orleans, back when that wasn’t quite anyone’s territory. It’s not nearly enough time to share all of her stories - but it is enough that you remember her fondly, and smell the faint scent of bergamot and citrus that always heralded her presence.

When you spoke to her more regularly, you teased her about being a ghost who smelled like Irish Spring, and she ensured your cape got caught on everything it possibly could. You feel a tug on it, as you are moving to leave, and understand the prompt.

“Here.” You tell Loralai, unclasping your cape from your shoulders, and draping it over the bed.

“Does this have magic powers, or something? Is it bulletproof?” Loralai lifts it’s edge, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. She’s in higher spirits, but the bags under her eyes have deepened. She’s also cold, though you don’t think you’d be able to get her to admit it.

“Nah.”

“Then why would I want it?” Remarkable, how little your status matters to teenagers. You aren’t sure if it’s your curse or a trait of the species.

“Capes are cool.” You reply confidently.

There are other reasons too - it gives your ghost friend an anchor to stay with her better, it’s warm, it will remind her this wasn’t a dream. If her family needs to, they can sell it to cover some of the medical bills, since (unlike some heroes and villains) you rarely leave a trace behind, and collectors would love to get ahold of one of your capes. Actually, Tallflawes might even buy it at an exorbitant price, just to taunt you with it. But this isn’t a lie: capes are cool.

“Whatever.” Loralai says sleepily, resting back on her pillows, your cape tucked up under her chin. “Goodbye, Synovus.”

“Goodbye, Loralai Weber.” You say gently. You aren’t sure if she even notices your shadows flip the switch on the bedside lamp, returning the room to darkness. Your shadows muffle your exit back into the hall.

You leave as quickly as possible, after that.

—-

The good thing about being a dramatic fool on purpose, is that when you are having a public meltdown, it can appear as though you are simply performing again. The shadows contorting and swirling around you? Ah, Synovus, making an entrance. Disappearing between one blink and the next to the unobservant, because you’ve turned and booked it into the dark? A classic exit.

Your minions know you too well for that facade to hold. They also know you too well to ask.

You stalk down the halls, lights seeming to ripple in your wake with the amount of shadows you’re dragging, like a toddler with their blanket on their way to throw a tantrum. But you skip the training room. You wind up in the kitchen, as Oflok watches from a distance.

You spend an indeterminable amount of time staring at the collection of alcohol. You don’t indulge, because you are terrified of what might happen if you lose control of yourself. You know you are a walking bomb. Your minions can partake as they like, however, and today, reminded of how destructive you are, you want very badly to join them. To get wasted beyond memory.

“I want you to kill me.”

You get as far as reaching up one hand for a bottle. You don’t know which, you didn’t bother to read the labels. You lower your hand. Spin on your heel. And leave.

—-

It’s Rosie and Doll who hover in the corner, silent witnesses while you dig through the cabinets in the infirmary. You grab the first ampoule of a drug that looks like it would force you out of your mind that you can get your hands on. You have a tray laid out with syringe, bandages, tourniquet, disinfectant wipes, before you realize what you’re doing.

“Does this look like a life worth living?”

You walk out without a word.

—-

The grave at the bottom of the island is not well tended. It is not a monument to be remembered. This is the third time you have visited it since you stopped obsessively checking for signs of disturbances, in case it’s occupant decided to crawl back out.

You tell the empty space about Loralai Weber. What she looked like, what she asked of you, what that means. This time, you’re free to cry, though whether it’s for her or yourself, you’ll never be able to parse. By the end, you are screaming in the dark cave, knowing it’s all pointless at this stage in the game.

The man in the grave could heal himself, when he wanted. And very rarely, when he was convinced it was ‘appropriate,’ he could heal others too. He wouldn’t have counted Loralai Weber as ‘appropriate’ for his gift. You would. It doesn’t matter, though.

It’s the one part of his powers you never inherited.

—-

[Thank you for reading Synovus: A Wishing Star - if you want to read more of Synovus, you can find the rest of their stories on my blog, in the pinned post. Further, if you want to find out more about the Make A Wish Foundation, you can read stories of children they've helped (in rather different ways than Synovus) on their website, or donate here.]

[I do not have a personal story to share for Loralai's inspiration. However, I did tap into my experiences as a chronically ill individual, and the mental state I experienced both before and during treatment. There are still days I wonder as Loralai does - but I wholeheartedly believe as Synovus says: This life is worth living. It is for you too.]

#synovus #synoverse #Synovus: A Wishing Star #tw cancer #please dm me if you feel additional tags are necessary!#reader discretion advised #tw suicidal ideation #tw implied child death #tw self destructive behavior

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hyperlexichypatia · 2 months

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You don't have to be "happy" to deserve the freedom to control your own life.

It's easy to justify people's right to live their lives as they choose with "Let them do whatever makes them happy!" or "As long as they're happy, who cares?"

I've said this! But it's not a very effective argument. Because how can you prove that you're "happy" -- a subjective emotional state?

Queer people, disabled people, fat people, Mad/neurodivergent people, people in stigmatized relationships, are constantly told that we're wrong about our own happiness. That we think we're happy, but this false belief is part of our Mental Illness(TM). No one Like That could ever really be happy!

And this prejudice is fundamentally unfalsifiable. We can't prove our subjective feelings. If we could, people would somehow redefine "happiness" to exclude what they don't approve of.

I made the mistake of reading the comments on this article about age differences in relationships which literally has the headline "They say they're happy. Why is it so hard to believe them?" Of course, the commenters were all too eager to answer the rhetorical question. "If they were really happy, they wouldn't need to say so" (maybe they're sick of being asked). "People in situations like that don't know what's really going on, they think they're happy!" (what, exactly, is the difference between thinking oneself to be happy and actual happiness?).

(Side note for the relationship-specific version of this: I also see a lot of "They think they're in love!" and I have to ask: If people in relatively new relationships are told that "You only think you're in love, you're actually in lust/ a crush/ new relationship energy," and people in established long-term relationships are told that "You only think you're in love, but it's actually complacency/ not knowing any better/ helplessness," is there a magical medium-term relationship duration at which people can actually love their partners?)

You can never prove that you're "really happy," because if someone has already decided that your identity/lifestyle is incompatible with happiness, they will never believe you.

Arguing "I should be free to make my own choices or be myself, because I'm happy this way" will only prompt the response "The fact that you so mistakenly believe that you're happy is proof that you're mentally incompetent, and you should not, in fact, be free to make your own choices or be That Way."

Being constantly "happy" at all times is, also, just a completely unreasonable expectation. Humans have a range of emotions! Experiencing the full range of positive and negative human emotions is not a reason to deny us our rights.

In Jesse Singal's anti-trans hit piece, which I'm not linking to, Singal cites parents of a trans man who oppose their son's right to transition because, according to them, he was depressed after his transition. Now, notably, the son was not interviewed (and he was misgendered throughout), so we have absolutely no idea what his actual emotional state actually was (I don't know if the son ever went on the record anywhere with his own version of his story). But let's assume, for the sake of discussion, that his parents were correct, and he was depressed. So what? Trans people have the right to be depressed! Trans people have the right to the same emotional range as cis people! People's rights should not be dependent on what emotions they do or don't experience.

Additionally, this insistence on "happiness" as a prerequisite for rights, autonomy, and acceptance (willfully) ignores that the denial of rights, autonomy, and acceptance tends to make people unhappy.

Authoritarians think they have a real gotcha with "If you're happy this way, then why are you complaining?" as if people can't be profoundly happy with their identities and profoundly unhappy with how society treats them for those identities.

I am, for the most part, reasonably happy with being a fat, Mad, autistic, queer woman. At least I generally feel no pressing desire to change any of those things about myself. And I am extremely unhappy with the way I am treated for being a fat, Mad, autistic, queer woman.

But there are certainly times when I might think to myself "If I were taller, I could reach that top shelf" or "If I were thinner, I could maneuver into this tight space" or "If I weren't autistic, I could travel more." And at those times, I still deserve autonomy and basic human rights. I might be happy, sad, angry, anxious, excited, blase, or in a state of perfect Zen, and I would still deserve autonomy and basic human rights.

#mad pride #mad liberation #queerphobia #ableism #stop being ableist #neurodiversity

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russellsppttemplates · 2 years

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I only care about you (Mick Schumacher)

Mick and Y/N are quite a private couple on the paddock, but as soon as everything non-essential is out of the equation, they become very expressive when it comes to the people they love

Note: english is not my first language

I got inspiration from these 'domestic prompts' lists on pinterest x

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and although I'm not taking requests per se, if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: curse words

Since there was no GP this weekend, you had spent the night at Mick's place to take the opportunity to spend as much time as you possibly could with him, the triple header ahead of you already promising to make spending time just with him on your own a bit difficult. When Mick woke up at his usual hour, his body working like a clock, he rotated his neck slightly to your side, watching how you were nestled to his side, your hand grabbing a handful of the sheets that were keeping you warm as you peacefully slept, and knowing how much your job had kept you up late that past week, he thought it would be nice to let you sleep for a bit longer. You had the whole weekend to yourselves and some rest would be good. Carefully getting up as to not wake you up, Mick headed to the ensuite for his morning routine, getting back in the bedroom to grab some gym clothes to workout on. As he folded the sheets and made his side of the bed, he went to your side, tucking the sheets around your body as he lightly kissed your head.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Angie's paws could be heard pattering on the wooden floor, her tail wagging at the prospect of a new day (and probably some food too), making him pet the dog until her wagging tail stopped, "Oh, why the sudden change, Angie?". The dog seemed to notice your absence, looking up the flight of stairs for you and ultimately deciding to make her way up to find you. As her paw set on the first step of the stairs, Mick quickly realised what, or who, rather, she was after, "No Angie, Y/N had a really hard week at work so today we're going to let her sleep, okay? It's just you and me this morning", he said as he noticed her stance drop, almost like a dog equivalent of a human shoulder slump from disappointment, since when did his dog not appreciate spending time with him?

Heading to the kitchen, Mick grabbed a pre-workout snack and made his way to his at home gym with Angie trailing right behind him. Looking at the equipment in the room and the cardio indications his trainer had sent him, he decided that he was going on the bike, figuring that, even though the sound isolation was pretty good, it would be the least likely to make too much noise to the point of waking you up.

He was all sweaty when he was back in the kitchen, grabbing whatever ingredients he could find to make a wholesome breakfast for the two of you after also hearing some commotion upstairs, signaling that you had woken up. You were making your way down the stairs when, much like she greeted Mick, Angie started wagging her tail as she stood with her front paws on the first step, "Hello Angie, good morning baby, how are you?", you said once you were in front of her on the floor, crouching down slightly while you petted her as she licked your face. Getting up, you followed her to the kitchen, assuming that it was where you could find your boyfriend. And there he was in his workout gear, the breathable material of his t-shirt clinging to the muscles on his back perfectly well as he maneuvered the mugs and pans around, and noticing he wasn't holding anything hot or sharp, you made your way to him and hugged his back, "Good morning my love", you mumbled into his back, not caring about the material on your cheek, "Good morning schatz", he said before turning around and facing you, "Did you have a good sleep?", he asked as he tamed some of the hairs that had fallen out of your braid and were hindering your eyes, pushing them to the back of you ears, "Mhmm, very good sleep indeed, thank you for letting me sleep until now", you smiled back at him, "I was going to make some breakfast for the both of us, so if you just sit there, please", he motioned to the bar stools by the counter, "you can watch while I cook it", he said charmingly. But you had another idea, "since you haven't started yet, why don't we go and have a shower first because I could use one and so do you", you tempted him as you interlocked your arms around his neck before he grabbed your thighs and locked your legs comfortably around his hips as he carried you to the shower.

Sitting at the counter as you shared breakfast, you thought it would be a nice time to mention something you wanted to get done this weekend, "You know how we talked about me bringing my things here?", you referred to the conversation you had a few weeks ago when Mick asked you to move in with him. It seemed logical to him as he was spending time at your place and you in his, things moving back and forth as you would often forget things in the other's house and it generated a whole situation every now and then, and as Mick put it, "I'm pretty sure I'm going to be with you until the end so might as well have you here all the time, and Angie could do with some company too when I'm not here and keep you company as well when she's not with me", and at the time it ticked all the boxes for you too but since you were in the middle of a work project, you decided to wait until things calmed down a bit. "I have talked to my landlord and he said he was okay with me ending the contract now, so if the option is still up, I wou-", you tried to finish as you felt Mick's hands grab your hips as he spun you around the room, "You're moving in? As in staying here with me forever?", your boyfriend of 4 years finally asked as he stopped turning, earning a nod from you, your head too dizzy to do anything else for the mean time as you also giggled at his reaction. As he set you down, you finally spoke, "yes, I have to pack my things and bring them over because there's people going there next week to see the flat, but then I can come and live with you", you smiled, pecking his lips, and as he didn't feel like it wasn't enough celebration, Mick deepened the kiss, grabbing your butt slightly as he intensified the affection. Angie must have felt excluded from the celebration, her snout trying to get in between yours' and Mick's legs, "Did you hear Angie? I'm going to be here full time now, we're going to have to share everything at all times", you scratched her head as she seemed the least bit worried about having another human to give her attention and treats.

Mick had been invited to of his engineers' wedding and, as expected, he brought you as his plus one. You looked gorgeous, the colour of your dress complimented your tones, the makeup on your face enhancing your naturally beautiful features and your hair was pinned back with a beautiful hairclip Mick had gifted you for your first anniversary. The German driver had no doubt you would be the most beautiful at the wedding, as he always found you to be no matter where he was.

When Mick got home, Angie was first to greet him at the door, sitting down as she looked up at him, waiting for some head scratches, "did you miss me today? I'm sure you're spending all your fun time with Y/N now, you probably don't even have time to think about me", he finished as he started taking his coat off, hanging it and then taking his shoes off to put them in their place. Noticing the smell from the kitchen, he made his way inside the room as you were drying your hands on one of the kitchen towells, "Hi bubs, how was your day at the factory?", you asked, going over to him to kiss his lips, "Hmm, it was nice, worked on the simulator for a bit and then we saw some things about the new car. And you?", he asked as his hands circled your waist, "it was good too, the new project is going well", you replied simply, "I already started making our dinner, the rice just needs a little bit more time and so does the chicken and the veggies in the oven, so if you want, you can go and change into your comfy clothes", you said as you stirred the rice, going to the drawer to grab a spoon, "but first try this, please. I asked your mum for the recipe but I'm not sure if it is supposed to taste like that", you said grabbing some of the sauce you had used on the chicken in the spoon. "Careful bubs, this is probay hot still", you said after you blowed some air on the spoon before bringing it to his mouth as your other hand formed a shell shape to not let anything that might drip fall on his clothes and burn him, "this is delicious, darling", he said after tasting it, remembering the many times his mother used to make this for him when he was younger, "but maybe make it a bit sweeter?", he mused as he looked around the ingredients you had used that were still in the counter, the pot of honey seeming like the final touch to the recipe, excusing himself to go and change with a kiss on your forehead. Grabbing the pot and another spoon, you drizzled some more honey in the sauce before you coated the meat in the oven, washing the cutlery and bowls you had used to prepare dinner when you heard Mick coming back, looking much comfier in one of his Under Armour sweatpants and t-shirts, "Is there anything I can help with?", he asked you as he rubbed his hands together, "the table is set already and the chicken just needs a little bit more time, so you can just sit there and look pretty, shouldn't be a tough job for you", you winked at him as you noticed the rosiness spread in his cheeks.

The couple had chosen to do a small and private ceremony before everyone had dinner under the night sky, a group of musicians playing some slow ballads for anyone who wanted to dance. "Why don't you go and have a dance with Y/N?", Gary suggested to Mick, "she just went to the car the change into some flats, her feet were getting sore from the heels and-, and I don't know how to dance with her", he murmured the last part, "What do you mean you don't know how to dance with her?", said his agent Sabine, "It's like dancing with everyone else", she tried to reason. Yes, you had pretended to ballroom dance in your living room through the years, either inspired by a movie scene or some sing that played, but it was always in a funny way, never acutally following through it properly, his motor skills incling towards buttons on a steering wheel and less to patterns of rhythmic steps, and since you hadn't been together to many events where it would be expected for you to dance a ballad, the occasion and need to do it never came.

"C'mon man, I think she would really appreciate it too, you guys are such a lovely couple, and you might as well do something because Adam is out there just making a fool of himself", he said pointing to his colleagues who could not dance even if his life depended on it, even stepping on some of the children's toes. Mick reasoned that it would be nice, having you close to him as you danced, the ambient of the room was nice and he trusted everyone that was in there and quite frankly, how hard could it be for someone who also learnt button sequences to make a car move fast? When you arrived back from your footwear change, Mick got up and approached you by the door, Sabine and Gary watching the scene unfold from afar, "Ms Y/L/N, may I have the honor of dance?", your boyfriend said catching you off-guard as you accepted the hand he stretched out and headed to the dance area. The team whistled and clapped for the initiative as you hid your face in Mick's chest, holding his waist as you swayed to the music, "they're really enjoying this, aren't they?", he asked as he turned around so you could see them, "I bet your mum will have a video of this within the next 24 hours", you said as you watched Sabine with her phone pointed at you, "But if you're not enjoying this we can stop", Mick offered, looking at your face for any sign of discomfort, "I'm good, I'm good, it's always nice being in your embrace, and you're quite good too", you smiled as Mick pecked a kiss on your lips, Gary letting out a big whistle followed by an enthusiastic "yeah, Mick!" that got everyone's attention on you two if they hadn't already been watching you, "you're not too bad yourself, darling, I think we make a fine pair", he said smiling at you before you nestled your head back in his chest, the slow rhythm of the music and his heartbeat comforting you.

The finishing position on the race had been less than ideal, with Mick starting in the first ten places on the grid and, after a few risky strategies and complicated pit stops, he ended up in the no points area, the frustration on his voice clear as you heard him through the radio on your headphones all while keeping a up lifting speech as he tahmked the team. As soon as Mick arrived back in the garage, the team helped him unbuckle the belts as he got out of the car, helmet and balaclava discarded on the table before he plucked the gloves away from his hands, looking at you with a small smile you replied back, wanting nothing more than to cradle him in your arms as you whispered how proud you were of him, your shyness around cameras, as well as your highly valued privacy, preventing you from doing so.

Mick's grandparents had invited Gina, Mick and you to have dinner at their house on a Monday after they got back from a race. You hadn't been able to go with them as work had kept you for the weekend on an important meeting and, since you left the house early that morning, you had yet to see Mick from when he arrived back home just before lunchtime. So the usual excitement you felt when driving to a family dinner was heightened today, your fingers drumming excitedly on the steering wheel as you put your blinker on, entering the gate and parking your car beside Gina's. Knocking on the door, you were greeted by Elisabeth, Mick's grandmother, her arms wide open as she brought you into a hug, "Y/N, dear, so happy you're here! Rolf, come and greet Y/N!", she called for her husband, "Y/N, so glad you could join us! I bet work has been keeping you busy, but glad you could make some time for us", he said as he hugged you back, smiling sweetly. Just beside them there was an impatient Mick with a lovely smile on his face as his arms remained crossed, waiting for his time to finally greet his girlfriend after not having had her company for the weekend for more than videocalls and messages, hell, since when did his grandparents prefer you to him? He was sure he did not have this reception when he got inside half an hour before. "So sorry I'm late, I tried to wrap things up as quickly as I could, but then HR needed me to sign some papers and that made me loose more time", you explained your small delay, "No worries darling, the oven seems to be a bit lazy today, so the food only finished cooking now. Get comfortable darling, behave like it's your own house, please. And maybe go and greet that pouty and sulky mouse over there", Elisabeth giggled at her grandson's antics. Removing your shoes and coat and setting them aside, you made your way to your boyfriend, "You know you're very cute when you're all pouty right? Nothing about this face scares anyone", you explained as you placed a kiss on each of his cheeks before kissing the tip of his nose and finally reaching his lips for a much needed proper kiss, "it is still astonishing to me that after four years, you're all still lovey dovey about eachother", Gina fake gagged as she greeted you with a hug, "I missed you this weekend, and I think some of the team too, you really do bring a calming vibe to this one when you're around, and Angie too, bless her, I think she was always expecting that you were walking through the door", she said and your heart squeezed a bit at her admissions. Going back to Mick, you grabbed his hands and circled them around you neck as you looked up at him, "speaking of, where is our four-legged child?", you asked Mick, "She was a bit tired from all the travelling so I gave her some food before we left the house and last time I checked the security system's camera she was asleep in her bed. But it's true, we missed you a lot schatz", he replied befofe he pressed a kiss on your forehead, "again, gross", you heard Gina mumble before her grandmother playfully scolded her.

Waiting in his driver's room for Mick to get back from his media duties, your head snapped to the door when it opened, revealing Mick's blue cap as you got up, hugging him once as he closed the door with his foot, "I'm always going to be proud of you, no matter what", you whispered as you kissed his jaw. Mick enjoyed the feel of your arms around his until he announced that he was heading for a shower and then you'd make your way to the hotel, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he grabbed his towell.

Arriving at the hotel room, Mick laid his things on the chair by the living room area as you got the pillows on the bed ready for a much needed cuddle session, and possibly a nap for Mick, noticing how his body was revealing some tired signs. Calling your boyfriend's name, you opened your arms as you sat against the pillows, him immediately getting what you wanted to do and a smile on his face as he crawled to you, laying his head on your boobs, "I love your boobs so much, best place in the world, they're so comfy", he said in the least sexual way possible, just happy and content to finally be around you without the worry of someone filming or walking in the shared affections. Giggling softly, your lips landed on top of Mick's head placing a few kisses there before your fingers started threading to the now longer hair, running your fingers in hope to soothe him a bit. "I'm always going to be proud of you no matter what happens, I hope you know that. You'll always be the best for me, because I know how hard you work, day in and day out, I know how much you care about this and one day it will come, I'm sure of it, and I can only hope I'll see it first hand and celebrate it with you", you said, noticing how his eyes kept trying to close, "Have a little nap while I order some room service, bubs, I'll be right here with food when you wake up", you chuckled as your fingers lulled him to sleep, "I don't care too much about the food, I only care about you", Mick said as he finally allowed his body to succumb to sleep.

#mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fic #mick schumacher fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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arliedraws · 5 months

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Reminder, everyone, that queerness is not a personality trait. It can be an essential part of your identity and representation fucking matters, but your personality does NOT define your gender or sexuality.

The point of this post is not to call anyone out in particular for perpetuating harmful stereotypes about queerness/gender, but to ask people to be more reflective about why we tend to base our understanding of queerness in particular around stereotypical ideas of femininity and masculinity. Hypermasculinity harms all of us. If you are a trans woman, there is no RIGHT/CORRECT way to be a woman. If you are a trans man, you should NOT feel like you are less of a man because you embrace qualities our heteronormative society deems “feminine.” Obviously, right? Well, if you were to observe fandom and shipping dynamics, these values become…murky.

I say this out of the kindness of my heart and with all the love in the world, but folks gotta be more careful when they say, “I can’t believe people think THIS character is straight!!!!” with 100% sincerity particularly regarding a narrative where the author very obviously did not intend to make characters gay. (You’re excused if you say it because you’re just passionate and having a good time and I respect you for that.)

I am bothered by these statements because…upon what exactly are you basing this argument? The problem is, because the author (derogatory) did not intend for people to interpret particular characters as gay/queer, there is a strong likelihood this statement is based on stereotypical ideas of what queerness looks like. “He is dramatic/emotional” is…uh…not a good reason to think someone is gay. A man with stereotypical feminine qualities does not necessarily mean they are gay. A woman with traits associated with hypermasculinity does not necessarily mean they are gay.

Do I think Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks are gay? YES. Do I think Tonks could probably be gender fluid? Yes! Do I adamantly believe that Sirius is a bisexual semi-aro superstar? Also very much Yes. So it’s not like I don’t have opinions or feelings about this. However, there is SO MUCH HARM in believing that men who embrace softness, beauty, and vulnerability MUST be queer. Okay, you say. But in MY mlm ship, one guy is SUPER DUPER masculine and the other one is feminine. Right. That’s part of my point. Hypermasculinity is so pervasive even in queer spaces that ships are often reduced to “this is the top/masculine person in the relationship, and this is the bottom/feminine person.” So…uhhhh…what does this sound like?

Yesterday, I had a conversation with my students (teenagers) to explain why “she wears the pants in the relationship” is an extremely harmful idea. I asked them, “Okay, so what does that mean when you say that?” Students responded that it meant that the woman was the “boss” in her heterosexual relationship—that she was the controlling one.

“So when you say ‘she wears THE pants,’ are you suggesting that one person wears the ‘traditionally masculine’ article of clothing and the other should wear the traditionally ‘feminine’ article of clothing?” I prompted. They could see where I was going with this. So I went on, “Think about what we’re insinuating here. We’re saying that men are leaders—or at least, they SHOULD be. Masculinity is being a leader, and femininity is being a follower. Making a snide remark that ‘she wears the pants’ suggests that she is NOT assuming proper gender roles and it might strike some of us as funny. But do we see the problem with this? What does that sound like to you? And for that matter, should ANY partnership be so unbalanced that ONE person controls it?”

Kids were shaking their heads, but one student was really troubled by this. “But in every relationship, there’s got to be the person in charge and the person who is just…” He didn’t really finish the sentence. I’m pleased to say that most of my students immediately recognized the glaring issue with this. Most of the class shot this kiddo very horrified looks, and he was so shocked that people weren’t on his side (goodhearted kid, but clearly some messed up gender roles going on at his house). I let them discuss a bit more and finished with, “Be reflective in your relationships, friends. Dynamics like this can sometimes point to power imbalances—and generally, people shouldn’t feel inferior in their partnerships.”

Fandom is SO LIKE THIS. We equate personality with sexuality and gender so hard!!!! We try to inject hypermasculinity into queer spaces SO HARD. At some point, your desire to be ‘subversive’ just turns into toxic heteronormativity. When you make Remus hypermasculine and Sirius hyperfeminine because it “just feels right” - consider WHY this feels right to you when there really is not a lot in canon that points to these things. Why does it feel right to you that one person should “be a top” and one should “be a bottom”? This is not to say this is ILLEGAL or you shouldn’t make Sirius feminine—it’s just…think about the underlying message here when it’s in contrast to very very masculine Remus.

My point here is NOT “stop making characters gay/feminine!!!” My point is, hell yeah, the characters who are canonically straight could be gay, but also I really recommend avoiding basing this on stereotypes. “I can’t believe people think this overly dramatic/emotional/fashionable/soft man is straight!” Unpack that. Really think about it. What are you really saying? Just…be reflective, folks. You are not immune to the heteronormative agenda.

TL;DR // softness, aggressiveness, beauty, love, gentleness, competitiveness, etc. belong to everyone, every gender, every sexuality.

#taking a bit of a risk with this #this is coming from someone who is uhhhh heavily into fucked up ships #i love fucked up dynamics #it’s hot #i am personally into playing with power dynamics in a kink way #but not in my regular life #disclaimer #you can do whatever you want #whatever floats your boat #but be aware of spreading harmful stereotypes #don’t just reinvent toxic heteronormativity lol

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softhairedhotch · 7 months

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Do you have any Trans!Aaron headcanons?

yesss lemme give you some <3

when he was younger and first realised he felt like a boy, he definitely pushed away those thoughts because he figured he didn't have time for it with all the things he had to do in the future (care for his mom and brother, working a shitty job, getting into law school) and he assumed no one would understand or care

i feel like he worked a few jobs as a teen so he could save up enough for testosterone/top surgery/bottom surgery if he wanted that too because he wanted to get them all as soon as possible

he used to bind unsafely bc he had no proper way of doing it :( so it took a while for his ribs/chest to feel okay again after that. he sometimes still gets pains because of how long he did it for when he was a teen/young adult

him being trans is the reason he wears a lot of suits, especially tailored ones, because it makes him look and feel a lot more masculine <3 but as he gets older and has been on t for years, he feels a lot more comfortable wearing casual clothing around his coworkers and in general

he's not out to people, only the ones he's closest too. so haley knew, jessica also knew but that's because they grew up together, and so does sean. jack probably knows, but might not understand properly until he's older, and maybe dave knows too. the rest of the team doesn't.

he's insecure about his top surgery scars which is why he's never seen shirtless or always leaves to change elsewhere and alone. i feel like after foyet stabs him a few times in the stomach, he feels a lil bit less insecure about his top surgery scars because it's not the only scars on his front anymore. but now he's insecure about all the scars because of the memories they hold and he hates the idea of people asking questions or acting like they know what he's been through </3

when there's a case that includes transphobia, he gets really really angry about it. just like jj does when the case involves kids. but the team can't figure out why it affects him so much and why it has him overworking them without even meaning to. he hardly sleeps when he's on those cases, too focused on solving it and getting the asshole in jail, and dave or whoever knows has to prompt him to take care of himself or tell him to take a breather :(

he hates having to tell people. his biggest worry is them seeing and treating him differently. that's why he never wants the team to find out; it keeps him awake some nights when his dysphoria is at its worst and his anxiety about others finding out terrifies him

if penelope found out, probably accidently by looking at his file or maybe walking in on him shirtless, she'd be sooo supportive and promise not to tell anyone and make sure that he knows she's always there for him if he needs someone to talk about it <3

he likes to work out and stay in shape because it makes him feel both healthier and appear more masculine and he likes the way it feels

he likes his hair really short. having it too long makes him dysphoric as hell and he feels nauseous. that's why it's so short sometimes bc he can't handle having it past his ears or long enough to reach his eyebrows

i think that's all i have rn <3 thanks for asking!

#trans aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #casks #aaron hotchner headcanons

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serenescribe · 10 months

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ell, i hope ur request is still available??? lol but im submitting a fic idea for now-- its been laying on my art ideas for awhile but im just not sure how to draw it so im sharing it now-- (this ask is long T0T im sorry-)

so basically the story right now is Lilia's dream and I believe the point of this dream is having Lilia be on time to save Malenoa and Levan from the Silver Owls???

i read a lot of theories that Silver might overblot mostly from magical exhaustion from using UM but its also possible that he might overblot by just the mental stress of it all lol so i think the moment that he'll really snap is the moment he'll found out he's a Silver Owl.

u see, I'm kinda hesitant to support the theory that Silver is one of the Silver Owls (even tho its so likely TT)---

bcuz,,, guys,,, do you the impact of that twisted info??? it means that IF Silver is one the Silver Owls;;;; he's from the nation that destroyed the Land of Briar, the reason why Briar Valley is such a small secluded nation and hates humans a lot, the probably main reason why faes and humans are distrustful to each other, the people who murdered Malleus' parents, the reason why Malleus had to grow up in isolation, the people who killed Lilia's most important people: Malenoa and Levan (which we can assume the only people he can refer to as family), and the reason why his father is dying early and is falling out of magic because he had to exhaust all of it for Malleus to live because his ancestors killed his parents---- if Silver is from the Silver Owls actually, can he truly still have the audacity to refer to Lilia as "his father" knowing well now he's the root of all his misery?

He'll never meet Lilia if he's from Silver Owl/if Land of Briar won against them)-- unlike Sebek and Malleus who's family is tied with Malenoa and Baul

He's realizing that his existence to his father life was born from losing everything he had and he gets engulfed by the darkness

"because this is Father's true family…" Silver realizes as he looks at the expression of Lilia genuinely happy in relief that Malenoa and Levan was saved and the enemy is defeated and he'll never meet Silver anymore because his nation lost.

"We were never meant to dream together" (this is in contrast of Silver's UM's message; "let's share the same dream")

you. you are WICKED for this utter monster of a prompt. lian, i cannot believe you. i woke up, read it, and just couldn't stop grinning. i genuinely hope i did this justice. thank you for letting me write this!

The relief on his father’s face hurts Silver to the very core of his soul.

There is a celebration erupting around him, the chaotic, spontaneous festivities of a war long-won. Victory is theirs; the Valley has prevailed over her enemies, all human intruders either slain or driven out, the Silver Owls and their Knight of Dawn thoroughly suppressed.

And yet, as Silver lurks about at a corner of the room, back pressed against the dark stone wall as he observes from afar, all he can feel is a deep-rooted agony. There is a light happiness to his father’s face, so unlike the stern disposition of the general that Silver had gotten used to, having adapted to it despite how strange it feels to interact with his father in his callous prime.

Near his father is Princess Malenoa and her betrothed, the former carrying her egg in her arms. From where he stands, Silver watches as the draconic fae’s face creases as she laughs at a comment Lilia makes, the three of them enraptured in their own little world.

He bites his lips, heart aching as it thumps against his chest.

It hurts.

It hurts because Silver knows who he is, what he is now. He’s put it all together, uncovered all the missing pieces of the puzzle throughout his time fighting by his father’s side, hoping to wake him within his dream. There was an uncanny resemblance Silver shared with the Knight of Dawn, one that had struck him upon laying his eyes on the man. Even now, it makes him sick to his stomach thinking of the implications.

But appearances could be coincidental. There were many people in the world; surely some people were bound to share similarities in the end? And yet, there was another piece of evidence, one that had casted away any lingering doubts Silver had clung to, one that damned his fate.

Silver’s fingers close around the ornate ring in his palm, its necklace chain draped over the side of his wrist, swaying slightly.

He’d found the very same ring in the Knight of Dawn’s tent, when they’d ransacked it after a lengthy battle. It had been nestled in a tiny locked box that opened at his touch, and Silver’s breathing had stuttered to a gasping halt as soon as he laid eyes upon the tiny piece of jewellery — a perfect replica of the ring slung around his neck.

“Hey.”

The sound of a voice snags his ear, swaying his attention away from the cheerful face of his father — though does Silver truly reserve the right to call him that, after everything he’d learnt? Glancing to the side, Silver relaxes at the sight of Yuu shuffling over, standing next to him, their hands buried in the pocket of their jacket.

Silver dips his head at them. They smile weakly at him in return.

For a while, they stand there together, simply observing the rest of the room. Silver’s gaze flits around, from the thronging groups of fae celebrating their victory, to the sight of Sebek laughing up a storm with the younger form of his grandfather — an apparition of Lilia’s dream, but still an indulgence for the boy — until finally, they land back at his father.

“How’re you feeling?” Yuu asks, out of nowhere.

Silver exhales. “I… I am fine. Thank you for your concern.”

“Mm. I don’t really think fine constitutes standing in a corner of the room like this,” Yuu points out with a shrug. “Isn’t now probably the best time to… what was it, try and wake up Lilia?”

It is the best time to do such a thing. And yet, whenever Silver considers the thought, eyes darting back to his laughing father, he hesitates. He sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of Princess Malenoa passing her egg off to her lover to lean over and wrap his father up in a warm embrace, lifting him off the ground as she whirls around in giddy joy.

The peaceful bliss on Lilia’s face is familiar to him. It’s an expression Silver’s seen many times before while growing up.

“...We can wait,” Silver eventually says, stifling a sigh. He crosses his arms. “It would not hurt to let him enjoy this a little longer.”

“If you say so,” Yuu hums in response. “Not that Grim would complain, I think. Pretty sure he’s off gorging himself on food somewhere, the little rat.”

Another pause, only permeated by the constant sound of festivities.

“...Something isn’t right, huh?” Yuu exhales. “I don’t really… know much about Hornton— um, Malleus, apart from what he told me, and… what I’ve learnt here.” They gesture at the room. “But I kinda get the feeling his parents aren’t exactly around anymore. And yet they’re alive, huh?”

Silver doesn’t even need to turn to know just what Yuu is looking at — the very much alive, not missing, Princess Malenoa and Levan chatting happily with Lilia.

“...Yeah,” Silver eventually breathes, voice weak. “They’re alive.”

Maybe— no, not maybe. It’s definitely better this way. How can Silver restore the status quo after everything he’s learnt throughout his father’s dream, of the wretched past that Lilia never told him about? His father looks so unbearably happy now, in this peaceful dream of a war won without the losses that happened in reality. Lilia had lost his closest companions, his childhood friends. He’d spent years presumably exhausting his magic, to take care of Malleus in their stead until the draconic fae finally hatched, because Malleus’ parents had been killed.

And he’d taken Silver in, despite the hue of his hair, the colour of his eyes — all little bits of evidence that should have clued Lilia in on his son’s true identity: a descendent of the Silver Owls.

A ragged exhale spills out of his mouth.

How can he look at Lilia now and call him his father? Silver is sure of it; he has to have been descended from the awful humans who ravaged the Valley and bled her dry of her resources, all before slaughtering the fair folk’s princess before her child could even be hatched. They’d been responsible for her bethrothed’s disappearance too, Silver is certain of it.

How can Silver have the audacity to think of Lilia as his own, when he is tied to the root of all his father’s misery?

And to make matters worse, in such a selfish, wretched way that it makes him feel sick—

Silver cannot stop thinking about how, in this other world, this perfect fantasy that his father supposedly longs for, he would have never found his son.

(Can Silver still call himself that?)

“SILVER!”

That familiar, thunderous voice startles him out of his swirling thoughts. Sebek frowns at him, hands resting on his hips. When had his friend arrived…? “We ought to get a move on with waking up Master Lilia,” he declares, attracting a few glances from nearby fae, chittering to each other about what Silver presumes is the sound of Sebek’s voice. “That IS what we came here for, no? And then after, we shall go and save Lord Malleus!”

“And on that note, I should go find Grim,” Yuu says, turning with a wave. “I’ll meet you guys when you’re ready to dream hop, Silver!”

Silver watches the human prefect depart, vanishing into the throng of shifting fae.

He bites his lip.

“Silver?”

Sebek’s voice is stern. And yet, there is a hint of what Silver knows is concern weaved into it. He glances back over at his friend, noticing the scrutinising arch of Sebek’s eyebrows, the way he inspects Silver closely. “What are you waiting for?” he demands. With a wave of his hand towards Lilia’s general direction, Sebek says, “Let us depart!”

“I can’t.”

Those two words spill from his lips before he can stop himself. Silver winces at the sight of Sebek’s eyes widening, pupils constraining at what he said, thoroughly taken aback. “What— Whatever do you mean, Silver?” Shaking his head, Sebek narrows his eyes. “Now is not the time for such foolish jesting—”

“I’m serious, Sebek.”

Silence. Sebek gawks at him, and Silver averts his gaze. His heart hammers in his chest, so loud he can hear it in his ears. He feels vaguely lightheaded. And it still hurts.

But it is precisely because it hurts that Silver is doing this, that he is refusing to wake his father up from his dream. What right does he have to do that, to disrupt such a wonderful fantasy, a world where everything turned out right for Lilia in the end? It would make him no better than the selfish, greedy humans who pillaged the Valley, killing fae left and right, and wrecking such havoc upon them all.

In the end, to wake Lilia up would be such an audacious, inconsiderate desire on Silver’s part. How dare he strip his father of the happiness he deserves?

Because, Silver thinks wistfully, gazing upon Lilia and Malenoa and Levan all over again, this is Father’s true family. It was never me. It is an epiphany that dawns upon him. And all of a sudden, everything feels clear.

(“Silver? SILVER!”)

Yes, this is the way it should be. Lilia should remain here in blissful paradise. Silver can move on, can take Sebek and Yuu and Grim with him — unless they wish to stay, of course, to which he wouldn’t fault them; he’s seen how attached Sebek is to his grandfather, after all. They don’t need to bother his father with the likes of their plans to save Malleus from his overblot. They can find other people instead!

(“SILVER!”)

We were never meant to dream together, Silver thinks wistfully. It’s like his focus has narrowed down to solely his father, everything else in his peripheral vision blurring together into a mess of darkness. But that’s the truth of it, isn’t it?

What sort of a selfish son would he be, to strip his father of his hard-earned happiness?

“SILVER!”

He jolts at the sharp sensation of a slap, lurching back to his senses.

The first thing he notices is Sebek’s face, contorted with such abject fear, hand raised in front of him.

The second thing he notices is—

The darkness, bubbling around him, sucking at his heels, clinging and sliding its way up his legs.

Hands wrap around his wrists, trying to drag him forward, away from the sloshing pit of inky blackness that claws at him. “Get OUT!” Sebek screeches, in part a furious demand, in part a desperate plea. But as soon as Silver stumbles his way to clean, even ground, the darkness slides right back in, nipping at his ankles, dragging him back in.

And yet, all Silver can feel is an overwhelming sensation of calm. There is a dull ache that throbs in his chest, one that sobs and wails and causes the darkness to clamber up his body even further. A single realisation makes itself clear in his mind.

He’s overblotting, isn’t he?

That’s the only explanation Silver can muster, the reason why the darkness has returned for him. It’s not reacting like it has in the past. No, this time, it’s surging straight for only him while ignoring everyone else in the room.

Perhaps he’d overexerted himself a bit too much. Perhaps he’d let his tumultuous emotions get the better of him.

What will happen if he stays? Will he lose control of himself? Silver exhales, a melancholic acceptance overtaking his soul. He knows what he has to do now.

And it is with his newfound purpose in mind that Silver pulls his hands out of Sebek’s grasp. He steps back, a sad smile on his face as the other boy stares at him. “ARE YOU INSANE?” Sebek screams, voice erupting through the air, dragging the room into silence. “SILVER, YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY THINK OF GIVING INTO THE DARKNESS!”

All Silver can do is hang his head, and take another step back. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs — and he truly is. But it’s safer this way, isn’t it? He can handle an overblot. He knows how to get himself away, so he cannot hurt anyone else any more than he already has.

And as Silver readies his magic, hands clasped firmly around the ring in his palm, beginning to murmur the words under his breath, his gaze flits around the room once more. From a panic-stricken Sebek to a distressed and frozen Yuu, Grim tucked under their arm, to the whispering fae backing away from the scene, until finally…

He meets crimson eyes that widen, a glint sparking within them, face contorting into one of realisation and pure fear.

“Meet in a Dream,” Silver whispers with a sad smile, raising his ring to his lips, breath ghosting along the glistening gem — slowly clouding over, losing its lustre and shine.

And as the general breaks away from his two closest companions, boots slamming against the stone floor as he sprints for Silver, one arm outstretched, the scream of a name emerging from his lips—

Silver allows his magic to tear himself away from this dream, taking him somewhere far away, where he can let the blot swallow him whole.

At the very least, as he loses his mind—

He knows his father will be safe and happy.

#writing requests #my writing tag #tumblr drabbles tag #twst #twisted wonderland #twst spoilers #twisted wonderland spoilers #twst ch7 #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #twst yuu #lilia vanrouge #twst fanfiction #twst writing #again i am on holiday at da beach as this goes up... B)#enjoy the horrors while i have a good time!!!

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