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lunarbuck · 7 months

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Kinktober Week 1: Thigh Riding

header by @jen-with-a-pen

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x f!reader (any race)

WC: 917

Prompt: Thigh riding

Warnings: swearing, thigh riding, heavy petting, pet names [sweetheart]

my masterlist | kinktober masterlist | @lunarbucklibrary

The front door slams shut, and you jump at the sound, the wooden spoon in your hand clattering against the counter. You quickly pick it back up, stirring the soup you've spent all day making. Lee thunders into the kitchen, heavy footsteps dragging slightly against the tile floor.

You throw a glance over your shoulder, finding your Sheriff boyfriend settling in at the dinner table. He shrugs off his jacket and places his hat on the table, running a hand over his hair.

"How was your day, sweetie?" You ask, turning off the stove. Just from the way he walked in, you know it probably wasn't great, but if that's the case, he'll need to get it off his chest. It's better to ask and hear about it than for him to keep it all bottled up.

"This reelection shit is really getting on my nerves," he grumbles. "And Sandy…" You don't have to look at him to know he's rolling his eyes at the thought of his sister. "I don't even want to think about all the problems she's causin' me right now." You nod along with his words, serving up the soup into two bowls and grabbing Lee a beer from the fridge.

Your skirt swishes around your knees as you move around the kitchen. Lee likes it when you wear skirts, but honestly, you really like it too. You like the way they move, the way they hug your figure and smooth out the parts you don't love so much. As you set the table, you can feel Lee's eyes follow you around.

"Well, you're a shoo-in for the election, hun. No one pays Sandy any mind." Lee mumbles under his breath, probably disagreeing with you, but you don't bother to hear it. Lee's a stubborn man, and you know when to pick your battles.

"Smells good," he says, watching you place a bowl of soup in front of him. He leans down and breathes in the aromatic steam, a pleasant smile spreading across his face. You move to step away, but his hand grasps your waist. "You're always takin' such good care of me, sweetheart."

"Well, you're out there keeping me safe, taking care of everyone else," you reply, resting your hand on his shoulder. "It's the least I can do." Lee tugs you down to sit on his lap, and you wrap your arms around him. He's always liked holding you at the end of a long day. Knowing that you're safe and sound relaxes him.

You lean your head on Lee's shoulder as he tastes the soup. He moans his approval, digging in for more. You hadn't always imagined this life for yourself. Stay-at-home-girlfriend wasn't what you'd originally planned to be, but truthfully, you enjoy it. You know you want to go back to work soon, but that's a problem for future you. Current you is loving the way Lee's fingers squeeze your waist, the way he's enjoying something you made.

Before you know it, Lee's bowl is empty. He leans back in his chair and lets his eyes roam over your figure. He shifts the way you're sitting so your legs straddle his thigh, and your skirt rides up with the movement. You can't help but tilt your pelvis, relishing the slight friction of his muscular thigh against your clit.

"Sweetheart," he warns as he runs his hands up your legs. "Don't go startin' somethin' you can't finish." You grin, rocking your hips against Lee's leg and ignoring his stern words.

"Who says I can't finish this, Sheriff?" Your fingers trail down the buttons on the front of his shirt before landing on the bulge in his slacks. His grip on your hips tightens, increasing the pressure on your clit.

Lee's eyes are fused to the spot where you're grinding against him, and he pushes your skirt up higher to see more. You know your panties are soaked, the fabric sticking to your sensitive flesh. You're desperate for more contact, to feel the rough texture of his slacks against your pussy.

"Fuck, sweetheart. You look so perfect, riding my thigh with that perfect pussy." Lee's words make your clit throb, and you grip his shoulders tighter. "Lemme help you with that." He reaches between the two of you and tugs your panties to the side, and groans, running his finger over your clit.

Each grind against his muscular thigh sends sparks shooting through your body, and every brush of his finger against your clit sends you plummeting closer to the edge. Lee's eyes are dark and hungry, watching you take your pleasure from him.

"Lee," you whimper, tugging his head closer to kiss him. The moment your lips find his, he's devouring you. His tongue slides against yours, and you speed up your movements on his thigh. His fingers dig into your flesh, guiding your hips closer and closer to your orgasm.

"Come for me, sweetheart. Come for me and show me how perfect you are." His voice is raspy and deep, desperate. Your whole body tightens, and you hold your breath as you come. Lee watches with hooded, lust-filled eyes, drinking in the sight of you.

As you come down from your high, Lee hooks his arms under your ass, picking you up. He starts toward the bedroom, and you cast a glance at your bowl of soup, long gone cold.

"I'll reheat it, and you can eat it in bed, sweetheart. Let me take care of you first."

@flightlessangelwings | #fawktober2023 list

I am discontinuing my taglist, more info to come! Follow @lunarbucklibrary and turn on notifications to be alerted of my new works. Must be 18+

Everything tags: @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @emi11ie @paulasocean @silverfire475 @lovingchoices14 @nekoannie-chan @late-to-the-party-81 @chibijusstuff @midnightramyeoncravings @wickidlady @buckyb-stan @adoreyouusugar @sebastianstanisagod @kayden666 @km-ffluv @winters1917 @buckysprettybaby @youdontknowmegls @marvellover31415

Lee tags: @v-velvetykisscs @Aussiegurl1234 @Silly60sblog @wintasssoldier @hallecarey1 @jbucb @pattiemac1 @saiyanprincessswanie @purple-vegan @cope69seethe

Kinktober tags: @casa-boiardi @writing-for-marvel @harleycao

#jane’s writing #kinktober 2023 #fawktober 2023 #lee bodecker #sheriff lee bodecker x f!reader #lee bodecker x reader #devil all the time #lee x reader #lee bodecker x f!reader #fem!reader

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months

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hi! Hooe ur having a good day so far ;)

if its not a big thing to ask, could you do the TADC crew with a s/o who has a really big sweet tooth? Like they dont need to eat, but anytime something slightly sweet is presented they always eat it no matter what? Thank you!

TADC cast x a reader w/ a sweet tooth!

yipee third request of the day! just got 13 more then im all caught up!! thinking about it more i might reopen requests day after tomorrow, if i finish all the current requests today!

CAINE:

congrats! there isnt a better source of sugar in the digital world than from the tooth man himself; bro literally pulled a cake out of thin air youre set for life if you want to eat treats! i like to think he would make a mental note of what sweets are your favorite and for what reason; taste, texture, smell, stuff like that

i personally hc that since caine is an ai he cant really taste, at least not in the same way we can, so bonus idea, imagine describing what things taste like to him, ,i think thats cute

POMNI:

when you told pomni that you had a sweet tooth, she assumed that you had a normal sweet tooth; as in you simply liked having a little treat here and there. imagine her shock when caine promises sweets as a reward for completing an IHA and you end up going full ham trying to secure the reward. maybe its because your sweet tooth is that intense, or maybe you havent had many chances to indulge since entering the digital world... whatever it may be, i think pomni would give you her candies and treats; she seems like a more bitter flavor enjoyer

RAGATHA:

writing her part first because i just got struck with an idea but imagine the two of you baking something together; bonus you keep trying to eat the stuff before its fully done (ex. you keep eating some of the frosting before it can be put on a cupcake or something). she playfully swats your hand when you try to snag more of whatever you're baking together. gives an apologetic look; would the treat not be better when its complete? come on reader, practice patience!

thats another idea for a real world au thing with ragatha, you two running a little baking business; i think that would be cute

JAX:

you guys fist fight over a bag of sour patch kids sorry i dont make the rules. i hc that jax has a huge sweet tooth, especially for sour candies. so uh, if you like sour candies youre going to have to make a stash... but considering jax has keys to some peoples rooms, you might wanna be smart about it... will share his candy with you if youre feeling extra bad one day, though

KINGER:

sweets, a loving partner, and a cozy pillow fort. does it get more comforting than that? okay maybe it can, if you pair a cup of hot coco with your cinnamon roll, but hey! side note, we see kinger sitting at the table at the end of the pilot... with food... so like.. how does he eat? does it just clip through his face? did he only get food to be polite? now i have a few questions... i dont think kinger would be a huge sweet fan; not really craving sugar that often... i think he would be a spice lover, though, this man would love himself a spice cake me thinks

ZOOBLE:

also not a particularly huge sweet fan, but i think similar to jax they would love sour candies. unlike jax, though, they wont go snooping around for your stash, though! probably snags stuff from the common areas if caine has like a communal candy store in the circus, or if not... stares at jax. you WILL hear from them if you leave your candy wrappers around though!

GANGLE:

speaking of candy wrappers, i think gangle would keep them! gives them a use; depending on what kind of material they are or like... if theyre foldable (think like a gum wrapper) she makes little pieces of origami for you! hearts, frogs, flowers, things like that! sometimes gets you some candy so she can get the wrappers. also likes how the crinkling feels n sounds!

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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luveline · 1 year

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hi! can I request a hurt/comfort with Steve, where reader was in an abusive relationship before she met him, she tells him and he's heartbroken? ty ❤

Hi! Thank you for your request. This was also requested here, so I'm combining the two! I hope this is okay ♥︎ fem!reader, tw domestic violence mention/ abusive relationship mention

You have the most charming little teddy bear Steve has ever seen sitting on your nightstand. He's golden brown with a red bow around his neck, and his fur isn't fur but a textured sort of ruching.

"That's adorable," he says, letting his bag slide down his arm and onto the floor at the foot of your bed.

"That's Mr. Bedtime."

"That's even more adorable," he says.

Your shoulders relax ever so slightly. You're tense today, and Steve doesn't know why. He tries his best to put you at ease.

"Can I?" he asks, pointing at your primly made bed.

You nod and he doesn't waste any time, shucking out of his jacket and flopping onto your bed. It smells incredibly fresh, linen and lavender and no traces of you. Unfortunate.

"D'you wash your sheets for me?" he asks knowingly.

"Yeah, Stevie, you got me. I washed 'em just for you."

"Hey, I wash mine for you."

"S'your first time sleeping over. Didn't want you getting the wrong idea."

"What's that?"

"That I'm a slob."

"Babe, I know you're a slob, I've seen your car."

You sit down with your thigh touching his, lowering yourself beside him slowly. He turns his head to face you. Your eyelashes brush against the sheets with every blink.

"I'm kidding," he says softly, just in case. "You're perfect."

You relax again, tension unravelling, and then you laugh and look away from him. "Liar."

"You are. Perfect, I mean…" He offers his hand to you. You take it, his thicker fingers slotted between yours, and laugh when he squeezes too hard.

"Please don't, Steve, you know I hate it," you say through giggles.

"You don't sound like you hate it."

"I do."

He stops his mean squeezing to hide your hand in the crook of his neck instead. He's so tired today, but he'd wanted to come over and see you more than anything, even more than he'd wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for two days straight, because he thinks you're the best person he's ever met. You speak and Steve only wants to listen.

"What's wrong with you? You've barely opened your mouth tonight. Are you hungry?" he asks, eyes closed again.

"Not really. I actually feel kind of sick."

"Yeah?" He peels his eyes open to check you over.

You look nervous rather than unwell.

"Are you gonna throw up?" he asks worriedly.

"No, it's not that…I don't know."

"Tell me."

He knows you have something to say. When you don't say it, he hoists himself into a sitting position. His face shows his confusion, a glare with absolutely no malice in it working over his thick eyebrows.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, softer now.

You sit up with him. You don't let go of his hand but your grip lessens, your thumb drawing a small circle over the lines and divots of the back of his hand.

"I'm just scared," you say. Your voice is weak, garnering Steve's intense concern.

"Of what? Of me?"

"No," —you rub your eyes and your eyebrows with the heel of your free hand— "Steve, this isn't how I wanted to tell you. I don't want to tell you at all. But I don't want to do something and freak you out."

Steve blinks. "Alright."

You look down at your legs. He watches you pick at the stitching of your skirt.

"I had a boyfriend before you. And he used to, uh, push me around."

Steve's mouth goes dry. "He hit you?"

"Yeah. In here, mostly. So I don't– I have these moments where I remember it and I flinch, and I don't want you to think I think you're gonna do that."

"He hit you in here?" Steve can't imagine it. He doesn't want to imagine it, somebody hurting you right here in your bedroom.

"Yeah."

"I'm-" He stutters, startled and horrified, "I'm so sorry."

You meet his gaze with an awkward smile. Sweet, embarrassed. "What do you have to be sorry for? I'm the idiot who let him."

His head is racing with thoughts. That somebody hit you. Once, which is horrifying, and then more than that, enough that you remember it intrinsically. He tries to put words together but honestly he's feeling the toxic rush of adrenaline. He wants to get his awful fucking baseball bat and take a swing at whoever it was that thought it was okay to lay a hand on you, but he knows that's not what you need right now.

"You're not an idiot, don't say that. Please." He pulls your hand and encourages you close, eyes squinting in concern. "Babe, do you want to leave?"

"What?"

"Do you want to leave? We don't have to be here." Steve waits for your answer. He can see the cogs turning in your head.

"Yeah, okay," you say weakly.

He worries you might burst into tears as he helps you pack a bag. You can't not come back, this is your bedroom, and this is where you live, but he doesn't think you should ever have to be here, and he kind of doesn't want to be here either.

He stops.

"Hey," he says, putting your pyjamas down on the bed, "come here?"

You step toward him with a listlessness he can't stand to see.

"I'm gonna hug you," he murmurs, arms extended. He folds you into his chest and only squeezes when you squeeze first, arms tight and face pressed against the side of your head. "I want you to have nice memories in here."

"Oh," you say.

Steve doesn't know how to articulate all the mushy stuff he feels, and he doesn't want to make promises you've likely heard before and had broken, but he still has to say it.

"I wouldn't ever do that you, ever, and I-" His voice wobbles. "I can't believe that happened. You don't deserve that."

"It wasn't as bad as it sounds."

He frowns. "Baby, I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I don't want it to be a big deal, it just happened."

He guides your head away from his chest, taking your face into two warm palms. Looking at you, your face, how pretty you are, and how unhappy you look, he can't imagine wanting to hurt you. Not here, not anywhere. Anything beyond a squeeze, a tickle, he can't fathom it. You quirk your lips into a tight smile.

"It's okay," you say.

It's not okay, but Steve's gonna try his hardest to make it that way. "Let's get out of here," he says. "Yeah?"

You turn your face in and kiss his fingers. "Yeah."

He grabs Mr. Bedtime before you leave. He knows it's probably not the best idea to jump ship, and he meant what he said — he wants your room to be a place full of good and relaxed feelings — but he knows that, if it were him, and he'd been vulnerable as you had, he'd want to be somewhere that feels a hundred percent safe, and quiet.

And when you're together in Steve's room, that's exactly how it is.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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ravieisunhinged · 3 months

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Valentine’s Day

Joakim “Jolly” Karlsson x F!Reader

Oneshot / Imagine

Tags: @ladyveronikawrites, @lma1986, @blackveilomens, @cookiesupplier, @thcfountain

Content Warning: Just pure fluff.

Note: Quick little fluff I felt like writing since today is valentine’s day. Enjoy <3

You wake up in bed, not wanting to get up. Turning around, you see your boyfriend fast asleep. He looked pretty when he was sleeping, so you admired him.

His long hair was sprawled over his pillow, and he was lightly snoring. When he finally opens his eyes, he realizes that you’ve been staring at him.

“Staring is rude, you know.” He says, with a tired voice.

“Says who?” You ask.

“Me.” He chuckles.

“Bullshit.” You laugh.

“Yeah? Come here.” He says, grabbing you so you’re straddling his lap.

“Is there something you want, sir?” You ask, placing your hands on his chest.

“Mm, no. Just wanna spend Valentine’s Day with my pretty lady.” He replies sweetly.

Smiling, you lean down and kiss him, feeling the texture of his facial hair. Once you pull away, you look down at him. “I forgot that was today. But I’d love that very much.”

“How does staying in bed and watching our favorite movies sound?” He asks.

“Sounds amazing.” You reply.

“But first, let’s have some breakfast, yeah?” He suggests, caressing your skin.

“God yes, I’m starving.” You say.

“Let’s get up, then.” He says.

You try to get up off of him, but he keeps you there, taking you with him as he gets up. “Let me carry you, pretty girl.”

“Okay.” You reply, smiling.

Once he gets to the kitchen, he sets you on the counter, leaving you to sit there and stay pretty.

“So, what are you gonna make?” You ask.

“That, my lady, is a surprise.” He says.

As he’s cooking, you remember the smell. It’s your favorite.

“That smells good.” You say.

“I’m glad. It’s almost done.” He says.

Your mouth was literally watering. You loved Jolly’s cooking. Once the food is done, he sets up your plates, then he stands in between your legs.

He grabs a fork, and dips it into your food, then brings it to your mouth. “Open.”

You oblige, and he sets the fork down once you’ve eaten. “What’s with the special treatment hm?”

“I can spoil a pretty girl on valentine’s day?” He asks.

“You can, I’m just wondering.” You reply.

“I love you, and you deserve the world. That’s all there is to it.” He says.

“I love you too.” You reply.

He smiles. “How about we get back to bed now since we’ve eaten?”

“Sounds good to me.” You reply.

“Go. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Get a movie ready for us hm?” He suggests.

“Okay.” You say, kissing him before you leave the room. As you’re in bed, you’re browsing the movie catalog for something to watch.

“I see you have yet to find anything.” Jolly says, entering the room.

“Yeah, I’m just not interested in any of these.” You say.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head. I’ll find us something.” He says, taking the remote from you.

Once he gets into bed, he pulls you to his side, you laying your head on his chest. When he finds something, he presses play and places the remote on the bedside table.

Kissing your forehead, he says, “Happy valentine’s day, my sweet, precious girl.”

You look up, and smile. “You too, my love.”

He kisses you, and your leg goes in between his. Once he pulls away, he chuckles. “Alright, how about we watch this movie. We can eat each other later if that’s what you want.”

“Mmm, I’d like that.” You say.

“Knew you would.” He says, you laying your head back on his chest. You stay like this for most of the day, in each other’s arms.

#joakim jolly karlsson fanfic #joakim jolly karlsson fanfiction #joakim jolly karlsson fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic

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drunkenlionwrites · 10 months

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I want your take on uncanny vash with some relationship/affection headcanons too please!

Damn, that's a popular request! 💖

Okay, so I’m not on twitter, so I totally missed the beginning of this trend, but I’ve seen some snippets here on tumblr and I absolutely love this thing as a total monster lover at heart. Though interpretations vary from something more Lovecraftian to even something from 5 nights at Freddy’s or your standard local creepypasta. My take is more or less canon-compliant, cause Trimax already gave us soooo much food that we can explore deeper. What can be ever uncannier than a walking talking man-made creature, who’s also a sentient matter generator as well as extremely empathetic being with heightened senses who also possesses telepathic abilities to some degree.

There’s always been something slightly…off with Vash. Something you couldn’t pinpoint exactly. Something about his body proportions. His lanky limbs and his overly controlled movements. The way his body could go from rigid and collected when you’ve been in danger to mellow and seemingly boneless when he’s been partying with townsfolk.

The way his teeth have been slightly sharper than an average human being. The way his skin was seemingly poreless and smooth, always milky-white no matter how much time he’s spent under the scorching suns.

A few times you for sure saw his eyes glowing in the dark. You did, right? Just the way the cat’s eyes would look when reflecting light.

His eating habits, when you’ve noticed them, also left you dumbfounded. You could swear that he could go on days and days without eating a crumb, later defensively claiming he ate when you hadn’t seen or that you’ve just forgotten and anyway why is it such a big deal to you? When you hit the town, he immediately was lost in diners, or saloons, or cafes eating humongous portions of food that you were sure would make you puke all your guts out, but made Vash only smile at you contentedly.

The smell of him, that was always of hotel’s cheep soap, or dust and sand, gunpowder, and cold night breeze, but never of sweat or any kind of natural body odor you can imagine a man clad in leather clothes should smell after a few days of travel without bathing.

The texture of his hair, coarse and springy and thick, and always so so clean, but smoother and silkier where his black strands began. ‘Good genetics’ he claimed.

You’ve also never expected him to have such deep and profound displays of emotions: rage, grief, hurt. They always felt so raw and palpable in the air. It seemed like it was too hard and thick to breathe, making you unable to move and think clearly. When you carefully asked Wolfwood about it later he claimed he felt the same as you.

His pained screams were nothing but animalistic, otherworldly too…you couldn’t forget the sound even if you could. It was something between a malfunctioning screeching machine or the wail of a distressed animal.

When you gained the knowledge about him being an independent plant, receiving awkward profound apologies from Vash for lying to you and dismissing your concerns to him, it all made so much more sense and made you feel strangely more at ease with all his oddities, your brain still unconsciously catching things that were off with Vash.

Nothing you’ve seen before could compare to the moment you saw him communicating with his sisters, all kinds of feathers growing out of his body, while he’s been leaning his forehead to the glass.

The way some otherworldly flesh parts have been manifesting out of him at times have been chillingly terrifying and incomprehensible for you. Seeing the way he demolished the moon with his power didn’t register with you for some time until Wolfwood repeated it enough times for you to make sense of it.

Relationship/affection uncanny valley stuff:

It has been pretty normal with the perfectly sweet and affectionate Vash, except the slight buzzing sound that reminded you of the sound of refrigerator emitting from him during sleep or when he’s been completely relaxed. You’ve been surprised once again but decided to not bring it up to Vash to not make him feel self-conscious and uneasy again.

Once after an especially stressful day you’ve awakened being encaged in some sort of a cage surrounding you and connecting back to Vash, fleshy, soft to the touch but weirdly sturdy, covered in all sorts of feathers and small wings and weird small body parts, resembling humans. You almost screamed, but Vash woke up first from your rustling the sheets and moving next to him. With a surprised yelp from him, the fleshy structure started quickly decomposing and falling off you, disintegrating before hitting the bed. Well, that’s some protective plant boyfriend for you.

#vash x reader #trigun x reader #vash x you #trigun x you #vash headcanons #trigun headcanons #uncanny vash #trimax vash

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bbcphile · 3 months

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CPTSD and Mysterious Lotus Casebook Part II: Di Feisheng, Violence, and Emotional Regulation

In last week’s meta, I wrote about complex CPTSD, its stereotypes, and how DFS and LLH each show different aspects of CPTSD symptoms.

This week’s post focuses on DFS and self regulation, including emotional regulation. As I mentioned before, it’s common for tv shows and films to have characters who have survived child abuse or traumatic combat situations be affected by out of control, violent outbursts. What I find fascinating about DFS, however, is that, while the jianghu and even Li Lianhua initially see him as someone who resorts to violence at the slightest provocation, that’s not at all who he is according to what we see on screen. While he does lash out with violence, he is more in control of his actions, expression of emotions, and violent impulses than just about anyone in the show.

Emotional Regulation

Emotional regulation is a challenge with complex PTSD for a number of reasons, including:

Traditional flashbacks (re-experiencing the traumatic memories as though it is happening again)

Emotional flashbacks (experiencing all the emotions from the trauma as intensely as if it were happening again, including grief, rage, betrayal, fear, etc.)

Body memories (experiencing the physical sensations of the trauma like it’s happening again)

Hypervigilance (being constantly on the lookout for threats to defend against them and keep yourself safe) and its resultant irritability and overstimulation

Intrusive thoughts (seeing images or thinking thoughts related to the trauma that you can’t block out)

Nightmares (of the trauma), or insomnia from avoiding nightmares and the resulting exhaustion and irritability from sleep deprivation

As a result, anything that reminds someone of the trauma can be a trigger that could set off any or all of these reactions. That means, for DFS, that being betrayed by someone he trusted, or being poisoned and made powerless, or being attacked by someone with more power than him, or confronting his abuser is never about experiencing just that event in isolation: it almost always brings up the feelings of the earlier, even more traumatic times similar things have happened. Also, it’s not just events or people’s actions that can be triggers: smells, colors, textures, sounds, tastes, shapes, terrain, enclosed spaces, decor style—anything can trigger this sort of re-experiencing. As you might imagine, responding appropriately to people and situations can be difficult when your brain is constantly telling you that you are in danger or actively being harmed!

How do people deal with being bombarded by emotions, memories, and sensations of the worst times of their lives? The version media shows most often is a traditional “fight” response, where people lash out at others, either preemptively to avoid being hurt or in retaliation for a real or perceived hurt, although lots of survivors of CPTSD turn this fight response inwards in what I’ve started calling “lashing in,” where, like Li Lianhua, they direct the anger and hatred that should go toward the perpetrators of abuse toward themselves instead. (There’s also the “flight” response—avoiding and running away from things that remind you of the trauma or throwing yourself into distractions by being a workaholic—or the “freeze” response of dissociation, or the “fawn” response of trying to appease and placate someone harming you, but more on those another day.)

DFS, Violence, and Emotional Regulation

I want to emphasize that I’m not saying DFS isn’t violent: Di Feisheng does lash out, verbally and physically! (And for a great image set of the number of people he chokes, check out this post by @difeisheng.) What I find fascinating about DFS is the way he is such an interesting twist on the idea of lashing out; he’s not hurting others during a flashback or nightmare, or harming others as an outlet for his anger, or killing first and asking questions later to stay safe. He’s using violence but in a deliberate, controlled way, and as a last resort. And this is even more impressive given all the potential things that might trigger him.

Leaving Seclusion

His first appearance as an adult in the show’s present highlights this beautifully: his first act when he breaks free from seclusion is to tell Jiao Liqiao and Yao Mo not to kill the people who have intruded on his hideout, which is the reason FDB and LLH live past episode 5. This is wild to me, because it would be easy for someone who has been on the run from the Di Fortress his entire life and clearly fears being recaptured to say they deserve death for trespassing or because they could be Di Fortress spies. Or, since he spent a decade recovering from injuries liable to make him feel helpless, he could have used it as a chance to fight them as a way of proving to himself that he is still strong and capable and unlikely to be recaptured. Instead, he tells JLQ and Xue Gong to stand down and uses his qinggong to leave the scene, not even interrogating them to find out more. So, even though being unexpectedly interrupted while he’s still weaker than he used to be would activate his hypervigilance and increase the likelihood of him lashing out, he doesn’t. Anything he’s feeling stays internal and not on his face, such that he looks and acts unaffected. And since it’s one of his earliest appearances, it’s proof that this pattern is present from the start. It’s not just Li Lianhua’s influence or DFS’ time without memories as a-Fei soothing his bad temper or rage or uncontrolled violence: he was never out of control to begin with.

Asura Grass

DFS’ restraint comes into play again when he finds out that Li Lianhua blocked his meridians with Asura grass, interfering with his ability to access his qi. I am feral about this moment. DFS has spent his entire life trying to be as strong as possible so he would never be helpless again and regularly has nightmares/flashbacks of his childhood in the Di Fortress in which he didn’t have the strength, training, or skills to defend himself properly, and to times he was helpless and couldn’t control his own body because of the mind control bug that had been put into him against his will. His nightmares show that he remembers the pain it caused when the Di Fortress head rang the bell, and that the bug writhed in his neck while triggering that pain. In poisoning him with the Asura grass, something that literally moves and grows inside him to make him weaker and unable to fully defend himself, LLH could have unknowingly reenacted that trauma from Di Fortress. The fact that it happens immediately after two positive things–he had regained the strength he’d lost so he’d be feeling safer and freer than he had for the last decade, and the fact that he’d just found LXY alive after mourning him and losing interest in martial arts beyond wanting the security his skills provide–would have made this betrayal hurt even more: it’s the sort of thing that crushes hope and makes you think you’ll always be trapped. That it came from someone he cared for (as a rival, as an aspirational figure, as his equal, as a romantic prospect, etc.) and still mostly trusted could have itself been a trigger because of the early days at Di Fortress when he learned the hard way that his options were kill or be killed, and trust and kindness didn’t fit into that world. Despite the fact that LLH’s using Asura grass on him would be an incredibly painful combination of triggers and terrible timing, DFS stays mind-boggling in control of his external reactions. When he realizes his meridians are blocked, his face falls and his fingers twitch slightly (they are usually either held completely still in a studied, neutral rounded position or in a fist if he’s really mad about something and doesn’t mind showing it externally), and he starts to take a step towards LLH. But before he’s moved much at all, LLH tells him to stay where he is and not come closer.

And he stops.

He’s having Big Feelings about it (and who wouldn’t? Especially since part of his trauma is being immobilized when trying to get back at the person who harmed him!), as the Throat Bob of Feeling (his biggest emotional tell) shows, but he stops and hears LLH out.

He escalates things later by putting his sword to LLH’s throat and telling him he’ll torture him to get the cure, but it’s more a warning than an actual threat; the fabric of LLH’s robes is between the blade and his skin so not even the flesh will be nicked. And once he learns that LLH is doing this not to harm him but because he wants his help–before he even knows what LLH wants his help with–he removes his dao from LLH’s neck and asks for more details. (There’s so much to say about how he wields words in this conversation, too, but it’s already getting too long!) This interaction shows that, for him, physical violence is to counter an active threat, even if he’s mad and hurting, and that his default even during times of extreme stress is to stay calm, despite how incredibly hard that would be for anyone.

DFS and FDB

This could be an entire meta on its own, but since it’s more obvious than some of the other points, all I’ll say here is that Fang Duobing and Di Feisheng argue and fight all the time, but Di Feisheng almost never instigates it: DFS usually tries to ignore FDB and walk away to avoid the conflict entirely, and once FDB throws the first punch, DFS’s goal is to get out of the fight, not to hurt him. Look at how FDB is actually trying to choke DFS when they’re wrestling and DFS is more bracing against his shoulder, as @difeisheng has said, or even at the rest of the fight choreography where each of DFS’ strikes is to force FDB to let go of him and to leave the room.

(Note: FDB tries to strangle DFS first, whereas DFS is mainly trying to brace himself against his arms and keep him at arm’s length.

Even in the ep 13 fight, when Di Feisheng eventually poisons Fang Duobing with gang qi, he gives him several verbal warnings to draw his sword first, because he doesn’t want to fight someone who is unarmed. He’s also not trying to kill FDB; he’s trying to hurt him just enough that LLH is forced to ask for his help and agree to live. (More on this in the yin leaves meta I will eventually write.) So, again, it’s controlled violence in service of a larger goal, not vengeful, uncontrolled lashing out.

DFS and the Limits of Emotional Regulation

There are 3 main times when DFS’ control over his anger/hurt/violence is shaken or in jeopardy: 1. when he finds out Li Lianhua was poisoned and is dying; 2. when he wakes up in pain and with no memories in the corpse seller’s place; and 3. when he wakes up from a nightmare/flashback–still without memories–in a bed with LLH hovering over him. For each, I’ll explain possible reasons the event could be so triggering to clarify why he struggled with emotional regulation. (Also, keep in mind that being triggered can happen even if the person in question doesn’t consciously know what triggered them or why, so while he might be aware of some or all of the connections between the present event and his past experiences, he wouldn’t need to be consciously aware of any of them for them to affect him emotionally and make it harder for him to control his response.)

Fight over Bicha

The scene where DFS learns that LXY was poisoned for their donghai battle and thought it was on DFS’ order is fascinating, because it is the most angry and volatile we see DFS at any point in the show as an adult: he yells, repeatedly, his voice shaking with emotion, and he chokes Li Lianhua twice. Given how tightly controlled he is the rest of the time—including when he confronts his abusers and any of the times he is captured or tortured (I’ll talk about the latter two in a dissociation meta later)—that means that whatever he is feeling must be overpowering to shake his iron control. So before we get into analyzing the way that he is still showing restraint, even here, we need to address why this realization would be such a trigger for him.

Although DFS claims he’s angry and upset about the realization because he wants to be the best in a fair fight and his previous fake victory made him seem like a joke, it seems highly likely he’s not telling the full story, since that’s not really a thing he does. (For a full listing of things he lies about or deliberately omits/withholds, check out this post.) In fact, it seems very likely his reaction happened because of just how many triggers this scenario managed to hit. For example, at Di Fortress, he was forced into fights he didn’t want to participate in, where the odds were stacked against him because he was a child forced to fight people older and more experienced than he was, so as an adult, he wants to fight people who are at his level, and not people weaker than he is, because he doesn’t want to continue the cycle. This is why he isn’t interested in fighting other people on the martial arts list, why he barely expends any power at all on fighting the Sigu sect members, etc. He knows what it feels like to be on the other side of that, and in the same way that he wants to free the children in the Di Fortress so they don’t have to suffer as he did, so he wants to never be the cause of someone suffering under an imbalance of power. Also, since every escape attempt from Di Fortress and every attack against his abusive master was rigged against him—because the mind control bug could stop him in his tracks—he likewise doesn’t want to deprive someone of their agency like that. We also know that Di Feisheng and Li Xiangyi signed a peace treaty for five years, where they promised not to attack each other; that promise not to attack each other was exactly what he kept trying to form with the other prisoners in Di Fortress, but he couldn’t find anyone to agree and just got stabbed for his efforts.

Li Xiangyi breaking the peace treaty would have shattered that dream (and probably his heart a bit, too), but even that wouldn’t hurt as much as finding out, all at the same time, that:

1. He had thought he was the best in the world at martial arts which to him meant safety and security from Di Fortress, and he just found out it was based on a lie;

2. His now second-in-command, JLQ, had poisoned LXY (which violated the peace treaty), a betrayal that would reactivate his already very prevalent trust issues;

3. He had fought and almost killed someone in a rigged fight when he tries to be deliberate about his kills and violence so as not to perpetuate the abuse he suffered from;

4. JLQ had essentially tried to turn him into the butcher the head of Di Fortress wanted him to be, and he hadn’t known it for a decade;

5. LXY had spent a decade thinking DFS endorsed the sort of abuses he abhorred;

6. LXY is now dying and mostly powerless because of what was done in his name and because he didn’t notice the poisoning kicking in, and LXY refuses to fight for his life or to give DFS a chance to save him and essentially undo the harm that has been done. To DFS, LXY is making him complicit in his death yet again, which would mean being again responsible for the death of someone he wants to live, just like he was as a child.

Oh, and he’s facing all this with his meridians blocked and without access to his qi, which means he’s most likely feeling perpetually hypervigilant and helpless, which would mean everything is likely to feel like even more of a threat and emotional regulation is even harder.

In short, it is a clusterfuck of epic proportions. And this is all assuming that he mainly thought of LXY as purely a rival he respected: if you read DFS as already loving LXY (whether he realizes it consciously or not), you can see why it would be even worse.

And of course, all of Li Lianhua’s suggestions that DFS pretend he didn’t hear or move on and fight someone else are not addressing the main issues, because he doesn’t know them. But if DFS wasn’t about to tell LXY that someone was framing the Jinyuan alliance for the murder of SGD a decade ago, he’s certainly not about to tell him his deepest secret–that due to a mind control bug, one ring of a bell can render him absolutely helpless, which is why fair fights and being strong enough to defeat any enemy are incredibly important to him–so of course, to LLH, it’s just about DFS wanting to prove he’s the best as part of an ego trip, even though that’s not it at all. And of course LLH’s dismissiveness is going to make everything worse for DFS.

With all that in mind, let’s look at his body language and actions to see how he handles things when he is incredibly close to losing it. Although he does lash out, his first choice, as always, isn’t violence: he gathers info via eavesdropping–rather than bursting in during a fit of rage as soon as he learns the truth–and when he confronts LLH, he yells at him first, telling him what he overheard. It’s only when LLH tries to avoid the subject by snarking at him about eavesdropping instead of telling him the truth that DFS grabs LLH by the neck and shoves him against a pillar.

The moment in the entire show he is at his angriest is when he yells “It matters!” after LLH says it doesn’t matter who won or lost.

This is what DFS looks like when he’s losing control: his arm shakes for an instant before he locks the muscles to keep in place, and he puts a tad more pressure than he meant to on LLH’s neck before he realizes it and pulls back again. He’s been incredibly truthful here, in a way: the fact that he didn’t win because Li Lianhua was poisoned matters tremendously to him. He’s just not saying why and letting LLH believe the worst of him, which is another of his common strategies.

In case there’s any doubt that DFS’s choking of LLH is more designed to warn than to harm and is overall incredibly controlled apart from that moment, just look at his grip: Li Lianhua can talk and breathe normally and even turn his head the first time, so this move designed to show that DFS is mad, hurt, and serious about the conversation rather than actually trying to hurt or punish LLH or cut off his air. He also lets go completely while trying to convince LLH to let him cure him. He only grips Li Lianhua’s neck again when LLH refuses to accept help and only applies any real force when Li Lianhua essentially calls his bluff about killing people from Baichuan Court (or rather, tells his own bluff–a lie that he doesn’t care what happens to them).

Even there, since he’s making threats he doesn’t mean, he’s very much trying to play into the villain role LLH saw/sees him as (the person who murdered SGD, broke a peace treaty, and poisoned him), but he’s not doing it to harm LLH or “just” force him to have a second duel: he’s doing it to try to convince him to live, to give him something to fight (him) for: the safety of other people DFS thinks LLH cares about most.

After all, most of the conversation isn’t about a second duel at all: it’s about DFS trying to convince LLH to let him find a cure. No wonder he has the Throat Bob of Feeling twice when LLH explains that he’s dying and doesn’t have much time left.

With that in mind, the fact that DFS uses the traditional Di family choking move again when LLH refuses to agree to let DFS try to cure him is a fascinating metaphor for how DFS approaches violence when it comes to LXY: he’s using a move designed to cause harm, but with the intent to convince LLH to accept help. In other words, he’s using a technique designed to kill to try to force Li Lianhua to live.

a-Fei and Hypervigilance

Even when DFS wakes up with amnesia, only remembering “kill or be killed” and some of his worst trauma memories, and would be most likely to act on pure instinct, he still exercises restraint. When he finds himself first at the corpse seller’s and later at Lotus Tower, not knowing how he got to either place, it would be the work of a moment to snap the neck of the man trying to sell him to be married to a dead woman without his consent, or to stab the hair stick (or knife? I can’t tell which) from the nightstand through Li Lianhua’s throat. But even then, when he’d have every reason to assume his life is in jeopardy and he needs to kill first, he doesn’t. In both cases, he pauses, gathers information, and listens, and lets go. (And yes, he collapses in the first of these two instances instead of actively making the choice to let go, but he’s already loosened his grip to listen to Li Lianhua, and when he sees the corpse seller the next day, he doesn’t try to harm him, or even exhibit any animosity at all toward him, showing again that once the threat is passed, so too has his desire for violence.) Even when he’s under threat or having a flashback and all he knows is killing, he doesn’t kill.

DFS and Violence against Abusers

Even when he does intend to harm–particularly with his two abusers, the head of Di Fortress and Jiao Liqiao (who he kills, even though it goes against his policy of not killing women)–his emotions and actions are tightly controlled: while he does choke them and destroy their meridians, and tell them why he’s getting revenge, his voice, strength, and facial expressions are almost superhumanly regulated.

Confronting an abuser is incredibly difficult, because it usually triggers the feelings of fear and helplessness that were experienced during the abuse. It might be hard to imagine DFS feeling fear or helplessness because he doesn’t explicitly show it as an adult much, but the fact that he still has nightmares/flashbacks of being immobilized and hurt by the head of Di Fortress means that even though he’s an adult who is at the top of the jianghu, he’s still regularly re-experiencing the terror of being helpless and at his mercy for decades, and his fear of helplessness has motivated almost every action of his since. That means that he would be struggling during that confrontation, fighting off literal and emotional flashbacks and/or dissociation, and trying to convince his brain that he’s no longer a helpless child about to be punished or killed. And, generally speaking, once you’ve confronted one abuser, future confrontations with different abusers trigger all the feelings from the confrontation with the earlier abuser, especially if the aftermath of the confrontation was traumatic (which, given that it’s when JLQ incapacitated, captured, and tortured him, it definitely was). So, when confronting JLQ, he’s probably reexperiencing that fear and helplessness on top of everything else. And, given how often we see him show nothing, even while being tortured, the cracks in his facade here speak to just how deeply the confrontations are affecting him.

He doesn’t even raise his voice, and the only hints of the toll the confrontations are taking on him are tiny, almost invisible facial movements, which you can see in the gifs below:

When the head of Di Fortress offers to make him the new master and in charge of abusing others, the muscles of one cheek and under the opposite eye start twitching.

(and zoomed in if you need a close up!)

2. When JLQ taunts him after he broke free from her prison by saying “Do you want to escape?” his jaw works from side to side as he forces himself to not react.

3. When he chokes JLQ after she says she’ll kill LLH for being the reason DFS doesn’t love her, it takes him two tries to speak before his voice works (look at his lips forming the opening word twice before working the third time.)

So, clearly, the lapses in his control aren’t violent outbursts; they speak to something far more nuanced than that, namely, the emotional turmoil confronting an abuser brings up.

[Also, compare this to LLH’s reaction when he finds out SGD tricked their shifu into sacrificing himself for him. He’s flooded by his emotions, which affects his fighting style, and it triggers a Bicha flare. Note: I’m NOT criticizing LLH here. His reaction makes perfect sense and I’m not saying DFS’ approach is better. I am saying that it’s unusual to have the hero be the one who lashes out and has less emotional control and to have the person the jianghu sees as the temper-tantrum prone villain be the one who keeps his emotions in a chokehold.]

So many shows have confrontation scenes with an abuser be either profoundly triumphant events or violent revenge fantasies where the character almost loses control beating up the person who harmed them. These scenes are fascinating not just because DFS doesn’t rejoice or lose control, but because of the way DFS’ microexpressions show how hard the confrontations are for him. These are not the actions of someone who is controlled by rage or violent impulses. They’re the actions of someone who has spent so much of his life with his body controlled by the non-existent mercy of others that he refuses to let anything, including his emotions and memories, wrestle his hard-won control of his body away from him. Of someone who knows what it’s like to suffer, powerless, at the violent hands of others, and tries to make sure that the violence he commits with his own hands is well-reasoned and justified. Of someone who is hypervigilant not only to external threats but to the threat he himself could be.

In other words, the extreme amount of control he exercises over himself and the way he is hypervigilant to the threat that he could pose and the way he goes out of his way to not abuse power over others the way he was abused is itself a manifestation of his complex CPTSD.

The portrayal of his cPTSD is particularly interesting when you realize that the out of control, hyperviolent danger to society villain stereotype is exactly who the jianghu thinks Di Feisheng is for most of the show. But the reality is that Di Feisheng has more self-control than the rest of the lotus trio (certainly more than Fang Duobing does), even when he’s being violent. And, just as the jianghu’s legends have very little basis in reality and do damage to the characters, so does the caricature of a hyperviolent traumatized villain have almost nothing in common with the real experiences and symptoms of cPTSD and actively harm survivors. And I’m thrilled that this show is giving us new narratives about trauma to challenge that stereotype.

As for how he holds on to that type of control over himself, given that struggles with emotional regulation are part of having complex ptsd? The short answer is a combination of compartmentalization, dissociation, habit, and grounding techniques (including meditation).

Stay tuned for a post on these coping mechanisms and the evidence from the show that he uses them.

#mysterious lotus casebook #lianhua lou #mlc meta #Di Feisheng #lhl #complex PTSD #PTSD #dihua #Sorry it's incredibly long!#I hope y'all meant it when you told me not to cut anything from it #also I learned to make gifs for this!#Please be impressed: it was hard and stressful

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greyskyflowers · 7 months

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I wore some new earrings the other day, big ones. They were that cheap gold color with the post attached to a big circle with a bar hanging behind it.

It chimed everytime I moved my head or fixed my hair. Tbh I thought it would get annoying fast but it was such a gentle, soft thing.

Just a little ting every now and then.

I mention Zoro's earring in a lot of my stuff about him because that's just something I love about his character.

You associate things with people whether you realize it or not. Sounds, smells, food, memories, feelings. That's all there, even if its not on a level we're aware of.

I had a piece of cake the other day and I was immediately filled with homesickness. I could not figure out why. It was just a store bought vanilla cake. It wasn't even from a place that I shopped when I lived with my family, so it shouldn't have tasted familiar. Especially not enough for me to feel so homesick.

I tried to figure out why that cake was so familiar for days, until I finally figure it out.

The cake had been put in the refrigerator to keep and the cold had made the taste and texture almost identical to a vanilla cake my mom always made from scratch on my birthday. I probably wouldn't have felt homesick if the cake hadn't been cold. It just worked out in a way that trigger those memories I didn't even know I remembered.

I still associate a certain type of cologne with my middle school boyfriend.

I can still remember the feel of my freshman best friend's carpet when we'd lay on the floor.

I still remember the sound of my grandma calling and using a over the top fake british voice to sing happy birthday to me.

All those memories triggered by little things.

Isn't that so amazing? How can anything ever be gone if all it takes is a bite of cake to take me back home?

Or the smell of someone walking past me in the store takes me back to middle school and the butterfly feeling of holding hands for the first time.

Or taking my shoes off, sinking my toes into soft carpet, and seeing my old friend smile at me from a hazy memory.

Or a over the top fake voice on the tv that makes me miss my grandma fiercely.

That's all a little off track but I think relating ideas to our own experiences is how things become truly personal and heartfelt. I like to let people know my train of thought and hopefully evoke those feelings in you as well.

Back to the point.

I love the idea that the little chime of Zoro's earrings is probably buried in so many memories that the crew isn't even aware of.

How amazing that such a soft sound is associated with someone like Zoro?

How many times do they hear someone else's jewelry chime and look up expecting to see green hair and three swords?

How many times, during those two years apart, did they fill up with hope when they heard a little ting noise only to realize it wasn't the one they wanted?

How many times have they been scared or hopeless and that little chime whispered you're okay to them as Zoro appeared?

All of them having to get used to it when they join, how it constantly chimes with the beeeze or Zoro's movements.

The slow and unknowing shift into a comfort rather than a annoyance.

The same way I imagine Luffy's hat rustling, Nami's bracelets clicking, and so on, are all comforts.

I like to think they can sleep better when they hear the chime everyone in a awhile.

That sometimes, when they get lucky enough to sneakily snuggle up next to Zoro when he's napping and soak up all the heat he constantly gives off, that the little ting of the earrings right next to them is the best sound in the world.

A weariness that comes when they can't hear it and they should, like going into the country from a big city. The lack of noise is startling, because even when it's quiet in the city, it's full of noise. There's cars in the distance, the occasional horn or siren, the neighbor under you playing music, kids playing in the parking lot, the refrigerator humming and the cat purring.... All that becomes background noise you weren't even aware of. Zoro's earrings are always there under all the noise, sometimes it's louder when they don't chime than when they do.

The happiness of setting sail after each adventure and on to the next one, Luffy's laugh coming from his spot up front, and the hardly audible chime of Zoro's earrings that they know is accompanied by a lazy grin.

#just another zoro post 💁‍♀️#one piece #zoro #luffy #nami #mugiwara crew #straw hats #once again im here to promote poly and/or qp strawhats #everybody is a little in love with zoro and i will not be taking any further questions at this time #setting sail with greyskyflowers

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oftenwantedafton · 2 months

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Secret Smile - College English Professor/Vampire Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 5

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content

Also available at AO3

Your Art Appreciation class has a field trip to a museum in the city that’s an hour away.

The bus waits for departure in the parking lot outside the brick building you have the class in late afternoon. It’s a bright yellow specimen with seats the color and texture of an avacado skin that you’re jostled against every time the driver finds a pot hole or other break in the pavement. At least you have a seat all by yourself. The sun sets by the time you reach your destination. The instructor—a middle aged woman fond of bright colors and what you suppose could be considered hippie kind of attire—informs the class that they may wander the building as they like. You’re to pick one piece of art to write about, due the following class a week from today.

You disperse from the group and enter the first wing. Contemporary Art. There’s a broad variety here. Lots of works created in three dimensions. Abstract shapes. Bold colors. Contrasting sharply with the next exhibit area, Art of Europe. Enormous framed paintings line the walls. You’re looking at the pastel textures on a canvas when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Monet. Impressionism.”

You turn in surprise to find Steve Raglan standing behind you. V neck sweater, dark jeans, blazer. No glasses tonight.

“What are you doing here?” You resist the urge to throw your arms around him. No alluring scent at the moment, though you know that could change at any time.

“Heard mention of a field trip this evening. Thought I’d join in.”

“You like art?”

Your English professor nods. “Some art,” he corrects. “What do you think?” He nods towards the portrait of water lillies across from you.

“It looks so different in person. The scale. You just have no perception of it when it’s a photograph in a textbook.” You pause. “It’s weird to think you were around when all this was being created. I don’t even know what year you were born,” you say softly, aware of other visitors passing nearby.

“Hmm.” That hum you’ve come recognize which means he won’t be answering your indirect query. “Walk with me.”

You follow him through the room. Pausing here and there to admire a painting. Your eyes wander to his profile. Sometimes you find his eyes regarding you. A silent exchange. A promise for later.

The next room features Asian Art. Scrolls. Masks. Demons. Dragons. Buddhist statues. Swords. A Noh costume tucked safely behind glass. A tea set. Depictions of ancient battles. More peaceful landscapes featuring fields. Ocean waves. Steve’s knuckles graze yours. The room empties. “The ebb and flow of the tide. Restless desires.” His breath hot beside your cheek. A roaring sound in your ears. You can almost hear the sea crashing, accompanying the foamy crests depicted before you. You imagine the prow of Ahab’s ship. Choppy water. Pursuit. The book is nearly finished. Soon you’ll be starting a new assignment. You can smell the sea now. Buried in the shore, trapped in the atmosphere.

The scents and sounds dissipate. You’re no longer alone in the room, the vampire temporarily surrendering his sway. You blink several times. It’s like waking from a dream. You wonder how much of what you want is your own desire, and how much is driven by this supernatural creature’s prowess.

The Ancient Art gallery is next. A lot of pottery here. Figurines. Sculptures. Statues. Greece, Rome, Egypt. An Etruscan sarcophagus, the supine figures of a man and woman in a lover’s embrace sculpted on the lid. You find yourself drawn to the piece. Something about the intimacy shared across time. The romantic notion of being together in what they’d believed was eternity after this life.

“I have to write a paper on one of the pieces. I think I’m going to do this one.”

“What time do you have to be back to your bus?”

“Um, what time is it now?” Raglan holds up his wristwatch for you to read. “I’ve still got an hour.”

“Good. Come with me.” You’re once again following his lead. A marbled staircase. The building is nearly a work of art itself. To your left is a cordoned off area bearing a sign that says No Admittance. The guard on patrol frowns as if he’s trying to concentrate on hearing something, shaking his head and abandoning the vicinity.

You think back to the coffee shop that night when Steve had cleared out a lot of the customers. The way the Asian Art gallery room had emptied so suddenly. He’s doing it again. Exerting his influence. Exhibiting his power.

“Let’s go.” He lifts one of the heavy posts effortlessly and you tuck in against the wall. There’s a door nearby that you’re escorted to. Dimly illuminated inside the room, the sole light source from the skylight above. A sliver of moon. It smells like dust and linen and old books. Kind of like a library. The door closes and the vampire embraces you from behind.

“Little mouse, the restraint I’ve had to exercise. You’ve no idea.” He moves your hair aside and presses his lips to your neck. The unmarked side this time. One hand slides down the front of your shirt. The other wanders beneath the hem of it, stroking your abdomen. His touch has you aflame instantly. “What will you say about the art piece?”

“The intense intimacy of it. A private moment shared across the ages. A declaration. Defiance. Together even after death.”

“And how does that carving in volcanic stone compare to having eternity, warm and breathing, standing beside you?” You feel the points of his canine teeth teasing your throat. Not piercing the skin, just there, testing, tasting.

“It doesn’t. Are you going to drink from me tonight?”

“You’re so eager for it, little one. Maybe even more than I am.” Steve sighs against your unblemished skin. “I won’t mark you here. Somewhere else, perhaps…” He unfastens the button of your pants and unzips them, dipping his hands straight beneath the elastic border of your panties and sliding through your damp sex. “Where should I place our secret this time?”

Smoldering cinders. Perfumed lilac. Melting wax. Dried reeds. You’re released and pushed. A table at your back. The pale light from above spilling down over you. You’re lifted and placed on the wooden surface. Papers. Glass. Perhaps a restoration project for the museum. A coming attraction, giving way before this present one. You might have balked at this at one time; been worried about being discovered. But you know there’s something shielding you, some of his magic at work. Cloaking your intimacy. Keeping people away from this room. His body presses against yours, between your thighs. Your legs hold him there.

“I think you missed me,” you whisper against his cheek.

“I think you’re right.”

You can feel his clothed erection digging against your covered sex. “How did you even know I was in this class?”

“I’ve done my research.” You feel his lips curve in a smile against your throat. The marked side, now.

“Some people would call that stalking.” Your fingers weave through his hair.

“And what do you call it, little one?” His hips move forward, grinding his body against yours.

“Enthusiastic pursuit, maybe.” You’re once again reminded of your literary assignment. A feverish crusade that dismisses rational thought. Hunting for that impossible thing frustratingly just beyond reach. You gasp when the pressure against your rutting pussy hits just right.

“Now that I’ve caught you, what to do…” The vampire jerks aside the open collar of your shirt, his tongue dragging along your collarbone, his teeth scraping your shoulder. “Eros’ arrows striking true. Limbs loosened, mind feeble. Hesiod’s Theogony. Poetry on the origins and genealogies of the Greek gods. I have a copy. I’ll lend it to you.”

“Read it to me,” you insist. Your teeth pull on his bottom lip. “Bring me to your house and read it to me and fuck me in that dark room.”

A sharp hiss of surprise. You think he’s not accustomed to you being so direct. So vulgar. “Is that what you want, rabbit? You want me to take you home and mark you deep inside?”

“Yes…”

“Very well then. It seems this is merely a placeholder for later.” His fingers sink into your hair, wrenching your head back, his tongue licking a stripe along your throat. “I’ll wait until then to spill your blood. The intensity that newly hollowed womb of yours will feel, so shallowly lined at the start of your next cycle, trembling against me.” Another roll of hips. “They’ll do a headcount on the bus. Make sure you’re present and accounted for. Otherwise I’d drive you there directly. Wait for me in the parking lot. I’ll take you home. And then…”

His mouth on yours. Something falls from the table when he pushes against you. Teasing you both about the promise made for later. Silver moonlight on silvered hair. His face between your hands. His fingers refasten your pants. The touches gentle. Lingering. Another stroke across your abdomen before he pulls the hem down properly. Now smoothing the bra strap that’s fallen over your shoulder back in place. His arms wrap around you in a warm embrace.

“Steve,” you say against his chest.

“William,” he corrects you in a voice barely above a whisper. “My real name is William.”

You feel something lurch inside of you. He trusts you enough to tell you. It’s only fitting you should give yourself to him. Maybe that’s the reason behind it. One of them.

“William.”

A shuddering sigh. “I haven’t been called that in a long, long time.”

“How does it feel?”

“It feels…good. Everything with you feels good.” Another kiss. The hour is nearly up. Just enough time for you to emerge back into the forbidden hallway outside and leave the area you’ve trespassed into. You rejoin your fellow classmates outside. The ride back is slightly shorter now that the rush hour traffic has cleared. You linger in your car, waiting for the parking lot to empty. Now sliding back out to find your English professor’s vehicle nearby. His mouth is hungry on yours the instant you sit in the passenger seat.

“Seatbelt on,” he growls the reminder. The buckle clicks into place. Your hand rests on his thigh. A blur of colors outside the window, that strange sensation that things are being moved, distorted. Bent to the vampire’s whim. You’re already at his house. Up the stairs.

Inside of William’s bedroom.

***

The frenzy turns calmer once you’re lying nude in his bed.

He takes his time kissing you. Mouth slack and soft and unhurried. Pressed along your forehead and cheeks and jaw and ears before finding your lips. His book of Greek poetry resting open on the nightstand now. Your fingers lace together. You trace the calloused tips. “What were you before? Your job, I mean.”

“Engineer.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“What would you have guessed?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. Something with physical labor to account for the roughness but I can’t envision it.”

“Working man’s hands.”

“I like them.” Your bring his fingers to your lips and kiss them. “What else have you done?”

“I was a social worker. Briefly. That job never felt right. I was good at it, but…”

“What job did you like best so far?”

He smiles. “This one has been rapidly rising to the top of the list, as of late.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you tease.

He steals another kiss. “Are you ready for me, rabbit?”

You nod. Your heart is racing. William’s hand slides from your neck, passing between your breasts, slotting between your thighs. An appreciative hum at your wetness. “My little wonder…”

“William…” That shudder again. The sound of his real name uttered. A shared secret between you.

He moves over you. His body is now tangent to your own. A sharp line set against curves. Your legs part to make room for him. A little gasp at the feel of his cock swiping against the pink petals. Sliding through the center between the folds. His eyes locked with yours, watching your reaction. Blood engorged flesh beginning to violate you. Stretching, filling. The vampire’s eyes rolling back at the sensation. A little whimper escapes you. Pain lanced with pleasure as he invades your tunnel further. Muscles clenching.

The man’s lips by your ear now. “Let me in, sweet girl, let me have you.” A louder whine. He soothes you with gentle kisses along your jaw and neck. The scarred areas are throbbing. Your blood is calling to him. One final thrust to seat him fully inside you. Your pelvis involuntarily grinding down into the mattress as if trying to retreat but he wastes no time closing that shallow distance. There is no escape. The hunter has caught his prey. You’re his. Aether hovering over Aer. Upper atmosphere above the Earth. The scent of brine, sweet berries warmed by the sun, and newly tanned leather permeates the air.

William’s cock begins to pump in and out of your pussy. Your nails drive into his shoulders. He pushes your lifted thighs back further. Burying himself deeper. His weight leans into you. His lips find yours with every forward rocking motion. Your hand abandons his shoulder and cups his bearded cheek. A wet kiss on the inside of your wrist. Your pulse firing against his lips. A flash of white pointed teeth. Upper cuspids preparing to part the layers of skin to find the deeper, larger vessels within. The moan when his cock strikes your cervix. New sparks of pain followed by pleasure when the needle-like points find their target. Sucking. Your blood stains his lips, his beard. A trickle escapes and he’s quick to lap along the trail.

The feeding is over as quickly as it had begun. Controlled. Precise. His attention is focused back on the wet cavity he’s pummeling. Your sounds are needy. You want him to take more. You want to give everything to him. Your hips are lifting to meet his now in careless jerks. Wanton. Seeking rapture, still riding the waves of euphoria from the bloodletting.

William’s index and middle fingers press into your mouth. Sit in the shallow depression on the surface of your tongue. Roughs whorls of the tips against tastebuds. Salted. Metallic. Bloodstained from where he’d clutched your arm. Tasting the musk of your arousal when he’d dipped into it earlier. Abruptly withdrawn and his mouth is back on yours. Rough. Teeth nipping. His cock pistoning faster. It’s like being in his car. The dizzying rush of speed. Blurring colors. Momentum the human mind can’t comprehend. A mortal given witness to this. This otherworldly creature. You shatter around him. Fingers carding through his hair. Desperately clinging. His mouth in the space where your neck meets your shoulder. A raw sound tearing itself free. You feel the hot liquid spurting inside you. Marking you as his own.

Later. You're tucked beside him. He’s reading to you. His unoccupied hand stroking through your hair. Eros and Psyche. Caught in his own trap, a victim of his own machinations. Doomed to love. The passage concludes. He closes the cover.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

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korralone · 6 months

Note

Hi do you have any avatrice recommendations?

For sure! I actually made a whole doc for my friends with avatrice fic recs so anytime someone wants one feel free to message lol

I'm going to try and limit this to 10 and also list some fics I don't usually see on rec lists:

tell me please all is forgiven (touch me) by paddingtonfan69

Beatrice realizes that her touch helps Ava with her training, and, well, things escalate.

in the way everlasting by belikebumblebee

Beatrice has imagined a million variations on the same theme: Ava, alive; Ava, where Beatrice can get to her. Some seemed less than realistic, and others even more unlikely, and quite a few of them downright impossible even by the standards of their reality. Still, none of them involved having to patiently, painstakingly parse out what little Ava could tell her of the street signs she's seen and cross-reference it with landscape descriptions and the placement of old phone boxes. None of them involved the thirty minute drive taking twice as long due to road work on the way out of town.

oh, there's a river that winds on forever (i'm gonna see where it leads) by zefrumiousbandersnatch

Ava and Beatrice walk over 600 kilometers from Lisbon, Portugal to Santiago de Compostela, Spain and fall in love.

Right on Time by quietblueriver

Ava comes back. There are a lot of feelings. The OCS gets a therapist. Everybody does some healing and learns to deal.

now our hands join 'round the meaning you sought by snapfreezes

Beatrice takes the ring, twists it between her fingertips. It’s the perfect size. She just knows it.

She wonders what it would look like on Ava’s left hand.

a little piece of heaven by Smokestarrules

Through Switzerland and through the portal and through whatever comes after, Ava learns Beatrice. Learns to love her, to trust her, to live with her.

Learns from her, too.

where you die I will die (and there will I be buried) by julesby10

Love tastes like lemon drops and the iron of blood, smells like fresh laundry, soap, and the sweet undertones of argan lotion, sounds like a low, level voice and a marked British accent, love is earthy tones and navy and the texture of linen. Love, Ava discovered, feels like home.

Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.

Or what it feels to go from strangers to tentative friends, to being friends, to suddenly realizing that you can't live without this person.

i just wanna stay (in this lavender haze) by Humble_wats

Beatrice returns home after years away, and Ava is the new groundskeeper on the enormous Young estate.

come back (even as a shadow, even as a dream) by karatam

Three months after Ava disappears into the portal, Beatrice still can’t let her go. She’ll do anything to bring Ava back. But when she manages to succeed, the question is what else has Ava brought back with her?

Ava comes back wrong.

Where Water Comes Together by riderwrites

Ava forges a connection to bodies of water: oceans, rivers, and rain.

Ava finds a family she never thought she'd have: mother, sisters, and soulmate.

or Ava bonds with the ocs while near water in some form or fashion, found family kind of vibes.

#Warrior Nun #Avatrice #fic rec #Ava x Beatrice #ask

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multiplicity-positivity · 9 months

Text

All About Headspaces!

We thought it would be a good idea to write a post on headspaces (or inner worlds) as we understand them. This post will contain information that we’ve learned along with our personal experiences. No two headspaces work the same way, and no two systems will experience headspaces in a similar fashion, so don’t be alarmed if your system’s headspace functions differently from what we describe in this post!

What is a headspace?

A headspace (or inner world) is an imagined, fantasized place that exists within a person’s mind. Headspaces are not exclusive to systems - all sorts of people can build or create their own headspaces. Many created systems or paromancers may call their headspaces “wonderlands,” but they’re in essence the same thing. Any system member can start the process of visualizing a headspace, and as other members are included and collaborate together, their headspace can grow to involve the whole system and become a place of solace and rest.

The creation of mental “safe spaces” is often used in therapy for treatment of anxiety, PTSD, and other mental illnesses. When feeling overwhelmed, it can be immensely beneficial to have a gentle, peaceful place in your mind you can return to in order to calm down and relax. Headspaces are a skill taught in dialectical behavior therapy, and many therapists may incorporate building headspaces into their patients’ treatment plans.

Who can have a headspace?

Nearly everyone is capable of building and maintaining their own headspace! The one example we can think of for individuals who may struggle to create a headspace are folks with aphantasia. Since headspaces are visualization tools, those who are incapable of visualizing places within their mind might find themselves unable to create a headspace.

You don’t have to have DID in order to create a headspace, you don’t have to be a system, you don’t have to be traumatized or even struggle with mental illness! Headspaces are for everyone, regardless of ability or state of being.

Are headspaces the same as paracosms?

In our experience, if headspaces and paracosms are not the same, they are incredibly similar. Both are imagined worlds that exist within the minds of the people who create them. Our paracosm exists as a part of our headspace, and many other folks may find their paracosms are similarly connected to their headspaces!

Are headspaces physical places?

No, headspaces are imagined or fantasized places and only exist within the minds of those who create them. While experiences within the headspace may seem quite vivid or feel visceral and may even have physical consequences and effects on each individual, events that take place inside the headspace are not happening in a physical sense.

Some systems with particular spiritual beliefs may understand their headspaces as physical places which exist in alternate dimensions or somewhere else in the universe. While these individuals are deserving of having their experiences heard and taken seriously, most headspaces in fact do not function in this way.

How can I make my own headspace?

To start, try to find a calm, quiet environment where you can be by yourself for a while. Close your eyes, and try to imagine the first piece of your headspace. This can be an area like a beach or a meadow, or something simpler like a plant or a piece of furniture. As you imagine this space or item, ask yourself questions like:

- What does this place or object look like?

- What does it feel like? If I imagine myself touching the object, or the things in the place around me, what textures might I encounter?

- What does it smell like? What does it sound like? How does it make me feel?

Envision using all 5 of your senses to imagine this place or object. Once you have a pretty good idea of what it looks, feels, smells, and sounds like, spend a little time just sitting in your space or with your object. Then, take a break from visualizing. Later, come back to it and try to imagine everything exactly as you did before. By leaving and coming back to it regularly, you can help ensure your headspace can somewhat exist even when you’re not actively thinking about it!

If you need help finding inspiration for your headspace, you can turn to image sites like Pixabay, Unsplash, or Pinterest to help you discover what helps you feel calm and safe. If you have access to other members of your system, perhaps consult with them to see what they’d like to have in a headspace and what you could create that would help them feel safe and comfortable.

Once you are able to comfortably and reliably access the place or item you’ve created, feel free to repeat the process to add to your headspace! Our system created our headspace in this way, and by this point it is a vast world full of different areas for our alters to exist in when they’re not fronting. But it started with one room - a living room with quilts tossed over couches, rugs all over the floor, and big, bright windows with sunflower curtains. Gradually we added rooms, then an outside, turning it into a treehouse, and just kept expanding from there!

Wrapping up

We know this post doesn’t go into much detail, but we hope this is useful to folks as a bit of an introduction to headspaces, what they are, and how to go about making one! We’re including some links below to posts and articles about headspaces and inner worlds - hopefully they can help even more! Best of luck to y’all with your endeavors to create a headspace that fills you and your system with peace and comfort!

^ this link uses “tulpamancy” language - our system has switched to “paromancy” language, which is less racist and less culturally appropriative! the guides on tulpa websites are still quite useful, but we wanted to include a disclaimer on the terminology.

(Image ID:) A pale orange userbox with a cluster of multicolored flowers for the userbox image. The border and text are both dark orange, and the text reads “all plurals can interact with this post!” (End ID.)

#headspace #headspaces #inner world #innerworld #safe space #inner safe space #wonderland #long post #note: the current fronters did not write this post #but we are more than happy to answer questions about headspaces to the best of our ability

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lorsdelapluie · 1 year

Text

El comienzo

The scene takes place in the world of Puss in Boots 2, in Far far away. The reader in all those upcoming one shots is the incarnation of bad luck, they are literally just trying to go through life and enjoy however they can.

It is a small One shot of what I imagine the first encounter of Death and the Y/N I portray would look like.

The start. -Part 1

Living in the world of Far far away had its perks. There was magic all around you at every time of the day. And today, the birds were singing, bathing in the warmth of a sunlight u hadn’t seen for a few days. Yes, good luck was smiling at you. Rare were the times that u could think that. And in a strange coincidence, the singing of the birds were soon joined by the music of a nearby village. Everything, was creating a music of their own, melodic voices coming out of the beaks of those colorful animals chilling on the branch above you. Quickly you moved away from this spot. Today no bird poop on your head was gonna ruin your good mood. You sighed as you looked behind you, walking away from the nice music that was feeling your ears, a smile stretching your face softly. You better not ruined this nice afternoon for other people, right ? Your face always turned the other way, you walked away, and end up bumping into an oak tree that "happened" to be in your way.

A pained sound coming out of your lips as a fruit dropped from one of its branches, squashing down on the top of your head. Well…It’s a lucky day on your level right ? The gooey feeling of something sliding along your hair and your skull made you shiver. That was disgusting. And the smell… Was that a rotten fruit ? U dare to put your hand in the squishy texture sliding down your head. As you look at the brownish texture on your fingers, you sigh, yes, definitely rotten.

You initially wanted to go to the next village to buy some food as nothing was left inside your house, but to be honest, that all plan was now screwed up. People knew that you were not the most fortunate person around here, however no need to become the person that smells like rotten fruits to their eyes too. Right ? You looked around you in desperate need of hearing the sound of a nearby river… But if the sound of the birds’ voices, (literally) didn’t bother you at first, now it was annoying. You couldn’t hear anything but their melodic sounds now. A groan escaped your lips as you walked away quickly, watching over your steps, being careful to not trip on yet another tree root or any wandering blind mouse...

And as you were walking away, you could finally hear it, the sound softly brushing against the sides of the river. You smiled, finally something nice. And as you walked past the bushes, you let yourself slide down the small hill to get to the said river. When your knees hit the ground, you were faced with your reflection in the water. Your face was the same as usual, visibly tired but still attractive, but… The brown fruit, which you guessed was an apple, was staining your outfit but also your face. You quickly cup two hands full of water to get rid of the thing above your head and now on your hair and clothes.

“Joder...” you muttered as you continued to carry your hands down your colorful clothes. A stench dirtying the outfit that you made yourself. If you were to be honest with yourself, you were very conscious about the way you looked. You never left your house without the prettiest outfit you could come up with, neat hair, neat make up if you felt like putting some on. And yet, every day, in one way or another that was going to waste. You let your ass plump on the ground in a sigh, sometimes it was very discouraging.

And as you were contemplating the colors of the trees that were shading you from the sun of the day, you heard a yelp coming from the other side of the river. And then a strangled cry. You turned your head to face the situation. A man was on the ground, protecting his face, muttering in a loop what you could manage to understand was “please”.

The situation pushed you to get up, one foot walking in the water, an urge to help the man in front of you that was visually having a panic attack. You called as you walked in the water, not minding the water getting in your shoes, the man jolted as he turned around to look at you. “Save me !”

The moment you get across the river, and get to the man on the floor, he nearly clings to you. The sudden touch makes you flinch. That was not a welcomed touch, you didn’t know the guy, but before you could say something. A sound caught your attention, lifting your chin towards the forest in front of you.

“They are back !”

Who was he talking to or more like screaming about? Once again, the moment you were about to ask a question, you were cut with the sharp answer. The first of a few women dressed in white and a skull covering their faces came out of the so silent forest. They were taller than you, long black wavy hair resting on their shoulders, their purple-ish skin glowing under the warmth of the day. They looked like ghosts…And you could swear they were. Their white and long dresses caressed the grass under them as they walked, you stepped back in unison. But the man clinging to you prohibited you from walking away.

When they stopped in front of you, the first one lifted her staff towards the guy on the floor.

“No puedes huir de nosotras.”, a shiver was sent down your spine. The voice wasn't soothing or calm, it was tired, menacing and cold.

“I told you I dont fucking understand you, witch !” the man raised his gaze at you once again, with pleading, pitiful eyes. “Help me! I have done nothing wrong, I am just a wanderer !”. But your gaze didn’t meet his.. You were sure that the growing coldness in the air, and the breath-taking situation in front of you was bad news. And you were caught in the spider’s web too.

“They said, you can’t escape them.” you muttered as you translated the sentence of what you guess were women in front of you.

“La orilla de este río será el lugar donde morirás, hombre.”,they were out to kill him. And seemed pretty determined to do so apparently. And as you muttered an anxious sound, the staff that was pointing at the man clinging to your knees, slowly started to point at you. “Si no sueltas a esa persona y te rindes. La mataremos. Como advertencia.”

“What ? No! I have nothing to do with this man !” You begged. “Please don't use my life as an example, I just happened to stumble upon here ! And-”

“An example ?” muttered the man next to you. His face lights up, as he lets go of you in a rushed way, almost pushing you towards. This “almost pushing you forward”, made you stumble on a rock or a stick, you don’t even know but that made you stumble onto what you decided was a ghost. A pretty tangible ghost.

The moment you touched the ghost, she seemed to tense up as the rest of the group let out a scream that sounded more like a cry. You immediately stood up, before the staff that was pointing at you a few minutes before came to smack you violently at the back of your knees. Making you kneel down in reaction, and as your knees touch the ground, the staff comes for another swing on your head. That fucking hurt… The swing and your head smashing on the ground might have caused a concussion. You closed your eyes for a second, trying to take in the buzzing sound inside your head. Everything around you sounded so high pitched, the unnatural movements of the water, the sounds coming from the group of ghosts, the sound of leaves and a whistle.

As you opened your eyes to take in your surroundings, you could see the bottom of the staff, shaped in a pointy end just above your eyes. Was it really how you were gonna end. And as you waited for that end to come, you couldn’t help but notice that all the heads of the ghosts were looking in the same direction.

Out of curiosity to know what was saving you from getting your eyes plucked, you looked in the same direction. Your eyes landed on a tall dark hooded figure holding the man that was trying to run away who was still trying to squirm away as the hand… paw ? around his neck was privating him from breathing.

“Chicas, creo que se equivocaron de persona.” the deep and raspy voice seemed to shake the creatures above you to the core. And as he turned towards the shore where you were, you could finally see those two piercing red eyes looking right at you. “This one is not supposed to join the other side yet.”

“We want the man.” one of the group said. A low chuckle came out of the wolf’s throat. “Of course, Lloronas.”

And at the moment when those words left his muzzle, he threw the guy at the feet of the group. You could see the staff above you pulling away, and being replaced by the face of that said wolf. “For your sake you might want to go to sleep, Chiqui.” and soon after u felt the paw of the tall male covering your eyes and your subconscious slowly falling into slumber.

The next time you opened your eyes was when you were lying on the soft matress that was your own. Your face savoring the rays of the sun shining through your window. A small smile stretched across your lips as your recognized your surrounding… The day was shaping up to be superb. And as you slowly turned your head the other way you were met with a black mass. The back of who, you assumed, brought you back here and saved you back then. As a small sound of surprise escaped your lips, the muzzle turned your way, red piercing eyes meeting yours.

"Finally waking up. You sure took your time." when he talked, you couldn't do much other than watch his teeth. He had massive teeth, intimidating ones. One of a predator, you didnt dare to speak. What if some silly words came out of your mouth and angered the wolf.

"Lost your tongue Chiqui ? I just asked you a question."

Did he ? To be honest, whatever he might said didn't even reach your hears. "Estas bien ?" Are you okay? Was he worried for you ? You nodded slowly as you took the kind glimt in his eyes. You smiled to reassure this stranger.

"Can I ask you your name ?" you asked, curious.

"Death, Chiqui. I am the Death."

#death x reader #muerte x reader #puss in boots wolf x reader #wolf x reader #puss in boots wolf #puss in boots death #puss in boots x reader #puss in boots #puss in boots fanfic #x reader

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peterparkersnose · 2 years

Text

Steve Harrington’s Favorite Things

the smell of your hair when you come home from the salon

spearmint gum

spending time with you and dustin at the same time

it makes it feel like he has a tiny little family

eating shrimp

tube socks

the fourth of july

when you curl the ends of your hair

he genuinely just likes your hair

it’s one of the things he admires most about you

the scent of rain

when you make sarcastic comments

robin’s stupid secret ankle tattoo

bubble baths?

but his hair CANNOT get wet

the bubble soap is bad for the hair, duh

taco night

his children obviously

mrs wheeler???

secret milf lover

cheeseburgers

running around the block just before sunrise

watching wrestling

the way you sneeze

kittens

when you pull on his shoulders during sexy time

bc the hair is a no go

how much you absolutely love his chest hair

despite what dustin says

the rare occasion where you will write him a letter

he secretly eats that shit up but refuses to let you know

possums

when he allows you to put the LIGHTEST most NATURAL amount of makeup on him

he enjoys that smooth skin look

fragile masculinity, what can I say?

mentally picking out baby names

he’s torn between having them all have the same first letter of their name or not

and which letter?

S obviously

or the first letter of your name

steve enjoys making money

he likes saving it, imagining all the future things he can do with it

even if the movie rental store is a small start, it’s something

sleeping on couches

intertwining your toes with his

you absolutely hate it, half of the fun for steve is just to watch you squirm

but honestly,

feet

secrets, steve loves secrets

it makes him feel important

and he will keep one until the day he dies (which isn’t coming anytime soon)

when eddie called him ‘big boy’

filet mignon

the green bay packers

eating stale doritos

thin eyebrows

steve loves the feeling of random unexpected chaos

fire drill pulled during the day and you had to miss class?

a large storm came unexpectedly?

he tripped and sprained his ankle?

loves that shit

the sound suitcases make then they roll

womens rights!

steve may be a bit confused sometimes, but he always supports his fellow females

the texture of a basketball

the promise ring he bought you

did i mention feet?

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

Text

sunflower, chapter seven

summary: on a dark and stormy night, Y/n finally reveals some stuff to Spencer

warnings: references to 9x13 and 9x14, talk of death, talk of trauma, crying, unintentionally skipping meals, cuddling, kissing

word count: 1426

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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You’d always loved the rain. How soothing it was as a soundtrack, the smell of it when you opened a window and poked your nose out. It had always been very good at calming you down, but not tonight.

Earlier, you’d finally talked to your therapist about the nightmares you’d been having nonstop for the past few weeks. It wasn’t the first time the two of you had talked about how your parents had passed, but it never got any easier. You were exhausted when you got home, completely drained from the horrid conversation. Not being able to do anything, you’d just sat down and stayed in that curled-up position for hours.

You were currently still there, completely immobile, clutching a pillow to your stomach. Looking down, you reread the text you’d gotten earlier that night.

From: Spencer

Dear Y/n.

I just finished up work and I’m about to head over to Georgetown for a Korean film festival they are throwing there. Do you want to come? It’s completely fine if you don’t feel up for it, I just wanted to ask anyway. If you don’t, I hope to see you when I get back. Would be nice to get a goodnight hug after being away on a case for the last few days.

Sincerely, Spencer

From: Y/n

Sorry, not tonight

All you wanted was to have Spencer be here, to feel his calming presence, but you didn’t want to burden him or ruin his plans. Peeking up at the clock, it occurred to you that you’d completely missed dinnertime. Your body was too numb, not letting you feel the signals of hunger.

Listening closely, you finally heard a noise out in the quiet hallway. Shuffling footsteps and the clicking of a lock. With a deep breath, you moved for the first time in hours, body protesting, hurting from how stationery you’d been. Grasping onto whatever you could reach for support, you made your way to the door.

Once you were in the dark hall, you kept your hand on the wall, tracing the texture, trying to keep yourself grounded. Once you were standing in front of Spencer’s front door, you took a moment to gather yourself, then finally knocked.

When he answered the door, his smile melted away quickly, “Y/n.”

The sound of his voice felt like the sweetest relief imaginable, causing fresh tears to sting in your eyes, “hi, can I come in?”

Reaching out, he gently pulled you inside, but you kept on moving till your body crashed into his, shakily wrapping your arms around his sides. Immediately hugging you back, he muttered into your hair, “what do you need? What can I do?”

“Can we just watch the rain for a bit?” you sniffled into his shirt.

“Of course,” he agreed, guiding you over towards the brown leather couch in the middle of the room.

“Would you mind if we sat on the floor?” you asked, in a small voice. He just nodded and went to grab all of the blankets and pillows off the couch. Sitting down first, he then helped you down as well.

Enveloping you tightly in both blankets, you protested his kind actions by inching closer and hugging the ends around him as well. He picked up your legs, pulling them over his own, bringing you that much closer.

Letting your head come to rest on his chest you stared out into the storm. His hand came up to softly stroke your hair, gently scratching at your scalp every once and a while. “It never made much sense to me why Britain’s so famous for its rain. It’s not even the place that gets the most rain in the world, that’s Māwsynrām.”

Appreciating his attempts at distracting your clouded mind, you revealed in a low voice, “I was 15 when my parents died.”

His hand stilled at your words, staying quiet and letting you continue, “it was a car accident, my sibling Stevie was there too, but my parents, they-… they didn’t make it,” turning your head to look down, your hands started to fiddle with the bottom of Spencer’s cardigan, “Stevie’s only two years older than me, so they couldn’t be my legal guardian yet. We had to live with our uncle for a while, I never really knew him before that, but he was our only living relative. He, h-… he wasn’t a very kind man… he said a lot of-, did some-… but as soon as Stevie turned 18, we were out of there… I know it’s been a long time, ten years, but I don’t think I’ve healed as much as I envisioned back then. Ten years. That felt like a long time, so I thought it would be better now, or better than it is.”

Tugging lightly at one of the small buttons on his cardigan, you kept going “I’ve been having a lot of nightmares every night for the past few weeks. I used to get them a lot more, but now it’s mostly just when I’m too stressed or during the wintertime. It always gets bad at this time of year. They are the kind where when I wake up, my body doesn’t really understand that I’m not still in the dream, so it has to react. Most of the time I cry, like immediately just start sobbing and hyperventilating. Sometimes it turns into a panic attack. Sometimes I just wake up and my body is frozen, I can’t move. It does that too when I’m awake, that’s my fight or flight instinct. Freeze up, real practical.”

Moving your head slightly to look back out the window, you waited for him to react, and after a bit, you heard him softly choke out, “I am so sorry, Y/n.”

Lifting your head to look up into his eyes, you didn’t say anything back, just let out a shaky breath. If you had thought that you were tired before, after vocalizing those terrible memories, you were so much more than tired. “Would it be alright if I slept here tonight? I really don’t wanna be alone right now,” you confessed.

Tugging a stray piece of hair behind your ear, he breathed out, “yeah,” then carefully lifted the two of you up, practically carrying you the few feet to his bed. Crawling under the covers, you nestled into him, sprawling one arm over his torso, and hiking a leg up lazily.

Noticing how hesitant his touch was over your body, you tilted your head up to give him a small peck on his neck and started rubbing soothing patterns over his side. That was all he needed to gain the confidence to hold you properly and not soon after that, being completely spent, the two of you drifted off to sleep.

The sound of a phone ringing rudely awoke you. With a groan, Spencer rolled over to pick it off the nightstand and answer it.

“Hello?” he said quietly, voice deep from sleep.

Lulling your eyes open you saw him go from having his eyes closed, barely awake, to snapping his eyes open in horror and jumping a bit under your touch at the message he heard.

“I’ll be there in a bit. See you there, Garcia,” he hung up, now very much awake.

“Spencer? What is it?” you mumbled, sitting up a bit on your elbow as he quickly got out of bed.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. If this was anything else, I would stay,” he apologized, “I-, something happened to my friend.”

“What?” you breathed out, sitting up straight, “are they- “not letting yourself finish the question.

“I don’t know, I-, I’m really sorry, Y/n.”

Grabbing a hold of his hand, “Spencer, please don’t apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for. If anything, it’s me that should apologize, I’m the one who came over, the one who insisted on staying.”

“Don’t,” he cautioned, “I want you here. I’m so happy that you reached out for help, for my help.”

Giving him a sad smile, you squeezed his hand.

“I have to go,” he stated but didn’t move, just stayed there, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

Leaning forward to kiss you, he stopped right before your lips could meet. Noses touching, sharing breaths, he whispered, “I don’t wanna leave you.”

Bringing a hand up to his cheek, you stroked it lightly, as your lip quivered, “I’ll be okay. You go.”

Staying there a moment longer, he pulled away and didn’t look back.

next chapter

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