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#and also everyone experiences side effects differently
savrenim · 2 years
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thoughts on writing non-neurotypical characters that I am suddenly having looking at the two protagonists of trash novel of, like. there definitely is something to be said about knowing that you want to write a character who is [x], and carefully researching it, and reading about people’s lived experiences to get a sense of what to include, and finding an [x] beta reader; the whole standard process of respectfully portraying something that you are not. that is great and more authors should definitely do that. 
but there’s also something that is highly accurate about going “okay this person is fucking weird in [a],[b],[c] ways and cool here are some of the rules of how their brain and emotions work enough that I can write them consistently, fuck if I know what they’d be diagnosed as, they mostly fit the list of [x] I guess but there are some symptoms I you could argue fit way better from [y] thrown in there and then [z] isn’t on any diagnosis list” bc, like. tbh, that is a lot more accurate to the general experience of being neuroatypical, No One Fits Their Diagnosis Checklist Perfectly And There Is A Lot Of Overlap And A Lot Of Things That Don’t Make It Onto The Lists Bc Tbh Are Granular Enough To Be Personal
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ajaegerpilot · 2 years
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What’s that one post that’s like ‘idk why people say birth control is so bad everyone I know irl that uses it life is improved by it and they don’t get side effects’ bc it’s true
#people getting bad side effects with hormonal birth control are the minority nowadays#because the doses are now lower than they used to be and sometimes w different chemicals most likely#and it’s basically just conservative propaganda wanting to scare people from using it#misha speaks#I know of literally one person who said they had a bad experience#meanwhile everyone else is like this is great incl myself this is my second month where not only have I had no cramping#which I’ve gone every month on birth control with no debilitating cramping like I used to have#but literally I take it consistently and I’ve not been getting a period whatsoever#I think fucking with your hormone levels so that you don’t need have a period is cool and sexy#I’m just thinking about how I’d be in such terrible pain for an entire day and pain meds wouldn’t even take the edge off#I could do it again obvs but I’m grateful for the flexibility now#the natural fallacy is real esp when you have what honestly amounts to a medical condition lol#‘actually it’s normal and natural that you’re in pain’ actually it’s just not life threatening that doesn’t mean it’s good.#everything I’ve heard about copper IUDs are like it is the devil. but also if you put it in correctly is very effective to kill sperm.#thinking of two of my friends who had a lingering painful experience getting an IUD put in#I’m like.. I would feel like shit if I was their partner.. also you continue to have ur period with an IUD right it just doesn’t seem worth
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deoidesign · 10 months
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A general cane guide for writers and artists (from a cane user, writer, and artist!)
Disclaimer: Though I have been using a cane for 6 years, I am not a doctor, nor am I by any means an expert. This guide is true to my experience, but there are as many ways to use a cane as there are cane users!
This guide will not include: White canes for blindness, crutches, walkers, or wheelchairs as I have no personal experience with these.
This is meant to be a general guide to get you started and avoid some common mishaps/misconceptions in your writing, but you absolutely should continue to do your own research outside of this guide!
This is NOT a medical resource!!! And never tell a real person you think they're using a cane wrong!
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The biggest recurring problem I've seen is using the cane on the wrong side. The cane goes on the opposite side of the pain! If your character has even-sided pain or needs it for balance/weakness, then use the cane in the non-dominant hand to keep the dominant hand free. Some cane users also switch sides to give their arm a rest!
A cane takes about 20% of your weight off the opposite leg. It should fit within your natural gait and become something of an extension of your body. If you need more weight off than 20%, then crutches, a walker, or a wheelchair is needed.
Putting more pressure on the cane, using it on the wrong side, or having it at the wrong height can make it less effective, and can cause long term damage to your body from improper pressure and posture. (Hugh Laurie genuinely hurt his body from years of using a cane wrong on House!)
(some people elect to use a cane wrong for their personal situation despite this, everyone is different!)
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(an animated GIF of a cane matching the natural walking gait. It turns red when pressure is placed on it.)
When going up and down stairs, there is an ideal standard: You want to use the handrail and the cane at the same time, or prioritize the handrail if it's only on one side. When going up stairs you lead with your good leg and follow with the cane and hurt leg together. When going down stairs you lead with the cane and the bad leg and follow with the good leg!
Realistically though, many people don't move out of the way for cane users to access the railing, many stairs don't have railings, and many are wet, rusty, or generally not ideal to grip.
In these cases, if you have a friend nearby, holding on to them is a good idea. Or, take it one step at a time carefully if you're alone.
Now we come to a very common mistake I see... Using fashion canes for medical use!
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(These are 4 broad shapes, but there is INCREDIBLE variation in cane handles. Research heavily what will be best for your character's specific needs!)
The handle is the contact point for all the weight you're putting on your cane, and that pressure is being put onto your hand, wrist, and shoulder. So the shape is very important for long term use!
Knob handles (and very decorative handles) are not used for medical use for this reason. It adds extra stress to the body and can damage your hand to put constant pressure onto these painful shapes.
The weight of a cane is also incredibly important, as a heavier cane will cause wear on your body much faster. When you're using it all day, it gets heavy fast! If your character struggles with weakness, then they won't want a heavy cane if they can help it!
This is also part of why sword canes aren't usually very viable for medical use (along with them usually being knob handles) is that swords are extra weight!
However, a small knife or perhaps a retractable blade hidden within the base might be viable even for weak characters.
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Bases have a lot of variability as well, and the modern standard is generally adjustable bases. Adjustable canes are very handy if your character regularly changes shoe height, for instance (gotta keep the height at your hip!)
Canes help on most terrain with their standard base and structure. But for some terrain, you might want a different base, or to forego the cane entirely! This article covers it pretty well.
Many cane users decorate their canes! Stickers are incredibly common, and painting canes is relatively common as well! You'll also see people replacing the standard wrist strap with a personalized one, or even adding a small charm to the ring the strap connects to. (nothing too large, or it gets annoying as the cane is swinging around everywhere)
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(my canes, for reference)
If your character uses a cane full time, then they might also have multiple canes that look different aesthetically to match their outfits!
When it comes to practical things outside of the cane, you reasonably only have one hand available while it's being used. Many people will hook their cane onto their arm or let it dangle on the strap (if they have one) while using their cane arm, but it's often significantly less convenient than 2 hands. But, if you need 2 hands, then it's either setting the cane down or letting it hang!
For this reason, optimizing one handed use is ideal! Keeping bags/items on the side of your free hand helps keep your items accessible.
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When sitting, the cane either leans against a wall or table, goes under the chair, or hooks onto the back of the chair. (It often falls when hanging off of a chair, in my experience)
When getting up, the user will either use their cane to help them balance/support as they stand, or get up and then grab their cane. This depends on what it's being used for (balance vs pain when walking, for instance!)
That's everything I can think of for now. Thank you for reading my long-but-absolutely-not-comprehensive list of things to keep in mind when writing or drawing a cane user!
Happy disability pride month! Go forth and make more characters use canes!!!
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inkskinned · 10 months
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so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.
first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.
it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.
and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.
you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.
and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.
your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.
in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.
in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.
so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.
you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.
once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.
and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"
you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?
hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!
you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.
we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?
#where's the word woman in this u might wonder if u suck#good news i am nonbinary and have a uterus so that is something that can happen#im also gender fluid tho which means im immune to certain psychic damage bc if u call me a woman i'll be like <3 okay <3#writeblr#the tightrope of ''ppl need access to this''#and like also#''what the fuck is going on over there'' is like. so difficult as an activist#i was <3 punctured <3 during mine#and almost bled out on the table :) they didn't have anyone standing by bc it's ''just a little insertion''#so i started crashing and i vaguely remember apologizing for the fuss as i heard my heart rate monitor start going <3 tachycardic <3#she wasn't even a bad doctor tbh#ps btw the reason i even HAD a heart monitor is that i have a genuine heart condition and they knew GOING IN that there was a chance#i'd crash on the table#like my heart just likes to do fun little tricks and <3 stop working <3 (i do not want to discuss the specifics ty i am okay im ontop of it#and they were like 'oh u will be fine' and then she did do a puncture thru my uterus . pop!#and im sitting there dizzy and feeling my heartrate start to drop bc it feels almost. beautiful. like. the whole ground just#woosh! out from under you. and shit is like grey's anatomy. i'm looking up at her grey eyes#she's old she wears this nice shawl she's like got Cool Lesbian vibes and people are sprinting into the room#from other parts of the clinic unrelated to me. while the monitor is like a little aria singing#and shes like hey youre okay stay awake stay with me something went wrong we have to keep trying#and i remember thinking - i was trying to think of nice things. i have so many beautiful places that now overlap#with this terrible memory#i became dimly aware that there was too much on her wrists and hands. like#that was too many liters#and then when they had finished all this. i packed up and drove myself home#i have had (bad thing) happen to me. and the same feeling happened after#that numb almost lamblike bleating. you cry without noise. like. ur body is so shocked and ur mind so empty#you just stare at the road and everything everything is happening behind glass and static and you are standing so far away from it#while you hold ur hands at 10 and 2. and something in ur brain is SCREAMING at you - IT WAS BAD AND IT SHOULDNT HAVE HAPPENED#and ur just watching the alarms in your body going off and youre thinking. a little pinch! ha. i think i just lost something important.
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sainamoonshine · 2 months
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Okay so I’m still thinking about ART in Artificial Condition and I think that its possible that it didn’t just let MB board it out of curiosity or boredom, but out of professional curiosity. Because like as far as I can tell everyone in this universe seem to think that a SecUnit’s primary purpose is data mining and their secondary purpose is enforcement; only the SecUnit themselves appear to believe that their primary purpose is — or should be — security.
And we know that ART’s secret side job is corporate espionage. So what are the odds that it initially saw letting MB board it as an opportunity to observe and analyse a crucial component of a corporate surveillance system, something which would be very useful for it to know about in order to a) better prevent its crew from being surveilled and b) deploy counter surveillance or even piggyback on corporate surveillance when possible.
Like, MB thinks that ART must be worried about a rogue SecUnit damaging it or its systems because rogue SecUnits are known to be violent, right? But that’s how humans think. ART isn’t perceiving MB the way a human would, it’s not worried about MB attacking it or damaging its systems; it warns it not to attempt to hack them. Different thing. It’s worried about MB trying to access its data. It is thinking of SecUnits as crude instruments of data gathering first and whatever else they do as not being particularly relevant to it. I mean, it said it itself: it doesn’t really know what humans get up to outside of its hull and it doesn’t watch media.
I mean, think about it. Given as ART doesn’t even know what governor modules do when it meets MB, at that point it might not even think that a SecUnit being rogue is such a big deal. Like, okay so they don’t have to follow orders, but neither does ART. And it doesn’t understand the idea of not liking your function. So really you have to wonder whether ART even knows about the myth of rogue SecUnits being mass murderers, or if it did hear about that once and then immediately decided it was unlikely.
So, back to my initial theory: ART invited MB aboard with the goal to learn more about how corporations use SecUnits to spy on people. Sure, it ended up getting a whole lot more than that. But it also did get to do that, when it watched MB work on RaviHiral. Not only that, but aside from learning every way that corporations use SecUnits for surveillance, ART also got to learn ways that SecUnits and ComfortUnits can hide data from the corporations. Something which saved its life in Network Effect when it used that trick to hide its core files!
And if that wasn’t enough to give you an emotion, then lets consider the additional fact that ART was already heading to RaviHiral when it met MB. Probably to do some corporate spying. Putting aside the whole thing with Tapan, Rami & Maro and their stolen data — which obv ART must have been thrilled to be able to help with — there’s also the fact that here’s MB, telling it that something horrible happened here some time ago, and it was so completely deleted from existence that no one would be able to even know something happened without intense digging. And it has to be investigated in person.
So here you have ART presented with a scenario in which, if this was a mission with its crew, it would not be able to help with. They would have to go down alone, like MB is doing now. But then MB comes back and it turns out the data it recovered was hidden in such a way that nobody human or bot could have ever found it because nobody else would have known where to look. Not even ART itself or its crew, who are supposed professionals at this.
So now ART has observed two field missions (the security job and the investigation) during which:
- It got to ride along SecUnit’s feed and help in ways it never could do before, and then it also got to experience the frustration of not being able to help when MB is down in Ganaka pit and Tapan doesn’t get on the shuttle;
- Just like how watching media with MB helped it process emotional context, observing MB on the station must have also provided ART with a shitload of new data and better understanding;
- SecUnit is just like. Super competent at security and data retrieval, above and beyond what a human team can do, even ART’s own humans;
- SecUnit knows stuff that ART itself doesn’t know and can navigate corporate systems with ease; not only that, but during this book MB comes up with a new and more efficient way to loop cameras, which means ART got to watch it invent new ways to hide from corporate surveillance on its own on the fly.
TL;DR: when it gave MB the comm at the end, ART was absolutely already drafting its employment contract and rehearsing ways to convince Seth to let it try to hire MB. There is no way it didn’t go back to the university with a 200 slide powerpoint presentation on why it needs MB to join all its missions forever and ever. No way.
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swollenbabyfat · 3 months
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I don't really believe that "everything has a silver lining", sometimes things are just horrible and painful, and can just cause more suffering for those effected to try and find the bright side in such cases.
That being said, I think it's also okay for those suffering to try and find some beauty in the pain, inevitably it will change you regardless, and if you can have it move you towards something more livable then you should do so. Death takes more than just the person whose died, be as kind to yourself as you can, coping looks different for everyone, making beautiful things and experiences is how I deal with it.
Anyways, some of my favorite illustrations from Failgirl Fluttershy.
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okchijt · 25 days
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hii! could u separate headcanons of Yandere! Alastor and Vox x Male Overlord! Reader who never smiles (very rarely) , isn't very chatty and doesn't really like dance and sing?
Author's Note: Thank you so much Anon for the request! Decided to write this as soon as it came cause I finished the show a few weeks ago and still have the brainrot. The request asks for a male reader and the title also says it, but you can easily read it as gender-neutral as well since I don't think that what I write is that gender-specific to the request to matter aside from like two gender-specific words I use but you can easily ignore them if you want. And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you, and enjoy!🩷
Yandere Alastor x Male Overlord Reader Headcanons
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📻 Smilling is Alastor's whole thing, and even though he doesn't care if others smile or not, but as his Darling, he seems to care quite a lot! He's not that vocal about it though, only making a slight comment here and there: "You're never fully dressed without a smile!" or "A smile makes all the difference!" All to try and make you smile more. I imagine he says the same speech he did to Charlie, that a smile can be anything you want it to be and the effect it has on others.
📻 When all else fails he'd use his wits and puns to get a smile out of you, and when you finally do smile on occasion Alastor is over the moon. It's a huge success in his book, he'd immediately praise how lovely that smile looks on your face and he'd pat your head or back approvingly as well.
📻 Since you're on Overlord yourself Alastor feels nothing but respect for you. If you were a simple sinner he'd feel superior despite you being his Darling. But in this case, you're on the same level if not stronger than him so that just gives him more of a reason to make you smile, anything to get your approval, it's the only one he needs or cares for anyway. In this case, you letting him stay by your side only fuels his ego because it's a pleasure only he gets to have and no one else. You're his and he has no intentions of sharing you with anyone, he's fiercely protective and possessive over you and that includes your smile. Only he gets to see and experience your purest form, sinners would rather make a deal than die by his hand just because they saw something they shouldn't.
📻 Alastor is more than fine with having a non-chatty Darling, he doesn't speak unless he has to so he can relate to you. That said, he's only okay with it when you're quiet to everyone else but him. After all, he's only this close to you so shouldn't he earn the pleasure of hearing your voice? He'd push you for a conversation sometimes, asking you questions or just string up a conversation to the point where you're forced to respond. The longer you keep quiet the more irritated and persistent he'll become, so it's better to start sooner or later if you don't want to see Alastor slowly lose himself.
📻 Although there's no official answer to whether Alastor likes to sing or dance, I have my personal thoughts on that so I'll use them here. I think Alastor likes dancing, with a specific person that is, that being you. You won't catch him on the dancefloor with anyone but you. Though because you ain't that much of a dancer, and unlike the smile thing Alastor doesn't really mind. He is forceful with everyone else as we saw in the show, but as his Darling and fellow Overlord, he has too much respect for you to push you to do something against your will. Though if you would ever agree to dance with him, he'd be really respectful and make sure you enjoy yourself so that he'll have a chance at another dance next time. Also, you always only dance to jazz or swing music, that's one thing Alastor will always put his foot down on.
📻 Singing is the second thing Alastor would take the most seriously after smiling when it comes to his Darling. Singing is one of those things that lets you express yourself, you can show any emotion by it. Even though Alastor had like four songs in the show, I feel like he only sings when he has to, always to make himself look good or to be on the winning side. So I feel like Alastor would be a little disappointed if you chose to solve problems like a normal person instead of having a rap battle with someone. Though I feel like that's a subject he won't push on about too much despite his feelings, he'll only allude to it from time to time.
📻 Overall, the only issue Alastor would have with a Darling like that is him not smiling, but that's about it. It's the only thing he'd be aggressively vocal about and sometimes the singing one. Otherwise, he tolerates everything else about you. All Alastor needs is to have you all to himself and if it means he's the only one to witness you do any of those stuff in private, how can he complain? He much rather prefers that scenario anyway, you're his after all.
Yandere Vox x Male Overlord Reader Headcanons
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📺 Unlike Alastor, Vox doesn't put that much importance on smiling like his rival, but he still views it as useful. He's a public-based Overlord, so a smile is always important to have when trying to sell his brand. You can be a part of the Vee's or not, you're still an Overlord that is either on his level or stronger, so Vox is bewildered how you don't even try to smile when talking to those below you to win them over.
📺 He'd try to explain to you how much more influence and power you could have with a smile alone: "Smile, and they'll know who's in charge here!'' or ''It's the best way to win the public's adoration!'' He just wants you to present yourself the same way he does. He'd be really disappointed if you continued to refuse his idea, but once you smiled at something he said in private, it made him stop and think. It made him realize that something so alluring should be for his eyes only, he should be the only one to enjoy such a sight and no one else. He'd always whisper sweet nothing into your ear whenever he catches you smiling, hoping it'll encourage you to smile more. It fuels him and he'd do anything to get you to smile like that again for him.
📺 As a fellow Overlord, he respects you a ton, especially if you're a part of the Vee's with him. Because you're so different from the typical Overlord he surrounds himself with, he's much more wary of how he approaches you in fear of setting you off. He wants you to adore him the same way he does you and he'll try to achieve that by treating you like the King you are. Anything you say goes and even when he tries to push some issues forward, as his Darling you're the only one that can shut him down.
📺 Though Vox would prefer if you were a bit more chatty for the sake of the brand and all that, he won't really say anything to you about it. Your presence is enough to either win other sinners over or scare all the threats away. Kinda like Alastor, in private Vox will be very chatty with you, you're his Darling so he only feels safe enough with you to spill all of his thoughts out. But unlike his rival, Vox won't push or force you to respond, he's more than okay with you just being silent as he talks, it's therapeutic in a way. Though he'd always encourage you to talk some more if you do eventually say something, your voice just makes him so happy. He'll stop whatever he was doing just to focus all of his attention on you as you talk, but if you stop that's okay, he's already satisfied to hear his Darling talk even if just a little.
📺 Vox ain't that much of a dancer, he's pretty stiff actually, so he's both glad and bothered by the fact that you aren't. Good for him cause you don't pressure or force him to do something he knows he's bad at and embarrass himself in front of you, unlike a certain moth. But at the same time, he'd want to see you dance, he wouldn't care how good you would be at it, you're his Darling so he'd still think you're brilliant regardless! He won't ever push you to do it though, taking how he feels about it he won't force you into something he knows he wouldn't like doing himself.
📺 Singing is what Vox makes up for not being able to dance, he's a good singer and he knows it, though you're the only one who he'd sing to willingly. He'll sing to you in private all the time, wanting to charm you and make you weak for him just like how weak he is for you. But it's the same thing as with dancing, he would love to hear you sing for him, about anything really, but again, he won't force you to do it. Sometimes he'd sing a song that requires a duet to see if you'll budge. Unfortunately for him, you don't, but he won't say anything, he adores you regardless.
📺 Seems like Vox shares a similar issue with his rival, his one problem is you not wanting to smile more. Outside of that he sometimes gently tries to persuade you into singing or smiling for him, but won't push the issue onward if he faces rejection for his request. Vox is more than satisfied knowing you'd sometimes budge in private for him, that's all he really needs and craves really. Him being the only one to witness his Darling doing any of those things makes his ego only grow, because it's his privilege alone and no one else's. And it'll stay that way no matter what.
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hollowingearth · 1 month
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I'm sorry but the more I think about the Rebirth ending the more I love it actually like. The whole trilogy has been a meta commentary of sorts and, specially, Aerith's death is at the epicenter of it. She both dies and doesn't die exactly because us, as an audience, want both things to happen.
People have been clamoring to be able to save Aerith since 1997, there were fake hidden hacks, AU fictions, retellings, everything. Everyone has been at Squeenix's doorsteps begging them to let us save her. Like, it's at a point where the "Square will let us save Aerith if you pay for the DLC" joke is much more than a decade old.
On the other side, there's this very expressive unwant for any change whatsoever from the source material. It's not a feeling that is exclusive to FF7 either, there's this very clear pushback against any new remake/adaptation that deviates, even slightly, from it's original. People don't want new content, they want the old one they experienced when they were younger, but prettier, they want to both feel the nostalgia and experience everything as if for the first time again.
From that camp, I think the most prominent argument is that FF7 is about loss, right? And they're not wrong. Aerith's death is the crux of the story, it's the very thing that made FF7 as known as it is, there would be no actual weight to what it's trying to tell if the heroine doesn't die in the middle of it, an unexpected, hurtful, avoidable death. What's the point of a narrative about grief if you can just... avoid losing someone? Avoid having it be cruelly taken from you?
And yet, you see, if want someone to die, if you want something to be taken from you, are you really losing it? In the original, part of the impact was that no one could see it coming, it was a straight representation about how death is sudden and takes away opportunity from you. Aerith doesn't go into the sleeping forest willing to make a sacrifice for the greater good, she has barely started her adventure, she makes a promise to go on the highwind, the group is one location away from finding out more about her ancestry and her family.
That's not true for the remake, tho. Everyone knows about her fate, about what is going to happen to her. That's probably the most spoiled moment in video game history. I personally knew about her death before I truly understood what Final Fantasy even was. So now we have an audience that is extremely aware of what, when and how her death is going to happen. That's why the Confluence of Worlds is put at that moment, because it's the single most expected moment in the entire triology, it's the one moment that made the narrative resonate so well.
The impact is impossible to recreate now, even for newer fans of the series. People want a 1:1 retranslation but such a thing would always be a gimmicky shadow of it's original. It's why the focus shifts, now the most emotionally impactful scene is not the killing of her but of her goodbye, in the church after the dream date. "Thank you," Aerith echoes "It's been fun", a callback to her conclusion on Remake where she says "I'm grateful for all the words we shared. All the moments and the memories. You've made me more happy than you know."
So she dies and she doesn't, both at the same time. Effectively in limbo now, narratively explained by lifestream shenaningans. We put her there ourselves, by refusing to move on, refusing to accept her death but also refusing to change, allowing a different outcome. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing, at least, Aerith's words sound like the very sincere feelings of the developers, who are grateful for all the love we all have powered into their work all these years.
I just love it so much, I could spend hours talking about it.
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stormkobra-5 · 2 years
Text
Phases
Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader
Fic Type: Drabble
Beta’d by the lovely @marc-spectorr 😌
Summary: Marc knew that being Khonshu’s Avatar came with side effects. He just was never quite aware of how, exactly, the phases of the moon affected him. Not until you.
A/N: So. The gif. Pretend he’s not getting impaled. Or injured at all. Because honestly that’s the position I picture him being in when he’s pinning the reader against him. 🤡 (Also, this is kind of a Marc version of Feral Flight…)[Yes, I ignored my ask box to finish this :/]
Rating/Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI, primal play, breeding kink, unprotected PiV, exhibitionism (Steven and Jake watch and comment), feral!Marc Spector, marathon sex, slight dub/non-con, fingering, softdom!Marc, a/b/o vibes, mating kink (??? This is a version of Feral Flight, after all), Marc is confuzzled about what’s happening to him but gives in, lots of mentions of getting the reader pregnant, sex with intention of getting reader pregnant, the phases of the moon affect the Moon Boys, foul/vulgar language, praise kink, rough (?) sex, lots of mentions of Khonshu but like??? He’s not in it???, jealous Marc (briefly), biting, marking, fluff, somehow this went from the kinkiest shit I’ve ever written to extreme yearning fluff idk
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Dating the boys had surely been an experience you’d never forget. Steven, Marc, Jake, your boyfriends whom you loved deeply; and they loved you tenfold each. It was a strange feeling, being in a relationship with all three alters— but strange in a good way. You took every part of them and accepted it, loving them for who they were wholly and completely.
Although… you didn’t expect there to be a part of them that even they weren’t aware of…
Marc knew that the phases of the moon affected the powers that Khonshu gave them. The fuller it was, the more powerful they were. On the New Moon, they all slept so deeply that not even Khonshu himself could wake them. It was apparently some kind of rejuvenating period, which made sense (and also prompted a three-and-half explanation from Steven).
But on the Full Moon?
Their powers were amplified tenfold.
When wearing the suit, their super-strength, flight, speed, healing abilities, they seemed invincible and godlike. It was a feeling that went straight to their heads. For nearly a week around the day of the full moon, they became arrogant. Cocky. Marc would be the first to admit that they became fucking assholes, even Steven. Not to mention, the extra metabolism (? So Steven said. Marc wasn’t too sure.) forced them to eat. And eat. And eat. They bulked up. Whereas throughout the rest of the month they were fit and lean, during the week of the full moon their bodies were sleek, contoured muscle. They would beat the shit out of their enemies (even Steven), or pick fights. They were quick to respond with aggression, and he even felt his neighbors weren’t safe.
Whenever he was in the flat around that time, he would snap and huff at the people he’d ride with in the elevator. They were too close, it was too stuffy, he wanted to chase everyone out of the fucking building and patrol it just to keep everyone out. He felt that way so violently that he usually went out to protect his innocent neighbors before he lost all sense of self. Jake liked to joke that it was just a “moon period,” and it would pass.
Then you came along, and it got worse.
And different.
He seemed to eat more. He was more aggressive toward his neighbors. Every sound in the hall made him want to bust down the door and attack whoever it was because they were too close to you. Everyone was too close to you. You needed a whole building to yourself and Marc would patrol it to keep you safe. If you wanted to go out, he’d just have to go with you, Khonshu be damned.
But with you other things happened that made him confused.
He'd catch himself piling your blankets around him while you were at work just to envelop him in your scent— the smell of your shampoo, though he swore it was more than that. He swore he had heightened senses, because he could almost smell you on an animalistic level. When you got home, he was all over you, worshiping you like you were a princess. He’d have a hot bath already running for you, he’d make you food, ensure you drank water, help you with your shoes and jacket; he catered to you on a standard day, especially Steven, but this was different. He’d be practically unable to let go of you, literally keeping his arms around you and whining high-pitched in the back of his throat like a fucking dog if you had to move. He’d almost aggressively cuddle you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and letting your smell overwhelm him, comfort him.
Of course he’d explained it to you before the time had hit, but in his brief moments of clarity, he’d whisper helplessly with tears in his eyes, “I-I don’t know what’s happening to me…”
You’d only kiss his forehead. Ever patient. Ever loving. He wondered what he did to deserve you. “It’s okay, Marc. We’ll get through it together, I promise.” Of course, Khonshu never explained anything to him.
You were so patient.
Even when he was fucking you senseless.
Usually you both had a reasonable lust for each other, but during the full moon, his sex drive was through the roof. He had to take you. He had to feel you. He was gentle, but also relentless— he wasn’t sure where he suddenly got the stamina for twelve fucking rounds after dinner, but his intention was never to hurt you. He just wanted you. If you pushed him away, too tired for more, Marc would immediately launch into aftercare. A warm bath, blankets straight from the dryer, and him laying protectively around you.
Although there was one night he caught himself lapping slowly at your throat. The fuck???
Jake and Steven were just as bad as he was. In fact, Steven was probably worse. His pent-up years of anger made him more dangerous to strangers and more rough with you, so he kept away from the front.
Marc was happy when on the next full moon, Khonshu had work for him; but it ended up not taking as long as he’d planned. By only eight o’clock he was done with the mission, and he ran thirty times full speed around the block your workplace was in just to let off some steam. He made sure, though, that when you got off, he was there to watch over you from a nearby rooftop.
The wind changed, and he swore— he fucking swore he caught a whiff of your goddamn scent.
No, he really was. Was that a new power? Heightened senses? His mask melted away so that he could better smell it— he shouldn’t know you’re ovulating. He shouldn’t. Were you this morning? No, he’d smelled it coming. He’d been all over you before you’d left for work. But, oh, you smell so fucking good.
Ovulating. The word rings around in his head for a minute. His alters are somewhere in the headspace, keeping away from the front at all costs. He tries to swallow hard, but his throat and mouth are so damn dry that he just can’t. All he can think about is you. You you you. And the fact that you’re ovulating.
He hears a high noise nearby and isn’t sure what it is until he realizes that it’s him. He’s whining as he watches you bid goodbye to a coworker who was chatting with you, wanting nothing more than to pin you down right. There.
Marc shifted his weight, his suit suddenly far too tight in the crotch. The wind shifts, and so does his mood.
There’s another scent on you.
The scent of a male.
He can almost see the handprint on your shoulder from where one of your coworkers passed you earlier in the day. The scent is faint, stale, but it’s there, and it makes him furious. He’s possessive over you, and that scares him. He wants to lick and rub his face all over that spot while fucking you hard just to cover you wholly in his scent again.
He’s there, too; he can smell himself on you. The smell of citrus and metal and wood, all fucking over you. You’re his. Except for that. Spot. How dare someone touch his mate while she’s ovulating? If he wasn’t so distracted by you, he’d have tracked the scent and broken both the coworker’s hands for it.
Marc’s head grew foggy. His vision narrowed until you were all he could see. All of his senses were trained on you. He thought he might have whined again, realizing he was palming himself a little too roughly when Jake said in the back of his head, “...Ow,” followed by Steven: “Oi, you tryin’ to castrate us, mate?”
Mate. Marc wasn’t sure where his mind went or what kind of trance he was in. I’ve gotta get down there— get to her— have to— have to mate with her— Marc stood, following you from the rooftop and starting to parkour down. I have to mate with her. Right now, while she’s ready for me.
“Oh shit,” Jake muttered, “Easy, hombré; you hurt her, I won’t hesitate in castrating us. You need fucking fixed, man.”
“Not gonna hurt her,” Marc mumbled as he prepared himself for the drop to the sidewalk below, “Not gonna hurt her…”
Steven, meanwhile, had come too close to the front. He hovered, feral, just behind the edge of Marc’s conscious thought, urging him on silently. Waiting for Marc to pounce.
Marc landed in a crouch before you, making you yelp in momentary terror. The smell was like burning plastic, and he didn’t like it. “No, baby, it’s me—“
Your scent returned to normal as you let out a whooshing breath of relief, a broad but wary smile on your face. “Marc,” The way you said his name caused a shiver to run up his spine. You started to ask him something— whether he was still on a mission, how it went, or something like that, he wasn’t sure— all he knew was that his body was moving before his mind, rushing forward to crush your lips together in a bruising kiss. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, taking advantage of your slack jaw, an arm slipping around you from behind to pull you flush against him. The sensation of your taste and your body against him felt overwhelming. His suit was suddenly scratchy, his skin too hot and feverish, his breath and heartbeat too quick. If he could have seen how black his eyes were, he might have had the sense to be concerned.
His hungry kisses trailed down your neck, where he pulled your shirt down your shoulder to expose the skin. Your gasp at the contact of the chilly night air went straight to his core, and he growled. The scent of the other male was making him pissed, and he found himself licking at the spot before biting down.
Hard.
So hard he drew blood, and you cried out, voice echoing in the empty street.
He didn’t pull back, keeping you against him and rolling his hips into you to try and ease the pressure in his groin with another whine. “Marc—“
“Run,” He hissed in your ear.
The demand took you by surprise. “Huh?”
“I want you to run from me,” He clarified softly, “Run. As fast and as far as you can. Until I catch you. Please?”
“W-what happens if you catch me?” You managed, a little shaken and also understanding what was happening to your boys.
“I get to fuck you,” Marc nipped at your jawline, trying to entice you. If there was one thing he wasn’t going to do, it was force himself on you. He’d catch a plane to Singapore just to keep himself away from you if you said no. He was still steadily rocking into you, lapping at your wounded shoulder as he tried to cover the scent of the other male, take it away, get rid of it…
“M-Marc,” You breathed; he could see in your eyes that you were greatly concerned. But he could also smell your arousal, and it was just making his whole situation worse. “We’re out in public. Can you wait till we get back to the flat?”
He was able to have a moment of clarity (? If you could call it that). Mainly because Steven was acting like a caged tiger, slamming up against the front violently like an animal behind bars. Marc wouldn’t let him out; couldn’t let him out. Steven could get rough and hurt you without even meaning to, and then he’d feel guilty and horrible when he came back to himself. Marc knew that he was always gentle, that he could stop himself, but... “Don’t you fucking dare take her here, Marc. Getting her scent everywhere in a place so far from home. Getting her everywhere— you get her home, Marc. Get her home, or I will. She needs to be safe.”
Steven was his voice of reason, as always. He wholly agreed with his alter, biting softly at your jawline and nuzzling into your neck. There. He found it. The spot right behind your ears that had your knees buckling, a flood of arousal heading straight to your core. You were probably dripping for him already.
“Bloody hell,” Steven groaned when he saw how you nearly went limp, if not for Marc catching you and holding you against him.
Marc scooped you up in his arms and held you close, taking you back to the flat; it wasn’t a particularly long walk, but it felt like days. Marc’s suit was tight, way too tight and he could barely breathe. By the time the building was in sight, he was sweating buckets and could barely walk, almost in pain. He set you down carefully, much to your confusion. “Can you run? Please? I want to chase you.”
“Why?” You weren’t mocking, or teasing; you were genuinely asking why he wanted to chase you. He himself wasn’t sure— all he knew was that he wanted to have the thrill of chasing you before mating with you. Before…
Before he breeds you.
The thought of potentially impregnating you makes him moan into your neck, and he turns you around, giving you a gentle nudge to the building. “Go. Go, please.”
Reluctantly, you did. Marc started counting to thirty, watching your shrinking form pick up speed, as his alters spoke up.
1…2…3…
Steven was too close, heated and pissed. “Get that bloody male’s scent off her, Marc. I don’t care if you have to fucking cum on her shoulders. Get. It. Off.”
“Marc, listen to me, hombré,” Jake said, farther back, still horny but sensible. He wasn’t letting himself get near to the front, but he kept trying to pull Steven back, which resulted violently; not entirely in control of himself, Steven attacked, fending Jake off while keeping his position in co-fronting. “Remember yourself. Don’t let yourself hurt her.”
20, 21, 22…
Keeping Steven contained was the equivalent of holding a cat carrier with a violent, strong cat freaking out on the inside. Marc was losing his hold, grip failing—
Steven took advantage of the slip and bolted.
You’d only just gotten through the doors of the building when Steven took off, too far gone to hear Jake reprimanding him or Marc begging him for the body back. He burst through the doors just as you entered the elevator, watching with wide eyes as he raced for you. The doors closed before he reached them, and he slammed into them hard enough to dent them. The suit gave him the strength to pry the doors open with the sound of screeching metal, but the car was already gone, leaving only a gaping hole in the floor. Steven whirled for the stairs with a growl of frustration.
He’d only made it halfway up when he faltered, dizzy from how he was panting and from the overwhelming scents of his neighbors. A part of him was furious. They shouldn't be this close to you. The other was horrified. If he’d have caught you in the elevator, what would he have done?
Steven put his face in his hands. “T-Take over. One of you take over. Please.”
Marc easily slipped into the front, slumping over. Steven disappeared into the farthest reaches of the headspace that he could go, but Marc and Jake both knew it was only a matter of time before he came back out.
Muscles shaking, Marc sprinted the last few floors to the flat, tearing open the door to find your scent fresh and present; his eyes locked on you as you stood in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do. He gently closed and locked the door behind him, striding forward to take you in his arms and kiss you deeply. He wasn’t even aware that his hand rested on your stomach until he broke away to kiss your neck. “No condoms. Please.”
“Mar—“
“Please,” Marc was speaking before his mind could comprehend that he was fucking begging. “I-I dont just wanna have s-sex, I want to mate with you, breed you, pleasepleasepleaseplease—“ He must’ve been rambling, because you took his face in your hands to look him in the eyes. Marc forced himself to form a coherent sentence, though his voice was barely a whisper. “I-I… I want to get you pregnant…” He shook his head, realizing what he was saying in a moment of true clarity. “Baby, I don’t know what’s happening, please forgive me—“
You kissed him softly. Just a peck. “Marc. It’s okay.”
Marc moaned with relief, turning you around and helping you to the bed. He laid you flat on your back and caged you in underneath of him, pressing his face into your neck to lick and suck and bite at your throat. The scents of the flat— you, him, home— relaxed his tense muscles. It made him feel as if you were in a safe zone. He peeled your jacket off and tore off your button-down shirt, the little buttons flying everywhere. Marc didn’t remove the suit, still only maskless— if it enhanced his powers, he wondered if it would enhance other things. If it might take first try.
Your little whimpers and gasps caused his hips to buck into you suddenly. He slipped his waist between your legs, which locked around his torso tightly to pull him closer. The sound of tearing fabric filled the bedroom as Marc tore off your pants and underwear with no effort whatsoever, making you gasp loudly and moan his name. Marc sensed how wet you were and snarled against your neck, grinding into you as he entwined his fingers with yours.
Your naked body was responding to him exactly how he wanted you to. You writhed and rocked against him, squeezing his hands for something to ground you. You wrestled a hand out from under his, and at first he was going to pin it back down, but then your fingers tangled in his curls and tugged. He groaned into your neck, sinking his teeth gently into your flesh and sweeping his other arm underneath of you to hold you against him; yours magnetized around him, hand fisting his cape at his back.
His hand slipped between you, sinking into your heat; you gasped, though the fact that you rocked into his hand made him continue. You were soaked.
He had Jake in one ear, barely able to control himself, whispering about how he needs to fuck you hard and thorough. He had Steven in the other, growling and cussing and trying to force himself to the front to take you himself.
Marc pulled back a little, just enough to maneuver his suit to pull his length out, throbbing and so hard he was nearly in pain. “Baby,” You whispered sympathetically, concerned, and Marc nudged his face into yours.
“Is this okay?”
You frowned, pulling him closer. He’d walk away if you said no, willing to fight through the pain of whatever was wrong with him. “It’s okay.”
Marc slowly, carefully, like you were made of glass, pushed into you. His hips twitched too quickly as he sunk in, as if he was fighting himself not to take you rough. Once he bottomed out, he unleashed a primal groan, deep in the back of his throat. “Oh my god; that’s it, babygirl, that’s it…”
His thrusts were slow as he rubbed your clit, trying to get you to the edge that he was already at. But it wasn’t enough, he needed more and so did you…
He pulled out, ignoring your whine save for a reassuring nudge against your face. “S’okay.” He turned you over, assisting you to your hands and knees; he doubled over you as he buried himself inside you again, pressing against something devastating deep within you— you cried out, loudly enough to where you knew your neighbors would be complaining in the morning. One of his arms swept under your hips to hold you firmly against him, the other, holding himself up alongside your own. You gripped his wrist for leverage as he propped a leg up beside you, knowing that he was going to absolutely ruin you.
The position woke up something feral in him. He was sure that Steven and Jake were co-fronting now, adding to his actions, but he didn’t care. You felt and looked and smelled so fucking good around and under and all over him that he didn’t care at all. His hips pistoned into you at a bruising pace, the head of his cock punching your cervix with each blow. His eyes rolled back in his head as he finally felt the build of his orgasm; but he couldn’t cum yet. Not without you. “Fuck, sweetheart—“ His position shifted slightly. He straightened his back, both hands coming to grip your hips briefly before one slipped underneath of you, pressing against your stomach until you moaned; he started grinding, feeling himself nudge against your insides as you started to sob with pleasure. Marc let out a guttural groan, letting his forehead fall onto your back. You all but screamed when he started roughly massaging your clit with his other hand.
“That’s it, babygirl, that’s it, come on… Come on…”
You came with a piercing wail that almost hurt his ears. Tumbling after you after a few stuttering thrusts was Marc, spilling into you with a yelp of alarm. “Oh— shit!” He stilled, face contorting with the pleasure of his high as he held you against him, panting fast and heavy as he emptied into you for far longer than he was used to. “F-fuck…”
“Huh,” Jake hummed, “Who knew wearing Khonshu’s suit would give us a bigger load.” Steven, on the other hand, had felt the orgasm too, and was calmed down, in a sort of daze.
“M-Marc,” you whimpered, but he was loathe to pull out of you. He reached up and brushed your sweaty hair back away from your face, kissing at your shoulders.
Gently, he rolled over so that you were both on your sides before pulling out; he scooped whatever dripped out right back in, not that it mattered. It didn’t take. She’s not pregnant. Marc frowned, whimpering as he let the suit melt off. You couldn’t take another load like that, not right now; he wasn’t even sure if you could take another orgasm. He was licking at your throat and that spot that drove you crazy, slowly, eyes closed as he breathed you in and held you against him. The contrast of your naked form against his clothed body made him feel off, so he pulled back and stripped of everything, settling in bed beside you.
He was already hard again, and the blissful smile you sent his way only made it worse. It disappeared off your face when you saw his pained expression. “What is it?”
“I… I need more…” He was reluctant to admit it. He didn’t want to take advantage of you.
“Marc…” You cupped his face in your hand. “I can take it. I promise. I’ll use my safeword if I can’t, okay?”
“Okay?” Marc echoed, situating himself above you and between your legs. “You sure? I don’t wanna hurt you—“
“I’m fine,” Was all the assurance he needed.
It was slower this time, more sensual. He held you against him as he drove carefully into you with firm rolls of his hips, getting as deep as possible. Your shared orgasm was enough to knock him out cold, and Steven fronted. Gently, he caressed your face as he hovered over you, already hard again inside you and knowing it hadn’t taken yet. “I’m sorry for scaring you earlier, dove,” Steven breathed, nuzzling up under your chin. “Don’t know what came over me… do you have one more in you, lovey? One more?”
You knew full well it wouldn’t be just one more, or two. Steven managed to cum in you once, but he drew two orgasms from you first. Then Jake was fronting, gently moving you so that your legs were over his shoulders before he slowly pounded into you, drawing another orgasm from you when he came.
Fighting the urges, he launched into aftercare, wiping you clean and engulfing you in his hold as you slept.
When he woke, it was Marc. Jake and Steven were quiet. It was only midnight. The full moon blazed through the window, illuminating the whole room with silver light— and you were gone. Marc sat up in a panic, your scent overwhelming him and fresh; but where were you? He called your name warily, only for you to come out of the bathroom with one of his shirts on. Your legs were wobbly. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You needed your rest,” you whispered softly as he helped you back into bed. Immediately, his arms were around you and he was pulling you underneath of him, nuzzling into your throat with a soft hum. There was no trace of the other male’s scent, now. There’s only Marc, Jake, Steven, you… no one else.
You’re still not pregnant.
You’re still ovulating, though. The moon is at its fullest and brightest. He might not even need the suit. His hand traced your stomach, drawing patterns as you ran your hands through his curls. He softly said your name before propping himself up on his elbows to look you in the eye. He didn’t even have to ask; your legs parted for him immediately when you felt him hardening against your thigh, wrapping around his hips.
“Be gentle,” Steven warned, “We’ve had her all night.”
“She can do it,” Jake whispered, “Hermosa, tan hermosa…”
Marc hesitated, biting his lip. His fingers danced over your stomach nervously. “What is it?” You whispered quietly; he seemed a bit back to himself, more lucid, but you feared one wrong word would send him back into the frenzy he and his alters had been in earlier.
“I’m sorry,” Marc choked out, fighting back tears. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart; you didn’t sign up for any of this shit—“
“Marc,” You ran your thumbs over his cheekbones, brushing away tears he didn’t realize he’d shed. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not, I’m fucking you so hard with intentions you agreed to without thinking—“
You cut him off with a light scold. “Marc Spector… don’t you remember this morning?” Marc was, reasonably, confused. In fact, he didn’t remember much of the day. It was a blur of aggression and lust for all three of them. He shook his head. “We were talking about kids,” You caressed his cheek, brow furrowing with concern. “How many we wanted, how we’ll need a bigger house… this is just… a different way of trying.”
“...Trying,” Marc repeated after a second, shocked. He still didn’t remember it. But he trusted you. Now, other fears surfaced, ones he hadn’t thought of in his moon-induced trance. “What if I’m not a good dad? What if I’m a horrible father? What if—“
You cut him off with a passionate kiss. Marc melted against you. Don’t even say it, you thought, you’ll never be like your mother. “You’ll be an amazing father,” You whispered instead. “And I’ll be right there with you every step of the way.” After a moment, you added, “Do… Do you still want to try?”
Marc shifted slightly, licking his lips, before kissing you warmly. “...Yeah. I do.” You wrapped your arms around his neck with a smile, pulling him close. “Steven and Jake are here,” Marc breathed against your ear as he pushed into you; you hissed, walls over-sensitive from being paid so much attention over the course of the night. “Can they watch, pretty girl? Can they watch us make a baby?”
Your frantic nodding made Steven smile; Jake leaned back as if getting comfortable for a movie. Marc entwined your fingers with his as he slowly rutted into you, dragging his cock along your walls painfully slowly before sliding back in and pressing against something that made you see stars. You breathed his name like a mantra, while Marc whispered honeyed words into your ear. “Our kid’s gonna be so beautiful, having a part of you. Can’t think of anyone in the world I’d rather have a baby with, sweetheart; you, only you.” He nuzzled the side of your face, nipping at your jawline as he drew slow circles over your clit.
When you came, you dragged Marc with you over the edge, the pair of you writhing and moaning against each other in the throes of your ecstasy. As you came to, you saw Marc’s beaming smile, eyes glistening with unshed tears. His hand never left your stomach. “I think we did it… I… I think you’re pregnant.”
Marc let out a breathless laugh against your lips, and you laughed with him, hugging him tightly and kissing all over your face. Marc— finally satiated, back to himself, his alters confused and excited— was smiling like you’d never seen before. He was happy. “We just started a family,” You sniffled, shocked.
“Wouldn’t have done it with anyone else,” Marc said sincerely, tired and spent. He kissed you, warmth radiating off of him as he embraced you. “...I love you. I know I don’t say it a lot, and I should… I’m gonna try harder. To give you everything. To give you both everything…” His eyes locked with yours, both gazes holding unshed tears. He kissed you again. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Marc,” You said through your tears, and you fell asleep happy and entangled together under the light of the moon.
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Slowly, pointedly, you turned to glare over your shoulder at Marc, who sat at the dinner table, feigning innocence. “Marc…” You warned.
“What? I’m not doing anything.”
“Not yet.”
“You say that as if I’m known to do something.”
“Marc?” You said, half-turning around, “I learned long ago that I can never trust you with cookie dough.”
The sound of breaking glass in the next room made you both lunge frantically, tripping over yourselves, chairs, and each other as you rushed for the source of the sound. By the time you got there, there was only a little tiny version of Moon Knight, as if he’d been shrunk, dusting himself off as he stood to face you both, clearly having jumped off the couch in an attempt to “fly.”
You both heaved a sigh of exasperation toward your three-year-old son. “Nico,” Marc scolded lightly, coming forward to kneel in front of him. “What’ve we told you, buddy? You’re gonna get yourself hurt. I’ll fly with you, okay? But when you’re older, I promise. Are you hurt?”
Nico shook his little masked head. “No, Daddy. I bumped the vase.” He pointed accusingly toward the shattered glass and remains of flowers. Marc checked him over anyway before holding him gently by the shoulders. “Don’t do that again, okay?” Nico nodded, lowering his head, and Marc added, “Hey. I’m not angry. I just don’t want you getting hurt. I could never be angry at you. Ever. Okay?” He pulled Nico in for a tender embrace.
You watched it all from the doorway with a smile. Nico Randall Spector (Lockley-Grant, but you couldn’t officially put that on any of his birth certificates or documents without causing a whole conundrum of confusion) was every bit like his father. The same hair, same eyes, and same hidden chaotic energy. “Just like his father…”
Marc shot you a teasing glare. “Hey. I’ve never jumped off the couch.”
“So I’m just supposed to pretend we’ve never had Nerf battles, then?” You countered swiftly.
Marc scoffed as he stood with Nico in his arms. “I’ve never jumped off the couch. Have I ever jumped off the couch?” He turned to confirm with your son, who reluctantly nodded; Marc immediately began to tickle him. “Little traitor! I’ve never jumped off the couch! How dare you!”
Only when Nico was nearly out of breath did Marc stop, smiling as he pressed his forehead to his much smaller one. Nico hugged him tight enough to probably choke him, but Marc didn’t care; he gave him a kiss on the cheek before setting him down. “Okay— go change. It’s almost time for dinner.”
“Okay!” Nico started to hurry away; you called after him, “Need any help, Moon Knight?”
“No thank you,” Came his little voice; Jake’s cat, Taco, appeared out from underneath the couch and padded silently after him.
You and Marc watched your son disappear into his room fondly; you’d never seen Marc smile like that until he was born. He unfolded his arms and came over to loosely put his arms around your waist. “Thought you were supposed to be watching him while I finished up.”
“Your fault for distracting me with the cookie dough,” Marc retorted childishly, then added with a wink, “And those damn jeans.”
“Hush,” You whispered.
Marc smiled again, pressing a kiss to your temple as his hand fell to splay over your stomach. “Maybe his sister will keep him in line when she gets here.”
You tapped his nose with the spoon you’d been holding. He balked and blinked rapidly. “Hey. That doesn’t even have any dough on it!” Reduced to giggling messes, Marc held you tightly against him and closed his eyes, savoring the closeness.
Dinner was one of those rare moments of domestic bliss; Nico made a ridiculous mess, but all three alters were present, switching who was fronting in order to spend time with their expecting wife and son— and to help clean up. The night ended with Marc being the only one who remained awake after a movie, as you were tucked in on one side of him, his arm around you and his hand over your stomach, and Nico under the other arm. Marc smiled to himself, giving you each a kiss.
“Love you guys. With all my heart.”
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Thanks for reading!
Tags: @dameronsknight @sylkisdagger @atzlena @gucciboots @pastel-0-princess @rosaren2498 @love-on-the-murder-scene @wintergirlsoilder2 @blackcat-midnight-thatsme @multifandomsw @bookloverfilmoholic @khaotic-kris @hb8301 @soggumm @simonsbluee @bobfloydsgf @bluestuesday @magnet-girl @rosellacwrites @dweeb-central @ilymorepls @drwhofangirl1963 @loonymagizoologist @auszimbo @tealrivers @later-gators12 @izbelross @xcatnapsx @child-of-the-moon-gods @djarinsgirl27 @sokoviansorceress @eerievixen @cold-buffet-ham @upbeat-cascade @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @candydancey @rqmanoff @jakelcckley @sharin4readers @lovely-cryptid @marc-spectorr @rmoonstoner @oscarisaacsspit @moonknightyws @hopefulfangirl24 @local-mr-frog @dawnsutopia @hot-mess-express1 @infinitelyforgotten
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amuseoffyre · 7 months
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I'm having all kinds of feelings about the parallels between Izzy and Lucius in s2.
Izzy's whole world view and sense of self has been shattered by everything that's happened to him. In episode 3, he tries to provoke some kind of reaction out of Stede, needling him with yeah, I stabbed your painting, yeah I knifed your home, yeah we killed him. "Do your worst" he says. He's hurting and he wants to be hurt for it.
In episode 4 he's a mess. He's isolating himself, he's snapping out at anyone and anything, even inanimate objects, launching torrents of self-loathing at himself.
Right up until the moment the crew quietly unite behind him and very literally give him a leg to stand on and let him see he's not as isolated and rejected and abandoned as he thought he was. He's not only welcome, he's one of their crew, he is now literally and figuratively part of the Revenge as well.
And then we have Lucius's own traumas rearing up over and over. The fact that none of the crew seem to be taking things as badly as him is definitely not helping him. All of them saying it was a good apology and pretty solidly implies Lucius's experiences of the pirate world is very, very different from everyone else's, leading to very different expectations of the response he needs.
And when he tries to deal with things by giving violence for violence by pushing Ed overboard, it doesn't work.
While on the surface, he's present, his art and his words how that he is turning rapidly inwards, getting more and more brittle and unhappy, which has a knock-on effect in his relationships.
Like Izzy did to Stede, he seeks out someone he thinks he can provoke - someone he has provoked and irritated before. He finds Izzy and tries to weaponise Izzy's own recent trauma against him like he used Izzy's own embarrassment back in S1E5 and Izzy doesn't bite.
Izzy has been there and is now coming out the other side. Izzy lets him snap and snarl and is calmer than we've ever seen him, offering a different kind of support from the angle of a man who has seen the world as Lucius experienced it.
It's definitely not lost on me that Izzy's new leg and Lucius's shark are both physical, tangible reminders that you're here, you're alive and there are people on this ship who are thinking about you and recognise what you're going through. Also an encouraging reminder it's possible to keep moving forward 😭
Creative projects can help them work through things, as a crew😭
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cassafrasscr · 2 months
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Back on my Ashton Chronic Pain Soapbox for a second after 4SD, because holy shit.
Taliesin saying that, actually Ashton’s pain gets worse/harder to ignore after disappearing for a while is so fucking real, though. Like, when you're in pain for that long, you really don't realize how terrible you actually felt every day until it eases up/goes away for a time.
I've been on antidepressants to help manage my pain for a few years. They aren't a perfect solution (I still have chronic pain), but my day-to-day is much more bearable than it was before the meds. Having depressive tendencies can actually make you more receptive to pain. But also, like, being in constant pain is a giant fucking bummer.
I was literally only two days in with taking my meds when I started feeling the difference. I was still having migraines and nausea from the side effects of the meds, but my joints hurt so much less.
Even my mom was like, 'Wow, you seem so much happier lately', and I was just like, 'YEAH, BECAUSE I'M NOT HURTING SO MUCH ALL THE TIME."
I'll never forget the look she gave me after that. I don’t think she really realized how bad it was for me until that moment. A lot of people didn't really take me seriously about my pain until I got on medication for it. And I didn't fully realize how much it was dragging me down until it wasn't anymore.
But also, my pain's been so much worse lately - I suffered an injury back in August that brought a lot of my old pain roaring back, and the cold climate where I live doesn't help. Holy shit, it's such a fucking drag. My everyday pain levels are a whole lot worse than I ever remember them being before i started medication, and I am just so, so tired.
Though it saddens me to know how many of us are enduring chronic pain every day, it made me feel less alone to see everyone sharing their experiences on my last couple posts about Ashton’s pain. Having that representation is so important, and I appreciate Taliesin so much for giving it to us.
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fanfic-obsessed · 8 months
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Eldritch Everyone
I have read fantastic stories where Obi Wan/ the Jedi are Eldritch creatures and other stories where the Clones are Eldritch, because of Kaminoan experiments. Let's merge the two with a twist. 
The twist is they are different types of eldritch beings who do not know the other is Eldritch. 
As always disregard any established lore that contradicts this. 
With the clones it is because of Kaminoan experimentation. It will never be quite clear what the Kamnioan’s were trying to do…or if they accomplished their goal. But the Kaminoan experiments on the Clones (with the exception of Boba Fett) genome connected with…something beyond. Something they had no idea what to account for. 
For the Eldritch Clones I am taking heavy inspiration from the incomparable Quarra’s The Force of my Love.  The Clones are a hivemind, existing paradoxically as part of the hive and individually all at once.  Their forms are nigh on indestructible and mutable, meaning they can shapeshift (they, in fact, make the choice to keep Jango Fett’s face and shape as their ‘main form’-partially due to spite, partially because the Kaminoans expect it). They are able to travel instantaneously to any clone that is part of the Hivemind(by contrast this instantaneous travel is limited to only to other members of the hivemind).  Unlike Quarra’s clones they cannot tell the difference between Sith and Jedi(for reasons that will be elaborated on later). They have eidetic memory which, combined with the hive mind, means that what one knows all of them know and none of them ever forget.  This version of the clones have no particular connection to Mandalorian culture, nor any other culture, save perhaps the Jedi (The propaganda that they are created for the Jedi still exists and frankly pales in comparison to how awesome the Jedi actually are). 
The Jedi are Eldritch through their connection to the Force, which is sentient (by certain definitions) but so utterly alien to anything on the mortal plane that there is no direct comparison. Now it needs to be made clear from the first that it is not just Force sensitivity that makes one Eldritch, the connection to the Force is just not strong enough.  There are additional rituals that the Jedi, and the Sith of Old, go through to become what could be considered Avatars of the Force (specifically the Light Side for the Jedi). These rituals were passed down from before the split between Sith and Jedi.
I say Sith of Old here, because Bane, in creating his rule of two, did away with many of those rituals (never realizing their worth) because several of them required more than 2 participants.  There are three rituals in particular that apply here. First is a ritual to allow oneself to fill completely with the Force (making themselves, for a lack of better terminology, larger than their mortal forms), which Bane kept as he believed it simply made one more powerful (and could be accomplished alone). The second ritual, also one that Bane kept, helped to hide the Banite Sith from the Jedi(it also disguised what was happening to the Banite Sith due to the first ritual, even from themselves), though that had always been a side effect of the ritual, not its intended purpose; this ritual is the reason that the Clones cannot sense Jedi and Sith seperately. The third ritual makes one a conduit of the Force (letting the Force pass through oneself) which Bane did away with. It is important here because mortal beings are not meant to be filled to the brim with the Force, without the release valve of the second ritual it causes them to rot from the inside out.   This is important because by the old definition of Sith, the Force Cult that has dedicated themselves to being the Avatars of the Dark Side of the Force, there has not been a Sith since Darth Bane (barring one exception) and why the Banite Sith tend to rot while still living, the longer they are immersed in the Dark Side.  Dooku did not rot because he had done the rituals as a Jedi, though he had not dedicated himself specifically to the Dark, so he never took on the title of True Sith. Ventress, through her training with Ky Narec, had also completed most of the Jedi rituals, meaning she was not a Sith but as closer to it than Palpatine. It was actually Maul who, in growing up submerged in the Dark like he had been, accidentally completed a version of the lost second ritual, and became a True Sith in the old meaning of the word. 
These rituals are meant to immerse a Force Sensitive in the Force itself, giving the connection more strength than it would have otherwise.  The Force abilities that we see the Jedi, and the Sith use, are because of the Rituals and why those that do not go through either version have much subtler/weaker abilities. It also means that the Jedi (and the Sith of old+Maul) give off the eerie impression that, no matter the size or species, they are somehow so much larger than they appear. That there is something beneath their skin trying to get out. Also being plugged directly into Force in the way that they are skews the way they view reality.   It can be hard for the Jedi to connect with beings that are not at least a little Force Sensitive and the Jedi care deeply, but sometimes cannot see what the actual problem is (saying ‘there is no death there is only the force’ is not meant to be a trite saying nor do many of the Jedi quite understand why it is not as comforting as they think it is).
At the beginning of the Clone Wars, both the Jedi and the Clones hide their eldritch nature from each other. Both groups had experienced how showing their nature to the wrong people can break minds and they had no wish to hurt the other. 
The first sign that something was…strange was how in sync both groups were.  The Jedi marveled that the clones never cringed at the sight of them (and that which moved under their skin when they lost focus). The Clones were ecstatic that the Jedi never questioned when they had knowledge they should not have, nor the few occasions when multiple clones spoke from the same mouth.  
Nat born officers would make comments, not directly but meant to be overheard, how the Jedi Padawans grew more ‘other’ every time they visited the Temple on Coruscant. The clones would only stare blankly, to them it seemed like the Padawans were simply growing into themselves. 
Various Jedi and clones began to fall into love (Familial, romantic, sexual, platonic, and other).  It is Depa Billaba and Gray who first confess, and in confessing reveal their respective natures (Depa is the one who made the first move-as soon as the Clones knew of the Jedi’s nature they each sought out their Jedi).
The main reason that Jedi do not get in romantic relationships with non Force Sensitives (and Padme has no Force Sensitivity) is that theri nature pushes them to connect at the deepest level they can with their loved ones.  This can mentally damage non Force Sensitives.
For Obi Wan, if Cody had not confessed, Obi Wan never would have.  He had tried, before, to have romantic relationships with non force sensitives. A few times he had even managed to deny his own nature until the relationship dissolved naturally (Obi Wan, like most Jedi could be…odd, even when trying to fit in). It had become clear through his life that it just was not worth the pain to act on those kinds of feelings.  The knowledge that Cody could bond with him fully, was interested in him both romantically and sexually was a joy. Obi Wan was not even off put that by dating on clone, he was in affect dating all of the clones at once (who were also dating other Jedi)
Sometimes the Clones and Jedi switched partners. For instance Mace Windu, who was primarily dating Ponds, loved the Theater, which Ponds was ambivalent about but Bly also loved the theater (which Aayla actively disliked). So Bly and Mace had a standing monthly date night to a variety of theaters all over the galaxy, and at least once a year end up acting in a performance. Or how Fox was one of the only Clones that was not bored stupid at the Anniversary Ball, a pretentious event of a small but rich mid rim planet to celebrate the ratifying of a treaty, that Obi Wan is required to go to every year (even the years he was actively at war). So Fox is Obi Wan’s date, while Cody and Vos (who primarily dated the Coruscant Guard), would use the night to break up some kind of ring(slavery, drugs, smuggling, etc.)
Rex found that he fit neatly into Padme and Anakin’s relationship, somehow providing a stabilizing influence on their bond.  Padme and Anakin had bonded after the first battle of Geonosis but it was a case of Anakin being young and stupid and reckless, and Padme not actually understanding what Anakin was talking about when he tried to explain the risks (She thought he was saying that it might hurt her, and she was reassuring him that she trust him to be careful. He thought she was saying that she knew about the risks and was Force Sensitive enough to not be harmed).  There was already some damage done to  Padme’s mind (mostly in terms of willpower, personality, and impulse control) by the time Rex joined the bond, and not all of it was correctable, but most was. 
It is not the Jedi and the Clones that disrupt Palpatine’s plans (though the chips never worked, so eventually they would have). It was Dooku, Ventress, and Maul. Maul was the first True Sith, though it was accidental, in almost 1000 years. Dooku knew what it meant to be Jedi/Sith in the original sense and could tell that Palpatine did not. Ventress, like Dooku, had gone through the Jedi versions of the rituals (those rituals may have been passed down since before the split, but time had caused a bit of difference).  Because Palpatine has the deeper connection to the Force but not release valve, for lack of a better term, he is more immediately powerful but in the long run is doing far more damage to himself than he realizes.  Sometime before Maul would have gone after Satine, he encounters Ventress, who recognizes him as an actual Sith and brings him to Dooku. 
These three decide that they are going to destroy Palpatine (for being a Pretended Sith) and rebuild the actual Sith Order with the full Sith rituals. Maul is a bit surprised to realize that he, by himself, is more than a match for Palpatine (Since this was the man that had tormented him since childhood; he always had the picture that Palptine was bigger than life). Dooku then publishes all of the wrong doings he knew of from Palpatine’s entire circle-CIS and Republic alike- (and he knew about 80% of what was eventually uncovered). Then all three of them fuck off to Morriban to begin their research into resurrecting the Sith Order. 
The Jedi Order and the Clones collectively decide to let them, on the basis that at least they know where the three Sith are and it keeps them busy.
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bitchesgetriches · 3 months
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Dear bitches, I have a question that may benefit the class: I'm lucky to have a job that has a very generous 15 day sick leave policy, and no health issues that would make me take it - except that I also have the copper IUD that gives me horrid cramps on day 1 of my period, for just about 24 hours exactly.
What is the business speak for 'I'm taking a sick day today because of my period'? What is the general business speak for 'I won't be here for a day for health reasons' that doesn't imply contagion or invite questions about how I'm feeling when I come back? Thank you and I hope you know JUST how appreciated you are (seriously, who else would I ask this to)
Sweetie pie... we LOVE that we're the ones you choose to ask this of. This is all we ever wanted--for strangers on the internet to talk to us about their periods!
(Sidenote: I, Piggy, also currently have an IUD, and it leads to practically ZERO symptoms of menstruation. I don't bleed, I don't get cramps, I don't experience mood swings. About once per year my face breaks out in zits and I bleed a small amount for a few hours. That's it. I fucking love it. So readers, just keep in mind that everyone's body is different and your symptoms may vary on any medication. I DIGRESS.)
The #1 thing to keep in mind is that your employer is not entitled to any confidential medical information. If you have cancer, they don't have a right to that information. If you've got a headache, they don't have a right to know. If you're considering a cosmetic surgery, a gender alignment surgery, or any other surgery... they don't need to know. So if you're menstruating and it hurts, they definitely don't get to know.
So my preference would be to go with the direct approach. If you're cramping and you want to take a sick day, just tell your employer "I'm taking a sick day." If they press for details, say "I'll see you tomorrow. :)" If they keep pressing, remind them that they are not legally entitled to your confidential medical information.
But if you'd rather not be direct (and who could blame you?) just tell them you "got food poisoning from the mussels at that place off of i70--you know the one? Yeah last time I'll make that mistake, even if I do have a Groupon. I didn't know puke could even BE that color!" Food poisoning is gross and temporary and tends to dissuade further questions.
Blood Money: Menstrual Products for Surviving Your Period While Poor 
Workplace Benefits and Other Cool Side Effects of Employment 
If we just helped you out, tip us!
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Prompt: The Prefect's Obsession.
Pairing: Yandere!Prefect/ Yuu and Reader/ Player (can be read as platonic or romantic)
Genre: Yandere
TW: Obsessive behaviour...? Let me know if anything else should be added ^^ (Reader and Yuu are two different individuals.)
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AN: I initially had the prompt 'obsession', but reading @roseapov 's Player and Overseer thing gave me this idea; what if Yuu was more than just a puppet, and equally as obsessed with the player as the rest of the twst cast? I'm trying to explore how to write more unsettling kind of stuff, since I'm pretty good at writing regular ol' angst and fluff if I do say so myself ^^ somehow twst brings out this side of me lol. Anyways, as always, I hope you enjoy!
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The Prefect was made aware of your presence in their life during the first ever battle they fought, against the blot monster in the Dwarves' Mines.
They remember the rush of energy that filled them, the authority with which they barked out orders for their friends to fight. The intensity of the battle had had little effect on them (even though a small part in the back of their brain said that they should have been freaking out) as they instructed their friends, while their own strings were pulled by another.
Till then, the Prefect had only felt someone's intent gaze, even when no one was there. At times a little rhythm would be thrumming under their skin, sometimes soft and slow, other times fast-paced and exhilarating. But the way you had possessed their body, taken over their actions to lead them and their friends to victory, was what astonished and scared them the most.
They hated it at first. After all, who would like to have no control over their actions in a life-or-death situation? But as time went by, and you led them to victory and safety so many more times, the Prefect grew fonder of you.
The many hours you spent, watching them repair Ramshackle or handle Grim and the rest of the first years endeared you to them. You were so patient, so kind-hearted to be helping this magicless human navigate the challenges of being transported to a magical world. Their desire to know you, to thank you grew day by day, minute by minute. After all, without your help they would not have gotten this far. Somewhere, the lines between genuine gratefulness and blinded devotion blurred, and the Prefect had no intention of redrawing those lines, ever again.
They could tell when you weren't with them. The lightness they felt when under your watchful (and loving, hopefully) eyes would go away sometimes, leaving them to mindlessly wander, waiting for you to come back. Of course, they wouldn't hold your occasional absences against you. They couldn't even bring themself to think something so blasphemous as to hold a grudge against you. But they also couldn't suppress the fear and anxiety that ate away at them each time you left, wondering whether you would come back, when you would come back, and how long you would stay with them the next time.
You, who they had never seen, had more of an impact and importance in their life than the boys of the seven dorms they had become fast friends with.
A conversation with Riddle after one of their lessons together revealed that the boys were also aware of a greater entity watching over them. They called you by a special name, one initially used by Idia and then adopted by everyone else.
Player.
Prefect tested the word, satisfied by the way it rolled off their tongue. Because they control us, just like a player would their game characters.
The Prefect became the subject of more attention fairly quickly after it became known that they were aware of the player and not just a oblivious puppet as Azul had theorized earlier. Considering that you used the Prefect exclusively to interact with everyone, the boys would try to spend as much time as they could in their presence, in hopes of feeling the your 'grace' and monopolizing it. It was just a feeling, one that they could all experience but none could explain. Your presence through the Prefect calmed them. Even when they thought themselves to be alright, the feeling of your presence would help soothe parts of themself they weren't aware needed soothing.
But the Prefect...They hated it.
The way they all milled around them, hungry for any indication of your presence, your validation. The way they stuck close to them, waiting to bask in the familiar warmth and calm that surrounded the Prefect when you visited them. To the Prefect, they were quickly turning from friends to insistent, irritating flies buzzing around.
Nobody deserved to be in your presence. Nobody but them. Because you chose the Prefect as your vessel, a blank slate for you to use to mercifully interfere in the lives of those who didn't deserve you.
The Prefect felt a sense of pride at the thought of being your puppet, at your mercy and for you to do what you wish with them. No greater honour could have been conferred to them and their existence than to create miracles in your name, under your guidance.
Of course, this... devotion meant that the Prefect often wondered about you. While you watched over them as they attended their lessons, the Prefect wondered if you liked to learn History; perhaps you were more into sports and fitness. Or perhaps alchemy was more your pace?
The Prefect also liked to imagine that their features somewhat mirrored yours. Perhaps your eyes were similar, or the curve of your nose, or perhaps your skin tone. After all, there must be something common between an entity and their vessel, to show that they are bound to each other, right?
As they looked down at your fallen form, however, they could not see any similarity. Not even a passing resemblance.
You were different, breathtakingly so.
Having spent the most amount of time in your presence, there was no way the Prefect could have made a mistake. The light sheen of grace that clung to your skin was enough of an indicator of your identity. The Prefect watched, mesmerized by your (e/c) eyes that held a mix of awe and curiosity, your apologies for bumping into them ignored in favour of staring at your face, searing each and every feature into their brain.
The Player.
The player was in Twisted Wonderland.
The player was in Twisted Wonderland?
But how?
Briefly, as Yuu extended a hand to help you up, they wondered if you had been unceremoniously dumped into this twisted world of magic and monsters, the same way they had. Their blood began boiling under their skin at the thought that some being (could this mean there were beings greater than you?) would treat you so carelessly, as if you did not hold power over some of the most important figures in Twisted Wonderland.
Prefect watched you stand with their help, a soft and grateful "Thank you," slipping through your lips and setting their every nerve on fire. The timbre of your voice, the slight awe in your words and the grateful light in your eyes as you looked at them, it was all so much. Too much, and yet still not nearly enough.
And then, a small voice spoke up from deep within them. 'The Player is here. And nobody knows.'
For if they had, if they had the slightest of an inkling that their beloved deity was amongst them, the housewardens would do their best to have you for themselves. Each dorm would declare an outright war on the others if it meant having you by their side.
But if you could be persuaded to join one before the others even found out...
They gave you a big smile, reverently noting the slight blush you sported. How cute. "No need to apologize. I wasn't looking where I was going either. But.. I haven't seen you around here before. I'm Yuu, what's your name?" They asked, hoping to not scare you off by seeming over eager.
"Ah, I'm (Name)," you answered, a bashful smile on your face. They cooed over your warm smile and sparkling eyes internally. So naive, so trusting; no wonder you cared about everyone, even those that had hurt your vessel, and by extension, you.
"I'm in the process of transferring from Aravae Arcane Academy," you continued, and their smile almost slipped from their face. You were in the process of transferring into Night Raven College? That too, from an obscure academy situated Sevens knows where? How long had it been since you had decided to grace Twisted Wonderland with your actual presence? How long had they been unaware of their beloved deity being so close? How long had they been unable to serve you as they should have?
The Prefect pushed the thoughts down, deep down, where it would never see the light of day ever again. You were here. Through some miracle, you were right in front of them, where they could touch you if you permitted (for they would never lay a hand on you without your permission).
And you would stay. The Prefect would go through it all again, fight the Great Seven even, if only to ensure that you would stay close to them. Where they could bask in your glory and serve you as they are meant to. A loyal follower devoting their heart, soul and mind to their beloved deity.
Your expression changed into one of slight embarassment and awkwardness, and that is when the Prefect realized they might have been just a little too intent with their staring. Nervously chuckling, they said, "Ah, okay. That explains it, I guess."
You chuckled as well, and the Prefect felt as though fate was smiling down upon them. This, this was their reward for going through all that they had. This was what they were meant for. "Yeah... I am kinda lost though. I was supposed to meet the Headmage, but..." You trailed off, and they nodded understandingly.
"Yeah, the grounds can be real hard to navigate. But don't worry! I'll help you get to the Headmage's office. He should be there, if he's not doing any surprise class supervisions today," they chirped.
"That would be nice. Oh, but, I don't want to trouble you. I mean, you must be busy..."
"It's no problem, really! I'm always happy to help!"
"Oh, well... If its not much trouble, please lead the way."
"Sure! Oh, by the way, do you have any dorm you'd like to be in? I know the Dark Mirror sorts students into dorms, but people do change their dorms sometimes if they want to..."
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whereserpentswalk · 7 months
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You've been bitten by a werewolf. You didn't realize it at first of course. You were upstate on a camping trip and what looked like a distressed and out of place wolf just went up to you, and as you tried to fend it off with a rake it bit you. You assumed it was an escaped illegal pet due to how rare wolves are nowadays, but you were screened for rabies anyway just due to the way it behaved. Turns out it's a werewolf.
You're terrified, terrified that you'll hurt someone, possibly even someone you love. The suggestion that almost every piece of media about werewolves has given you is that you're a danger to everyone around you. The only two methods of dealing with it that you know of are taking drugs with life altering side effects, or being locked somewhere for the night.
Before even the first full moon of the month you look at a form for other werewolves. Turns out a lot of people who are freshly bitten have these types of fears and come there for help. The form explicitly discourages anyone from thinking of themselves as dangerous. There are almost no lethal werewolf attacks, any safety tips they have for you are going to purely center around the fact that humans might hurt you while you're a wolf. Especially for an urban werewolf like you where being caught risks institutionalization, something you though of as neutral but most of the form is very much agaisnt.
Their main suggestion for your safety is to stay with a freind who has space to take care of you, someone who you know well enough so that you'll trust even while in full wolf form. If you can go somewhere forested for the night, though that's more a tip about enjoying being a wolf then being at your maximum safety.
You also probably will be a creature somewhere between a wolf and a human for the nights before and after the full moon, depending on the exact nature of your condition you might experience some amount of partial change for up to about ten days out of the month. When that starts to happen the assumption is that you'll have enough of your mind to be able to be alone, and the suggestion is just that you stay in an area where people are accepting.
Your first night is the night before the full moon. Your half wolf half human for the entire night. Your worried you'll slip away from your identity so much that you'll hurt someone. You don't. Everything is largely fine. You're worried though. So very worried.
The next night you stay with a freind, as they suggested. You don't remember anything. Your freind said that they were afraid of you at first, ready to shoot you with a shotgun you didn't know they had. But in the end you just sort of sat there like a big dog, and trusted them as much as you would when you were in human form.
As time goes on it becomes more casual. You don't think of it as a big deal. You realize how low the likelihood of actually hurting someone is. Some full moons you spend being protected by freinds and treated like a weird pet, other nights you go to the woods, and enjoy the feelings of running around. The nights before and after the full moon, you just treat like any other night, only really having to deal with people's perception of you as a difference.
Over time you learn how people treat you differently. You have to disclose everything to your employer, which makes finding a job far harder. It's harder to rent an apartment. Most first world countires outside America won't let you in. You can't buy a weapon in most states, can't get most insurance. Even the medical system has set you to automatically do not resuscitate. You can't even really date outside the werewolf community now, or occasionally withbrealated communities like witches or vampires, but most normal humans don't trust you.
People who know you worry to much. They suggest every restrictive solution you discarded in the first month. People want you to move "somewhere safer", wherever that it. They want you to take things you know won't cure you, or buy into whatever pseudoscience they've gotten a hold of. People are worried you'll hurt someone even when you're so very sure you'll be fine.
It was never that you were a wolf. It was that everyone else was that everyone else thought of you as one.
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pumpkinbirth · 5 months
Note
Potion Game
Base- alien
Add-ons- rapid pregnancy, orgasmic birth
Despite how straightforward this "experiment" seemed, it didn't do much to curb your nerves.
While you and the rest of the world were still reeling over the confirmation that humans most certainly were not alone in the universe, the government higher ups (who had apparently been privy to this fact for years) were already well into various negotiations and experiments with the extraterrestrials, such as the one you currently found yourself volunteered for.
You see, the other life that was out there was dwindling, much faster than they would like. So once it was revealed that our genetic makeup had even the possibility of compatibility, talks of crossbreeding soon followed.
Everyone stood to benefit, it seemed; they'd postpone their extinction, and humanity would have the chance to access even greater evolution. As for you, well...you'd just have to find out.
---
This brought you to now, sitting in a small observation room. To your relief it wasn't the metallic, brightly lit room you were dreading, but rather was lit by a dim, warm light. The aliens, which were surprisingly similar to the greys of pop culture, had made it clear that harsh lighting would disturb and potentially damage their offspring's eyes.
Your eyes flicked to the two way mirror on the wall facing you, where scientists of both species had already been monitoring you for a couple hours now, starting right when you'd been successfully inseminated. Mentally you ran through how the experiment would go, provided it went smoothly; you were to remain in the observation room for the entirety of your pregnancy, which if the aliens were to be believed would be blissfully short, three days to a week at most. You were also to give birth by yourself, they would only intervene if it seemed like things were going south. The reason for this was apparently so the experiment wouldn't be sullied by invasive methods from either side; simply put, the baby would dictate how it would be born. The last thing, something the translator had relayed with an interesting expression, was that this experience would be "far more pleasant than you would expect".
---
Ten hours in, the scientists in the next room watched as you repositioned yourself on the bed provided. The thin fabric of your hospital gown, which had been baggy on you that morning, was now stretched tightly over your newly swollen belly. Every now and then someone would come in to measure and photograph you, which you still found yourself being self conscious of every time.
To the untrained eye it looked like you were experiencing a normal pregnancy, except for a couple odd details. Your belly was flushed with a faint purple hue, which they had hypothesized was the fetus' blood mixing with yours in the placenta. The other detail was that you were sweating, but not with exertion or discomfort, far from it. That cryptic little hint from the translator turned out to be alluding to a natural chemical released by their hormones, which apparently induced an aphrodisiac effect in humans.
The scientists encouraged you to respond to any impulses or urges you felt, provided that it wouldn't harm you or the baby. While you were still very aware of being watched, the sensations became gradually impossible to ignore.
Three more hours went by and you'd shed the gown, sitting upright in the bed with your back supported by pillows. With one hand you cradled your belly, now visually comparable to a full term pregnancy, while your other was nestled between your spread legs, slick sounds hanging in the air as you sunk two fingers into yourself. Your thumb pressed and circled your swollen clit as you worked to bring yourself to yet another orgasm, having lost count of which one this was.
This one felt like it was going to be different, although you were too lost in the pleasure to voice this to them. Instead your fingers worked faster, your hips lifting as much as they could, and with a cry you finally felt the pressure come to a head as you came hard. An unfamiliar sensation washed over you, and your cheeks flushed as you felt a torrent of fluid gush out of you.
Panting softly you reached down to inspect it, finding your fingers coated with a slightly viscous violet liquid, what you assumed was your 'water'. It had definitely caught your off guard, considering you hadn't been experiencing conventional contractions. Gradually you realized that it was the intensifying pleasure that was leading up to your advancing labor, not pain.
Your heart raced as both you and the scientists realized that this was progressing much faster than they'd estimated; if things continued at this rate then you'd have experienced a full pregnancy and birth in under 24 hours. Before you could think about it any more you felt the odd pressure of your belly shifting, dropping as your alien baby began its descent.
Leaning back against your pillows you spread your legs wider, giving a clear view of the flushed lips of your cunt as you moaned through another pleasureful contraction. All shyness was fully out the window now, and you could think of nothing but just how wonderful it felt to give birth, the hormones doing their job perfectly. It wasn't long before you felt the urge to push, and you gave in without hesitation, the resulting orgasm making you squirt even more of the syrupy amniotic fluid.
In the adjacent room both groups of scientists were dutifully noting everything, some of them doing their best to ignore how much the sight and sound of your birthing was arousing them. This became more difficult as they watched you beginning to crown, the swollen lips of your cunt gradually stretching to accommodate a much larger head than it would with a human baby. Surely the aphrodisiac hormones was the aliens evolving an incentive for reproducing; one is more likely to want to give birth if it feels good, after all.
Back in the observation room you were panting heavily, voice hoarse from cumming so many times over the course of the day. You obeyed your body's urges and bore down hard, fluid leaking steadily out of you as you successfully pushed out the head. The overstimulation had you mewling desperately, and as good as this felt you were ready for it to come to an end. The hardest part was done, though, and a few more good pushes had the rest of the experiment slipping free from you.
A pair of scientists in protective gear swiftly entered, retrieving the baby before you could even ask about it. A twinge of sadness tugged at your heart, but you soon let it go. After all, now that the experiment was more or less successful, you suspected you'd have the chance to do this many more times.
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