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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

Note

Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down.

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust. I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further. Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man.

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him.

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him.

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock.

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two?

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth?

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was.

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects.

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth?

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone.

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm.

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside.

. . .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy.

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck.

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun."

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest.

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant.

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?"

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us."

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient.

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy.

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide.

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding.

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?"

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great…

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?"

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch.

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower.

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear.

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–"

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you.

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…"

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside.

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen.

"Yes."

#ghost x you #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #ghost fluff #is this too soft?#is there such a thing as too soft #omg I think I'm part of the Ghost babygirl crew now #i accept my fate #also no beta we die like men

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bagopucks · 5 months

Text

J. Hughes - Can’t Break Up Now [Old Dominion & Megan Moroney]

✄————————————

Jack Hughes x Fem!reader

Word Count: 904

Warning(s): talk of major fight, self deprecating thoughts, thoughts of self harm

I promise this fic will not hit the same if you don’t listen to the song while reading. This song quickly became my favorite as soon as I heard it, and I knew it just had to be a Jack fic.

—————————————

You know the color of my coffee

Too many t-shirts in my closet that you bought me

At this point, I can't unlearn the things you've taught me

About myself

It was our biggest fight yet. Jack and I had both said things we didn’t mean. We were scared of the unknown. Scared of a disagreement with our future. Jack had merely said he could easily see himself leaving the city if he ever got traded. But I had a stable job and family here. I couldn’t leave…

I had been frozen in shock when the door slammed shut. He’d left. Perhaps rightfully so. I’d called him horrible things. I broke down on the carpet in the bedroom when he left.

You pick the music when I'm driving

Your mama always takes my side when you fight me

And these days, my dog likes you more than he likes me

You can just tell

Jack hadn’t thought the answer through, and in the end he got too defensive to admit how wrong he was. When he left he didn’t know where he was headed. Jack just knew he was going somewhere. The yelling, the accusations, the hateful words spoken… they’d all been too much.

Jack gripped the steering wheel of his car impossibly tighter than before. His knuckles were white. He wanted to pull the wheel and turn himself into oncoming traffic. He wanted to spend his life with this woman. What had he done?

So what am I supposed to, unlisten to every song written?

Take you out of every melody?

You know my secrets, my demons, and I know your weaknesses

All of your doubts and your dreams

Jack knew she was alone, just as he was. Crying, panicking, asking herself what to do. He just couldn’t bring himself to go back. He didn’t know how to face her. But where were they supposed to go from here? The only way to know was if they could talk it out. Jack knew if they didn’t talk, it had a 100% chance of ending badly. Maybe if they spoke they could fix it.

So we

Can't break up now

No, we

Can't break up now

Four years. Four solid years of loving and growing. There for each other in every scenario. Every rise and fall. Every accomplishment and failure. There was such a deep history, how could they end things?

I hate the thought of starting over

If you left, I know I'd never get closure

Can't imagine letting anyone get closer

Than you are to me, oh

I flicked through photos in my phone, scaling back too many years. If I deleted them, four years of my life would be gone. Four years of so much effort. How could I leave him? I folded my legs beneath myself on our bed. Our bed. I needed Jack. The photos on the wall? His clothes? His towels in my bathroom. His dishes in my cabinets. His movies, his gaming consoles, his furniture. Everything would be gone.

Yeah, I'll battle this out all night 'till we fix it

If the ship's going down, I'm going down with it

Time alone did nothing to ease either mind. So perhaps it was better to be together.

Your friends are my friends

Jack turned his car around the moment he knew what he wanted.

I start where you end

I stood from the bed to leave the room. I decided I’d leave the front door unlocked. Yet when I got there, I couldn’t gain the courage to actually unlock it. Instead I sat against the wall next to the door, waiting to hear his knock. His voice.

We've got too much history

This was the right choice.

So we

Can't break up now

No, we

Can't break up now

We've come too far and we're in too deep

We love too hard just to let it go

So we

Can't break up now, oh

It didn’t take Jack long to drive back to the apartment. Mostly because he was speeding. He’d tried to fix his disheveled appearance before knocking on the door, plastered with fake gold numbers that clacked every time the door shook.

So what am I supposed to, unlisten to every song written?

Take you out of every melody?

I shot up at the sound, no hesitation in my body this time as I unlocked the door and opened it. We were met with one another’s faces, silent, blank. Where would this go?

No, we

Can't break up now

No, we

Can't break up now

“I’m so sorry..” Jack’s broken voice reached my ears. “I love you so much.”

No, we

Can't break up now

No, we

Can't break up now

“God Jack I never should have said any of that.” I fell into his arms, quiet sobs falling from our lips as we held each other tightly.

We've come too far and we're in too deep

We love too hard just to let it go

“Please let me in,” Jack whispered against my neck. It wasn’t even a question as to whether I would or not.

So we

Can't break up now

“Come in, honey.. let’s sit down.” I held onto his hand as I ushered him in, tears streaming down both of our faces.

No, we

Can't break up now, oh

It was better to heal together than alone.

Can't break up now

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #songfic #song fic #ella’s updates

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drdemonprince · 8 months

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Can we really expand our window of tolerance as autistic people? I’ve been working on that kind of thing for so long and I can’t tell if I’ve made any genuine progress or if I’ve just unconsciously doubled down on masking :(

We can! But our expanded distress tolerance can't come out of nowhere. Something has to give. So for example, for me, I have way fewer sensory issues these days than I used to have, by a wide margin, and I have significantly less social anxiety and don't need much social recharge time on the level that I used to. I have more distress tolerance for sensory input and for social stressors now than I ever have before -- but this has required lifestyle changes and unmasking in order to get there. Let me break down both these improvements and how they happened:

Even as recently as a year ago, I would have terrible sensory meltdowns on a regular basis. But I haven't had a single sensory meltdown in months, maybe not even a single one for the entirety of 2023 so far? And that's because I have a) cut out caffeine, dramatically reducing my physiological stress levels, b) cut back on some workplace stress by reducing my commitments, c) stopped taking on additional projects outside of work that I didn't want to do and that only caused me stress (workshops and talks), and d) began working from home far more consistently, and made myself a wfh office that is more comfortable.

Now I operate from a really solid base of sensory comfort most days and I'm not overloaded with information or overwhelmed with obligations. This means I am far more tolerant of screaming people on the bus, the upstairs toddler slamming her feet on the floor, ambulances blaring by, noisy concerts, people bumping into me at the bar, etc.

I also am, for the first time in my life, clear-headed enough to recognize when I am starting to experience sensory distress, and can intentionally put on sunglasses or pop in ear plugs or remove myself from an upsetting situation more quickly. I had to experience what being relaxed and not overstimulated felt like, and get accustomed to living that way, in order to recognize subtler signs that I was feeling shitty and take steps to address those small annoyances before they exploded. I can handle a lot "more" in an intentional way now because I built my life to allow "less." My overall distress tolerance has still expanded -- but it's because I stopped masking and began attending to my sensory and stress regulation needs.

For the social piece, my distress tolerance has also gone up due to unmasking. If I was still motivated by passing as NT or being socially acceptable all the time, I'd be so overwhelmed being around people and worn down by every interaction. I also wouldnt be able to advocate for myself. But in the past few years I've become more and more openly weird and outspoken in my needs and true feelings, and I've recognized that the right people actually love me more when I do so and show up for me, and so being honest or even difficult to deal with is not really a threat.

This means I just don't experience much distress being honest or difficult to deal with anymore. I really can tolerate the discomfort of telling someone they're wrong or that I'm hurt without freaking out about being hurt or abandoned, because I've had a lot of good experiences with it and because I enjoy being unmasked so deeply that I just can't put my personality back in a bottle.

Masking lowers distress tolerance because it frays your nerves with stress and wears you out and bars you from ever getting to attend to and regulate your discomfort when there are signs of it happening. In order to increase your distress tolerance, you actually have to learn to better honor your discomfort early, and preventatively, so that you don't bubble over into a meltdown after days or weeks of ignoring your needs.

I think some people think distress tolerance is about becoming more tough, but it's quite the opposite. We become more resilient by getting better at recognizing and attending to our hurts.

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tadpoles-and-daydreams · 20 days

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Just so y'all know, I'm pouring some of my soul out in this post. It gets emotional-please mind the gaslighting tw <3 There's no pressure to read this, I just feel this needs to be said and hopefully will help someone out there.

In case this helps someone, the reason I say "Telling witchlings/baby witches that negative entities will pretend to be deities, or that they can't trust their deities is damaging" is because it damaged my craft directly. Not only as a witchling, but even now.

When I first started it was because I hid that I was working with Persephone from everyone except close friends, because I was scared I would be judged. Persephone came to me, and I had no reason to ignore the call. There was no questioning whether it was truly a goddess that had stepped into my head when I woke up from the fever dream (affectionate) that she sent me with the name "Persephone" blaring in my head.

Even now, Loki spent a solid chunk last night, late as hell, sitting with me while I spiraled. And it was a bad spiral, at least by my standards. I'm really good at gaslighting myself, not-so-fun fact, and I saw something talking about people convincing themselves that deities were around when really it was just their own imagination. I understand that that post might be helpful to some, so if anyone knows what post I'm talking about PLEASE do not attack them. And if you happen to have posted that, PLEASE do not continue reading this post and please don't feel bad. I don't remember if it was in my following or for you or your tags- but that's not the point.

The point is, of course my brain decided that today was the day to fuck me up! Yayyyyy. /s I had already been, due to some recent information I got about where my deity work will be going (that's a separate post) questioning the validity of my craft. Who the HELL am I to do that sort of work? Why me? I'm just some dude. I'm not even "just some dude" I'm some dude who actively struggles to do just about anything in life. Y'all I was having A TimeTM and seeing that post was the final straw.

So I sat there, cards in hand, completely unable to get any direct communication from Loki because my head was too loud and I was questioning whether or not they were even real at all. And I've gone from "trickster energy = asshole who laughs at others" to trusting Loki with all I have so quickly, because they sat with me. I could feel them even if I couldn't "hear" them. Card after card telling me I'm supported, I'm on the right path, what I've been told I'm meant to do is my path and not some "'chosen one' bullshit" as I remember wording it. Nothing but love and support. I pulled The Fool twice, which just felt like a nudge of "Hey, I really am here." (For those of you who may not know, The Fool is associated with Loki!)

This is.... a vulnerable thing to put in a tumblr post, but I leave it here anyway. I did get one thing from him, as I was going to bed. I thanked them for staying, even when I was too stressed and overwhelmed to hear them. And somewhere in the back of my mind, very firmly, I get; "I will ALWAYS be here." Long pause at the implication, because I know that deities often come and go just like people. "Always?" "Mhm." cue the clear image of them grinning.

So, apparently, Loki is here to stay with me for good. I'm so grateful to have them in my life.

But this is what I mean when I say it's bad to scare the witchlings. That post scared me, outright triggered me, and I've been around witchcraft my whole life and actively practicing for four years. Please stop telling people they're "just imagining" their deities.

#witchcraft #paganism #witchblr #pagan witch #pagan #eclectic pagan #paganblr #witch community #deity work #witch blog #tw gaslighting #tw gaslighting mention

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moondancediner · 2 years

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daydreaming - i

summary: it's hard to run away from your past when your ghosts keep walking through the front door - and Tess Mitchell is no stranger to ghosts

bradley bradshaw x tess mitchell

word count: 3.5k

warnings: swearing, chaotic lovers, small age gap (around 5-6 years), daddy issues, best friends to lovers but it's complicated af and no i will not be apologizing, cliffhanger?

a/n: okay wow this was gonna be a cute little quick thing and it turned into a multiple parter? question mark question mark... idk how many parts but this hoe got away from me real fast she's almost at 10k already...

This was going to be a reader-insert but the character bloomed before my eyes and here's Tess Mitchell she's my fav we love her.

Italics are flashbacks, regular text is present day

Also, Rooster is an ass man you can't change my mind.

masterlist || pt.II

you know, i'll be gone for so long,

so give me all of your love, give me something to dream about

“Rooster,” she whined, turning her back to the pool table and leaning a wobbly hip on its wooden edge to look for her husband, her lips turning slightly downward. She spotted him right away, like a moth to flame it was never hard to miss him.

“Yeah, baby?” The beer bottle dropped from his lips as he looked at her, heart nearly stopping at the sight.

“I need help,” she drunkenly pouted.

“With what, sweetheart?” He hadn’t moved from his spot, the both of them raising their voices across the crowd of friends.

“I forgot how to play pool,” she shrugged, pool stick in hand, the same one she’d been losing with for a good twenty minutes now, “I need you to show me,” and Rooster nearly choked on his beer. He loved drunk Tess.

“Well, it just so happens that I’m a master pool player, my love,”

“Is that so?” She asked, looking up at him. He towered over her, all six delicious feet of him, his own body locking her into her spot.

“Oh, absolutely,” his sly wink sent shivers down her spine. He downed what remained of his beer, setting it on the nearest table before turning back to assess her. “Alright. Righty or lefty?”

“I’m ambidextrous,” it was her turn to wink now.

“Jesus, woman, you’re tryna kill me, you know that?” He placed his hands on her hips while she laughed, turning her around then taking the pool cue out of her hand. “Alright, so put your right hand here, and your left hand here… and then you line up…” His right arm left the cue, circling around her waist, thumb hooking in the belt loop of her shorts as he leaned them both over the table, sweaty bodies gluing together.

The pool table under her body was gone. The people around them were gone. Phoenix, rolling her eyes at the other end of the table, patiently awaiting her turn - gone. All she could think about was his mouth whispering against the shell of her ear.

“Now,” another shiver racked her spine, “are you stripes or solids?” He lowered his voice and it took everything Tess had not to lose her clothes right then and there.

“I… really couldn’t tell you,” because all she could think about was that every inch of him was pressed against every inch of her back and his arm was keeping her ass anchored to his crotch, pinning her between the table and himself. His laugh in her ear was sinful. He stood up straight and she followed him, not willing to risk the loss of contact.

“Phoenix, help me out here,” he asked the girl across the table. Phoenix rolled her eyes, but told him; stripes, and will you hurry up, please? “Alright, baby, here we go,” he leaned the both of them back over, lining up the shot to the correct ball this time, “whenever you’re ready Hotshot,”

The sound of her callsign brought her back to that first night. When he walked through those bar doors, clad in his dad’s Hawaiian shirt not unlike the one he wore tonight.

Tess did a double take when Rooster walked into the bar. She had never met Goose, was born after he died and never had the honor, but from all the pictures she’s seen of him throughout her life, it might as well have been him walking through those doors. Hawaiian shirt, aviator sunglasses, and a smile that screamed trouble.

She thought she’d had enough shock for one day when her father walked through those same doors not too long ago, but here this was.

Her heart nearly stopped. Tess Mitchell was a planner. Things did not simply happen to her. Her life had been out of control for as long as she could remember. Pete Mitchell did not follow anyones rules or schedules, so Tess made her own. He was the only wild card in her life because she allowed him to be. She went to college in a town with no military affiliation, nowhere near a base or a landing strip. And even though she bounced around from town to town, state to state, it was never hard to find a teaching job. Until schools stopped hiring new teachers, and started firing them instead.

Losing her teaching job was a wild card she’d never anticipated - last one hired, first one fired turned out to be more than a cautionary tale- but lucky for her, her dad's old friend Penny Benjamin owned a bar in Miramar and was looking for a new bartender.

And even luckier for her, she didn’t know any naval aviators in the area.

Until now of course.

She knew where Rooster was all the time, kept track of him because nobody else was. And he was not supposed to be here. He was supposed to be overseas, not in Miramar California. Not walking into this bar. Not about to go on whatever dangerous mission Maverick was going to be taking him on.

He rounded the bar, not seeing her, heading straight for the uniformed pilots hanging around the pool table. She noticed Maverick turning his own head away, avoiding Bradley’s eyes and the history that lay there. Their tension settled into Tess’s bones, rattling them further.

“Hey, Hotshot,” Hangman’s voice broke Tess’s trance, “four more on the old timer,” he said, chin nodding towards Maverick across the bar.

She pulled the four bottles out of the fridge, holding them to her chest with one arm before popping all the tops off with the bottle opener in her other hand in quick succession, setting them on the counter in front of the blonde.

“Now I know why they call you Hotshot,” Hangman winked, clearly eyeing her now damp white tank. Tess internally groaned at her choice of outfit, but laundry day and hot weather only left her with so many options.

“Keep dreaming, Hangman,” Tess sent him a wink of her own. He was hot - she wasn’t blind, Jake Seresin was practically a walking Greek god, sculpted by caring, detailed hands - but his ego was far too big for her liking.

And besides, the other half of her heart just walked through those doors.

“They still call you that?” Maverick asked when she had made her way over to his side of the bar again. Tess never joined the Navy or any other branch of the military, but growing up as Pete Mitchell’s daughter meant she learned how to fly a plane at probably a too young age and that she earned a few things she never necessarily wanted. A callsign was practically included in the package.

“I’ll take ‘things you would know if you stayed in contact with your daughter’ for 200 please, Alex,” he had the nerve to laugh at her remark as she swept by him, pouring two shots, handing them to waiting hands and then coming back down to wipe the bar clean. It was unnerving, having him just sitting there as if he hadn’t completely ignored her for almost a year.

“You remember why we started calling you that?”

“Cause I like to show off,” she said cooly, straight faced, still bustling about.

Maverick smiled. He vividly remembered the first time he called her that, nearly lost his mind because she was visiting and he took her to the hangar to see all the aircraft. Turned around for two seconds and she was gone.

He found her quickly, like father like daughter she was drawn to his F/A-14 with all the curiosity a six-year-old could muster. When Mav finally caught up with her she was half way up the ladder to the box, ready to take a ride with her dad. ‘Slow down there, Hotshot.’ He laughed about it with her mom on the phone later that night, after she called to say goodnight, and the nickname just stuck.

“They know you’re teaching?” She asked once she was once again in ear-shot of him, head jerking in the direction of the oblivious naval aviators in the back while she pulled her long black hair into a low ponytail, eyes searching for more of those damn souvenir mugs. Pete noticed how light it had gotten since the last time he saw her - much more of a dark brown than the black it had been for most of her life - and wondered how long she had been hiding out here in the California sun. “Penny! We have any more boxes of those mugs up here?” She called over a shoulder.

“How’d you know I was teaching?”

She smiled. “A woman never reveals her sources.” Tess didn’t need to tell him that a strong pour in the right hands usually got her the answers she was looking for, and then some she wasn’t looking for. She knew about the mission (well, she knew about the vague details she was able to squeeze out of Cyclone), she just didn’t think they were crazy enough to call her father in to lead it.

“How long have you been here?”

Tess smirked. “How was it going Mach 10?”

Maverick’s smile dropped completely. “How did you-“

“I think the rest are in the basement, peach cheeks,” Penny called from the other end of the bar, interrupting her father.

“Aw, damnit,” Tess groaned, looking up to the ceiling, beyond the comical number of model planes and jets and anything else that flew were more souvenir mugs. The bar was decorated with them, but they were just that, decorations… Well, they were supposed to be anyway. She weighed her options and decided that the bar was far too packed for her to make her way to the basement and back in a timely manner.

She couldn’t just leave poor Penny up here by herself, now could she?

“Did she just call you peach cheeks?” Maverick asked, eyeing his old flame, the confusion evident in the way his brows creased slightly in the middle and Tess didn’t know if it was from her question or Penny’s words. Tess stopped for the first time since he’d arrived that night, a half-smile that reminded him so much of his own, and braced both arms on the bartop in front of him.

“About two months ago some drunk creep told me my ass looked like a peach, whatever the fuck that means,” she rolled her green eyes and Pete cursed himself for how much she looked like him right now, “anyway, he ended up paying for a round but now Penny calls me peach cheeks whenever she feels like she wants to annoy me.”

It was the first straight answer she’d given him all night, and he had a feeling it would be the last.

Tess turned, looking to the ceiling again like the light gray mugs were just going to start raining down on her, and when they didn’t she took a minor running start - really it was just a couple steps across the wide end of the bar - and hoisted herself to the top. Black sneakers landed in a spot nobody was occupying at the time and she stood tall - all five feet and four inches of her - before she started grabbing cups from where they hung above her head.

She received a couple whistles for her efforts, but her hands were already too full to flip any of them off, and she was concentrating too hard on not falling when the bell rang again, a little harder than the first time. She paused her movements to watch Hangman and two others she didn’t learn the names of yet walk over to Maverick to toss him out into the sand with a smile.

“Tess?” She whipped around at the sound of his voice, aviators pulled down his nose, eyebrows drawn in in disbelief.

“Hey, Bradshaw,” her smile nearly blinded him.

“Tess Mitchell! What did I tell you about climbing on top of my bar?”

Like the snap of a finger she was that ten year old kid again, getting yelled at for hanging upside down on the monkey bars at the park his mom used to take them too on the weekends and Rooster couldn’t help but smile at the look that came across her face when she was caught red-handed.

“Sorry, Pen, I’ll replace them later, I promise,”

Rooster didn’t waste another second, feet moving to the bartop where she was now sitting. She was at the perfect height for him to slot himself into her body, arms circling her waist, her own arms going around his neck while her legs secured around his hips, squeezing him tight.

He still smelled the same as she remembered, his minty aftershave clouding her every thought and judgment. She wanted to keep her face buried in his neck for the rest of time.

“Hey, Hotshot,” he said the words quietly enough that only she could hear, crushing her body into his. “Damn, how long’s it been?”

“Too long,” Tess pulled away only so she could see him up close and he gently set her down on her feet, keeping his hands on her body. She took his sunglasses off, hanging them on the front of her tank top before putting her hands on either side of his face, inspecting his dark eyes and golden, sun-kissed skin for any more scars than the ones that already riddled his face. “I like the stach,” she nodded her approval and his smile grew impossibly bigger.

“Yeah? Took me two years to grow,”

Her belly laugh had him smiling even bigger. “Shit, I missed you,” Rooster could only shake his head at her, amazed that she was even standing in front of him right now. But the amazement was short lived when the joy in her green eyes turned a dangerous shade of dark he hated being on the receiving end of.

“You idiot,” she landed a firm smack on the side of his head.

“Ow!” He brought a hand up to rub the spot that was sure to be sore in the morning, and he could’ve sworn he heard a few snickering laughs from behind him. “What the hell T?”

“Why didn’t you call me,” it wasn’t a question, it was a stern statement and Bradley couldn’t help but put his hands on her cheeks, mirroring the position she just had him in, a small smile creeping over his lips.

“I just got in, I was going to call you first thing in the morning.”

The sincerity in his voice, the honesty in his eyes nearly melted Tess into a puddle on the dirty bar floor.

“We have one rule, Bradshaw.”

When he lands, he calls. That’s their rule.

“I know, I know, I should’ve called,” his golden eyes danced between her sharp green while they softened. “But, to be fair you didn’t tell me you were working here.”

She simply shrugged, “I told you I was in the area.”

He could only smile.

“What’s your boss's name?” He asked, that little glint of trouble shining through his eyes.

“Penny Benjamin.”

The realization of who she was flashed across his already amused face but he tucked that nugget of information in his back pocket for another day because Tess Mitchell was standing in front of him and he wasn’t stupid enough to waste her time.

“Penny!” He called, ripping his eyes away from her face, “I’m stealing your bartender!”

“Have her back in fifteen!” And that was all he needed to squat down, throw Tess over his shoulder, and carry her away.

“Rooster!” She screeched, hands gripping his shirt as if that would save her if he dared to drop her. “Put me down you big idiot!” But he didn’t listen, and she felt his laugh vibrate on her chest and she tried really hard to think of anything other than the fact that his hand was impossibly close to her ass, clamping down on her bare thighs. And that she was one wrong move away from flashing half the building.

He walked over to the Jukebox, squatted down - which Tess tried, and failed, to not be impressed with - and ripped the cord out of the wall. The crowd voiced their disdain but he didn’t slow down. He sat her down on the bench in front of the piano, stole his sunglasses back and swung his leg around so he was seated behind her.

The bench was small enough that she felt every inch of him behind her, and when he started playing Great Balls of Fire, his fellow pilots all crowding around to sing, Tess leaned back into him, singing along with her whole heart that belonged fully to him.

“Hell yeah, baby, that’s what I’m talking about!” Rooster stood and Tess turned around, high fiving his hand in high before slamming her hand down on his hard ass, him doing the exact same.

“Hmm..” She hummed, looking around her direct area after their celebration, “it appears I have no drink.”

“Well we can’t have that, can we?” Bradley took the cue from her hand, passing it off to Bob before holding out his arm for her to take, “this way my lady.”

“Why thank you kind sir,” Tess looped her arm into his, chin pointed to the sky but his laugh had her breaking and a giggling mess by the time they made it to the bar. Her husband took the chance to once again pin her against his body, both arms coming around to lean on the sticky countertop in front of her, caging her into him.

Tess leaned back into his strong arms, let the back of her head connect with his chest and fall to the side until it hit his shoulder, and his mouth was like a magnet to her skin, finding it, leaving a trail of hot, scratchy kisses down her neck, turning her body into a putty for his hands. His low moans in her ear had her ready to head for the door.

“Come on, let’s just go home,” he whined against her skull, right at the base of her jaw, reading her mind. Everything in her vibrated and hummed in response to him.

“I can’t leave my own birthday party early,” she countered, turning so she could place a kiss on his waiting lips. And then another. And then another.

“What can I get for the birthday girl?” Penny appeared, yelling over the crowd of people.

“Two shots of tequila!” Tess yelled, she turned back to the bar, raising an arm above her head with two fingers held up. Penny quickly looked over her shoulder, confirming with Rooster, who nodded, one quick move of his chin downward - as if he could ever say no to her.

“I’m in for a wild night,” he commented with a smile, remembering the last time she got drunk off Tequila. It didn’t happen often, but when it did the only thing he could do was sit back and enjoy the ride.

“Make it three, Penny,” Maverick appeared next to them, clad in his usual leather jacket.

“Dad!” Tess screamed, ducking under Bradley’s arm so she could hug him, “you made it!”

“Of course, like I’m gonna miss my best girl’s birthday?” He hugged her tight, remembering a time when he couldn’t do such a thing. Too afraid of his own mortality to get close to the best thing to ever happen in his life.

“Here you go guys,” Penny was gone as soon as she arrived, dropping the shots and disappearing. Normally, Tess would be working with her on such a busy Friday night, but apparently there’s a rule around here about working on birthdays - a rule that didn’t exist last year, but Tess knew that was an argument she wouldn’t win.

“Cheers fellas,”

“Cheers my love,” Rooster held up his glass to hers and Mav’s.

“Cheers sweetheart,” Maverick said, clinking their glasses and then tossing his back. Tess was quick to swallow hers down, and even quicker to shove a slice of lime in her mouth, grimacing against the burn down her throat. Tequila was really great until you had to actually do a shot of it. Bradley leaned down to swipe the lime out of her mouth with his own and sucked down whatever juice was left, leaving Tess staring at his mouth in a not-so-subtle way.

“I’m gonna go say hi to everyone,” Mav yelled over the crowd, placing a quick kiss on his daughter's cheek before disappearing into the mass of people, aiming for the rowdy group in the back.

Tess’s eyes found their way back to her husbands face, the way his golden skin glowed in the dim lighting of the bar, sunglasses dripping down his nose, that carefree and confident air he had about him left her breathless on a normal day, but with the alcohol buzzing through her system she was about ready to take his clothes off in the middle of this bar. It’s how he’d always been, ever since she could remember. Cool, calm, collected. Her rock in the middle of a storm.

And so damn good looking. Leaning against the side of the bar, one arm resting on the counter, the other hand tucked securely in her back pocket, keeping her close, eyes roaming the room. She noticed that he did that every couple minutes, checked the perimeter for any disturbances, a habit she was sure he picked up from flying.

“You’re staring,” the left corner of his mouth hiked up an inch and his eyes found their way back to hers. She could only smile back. Caught red handed.

“Do you remember the first time you told me you loved me?” He laughed at her words, remembering exactly the first time those words slipped from his lips.

---

thnks for reading, i love you a whole lot

want more? all you gotta do is ask babes

#bradley bradshaw #rooster #mitchell!reader #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete mitchell #maverick #hangman #jake seresin #penny benjamin #top gun #top gun maverick fanfiction #fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster x oc #rooster x reader

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dingochef · 9 months

Text

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking, light bondage, blindfolds, shitty parents

Summary: Your family comes to town for Christmas. Your sister is awesome, your dad is pretty good, but your mom is a whole nother level. Thank God Jake's by your side through it all.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 13

Word Count: 3.4k

Chapter 14: On the Level

December after the ball rolls by quickly and it seems like you've blinked and it's December 23, the day your parents and sister are due into San Diego for Christmas.

Jake has picked up on your increasing anxiety as their arrival date got closer. He, as usual, has been supportive and understanding,

"Babe, we'll get through this, together."

You're holding his hand as you wait for them at the restaurant you agreed to meet for dinner at. As you wait for them to appear, you're recalling the phone call when you let your parents know that Jake and you were living together.

You called your mom's cell,

"Hello, Elsa, what's up?"

"Hey Mom, just calling to catch up. How are things in Michigan?"

"It goes, we're almost done cleaning out the house to put it on the market, did you get all those trophies and stuff?"

"Yeah, they made it to the house. So, I've got some good news."

"Oh really, did you get a promotion at work?"

"Nothing on the work front, Jake and I have moved in together, in my house, so more accurately, Jake has moved in."

You were nervous and babbling for some reason.

"Jake….oh, yeah, your boyfriend. I'm sorry I forgot his name. The Navy pilot guy, right?"

You rolled your eyes at your mom's lack of caring to remember the details of the only relationship you've told your parents about in the last five years.

"Yes, Jake, my serious boyfriend of seven months," you answered.

"Don't you think that's moving a little too fast? Plus, who's going to buy the cow if they're getting the milk for free?"

"No, Mom, I don't think it's moving too fast and do we really have to use that tired old cliche?"

"We'll, I'm just worried about you making the right choices for your life."

"Yup, the right choices. Mom, Jake loves me and I love him. He is a very good man who makes me happy. It's so obvious it's the right choice to move our relationship to the next level."

"Okay, honey, if that's how you feel about it. You thought you were making the right choice with Liam and all."

The residual anger that always underlines any interaction with your parents, specifically your mom, rose up. You took a deep breath and pushed it aside.

"Ouch, yeah I might have thought that, but I've got the experience and wisdom from a bad relationship to recognize a good one. I was just hoping that you'd be happy for me and not be all judgy about it."

"Fine, if you want me to be happy for whatever life choices you make, then I can be happy for you."

The way she said 'whatever' made you grit your teeth, like building a solid relationship with another human was a spur of the moment whim.

"Alright, Mom. I've got to go. Tell Dad I said hi. Love you."

"Love you, Elsa."

Your knee is bouncing up and down and you're fiddling with the menu trying not to down the fancy gin cocktail you ordered to calm your nerves. Jake speaks without looking over,

"You know, if at any point you want to bail on this, say the word and we're gone. Just because it's family doesn't mean you have to be miserable. You feel like you're going to explode."

"I don't know, I'm just nervous. For some reason I desperately want them to like you, not that most rational parents wouldn't, but these are my parents."

He looks at you,

"And, what if they don't like me? Think I'm the worst thing ever?"

You don't hesitate for a second,

"Then fuck 'em. If they can't see what an amazing person you are and how good we are together then that's their problem, not ours."

"See, you already have plans in case this goes sideways. El, at the end of the day, we still love each other and we are building a life together. None of that needs a parental stamp of approval."

"I know, but your parents love me. I get texts from your mom any time she sees something Michigan related. I just wanted to reciprocate that back to you."

"It's okay, El. This isn't a balance and ledger sheet making sure everything is equal all the time. If you're worried about it, you can just give me extra blowjobs to make up for your crappy parents."

His last sentence breaks you and you're laughing so hard that you tear up. You wipe your eyes and lean over and kiss Jake,

"Thank you for being the person who gets me. I think that might have earned you a few extra blowjobs."

Your moment is disrupted by the familiar sound of your sister's voice,

"Eww, Mom, Elsa's kissing her boyfriend,"

Lanie says in a mocking kid voice. You jump up and run to the other side of the table to give Lanie a hug.

"It's so good to see you, I missed you," you say as you give her a good squeeze. She looks past your shoulder and sees Jake.

"Introduce me, sis. I want to meet the guy I've heard so much about."

"Lanie, this is Lieutenant Jake Seresin, my awesome boyfriend. And Jake, this is my adorable little sister, Melanie, who prefers to go by Lanie, because she thinks it makes her sound cooler."

Jake reaches out a hand for a handshake, but Lanie just laughs.

"I know way too much about you for just a handshake,"

she says, pulling him into a hug. He shrugs and rolls with it.

Your parents have arrived at the table and you walk over to hug them.

"Hey, Mom and Dad, good to see you."

Jake moves around the table to meet them.

"Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend Lieutenant Jake Seresin. Jake, my parents Don and Betty Matthews."

Jake gives each of them a handshake and says,

"Nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Matthews."

Your dad luckily is feeling social today,

"You can call me Don and she probably won't say it, but you can call her Betty."

Your mom gives your dad a little bit of side-eye for his comment.

You all sit down at the table. The cocktail menu is passed over to the newcomers and the server appears to take their orders.

You start the conversation by asking Lanie how her tattoo business is going. She used the inheritance from your aunt to start her studio in Chicago.

"It's going really well, we're actually expanding into space next to because we have so much demand and have a list of artists that want to be a part of our collective. You can see it when you come to Chicago for your next tattoo."

"I haven't settled on what my next one will be yet, I'll let you know when I do."

Your mom scoffs across the table,

"I'll never get the appeal of permanently scarring your body in the name of art."

The eye roll that Lanie and you return is perfectly synced.

"Mom, we've been through this before. If it's not your cup of tea then it's not," Lanie replies back before you can.

Your mom continues,

"Jake, what do you think of tattoos? Surely as a sailor you must have some."

Jake rolls with the question and you recognize that smooth confidence that can come across as the cocky Hangman sometimes.

"Aviator, I'm technically a Naval Aviator, not a sailor. And no, I don't have any tattoos. Yet. I appreciate the artistry and skill that goes into them. I think the ones Elsa has are very beautiful and have a lot of meaning to her."

You look over and smile at him for his answer. He reaches over to grab your hand under the table. The conversation lulls and you start it back up again,

"How's the condo search going?"

Your dad perks up and goes through the various locations that they've looked at and the problems with each which is enough conversation to get through ordering and a few minutes after.

Your mom enters the conversation with questions pointed at Jake, which puts you on high alert.

"Where did you grow up Jake?" she asks.

"Austin, Texas."

"Family?"

"The usual, two parents and one older brother."

"Where did you go to college?"

"The Naval Academy in Annapolis."

"I didn't think that was a real school, what did you study besides flying?"

"My bachelor's degree is in Mathematics with a focus on data analysis and statistics. I went through flight school and the aviation training program after graduation."

You joke,

"I think Jake might be one of the few people on earth that has taken more math than me."

Your mom drives through the small moment of humor like a bus,

"So, what does one do as a Naval Aviator?"

She pronounces every letter in naval and aviator.

"At the moment, I'm teaching at the Fighter Weapons School on North Island. I stepped back from active duty to be in one place with Elsa. Prior to teaching I was on various deployments around the world, providing air support for Navy operations."

"So, you gave up something as exciting as saving the world to settle down, interesting."

Your hand grips Jake's at her condescending tone. He rubs his thumb in soothing circles on the back of your hand in response. Before the comment can escalate the food arrives, you've never been happier for a mushroom risotto in your life.

Lanie jumps in after the group starts eating to deflect your mom's inquisition.

"So, Jake, what embarrassing stories do you want to hear about Elsa from childhood?" she asks, her face full of mischief.

Jake laughs,

"Any that you want to tell me."

Lanie proceeds to tell everyone about the time you made her a lightning proof suit out of aluminum foil, gave her a metal rod to hold, and sent her to stand at the top of the swing set during a thunderstorm to test it out. Luckily your mother had seen her before she became a human lightning rod.

"In my defense, it was a very rudimentary Faraday cage, which in principle could work to protect you from lightning,"

You offer trying to defend your childhood self.

Jake is laughing,

"You even tortured your sister like a little engineer, no wedgies for you. That was too pedestrian."

Dinner has finally wound down without any more interrogation from your mom. The plan is for your parents to go to the rental house and Lanie is going to go out with you and Jake for a drink and spend the night at your house. Everyone says their goodbyes and you get in your car with Jake driving and Lanie in the back.

The doors are barely shut when Lanie exclaims and pats Jake on the back,

"Congrats, you survived a round of dinner with our dysfunctional parents."

You look at Jake and he is looking at you with a concerned look,

"You okay, El?"

"I'm good, are you okay after that grilling in there?"

"You forget that I'm specifically trained in resisting torture techniques, which I've never had to use before tonight. Man, your mom is intense."

Lanie just snorts in agreement from the back seat.

"Let's go, I could use a margarita the size of my head and the Hard Deck isn't getting any closer, chop, chop, Jeeves."

"Yes, Madam," Jake replies in a cheesy French accent.

Soon you are parking at your house for the short walk to the Hard Deck. Jake and Lanie have been talking the whole time and are engaged in a lively discussion about naval tattoo history. You're a few steps behind them and it makes your heart full to see how well they get along.

Jake stops and waves his hand for you to catch up when he realizes you've fallen behind. You run up and take his hand and Lanie's hand and you practically skip the rest of the way to the Hard Deck.

The rest of the evening is fun, in the simple way a night out of drinking just the right amount is. Lanie and you tell stories from your childhood that leave Jake laughing so hard he is out of breath. You all end the night pretty early as you are due at the house your parents are renting for brunch and general hanging out for Christmas Eve the next day.

Lanie crashes on the futon in the extra room that you had already made up for her when you get home. Jake and you are in bed not long after.

December 24, Christmas Eve

The three of you wake up at about the same time and quickly suck down a pot of coffee. No one is hungover per se, but everyone is a bit sluggish. The coffee helps everyone get in gear. We all pile in your CR-V and drive over towards the rental house. You're about halfway there when Lanie gets a text.

"Mom says to get more champagne and orange juice if we want mimosas," she reports.

"I don't know about you, Lanie, but I think I'm going to need a gallon of mimosas to deal with our parents all day," you respond.

"10-4 on that idea."

There is a Ralph's grocery store conveniently placed so you pull into the parking lot. Jake hops out and runs in for the items. While you're waiting for Jake, Lanie speaks,

"Elsa, I just wanted to tell you that I think Jake is perfect for you and my god, you two are disgustingly in love. I'm happy you found someone who makes you happy."

You're sure you have a lovesick look on your face,

"Thanks, it means a lot to me that you guys get along."

Jake appears at the tailgate with shopping bags and loads up the car. You make the rest of the quick drive to the rental house.

You find your parents on the deck overlooking the bay reading.

"The intrepid trio has arrived,"

your dad stands up and announces. He takes the grocery bags and you all walk into the kitchen and dining area. Your mom has laid out a little breakfast buffet with various pastries, fresh fruit, and some yogurt and granola. We all take a small plate and get our fill. Your dad occupies himself with making up mimosas for the whole group. Everyone heads back out to the deck to sit and eat.

Your dad is feeling peppier today and starts the conversation out,

"So how's flying with the Navy these days, Jake? I imagine it's changed a lot since my day."

"Yeah, it sure has. El and I went to a historic fly-in over in Chula Vista and they had a few of the Phantom IIs from Vietnam on display. There's a lot of the same instruments, but man, has the technology changed. What was your call sign, Don?"

Your dad laughs and smiles as he thinks back to days long ago,

"Mitten, my squad made fun of me for doing the Michigan hand thing every time someone asked where I was from, and Michigan is the Mitten state, so that stuck as my call sign. Elsa said yours is Hangman, how'd you get that Jake?"

It's Jake's turn to laugh,

"The catapult broke on my first attempt to launch off a carrier so I ended up tangled in the line and hanging off the side of the carrier for an hour while they figured out how to get the plane back up and me out safely."

Your dad laughs,

"So that part hasn't changed, stuff breaking all the time."

Jake and your dad continue talking about their respective experiences in the Navy. After about an hour you propose a walk on the beach and Lanie and Jake are the only ones to agree to the offer. You make your way off the deck and down to the sand and take your shoes off. The sand is cool as it is December, but it's still pleasant.

You wander back in to see your parents reading on the couch inside, although your dad looks like he was napping more than reading. You sit down and your dad is quick to grab drinks for everyone. You settle in on an overstuffed loveseat next to Jake and contently sip on your gin and tonic while Jake drinks a beer. Your mother is having her standard cranberry and vodka, Lanie has gone with a beer, and your dad is also enjoying a gin and tonic.

The room is peaceful until your mom throws out a mortar shell of a question,

"Have you been in touch with Liam lately?"

You nearly choke on your drink,

"Liam, as in Liam fucking McAllister, ex fiance and general piece of human dog shit?"

Jake is snickering quietly next to you.

"Elsa, language, yes that one. He friended me on Facebook the other day and we exchanged a few messages. He's in the Dallas area and still single."

"That's a little weird to be Facebook friends with your daughter's ex, don't you think?"

"He was a nice young man, seemed good for you and on your level."

You look over at Jake and his eyebrows are about to take off from his forehead, he's raised them so high.

Lanie dives in before you can formulate a response,

"Mom, do we have to refresh your memory on what a terrible human being he is?"

"Fine, fine. I won't bring it up again," she finally relents.

The atmosphere of the room has shifted and for once your dad reads it correctly and launches everyone in a conversation about your cousins in Michigan and extended family in general. Jake and you talk about your trip to Texas and meeting his giant Italian family. Your dad laughs at your description of all the food and the heavy duty circuit breaker required for all the crock pots.

It's starting to get close to dinner time and you suggest takeout.

"People good with Chinese?" you ask and get enough nods that you pull up a menu on your phone and get the order put together and call it in.

You all hang out in the kitchen as you wait for the food to be delivered. Jake and your dad have dutifully kept your drink filled all day so you are feeling the right side of tipsy. Your dad asks,

"How is work going for you, Elsa?"

"Really good, just got notice that another patent was approved and even better the life support systems I've developed are going to be licensed to other manufacturers. So, I get to go to a conference and present on them in New Orleans in February," You look over to Jake,

"You should come with me, I'll give you the dates later."

"That's really awesome, kiddo. How many patents are you up to now?"

"23."

"That sure beats my four. You deserve it, Elsa, you've worked so hard to get where you are and I'm so proud of you."

You're a little shocked to hear the words out your dad's mouth.

Lanie laughs next to you,

"I'm loving this nerd competition."

The doorbell rings indicating your food is here. Jake and you go to the door to grab the bags. You lay it out on the kitchen counter and people serve themselves.

Lanie asks Jake,

"So, what places around the world have you been deployed to?"

"I was in Afghanistan,spent some time in the Philippines, Italy, and various states in the US including Hawaii."

"That's a difference, Italy versus Afghanistan," Lanie replies.

"A whole lot of different work too Italy was mostly NATO patrols and other routine stuff. Afghanistan was a lot more intense, providing air support to ground troops and actually engaging with the enemy."

He doesn't elaborate more, and you recall the story that Wolfie told you about getting shot down. You squeeze Jake's leg under the table to let him know you're there.

Dinner winds down and Jake and you say your goodbyes for the night and head back to your house. The moment you're in your house you flop on your couch on your stomach and let out a long sigh.

"Well, that wasn't as awkward and awful as I thought it was going to be, although my mom did throw a sneaky play in there mentioning she has friended Liam on Facebook. Also, what was that comment about him being on my level?"

You let out your frustration in one long verbal outburst.

Jake just pats you on the back as he heads to the kitchen.

"Your dad is pretty cool, your mom I can't get a read on,"

Jake replies. When you finally sit up he hands you a glass of water.

"My dad has always been a little more easy going, plus you two were bound to hit it off being Navy pilots. And by the way, I still can't get a read on my mom and it's been 30-something years, so don't worry about it."

He laughs,

"So, how about a cheesy Christmas movie? Like Die Hard, because you insist it's a Christmas movie."

"It is, it takes place during a Christmas party," you argue glad that Jake has distracted you with something less heavy than your mom.

"Fine, we can watch it because it is a classic piece of 80s cinema."

Jake pulls up the movie from one of the billion streaming services you have and soon you are cuddled up watching Hans Gruber fall off the Nakatomi Plaza.

Chapter 15

@kmc1989

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

@djs8891

@atarmychick007

@memoriesat30

@midnightmagpiemama

@mygyn

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fakemon-archive · 1 year

Text

youtube

ASTRA DEX, created by DarkNe0s (2009)

Did you ever make your own pokemon when you were younger? Maybe drew them, sprited them, and then shared them on some long-gone corner of the internet?

What kind of pokemon did you make?

Today, we have plenty of guides to making fakemon that more closely match the design style and philosophy of official pokemon designs, and MANY creative and incredibly talented artists bringing these fan-made dexes to life. But even still, it's hard to say what exactly makes something a pokemon design- especially when it's something that varies so much between generations.

Good Lird. The similarities between these seems to start and end at "IT IS GREEN".

Ultimately, what a pokemon should look like is entirely subjective- but that's obvious enough, isn't it? That's just the base line of fakemon design itself. Everyone and their mother knows it.

Let's have some fun. What should your pokemon look like? Do they need to be as close to official design styles as they can be? Or can they be frightening, cool monsters? Maybe something more cartoonish? What's the weirdest you can get with them? Who's to say you can't get any weirder? What should limit you?

You can answer that on your own time. Let's look at the ASTRA dex!

SKIPPEA - LEAFALING - JETRANG

The Astra region begins with a TERRIFICALLY creative grass starter- a samara, or "helicopter seed", which becomes an actual helicopter before its final stage- a powerful grass/flying-type jet! It's a very fun and well-designed line.

There's also the more... "up-to-date" version on deviantart, or at least as up-to-date 2009 can be considered. The most noticable difference lies in the middle stage, given a much 'beakier' face. It and its first stage have also been given a lighter shade of brown, as well as dark pupils that match with the final stage.

Meanwhile, Jetrang is the perfect animal- the only change it recieved was being made just slightly more aerodynamic.

GOFLARE - SMOKOAL - BOMBURROW

How cute! It's a magma gopher with a gradually cooling shell of rock forming over it- AND it's a landmine! If this thing ends up in your golf course, you best just give up. Once again, other than slightly lighter colors, only one stage has received particularly noticeable changes- this time the final, being given clearer markings and removing the lava pit on its back to be a more solid shell.

One of my favorite bits of this line is how the middle stage is given the typical angry Sugimori eyes, while the final has those dark sweet-looking cute eyes you see on things like eeveelutions and vulpix. A very darling creature- I think I'll take it to the local golf course!

SQWIMP -CLAWDAWD - CLOBBSTER

Oh. Oh

Sqwimp

As you can tell by the complete lack of difference between the video version and the deviantart version, this is THE perfect beast. There's very little to say on it- it's a poor little shrimp that grows tough armor, and becomes practically untouchable! ... Except for its antennae, which are quite vulnerable.

Actually, it reminds me quite a bit of a certain videogame extraterrestrial... though, it's hard to say whether that's by design or pure coincidence.

Ah, this got pretty long already! As such, the rest of the post is simply going to be an image and link compilation of the rest of the dex that exists. The purpose of this is both to showcase the dex, but also to preserve its existence.

How much digital information is lost in a day? A youtube video from 2005 could be taken down for using copyright music, and nobody might even notice. An old, forgotten forum could finally shut down, throwing years of shared comments and ideas to the wind. It's insignificant to most, you don't need to cling to everything really.

My main interests lie in creature design. Both in original creations and fan-made. Not as a professional, but in general- I love seeing what fantastical things people create, and what you can learn about their own thought process through them. What they imagine makes a good design, or a cool concept, or an awesome creature- in these cases, what they imagine a POKEMON to be on their own terms.

This blog is meant to archive old and unique fakemon projects wherever I can find them as best I can, in case they should otherwise be lost to time. If you have any projects of your own that you'd forgotten, or if you know of anyone else's, please feel free to share! I have a lot of love for these things, and I'm hoping to spread that love to others.

Anyway, most images should have links to their original playlist / video / deviantart upload. Now, do note that unless explicitly stated by the original creator, these designs and sprites are not for free use in other projects.

And of course, if you are the original creator of these and have your own comments / would like the post to be removed, please feel free to speak! No need to be shy on these webpage

DarkNe0s deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/darkne0s

DarkNe0s youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@DarkNe0s/videos

#incomplete dex #youtube #deviantart #Youtube

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anonymousewrites · 1 year

Text

Logos and Pathos (Book 2) Chapter Four

Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Four: Ancient Aliens

Summary: A psychic alien is directing the Enterprise. He seems well-mannered, but the Starfleet officers can't help but be on edge.

Captain’s Log: The Enterprise is in orbit above a planet whose surface, our sensors tell us, is devoid of all life. A world destroyed and dead for at least a half million years. Yet from it comes a voice, the energy of pure thought, telling us something, this “Sargon,” has survived here for those thousands of centuries. Since exploration and contact with alien intelligence is our primary mission, I’ve decided to risk the potential dangers and resume contact.

“How long before Starfleet receives my report on the situation?” asked Kirk.

“Over three weeks at this distance, sir,” said Uhura.

“Captain,” said Spock as he looked at his scanners. “Sensors registering some form of energy deep inside the planet.”

“Your probes have touched me, Mr. Spock,” said Sargon’s voice.

(Y/N) shivered as the telepathy entered their mind. They were psychic and attuned to the presence of others, so they keenly felt the words filtering into their brain.

“Reading energy only, Captain,” reported Spock. “No lifeforms.”

“I have locked your transporter device on my coordinates,” said Sargon. “Please, come to us. Rescue us from oblivion.”

“Come from deep under the planet’s surface, Captain,” said Spock. “Under at least one hundred miles of solid rock.”

(Y/N) furrowed their brow. “We can’t beam down that far. We’d been torn into pieces as the transporter strains, like an elastic band stretched too far.”

“What an image,” murmured Kirk.

“I’ll make it possible for your transporter to beam you that deep beneath the surface,” said Sargon. “Have no fear.”

Kirk glanced at (Y/N). “Can we trust him?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “I can’t read his emotions without a life form or vessel for his, for lack of a better word, soul.”

“Reading a chamber now,” reported Spock as his scanners followed the energy to its source. “Oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, suitable for human life support.”

Kirk nodded. “Lieutenant Uhura, have Dr. McCoy report to the Transporter Room in ten minutes with standard landing party equipment.”

“Yes, sir,” said Uhura.

“(L/N), you’re with me. We’re meeting a new species. Your specialties will be useful,” said Kirk.

“Right, sir,” said (Y/N). They were the Negotiations and Communications specialist.

“Captain,” said Spock suddenly. “I do wish to inspect whatever this is that lived that long ago.” And Spock didn’t want to risk (Y/N) going in danger without him there with them.

“And I would like to have my Science Officer with me on something as unusual as this, but it is full of unknowns, and we can’t risk both of us being off the ship,” said Kirk.

As he spoke, the Enterprise’s lights powered off. Sulu fiddled with the controls but shook his head when Kirk looked at him expectantly.

“All power gone, sir,” he said.

(Y/N) blinked. “It seems our new friend isn’t satisfied with that decision, Captain.” It worries me that Sargon specifically wants the Captain and Spock, but I’ll be there, too. I’ll protect him, and Kirk, as much as possible.

“No…I guess they’re not,” said Kirk. “I guess you’ll be joining us, Mr. Spock.” At his words, the lights turned back on.

Spock nodded. He was satisfied to be joining for scientific research and also, of course, because it meant he’d be by (Y/N)’s side.

“Jim, why no briefing on this?” asked Bones as Kirk, Spock, and (Y/N) walked into the Transporter Room. “I’d at least like to know what we’re getting into.”

“Easy, easy, Bones,” said Kirk. “As long as you know that there’s something down there, you know as much as we do. The rest is only guesses.”

“I don’t like it, sir,” said Scotty. “The transporter coordinates preset by a…an alien of some sort. You could materialize inside solid rock.”

Bones blinked incredulously. “Inside solid rock?”

“Unlikely,” assured Spock. “These coordinates correspond with the location of the subterranean chamber.”

“Plus, they probably have the power to destroy from where they are in the planet,” said (Y/N), shrugging. “So it doesn’t really make a difference.”

“Yes, but they seem to want us alive,” said a feminine voice. They turned and found a woman in a red Starfleet uniform smiling at them.

Kirk frowned. “Who are you?”

“Dr. Ann Mulhall, Astrobiology,” said Mulhall. Kirk was still confused, so she continued. “Well, I was ordered to report here for landing party duty.”

“By whom?” asked Kirk.

Mulhall frowned. “Strange, I’m not sure. Well, I’m not a liar, Captain. I did receive an order to report here for duty.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I’m pretty sure she did, Captain. My guess is that our friend Sargon wants specific people to come down.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Like the lights when the Captain suggested I remain on board.”

(Y/N) snapped their fingers. “Exactly!”

“Well, let’s get back to this ‘solid rock’ business,” said Bones. “Now, just how much rock are we going to go through?”

“Approximately 112.37 miles, Doctor,” said Spock.

“Miles?” questioned Bones. He chuckled. “Are you joking?”

Kirk shook his head and smiled at Bones’s incredulous look. “No, we’re not. Let’s go.”

Kirk, Bones, (Y/N), Spock, Mulhall, and two other security officers stepped onto the transporter.

“Please stand ready. I will operate your controls,” said Sargon’s voice, causing everyone to jump.

Bones hesitated, and Kirk raised an eyebrow. “Doctor, if you prefer to stay behind…”

“No, no, if I’d be useful,” said Bones, rather unhappily. “As long as you’re going down, I might as well take a medical look at whatever this is.” He stepped up beside everyone else.

Before Scotty could operate the transporter’s controls, the machine activated. However, only Bones, Kirk, (Y/N), Spock, and Mulhall were brought down to the planet below. The security officers were left far behind.

“Captain, the security guards,” said Spock. His eyes immediately searched for (Y/N) to make sure they were still there with him. His tension relaxed slightly seeing them looking around with him.

Kirk’s communicator beeped, and he quickly answered. “Kirk here.”

“Can you read me, Captain?” asked Scotty.

“Yes, Scotty, and I shouldn’t be able to this deep inside the planet,” said Kirk. “But perhaps that’s been arranged for us, too.”

“Are the security officers up there?” asked (Y/N), concerned.

“They’re fine,” said Scotty. “They just didn’t dematerialize. I don’t like it.”

“Well, no problem yet,” said Kirk. “Maintain alert. Kirk out.”

“Atmosphere report, Captain,” said Mulhall. “A fraction richer in oxygen than usual for us, but otherwise normal.”

“This vault was constructed about a half million years ago,” reported Spock. “About the same time as the planet’s surface was destroyed, if our sensor readings are accurate.”

“Composition of walls?” asked Kirk.

“They’re an alloy or substances completely unknown to me,” said Spock. “Much stronger and harder than anything I’ve measured before.”

“(L/N), do you have anything?” asked Kirk.

(Y/N) paused and focused on the air around them, tuning the others’ emotions out as much as possible. “There’s…something. Beyond this vault, I can feel a mixture of emotions. More than one source, for sure. Strong psychically, as well, since I can feel them so strongly.”

As if answering (Y/N)’s identification of their presence, the door of the vault slid open, revealing a room with rocky walls and glowing gold orb.

“Welcome,” said Sargon’s voice, and the light of the orb brightened with his voice. This was where it emanated from. “I am Sargon.”

The group carefully walked closer. Spock ensure he stood slightly in front of (Y/N) in case something happened, and (Y/N) focused on the strong emotions for any signs of anger that could lead to an attack. So far, though, Sargon seemed calm and polite.

Spock held up his tricorder. “Sargon, would it harm you if I…?”

“You may use your tricorder, Mr. Spock. Your readings will show energy, but no substance,” said Sargon. “And (Y/N), you may read our emotions. Though we are able to block out other psychics, I will allow you to see my own so you may feel more secure. However, I shall keep them subdued so your psychic abilities are not overhwelmed.”

“Thank you,” said (Y/N) politely. They didn’t fear Sargon using “fake” emotions on them. They could tell the difference between someone’s heart and whatever façade they put up. (Plus, you can’t fake emotions. Just control them to the best of your abilities, such as Vulcans did). They looked at Kirk. “Warm emotions. No anger. No sign of meaning us harm.”

Kirk nodded. “Alert me if it changes.”

“Yes, sir,” said (Y/N).

“Pure energy,” confirmed Spock as he looked at his tricorder’s readings. “Matter without form.”

“Impossible,” said Kirk.

“But…you once had a body of some type?” asked Bones.

“A body as much as yours, my children, although our minds were infinitely greater,” said Sargon.

“You refer to us as your ‘children,’ ” observed (Y/N). “Why?”

“Because it is possible you are our descendants,” said Sargon. “Six thousand centuries ago, our vessels were colonizing this galaxy, just as your own starships have now begun to explore that vastness. As you now leave your own seed on distant planets, so we left our seed behind us. Perhaps the human tale of ‘Adam and Eve’ refers to two of our travelers.”

“Our beliefs and studies indicate that life on our planet Earth evolved independently,” said Mulhall.

(Y/N) nodded. “Celian’s evolved similarly to humans, but we developed empathic abilities due to a variety of environmental factors.”

“That would tend, however, to explain certain elements of Vulcan prehistory,” said Spock.

“In any case, I do not know,” said Sargon. “It was so long ago, and the records of our travels were lost in the cataclysm which we loosened upon ourselves.”

“A war?” asked Kirk.

“A struggle for such goals and the unleashing of such power that you could not comprehend,” said Sargon.

“Then perhaps your intelligent wasn’t so great, Sargon,” said Kirk. “We faced a similar crisis in our early nuclear age. We found the wisdom not to destroy ourselves.”

“We survived our primitive issues as well,” said Sargon. “But there comes to all races, an ultimate crisis which you have yet to face.”

(Y/N) and Spock glanced at each other questioningly. Like the humans, their kinds had gone through issues that nearly tore them apart. The Vulcans learned to disregard emotion and act logically for the betterment of their entire society, and the Celians learned to embrace emotions so that they could understand each other and cooperate for solutions. However, both had overcome their respective crises. To hear there was more to come was curious.

“I don’t understand,” said Kirk.

“One day our minds became so powerful we dared think of ourselves as gods,” said Sargon.

Ah, so we just need to keep our egos in check. That’s good to know, thought (Y/N), pleased again.

Kirk shifted uncomfortably. “You said you wanted our help,” he prompted. “What is it you wish?”

Suddenly, he froze, and his face contorted as he felt something strange. Kirk threw his head back, and a whirring sound echoed through the room. (Y/N) jolt forward towards their captain, but Spock rested a hand on their arm to stop them.

“Just a moment, (Y/N),” said Spock. “It may not be safe, and he does not seem to be in pain.”

“Alright,” said (Y/N), trusting Spock’s assessment.

Kirk breathed heavily and spoke. His voice echoed in an unearthly manner. “I…am…Sargon.”

Sure enough, (Y/N) could sense Sargon’s emotions emanating from Kirk’s body. “Where is our Captain?” they demanded.

“He is…unharmed,” said Sargon.

Spock looked at them for an assessment, and (Y/N) nodded and murmured, “No sign he’s lying. But we can’t be sure he doesn’t have anything planned.”

“I…have taken his body to demonstrate,” said Sargon.

Bones whipped out his phaser. “I won’t go along with this. Back to where you were, Sargon, or whatever you are.”

“And if he refuses, Doctor, what do you propose to do with your phaser? That is still Jim’s body,” said Spock. His use of “Jim” instead of “Captain” made his worry clear.

Sargon suddenly gasped. “Lungs filling with air again…To see again. Heart pumping, arteries surging with blood again.” He smiled. “To feel it all. After a half a million years…to be again!” Pure joy radiated from him, so powerful that (Y/N) felt the heat on their skin. Sargon took careful steps around the room. “Your Captain has an excellent body, Dr. McCoy. I compliment you both on the condition in which you maintained it.”

“What are your plans for it?” asked Spock, eyes narrowed in calculation. “Can you exchange places again when you wish?”

“Have no fear,” said Sargon kindly, touching the golden orb.

It pulsed with a slight smoke of confusion. (Y/N) recognized it must be Kirk’s emotions filtering through it. It was faint because he was a human or a psychic, but when they focused, they could feel it.

“Your Captain is quite unharmed. Although his mind generates insufficient energy for him to speak from there as I do,” said Sargon.

“Are you aware of what’s happening to his body?” hissed Bones as he used his tricorder to scan Kirk’s body. “Heart action doubled, temperature 104 degrees.”

“He’ll die if you don’t leave his body soon,” said Mulhall.

“What do you want here?” asked (Y/N).

Sargon turned to them. “In the next room, there are other receptacles. The other two of us that survived. Dr. Ann Mulhall and Mr. Spock—we require your bodies, also. We must have Captain Kirk and you…so that we may live again.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, and they looked worriedly at Spock. The aliens wanted him? For what? How could they trust the aliens? (Y/N)’s hands curled into fists. They wouldn’t let them hurt Spock.

Taglist:

@a-ofzest

@grippleback-galaxy

@genderfluid-anime-goth

@groovy-lady

@im-making-an-effort

@unending-screaming

#s'chn t'gai spock #ambassador spock #mister spock #star trek spock #spock #spock x reader #mr spock #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #logos and pathos #star trek the original series #star trek fanfic #star trek tos #star trek #star trek x reader #the original series

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sneezemonster15 · 11 months

Note

I saw recently someone post a screenshot of a woman's video that read "my husband came out as gay after 20 years of together" and the screenshot poster said it's extremely cruel to waste 20 years of someone's life and pretend to be in love with them when they could find someone who actually loves them, "if you're gay and in the closet then just be single, you don't have the right to ruin someone else's life" tbh I don't know what to think, I mean I don't feel bad for Sakura and Hinata because they are selfish assholes, but about real people… I would genuinely think I had wasted my life too if my spouse suddenly told me they were never in love with me, and forever have trust issues. But I feel bad for gay men too. Or are women who end up with gay men a specific, gullible type

Except that in conservative societies where heteronormativity is institutionalised and homosexuality is criminalized, the conditions for straight women and gay men aren't the same. Closeted gay men are closeted for many reasons. Institutional punishment, ostracization, disenfranchisement. That cannot be compared with a straight woman whose feelings got hurt. I am not invalidating her feelings, but it's like comparing apples and oranges. It is unfortunate that she lived with a person who basically lied to her for 20 years but it's different from a man who has been living a lie his entire life. It's a kind of violence one can't imagine unless one has gone through something similar. Denying your identity is like denying your existence. Besides, Hinata and Sakura aren't unaware. Sakura for sure knows the nature of Sasuke and Naruto's relationship, and to a large extent, I think Hinata does too. But it suits them to ignore it as long as they are getting what they want. At least in their case, they don't come off as the hurt party. They are the ones who are benefiting from it, having trophy husbands, which is what they always wanted. If they really wanted to do something about it, they would have.

Also, I think most people talk at each other. Not with. If you really pay attention to the other person, what they say, how they say it, if you pay attention to their body language, you can tell a lot about a person. Or get some solid ideas to follow through at the least. A better part of communication is non verbal. It's very useful too. There's a lot of information to be gleaned and used later. It would be pointless to expect that Hinata and Sakura would know to do all that. Otherwise they would have been better shinobis too lol.

It's not that easy to stay in the closet and remain unattached, I know that in many countries, in joint families, no matter what, you gotta get married when the elders say so. You can't come out and you can't say no. There are other obligations too, people's lives are complex. I don't think a gay man would feel so compelled to get married to a straight woman if he had the freedom to choose and express his sexuality without stigma or prejudice.

Also love does not always have to be sexual. There have been many gay men in the past who married women, sired kids even, and yet, respected their wives, mothers of their kids. Of course, in their case, the wife knew the truth. Thomas Savage, for example. Like I said, people's lives are complex. It's not that black and white. There can be love between a gay man and a straight woman without it having to be sexual. There can be mutual love and respect, if they are both open with each other. If they aren't, they should look at the reasons why rather than playing blame games. If separation is the answer, then so be it.

#ask #anon #discourse

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zaraquinn · 2 years

Text

dear billy…

—————

billy hargrove & fluff (sad)

word count: 839

younger sister!reader & billy hargrove / max mayfield

requested by: @loxbbg

a/n + additional notes: had to change this one up because it is a challenge, so I ended up having this from Max’s perspective. Hopefully, this still fulfills this request! also sorry for taking so long to get this done.

————

“Max! You can talk to me! Talk to us!” “Max just wait, please!” Stopping in her tracks, Max turned around, shoving her hands in her pockets as she faced Lucas and Y/N. “I told you, I’m fine.”

Lucas and Y/N look at each other for a split second, seemingly unconvinced. “Then why do you keep pushing us away? Look, I don’t need a letter, I don’t want a letter! Just talk to me. We’re your friends! She’s even your family.” Lucas points at Y/N, referencing the step-sister relationship. They used to be close, especially with El that summer. Max, who couldn’t even look at her in the eye, now does, but the horror replays in her head.

———

Max, runs and holds herself back beside Mike and Y/N; the bright lights from the fireworks explode and paint the scene almost poetic, but she sees horror. Terror, in their eyes as El, is on the floor, weak but Billy, above her, stops with tears coming out of her eyes. A hand, El’s hand reaches to touch Billy’s, and it was that look Max knew.

“Shit!” The Mind Flayer, whose roars shake the building violently, captures everyone’s attention as the fireworks and explosions slowly stop one by one. “Y/N! What are you doing? No!” Max’s voice screams as her eyes follow Y/N who bolts towards El and Billy and gets on her knees beside El.

“Y/N,” El says weakly; tears staining her cheeks for a solid moment, the mention of Y/N knocks the control the Mind Flayer had on Billy, and he notices her. He looks at her, those matching blue eyes mirror each other as his brow furrows. “I love you.”

He pushes them away and faces the Mind Flayer’s wrath, protecting El and the others.

Max and Y/N scream his name, watching him perish.

———

“Max! You can talk to me, right? I’m your family! I know how you’re feeling, I’m still grieving too, just please…” Y/N said, her voice breaking as she reached her hand out to take. Max kept silent. Looking at her sister’s hand, but did not take it. “I know.” “Then talk to us! She’s right here. I’m right here.”

Another beat of silence passes as Max shakes her head, turning around and heading deeper into the graveyard. “Okay? Just, wait in the car. This won’t be long.”

———

"Dear Billy, I don't know if you can even hear this. Two years ago, I would have said, 'That's ridiculous, impossible.’ But that was before I found out about alternate dimensions and monsters, so... I'm just going to stop assuming that I know anything."

"So much has happened since you left. Your dad and Y/N were a total mess. He and my mom started getting into fights. Bad fights. I don't think he could stand being here without you, So he left. And he didn't leave Mom much." “For Y/N, at first she was the only one I could talk to—to make me feel better. We were close, and, I clung to her because she was the closest I could get to you. But, it soon changed; she stopped feeling anything after a while. And maybe so did I.” "Mom’s taken an extra job, and we moved to that lovely trailer park off Kerley. Ever since you left, everything's been...A total disaster. And the worst part is, I can't tell anyone why you're gone."

"I can't tell them that you saved El's life. That you saved my life or Y/N’s life. I play that moment back in my head all the time. And sometimes I imagine myself running to you, pulling you away; going beside Y/N. I imagine that if I had, you would still be here. And everything would be...everything would be right again. I imagine that we...That we could've become friends. Good friends, like...like a real brother and sister. Like you and Y/N. because I knew, even though I was jealous, and we hated each other, that Y/N would help and try to get us to get along. More than Mom and Dad ever did. She loved you. And you loved her. And, I don’t know. Maybe I wanted that too."

"And I know that's stupid. You hated me. I hated you. But I thought that maybe...Maybe we could try again. But that's not what happened. I just...I stood there and I watched. For a while, I tried to be happy. Normal. Normal for Y/N, who was shattered without you. But I...I think that maybe a part of me died that day too. And I haven't told anyone this. I...I just can't. But I had to tell you. Before it's too late."

"If you can even hear this—I hope that you can. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Billy. Love, your shitty little sister, Max."

———

stranger things request post:

masterlist:

#zarawrites #stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #zararequests #stranger things 2 #billy hargrove x reader #billy x max platonic #max mayfield #stranger things 4 vol 2 #stranger things 4 volume 1 #stranger things 4

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khalixascorner · 1 year

Text

I posted 4,230 times in 2022

That's 3,508 more posts than 2021!

107 posts created (3%)

4,123 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@shivanessa

@rubythecrimsonwriter

@awesomeimportantfan

@stark-enigma

@throughthelensofthebabypanini

I tagged 476 of my posts in 2022

#starker - 271 posts

#tony stark - 148 posts

#peter parker - 143 posts

#nff - 92 posts

#khalixa writes - 77 posts

#tony stark/peter parker - 73 posts

#omegaverse - 67 posts

#mafia au - 44 posts

#alpha tony - 40 posts

#omega peter - 40 posts

Longest Tag: 122 characters

#but then i'd also donate a shitton to every underprivileged school district in the country to fund a top to bottom upgrade

My Top Posts in 2022:

So not sure I'll do anything with it but saw an incorrect quotes where Peter was like, tell the bad guys to stop praying for my downfall because they've got it. And I know the author probably meant it as funny but my brain could help but poke at it.

Like what if after Thanos, Tony survives but Peter still faces trial after trial without really ever recovering. But May and everyone just keep pushing him to be Spider-Man because people are counting on him especially with Cap out of commission and Tony missing an arm.

Sam and Bucky are off doing their thing with the military, and Wanda is who knows where so he's left to shoulder the burden, practically alone, as the face of modern superheroes and the leader of the next generation of Avengers. And Tony's his lifeline, supporting him and handling as much of the media crap he could, because Peter's still in HS and you can't really get an away program because you have a secret identity.

But eventually it's too much and Peter just ....collapses. He folds like a house of cards after an interview gone wrong where they go after him for what happened with Mysterio maybe or something else. He's 18 (only because they made him repeat an entire year of HS because of the snap), and doesn't even know if Tony's going to be able to fix the whole MIT thing, and everything is his fault.

Tony finds him curled in a ball crying, and after talking him down from the ledge, realizes the kid needs a break, like a real break. He and Pep are separated and doing the whole co-parenting thing anyway, so it's easy to carry Peter to a jet (and when had he gotten so light), and fly away to a remote location with only an AI and the bots.

May fights it at first but after the first time Peter lashes out and breaks things/ hurts himself, May steps back, because Tony's clearly prepared for a super human meltdown and their little apartment in Queens is most definitely not.

Tony tries to keep any codependency from developing but frankly he's old and lonely and Peter's desperate for someone that doesn't need or want anything from him. Maybe even just for release, someone to tell him what to do and make the choices so he doesn't have to.

And when they finally come home, Peter is smiling again, back at a healthy weight, but he moves in with Tony and stays there. Friday keeps him on a strict schedule, and he goes to Columbia or does MIT virtually but it's Tony he reports to and Tony who absolves him of guilt when being Spider-Man goes wrong. When the guilt eats him up, it's Tony who puts him on his knees and says I decide if it was bad or not, and helps Peter find solid ground again.

Peter confesses his fear to Tony, a few years into their relationship. That the man will die and Peter will follow shortly after because he can't do this without Tony anymore. So Tony digs through his old files, and starts with Cho and extremis, anything to extend his current life. And then he makes a back up. A fully developed AI version of him that could interface with the suits. Just in case plan A fails.

@monster-cock69 this seems up your alley, want a project 🤣

110 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

Addicted to Me

Alpha SIM Tony wants Omega Peter for himself. But when the boy resists his advances, he'll use whatever means necessary to bind the Omega to him.

Tags:

Rape, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Aged-Up Peter Parker, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Tony Stark, Omega Peter Parker, Superior Iron Man Vol 1. (2015), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Breeding, Cum Addiction, Non-Consensual Drug Use

Thanks @the-mad-starker for being my wonderful Beta!

Read on AO3 Here

Since becoming Superior, Tony had not wanted for much. It was easy to put on a mask, smile at the right time and no one even noticed his eyes went from brown to blue or that he'd practically stopped aging. Nor did the few people he still cared about notice when he spiked their food with a watered down extremis at his birthday party. After Obie, and Killian, after New York, Tony wasn't willing to take chances any more.

And it turned out to be a very good thing after something tried to crash his systems and kill JARVIS. With his link up, he'd been able to initiate a complete shutdown of everything, isolating the threat quickly and with prejudice. The alpha played it off as a hardware failure, working quickly to restore everything even as he tightened his security around his files.

Time passed and Tony continued to shore up his power behind the scenes, schmoozing the right politicians, investing in everything from green energy to education, all the while building his reputation with the public. It was funny how no one noticed that it was only his image he was building, not the Avengers or even SI. He stood back as Rogers and the others drove themselves to ruin in the public opinion until he was the only hero worthy of being venerated with War Machine and the Falcon at his side. And oh had stealing Wilson from Rogers been the feather in his cap.

Now, he stood at the pinnacle of success with everything he wanted. Except for one thing.

Peter Parker.

The little omega had originally popped up on his radar years ago when he had started his Spider-man gig. He had been genuine enough that Tony had sponsored him discreetly, providing a new suite with an AI, ostensibly to help the pup stay out of trouble, but also to monitor him in case he started to stray from the path like so many heroes before him. And yet, as the years passed and the boy finished high school, he never strayed. Tony updated the suit on occasion, and repaired it when the AI deemed it necessary, but otherwise, he simply stood back.

Tony offered him a full ride to a school of his choice as a reward for his good work. Peter tried to turn him down but Tony insisted and in the end, he paid for Peter to attend Columbia. It was the first time in a long time that anyone had even tried to tell Tony no, and it intrigued him.

Unable to stay away, Tony started trying to court the Omega, only to be rebuffed constantly. It would have been insulting if he hadn’t realized that Peter was so shy and not used to Tony’s lavish lifestyle. The alpha changed tactics and started inviting Peter for lab time. Still, the Omega seemed to hold back from the Alpha and that wouldn’t do at all.

So Tony started the next phase of his plan. Omegas were very susceptible to bonding through exposure to Alpha semen, and Tony had synthesized a harmless tranquilizer that he slipped into Peter’s drink when they were working late one night.

“You ok, Pete?” Tony asked, watching as the omega’s eyes drifted closed, only to blink open, then start drifting again.

“Guess I’m just tired, Mr. Stark,” Peter yawned.

“Well, the guest room is always open,” Tony said, doing his best to appear concerned. “I don’t want you trying to swing back to your dorm when you’re this tired but I’m sure I can wake Happy up if you don’t want to stay.”

“No, that’s ok, sir,” Peter was quick to assure him. “The guest room is fine.”

As he escorted Peter up to his penthouse, Tony privately congratulated himself on having had the forethought to offer the room from the start so it wasn’t suspicious to the omega at all.

Tony let the boy get settled, changing into comfortable clothes while waiting for JARVIS to alert him when Peter’s vitals evened out to sleep. Then he slipped into the guest room and closed the door behind him.

“There’s my princess,” Tony murmured, appreciating the view in front of him. Peter lay spread on the bed, having had only enough energy to strip down to his briefs before he passed out on top of the blankets. His creamy skin was flawless and his body was sculpted to perfection thanks to the omega’s special genetics.

Tony stalked closer, letting his fingers brush gently along Peter’s legs before stopping at the briefs. He debated removing them but for today’s plan, it was best to keep things minimal. Instead, he gently re-positioned Peter on his back, then pulled his cock out, bringing himself to hardness quickly. He imagined fucking the omega in all of his holes, stuffing him full until he’s cum drunk and unable to think of anything but Tony.

It didn’t take long for him to empty himself over the omega’s chest. An endosym tentacle formed, scooping up a bit of the cum. Tony gently opened Peter’s mouth, feeding the cum coated strand down his throat while stimulating the outside to ensure it was swallowed. He scooped up more and fed that to Peter as well, his cock thickening again just from the visual.

Tony took his cock in one hand and continued slowly scooping cum to feed to his pretty omega. When he came again, he made sure to add it to the remnants on Peter’s stomach. Then he moved down the bed, running his hands gently over the boy’s briefs. Carefully, he lifted the band away from the boy’s cocklette, though he didn’t remove them.

A strand scooped through the fresh cum and snaked down past the little cocklette and into the omega’s vagina. He was careful not to insert it too deeply, and made sure it was rubbed into the warm wet heat. Another scoop was rubbed in before Tony shifted to stuffing Peter’s ass instead. He threaded a nanite tube deep inside that he fed the remaining cum into. Once it was done, he retracted the endosym, swiping it over Peter’s stomach to remove any traces that were left. Then he rolled Peter back onto his stomach and grabbed a blanket from the foot of a bed and draped it over the omega.

The next morning, Tony saw Peter off, and the omega didn’t act like anything was wrong so Tony considered it a success and started planning his next night. He couldn’t do it every time the omega was over, so he waited another week and a half before Peter stayed late again. Tony was quick to offer a drink and for Peter to stay so they could finish the project they were tackling.

The boy happily agreed, and soon, Tony was ushering him up to bed once more. As soon as the omega was asleep, Tony was back in the guest room. Again Peter was only in his briefs, and Tony couldn’t help but grab a handful of the omega’s firm ass. Then he rolled him over and climbed on top, though he was careful not to put his weight on the omega. He pulled his cock out and dragged the head over the omega’s chest, smearing precum along the whole length of it.

Tony bit back a moan, wishing he could do more, like shove his cock down the omega’s throat or even fuck his thighs, but he knew he’d have to be patient for that. Instead, he quickly finished himself and started feeding his omega.

****************************************

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134 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

Soft as Iron Pt 1

Summary: Tony is known as the hardest, meanest mafia don on the eastern coast. However when he rescues Peter from human traffickers while taking down some rivals, he finds himself becoming soft just for the boy. Based on @dumb-bitch-starker mafia boss Tony being so soft for his baby boy post here and @monster-cock69 Peter falls asleep on Tony's lap while Tony fucks him. (That stuff is in later chapters.)

Read on AO3

Tags: Mafia AU Mob Boss Tony Stark Italian Tony Stark Alternate Universe - No Powers, Mob Typical Violence Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in the past Not with Tony Kidnapped Peter Parker Orphan Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony rescues him, Soft Tony Stark Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks

Tony hadn’t been expecting much when he cleared out the traffickers trying to encroach on his space. They were sloppy at best and had drawn unwanted attention to all of the bosses in the area as they kidnapped people that would actually be missed. It was practically a public service to remove them.

“Hey boss, we got a problem,” Happy said, coming up beside him.

“I thought we just took care of the problem, Hap,” Tony retorted.

“Well, yeah, but they had merchandise, boss, and one of them isn’t letting anyone near him without panicking.”

“Alright, not sure what I’ll be able to do but lead on,” Tony said, gesturing lazily.

Tony followed Happy through the warehouse until they came to a series of rooms. Most of them had been emptied and arrangements were being made to get the victims home to their families.

In the corner of one room though, sat a boy who was refusing to get up and go with Tony's men.

"Please, please don't. No more," the boy kept saying as he cried, arms wrapped tightly around his legs as he made himself as small as possible.

"Alright guys, get back," Tony said as he stepped into the room. "Let me take care of this."

Tony walked over to the kid and crouched in front of him.

"Hey kid, can you look at me," Tony asked, his voice as soft as he could make it. "I'm not going to hurt you, promise. My guys are just trying to help." He waited patiently as sniffles slowed and big brown eyes looked into his. "Hey, there we go. Good job, kid. Now, just a few quick questions, ok?"

The boy nodded slowly, and Tony moved over to sit next to the boy, unable to keep squatting comfortably. His suit was going to need a proper dry cleaning but that was ok. He's dirtied them for far less good reasons than helping a kid out.

"Alright, let's start with your name. Do you mind telling me that?" Tony asked.

"Peter, sir. Peter Parker," the boy, Peter, said around sniffles.

"Nice to meet you, Peter. I'm Tony Stark." Peter gasped when Tony introduced himself, and the man nodded. "Yeah, that Tony Stark. It's ok though. You have my word neither I nor my men will hurt you. And I always keep my word."

Peter nodded, and Tony was glad he had built his reputation the way that he had. He didn't hurt children or innocents, and he kept his word. Everyone knew that.

"You don't seem to want to get out of here. Can you tell me why?" Tony asked, doing his best to appear casual. The boy looked like he'd spook if Tony so much as raised his voice.

"Please don't make me go back there, sir, please," the kid whispered.

"Go back where, kid?"

"To the group home."

Peter managed to shrink even further into himself as he answered and Tony couldn't help but narrow his eyes.

"You're an orphan then, kid?"

"Yes, sir."

"They handed you over, didn't they?" It wouldn't be the first time Tony had heard of it happening. Teenage boys were known for being trouble and running away from group homes even when they were run well. Given the shitty system in place, it would be so easy to hide kidnappings among the missing children.

Peter nodded and flinched when Tony lifted his hand to touch the boy's face.

"Abused you too, didn't they." It was less a question and more a confirmation. Still, Peter nodded and tears welled up in the boy's eyes. Tony felt his chest twinge, even as a flash of rage ran through him. His own father had been an abusive asshole which was why Tony was so strict about the actions of his men and what he would tolerate in his territories.

See the full post

146 notes - Posted March 19, 2022

So this was a gift pic for @the-mad-starker by @sausageg It's a lovely pic of their wedding. I kinda imagine Rhodey going "man how'd we end up the ones in the dresses?" while Bruce just shrugs and Tony's just enamored with Peter. Meanwhile Peter thinks Tony looks good in anything, MJ's like, how did you manage this and Ned's just like....it's Peter. We have a cute Dum-e holding the rings and droney spreading the flowers.

161 notes - Posted September 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Doctor's Orders

Summary: Omega Peter's stress levels have gotten so high that it's starting to affect his physical and sexual health. His primary doctor prescribes sexual release as the treatment, but Peter struggles to reach his orgasm. So he goes to see a specialist, Dr. Stark, to take care of his issue.

Based on this post by @monster-cock69

Read on AO3 here

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Tony, Omega Peter, Intersex, intersex omega, Vaginal Fingering, med kink, Smut

Dr. Stark was a specialist. A specialist of a specialist even, because most doctors who specialized in omegas had secondary roles in pediatrics or maternity, but not Dr. Stark. He specialized in Omegas and their heat cycles, along with Omegan sexual health.

Peter had been lucky to get in with him so quickly. Dr. Strange had referred him after stress from school and finals especially had made it hard to eat, delayed his heat, and made any relief impossible for Peter to find with or without a partner. Peter was terrified something was seriously wrong but Dr. Strange had assured him that Dr. Stark would be able to help him.

Still he couldn't help but feel a little nervous as he waited in the lavish patient room. It was decorated well beyond what Peter ever thought he’d see, but Dr. Stark also took pro bono cases for Omegas in financial situations like Peter’s.

Before he could work himself up too much, there was a firm knock on the door, and then Dr. Stark was letting himself in.

“Mr. Parker, I presume?” Dr. Stark asked, and Peter nodded shyly. “Alright, let’s get straight to it then. My colleague referred you to me because you’ve been having trouble reaching completion, which in turn is causing you a great amount of distress. Would you agree with that assessment?”

“Ye-yes sir,” Peter stuttered. He wasn’t normally so nervous around alphas but Dr. Stark exuded dominance like the Alpha Doms he’d seen in porn. It was nerve wracking despite the fact that the doctor hadn’t done anything yet.

“No need to be nervous or embarrassed, Mr. Parker,” Dr. Stark said, his tone noticeably gentler. “I’m just here to help.”

“But what if you can’t help me?” Peter whispered, terrified of the answer.

“I won’t give up if you don’t, and I have yet to have a patient I wasn’t able to help,” Dr. Stark responded firmly. “It might take unconventional methods, and it’s going to require that you trust me to do what’s right for you, but I promise we’ll get this figured out.”

Peter nodded, his eyes glued to the floor as his hands picked at his clothes nervously. He heard Dr. Stark sigh and then hands were gently pulling his face up, forcing him to look at the alpha.

“I mean it, Peter, I will fix this,” Dr. Stark said. Peter blinked away tears and nodded. The alpha seemed so confident and sure. He could only hope he was right.

**************************

The first thing Tony always did with a new patient was find out what had already been tried. It was embarrassing and uncomfortable for every omega at first, but typically, it was easy to spot what the problem was just from their history. Whether they weren’t leaning enough into their sexual preferences or were on the spectrum for ace/aro, Tony had become the expert at determining the source of their frustration and then how to manage it. Sometimes, that meant new toys or positions to try. Other times, it meant meds to help their bodies remain healthy without any pressure for sex.

Peter Parker was an anomaly. The boy had quickly made it clear that he had tried sex with partners of every secondary gender, in a variety of positions, and even during heat, only to find little to no relief.

“Mr. Parker, I must say, you’re one of the first Omegas I’ve had where the problem wasn’t immediately apparent, but that just means we’re going to get creative,” Tony said, giving the kid a reassuring grin. “Now, do me a favor, clothes off and hop up on the table for me, will you? I’d like to do a physical to make sure everything is in working order before we start exploring therapy options.”

The omega hesitated for only a moment before stripping off his clothes and climbing onto the table.

“If you’re uncomfortable, I can call one of the beta nurses in,” Tony offered but the boy quickly shook his head. That wasn’t uncommon. Most people were barely comfortable with Tony knowing they had problems, let alone more people from the office. “Alright, I’m going to check your physical responses to stimuli, so just relax, close your eyes, and try to feel.”

Tony waited for the boy to follow his instructions, then waited a few moments longer until the tension slowly eased.

“I’m going to touch your foot now,” Tony said softly before reaching out. The omega still jumped a little, but he soon relaxed under Tony’s soft massage.

To an outsider, what Tony was doing would just look like a relaxing rub down, but he was actually looking for sensitive spots that triggered a reaction in the Omega, whether squirming or slicking. Anything that might indicate sexual or sensual pleasure.

************************

Peter had jumped at the doctor’s first touch, but the more the doctor touched him, the more he relaxed. The hands on his legs felt nice until they reached his thigh, and then he had to fight not to push into the alpha’s touch. Dr. Stark must have noticed though because his hands paused.

“It’s important to let your body react however it wants to, Peter,” Stark said softly. “I need to know that you’re able to feel pleasure properly.”

Peter nodded and the hands continued. This time, Peter didn’t stop himself from sighing and pushing into the hands.

“There we go, you’re doing excellent,” Stark said.

See the full post

167 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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aotoreiki · 9 months

Note

What made you pick up this character?

Which song do you feel describes your character the most and why?

Questions for muns of canon muses

1. What made you pick up this character?

the (half) joking answer is the whims of autism brain

This unlocks my unskippable cutscene because I never get tired of telling about it. The reason I started rping Ice was an accident on my part and the result of me trying to pull a joke on my sibling.

When I was maybe 12 or 13ish me and my sister and our best friend would live-rp pokemon stuff. I started drawing a bunch of silly comics about our ongoing plot, us, and the characters involved. Now I actually didn't care much about Ice or Pokemon Ranger back then, that was my sister's thing.

For some reason Ice really annoyed her, so as a joke, I added him to the comic. It was just to get her reaction and to use as a recurring gag (since our self-inserts were characters, hers reacted the same way, angry every time he showed up). Then, because we were live-rping this out and my sister disliked him and naturally refused to do it and our friend hadn't played Ranger and didn't know anything about him, that meant that I had to play Ice's part in our weekly games. I actually didn't especially want to do it though lol I remember that.

He went from being included as a joke to playing a bigger and bigger plot role as I got more and more invested in him. I cannot explain WHY this happened. I honestly don't remember or know. My brain just latched onto him. He basically took the place of a self insert, it went way beyond our larp stuff, I began putting him into EVERYTHING in my head. Every day I was making up scenarios with this guy. I cared more about rping him in our games than any of my other charas. I was drawing a squillion terrible pictures of him. He had become the Main Character of my Brain.

This went on for years and years until it carried over when I got proper internet access and got into fandom spaces that had rp, and then eventually when I started with tumblr rp and discovered the Pokemon rpc was a thing, of course I was going to put him here too.

There have been patches where he fell back into the recesses of my brain for a time, but he's never actually gone, and I don't think he will. I picked Ice up out of a thoughtless consequence of a prank years and years ago and he stuck to my hands. I can't put him back down.

21. Which song do you feel describes your character the most and why?

I'm partial to this English cover/interpretation of Reason Living.

It's about striving to figure out and grasp your purpose, as you live now, despite what may have happened in the past (a core theme in BSD where it comes from, and one that I like).

Why can’t I find the shining light? The reason for me to live my life Only yesterday, I went astray and My mind began to fade away

Reaching out as I look above Up to the clouds I will never touch With my tainted hands

You can listen to it and pretty much all of it can be imagined from Ice's perspective. He's insecure, he's made poor choices, he lacks a solid sense of purpose and doubts and has little proper faith in himself because of things he's done that had a poor outcome (with lesser or greater problems attached). Still, he wants to find that purpose.

I learned to feel my pain And I realised how to start again And depart on my journey to be saved Go on, take my hand!

I reference the song on the blog theme and in Ice's main verse tag! I also had it set as the blog title until just a few days ago.

#inbox ✻ i’ll see you around!#skillswapping #ooc ✻ who opened the box #Thank you!! the question about the song was actually a very good reminder to me

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innytoes · 2 years

Note

"Pinky promise?" And "Relationships are built on trust, and I trust you," from the soft prompts for Willex? (Feel free to change ship if it doesn't vibe with you!)

Some nights, after the applause died down and the audience went home and they'd done all the clean up, Alex would lie in the van he shared with Reggie and Luke, both boys curled up beside him, and stare at the ceiling wondering how the hell this had turned out to be his life.

Running away and joining the circus was supposed to be something that happened in kid's books, not real life. But Luke had already been living in the garage they rented as a studio, Reggie crashing there more and more often. And when Alex came to the studio one night, hastily packed bag over one shoulder telling them how he'd overheard his parents discussing sending him to some kind of 'pray away the gay' camp, well, they knew they had to get out of LA, and fast.

Joining up with the circus was supposed to be a temporary thing. Except it turned out, they all really liked it there. The ringmaster and owner, Ray, was really nice and was thrilled to have a bunch of young musicians offer to join up. He'd been less thrilled, a year later, when he realised they were celebrating Alex' eighteenth birthday, but he hadn't kicked them out or anything.

So they played their music, joining up with Ray's daughter Julie to form 'the most epic band ever', according to Luke. And they found out ways to help before and after the shows. Turned out Luke was killer at balloon animals, Reggie helped with the animals, and Alex usually helped the food stalls.

"Hey Hotdog," Willie said, leaning over the side and giving him a kiss. Alex' stomach fluttered with butterflies, the way it always did when Willie was close. The last of the people had gone into the big tent, which meant they had about a half an hour to tidy up and get ready before the actual show started and they were needed at their stations. "Can we talk?"

The butterflies in his stomach must have frozen to death, considering the way his insides turned to ice. "O... okay."

"Shit no, sorry, not like that, that totally set off your anxiety, didn't it? It's not anything bad, I swear." Willie stammered. He looked ridiculously nervous himself, one of his big sweaters over his leotard. He took Alex' hand, bringing them to behind the trailers, out of sight of everyone. "Caleb offered me a spot in his part of the show."

"That's brilliant, Willie!" Alex said, grasping his tighter. His boyfriend deserved all of the time in front of the audience. At first, Alex hadn't even been able to watch Willie's part of the show, his aerial tricks and tight rope walking and time up in the air meaning he almost toppled over his cymbal from hitting it so hard in his anxiety. But now, he loved nothing more than to watch his boyfriend fly free and joyful above the crowds.

"It does mean I'll have to get pretty up-close and personal with Dante, though," Willie said. Dante was one of Caleb's stage assistants. He was usually the guy who did all the switcheroo stuff, as Reggie called it, while Fuego and Caleb distracted the crowd.

"Okay?" Alex asked. "Are you worried he's gonna drop you?" He'd never seen Dantye drop anyone. They'd had acrobatics and stuff in the magic show before, and he'd never heard any of the other performers complain. The guy seemed pretty solid.

"You're not upset?" Willie asked, blinking. Alex shrugged.

"You spend all your time forty feet off the ground doing things I can't even wrap my head around," he pointed out. "I think you can handle being fake-sawed-in-half or whatever."

"You're not worried about me being all over this super buff, hot guy?" Willie pressed. And okay yeah maybe Alex did still sometimes blush when Dante was doing a shirtless workout on the grounds. But he was married to Fuego. Plus, Willie would never cheat on him. Honestly, the big muscles were kind of reassuring, if Dante was meant to be catching his boyfriend.

"Relationships are built on trust, and I trust you," he said, gently taking Willie's face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his furrowed brow. Immediately, Willie relaxed, leaning into him. "Promise me one thing, though," he said.

"Anything," Willie said immediately.

"Don't get on Caleb's bad side and get sawed in half for real," Alex said as seriously as he could.

Willie's laugh echoed over the now empty fields. "Pinky promise," he agreed, linking their fingers together and kissing him soundly.

#willex #fanfic #julie and the phantoms #willie throckmorton #alex mercer #circus au #AUs are awesome #I cannot explain to you my thought process for this one it was all over the place #except hnnghhh willie in a leotard #just the boys all sleeping in their beat up van as they tour with the circus #reggie is friends with all the animals down to Caleb's doves #the trick riders are 100% teaching him their stuff #he may or may not find a stray dog and teach it tricks at some point #one day willie will convince Alex to let him take him up #but for now he has a lot of fun teaching Alex silk-rope tricks half a meter off the floor #just picture Luke making small children balloon animals while Julie and Reggie stare at him all heart-eyed

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boredom-thingy · 2 years

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I know I've been venting a lot lately but my posts aren't seen a whole lot so whatever

But no one talks about how entirely unreal in a negative way not being able to remember most or all of your childhood is. I'm a young adult. I can barely remember the last few weeks, much less the last few years of my life. I'm missing almost my entire childhood with the exception of random memories here and there.

And it feels like I'm missing a huge ass piece of myself. Because I kinda am. People adapt pieces from others around them growing up. A lot of people, especially my age, can look at themselves and point at things and be able to know who they came from. What they came from. I can't do that. I'm slowly finding out that even the things I thought were normal about my family or "just me being me" about myself are not normal. Are not just strange one off because I'm funky. They're clear cut signs that I'm not okay and never was. But I can't remember why. There's clearly a reason, but I don't remember it.

It feels like I'm reaching for something that not there sometimes. It feels like I'm throwing myself into a void hoping to come back with something. It feels like I'm the void, that I just suck things in never to be seen again. I feel like I don't know who I am, who I was, or who I'm going to be. It feels like my entire existence is based on something I can't even remember. It feels like someone took the dishes that were my memories and just. Smashed them. And then stomped on them. And threw away the majority of the pieces. Leaving me with random pieces that I don't know what they're even supposed to be or look like. Or leaving me with gaping holes. Or just nothing at all.

And the amount of dissociation that causes. The amount of time distortion from wondering what happened to the me I thought I knew. The amount of listening to stories about myself and wondering who that person was. Because it feels like I don't know. It feels like I'm listening to stories about someone else because I don't remember. I can't remember. No matter how much I try.

No one talks about how not being able to remember that much of what was supposed to be your life makes you feel like you're not real anymore. It makes it feel like you're not solid, like you're invisible and it allows for the strangest new fears to creep in. I'm always scared that somehow, all of this was a literal fever dream. A coma dream. Or somehow, I'm suddenly invisible and all the people I knew and loved can't see or perceive me and don't remember me. That I don't matter and never did. All because I simply don't feel real.

I see those things telling you to work on yourself, to let your inner child out; saying college is the time to figure out who you are. But most people have an idea of that already. I feel like the blank screen a writer stares at. The blinking cursor the only indicator that something may come to be. No history, no previous story, nothing to draw on for inspiration. Just. Blank. I don't have the memories, I don't know who I am. And it's fucking terrifying. And painful. And it causes so much dissociation and derealization.

I want my memories back. But what if they're gone for a reason?

#I cant stop dissociating #and i hate those trends "she wouldve loved this [insert picture of person but very young]#i dont know what i wouldve loved #i cant remember #i dont even know if it was me #im so tired #dissociative amnesia #really sucks

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ihavemadequestionablechoices · 2 years

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The Sunken Ship: Chapter 1

Read the first part!

You can feel your heartbeat. Your damaged heart, knocking at your chest while your paralyzed body feels as if it's falling into a deep abyss, making you feel claustrophobic.

Your eyelids are heavy. Your limbs feel numb, although you wouldn't even know they still existed if it weren't for the aching muscles under the skin.

For a moment, you remain in this calming sleep. The rhythm of your heart is the only thing you can sense and honestly, the only thing you need. However, as soon as some unfamiliar smells enter your nostrils, your eyes shoot open, and you quickly feel your body tense at the unfamiliar surroundings.

You're not breathing like you should. Your body has changed. At first, you don't know what it is that feels so different, but once you realize you're not standing on solid ground, you panic even more. You're in water. You're swimming deep under the water, away from any air, yet you're not dying or drowning. Before waking up, you were lying in something that you can only describe as coral.

When you look down at your fingers, you see how they're less human and more... what animal is this supposed to be? Your feet have changed as well, and a tail is keeping you in balance. And when you look at your own reflection, you realize what changes your body has gone through.

You remember the day clearly. The storm that sent you down here. Unfortunately, though, there's no memory after passing out, so you can't find any explanation for the sudden metamorphosis your body must've been through somehow, going from a human to a mix of human and axolotl.

"You're awake," an unfamiliar voice speaks out as it enters the cave in which you were sleeping prior. The strange scent is the first part about him that catches your attention. He smells like blood. Blood and ink, mainly. This aroma is honestly quite easy to explain once your bad eyes have told you what he is meant to be. A man under water, with the body of a squid from the waist down. The majority of his skin, however, is covered with scales, unlike yours. "I couldn't tell whether you were sleeping or in a coma, to be honest. According to Theseus, you'd been asleep the entire time he brought you here."

"Theseus?" You ask, your voice shaking a little as you come to realize that you're not dreaming. And the squid-human comes closer.

"He saved your life, most likely. If it hadn't been for him, chances would've been quite big that you would've ended up shark food. Do you remember anything? Considering the wreck has been there for years, you must've been unconscious there for a pretty long time."

Wreck? Had this Theseus found you in a wreck? "I do. I remember everything." You must've passed out after hitting your head and been stuck in the bridge or something. Then a curious man probably found the ship wreck and thus, also found you.

"Can you tell me what happened? It's very rare to find axolotls. Let alone, find them in these waters." Should you tell him the truth?

Well, before you can do this, his words repeat inside your mind as you realize what he said. "Wait, what year is it? How long have I been stuck here?"

"Well, it turned the year 31 a few weeks ago," he responds and you freeze in your place, the familiar lump arising in your throat.

11 years. 11 years have passed.

You have to compliment yourself when it comes to aging, though. You would have never thought you'd be 27 already. No, you estimated yourself to be younger.

"What's your name?" He asks after not getting any other response from you and you kind of startle when he speaks. You stutter your name before asking him his, shivering when two other new unfamiliar scents catch your attention. "Technoblade."

And as if his name summoned an obnoxious teenager, a humanoid frog enters the cave with an unescapable energy, his eyes looking at you excitedly as he almost jumps through the water surrounding him.

The teenager has the long legs of the amphibian you can easily make him out to be, forcing him to wear shorts - although, to be fair, Technoblade doesn't even wear pants. Which makes sense in his case - next to which, he's wearing a white with red shirt that covers up his glandular skin. While Techno's upper body seems to be mostly human, despite the often scales to cover them, the boy's hands are mostly human as well, although he has sticky, webbed fingers.

"You're awake!" The boy then shouts, his voice being louder than you anticipated. He quickly swims towards you, giving you an unexpected hug, before letting go of you and investigating you without even trying to be subtle. "Who knew, right, Techno? Who knew there'd be another amphibian to join L'Mansea!?"

"Calm down a little, will you? Judging by their reactions, they have no idea what's going on here. And since they remember what happened, I don't think they've always been an axolotlperson. Axoperson? I don't know, is there a name for it?"

"It's still great! I always thought there was someone listening with me at the wreck!"

"That's just your paranoia."

"No, it's not! Awake or asleep, they listened with me nonetheless."

After you ask them confusedly about what the fuck the L'Mansea is, Tommy happily tells you about the ocean in which you were found. It's been 11 years. 11 long years you have been unconscious, in a wreck at the bottom of the sea, with sometimes the company of an unaware child. 11 long years, the last time you were alive involving humanity. Is this the afterlife? Or magic? Or perhaps just a fever dream? You don't know, but Tommy's explanation is a quite mind-wrecking one.

The L'Mansea is an ocean in which a kingdom is resided. A kingdom for merpeople, mostly, although it sometimes could happen that some lost winged human found their way crashing down. In any case, it are mostly fish that live here, Tommy being one of the only amphibians. However, there are some other reptiles to live there, so there is some kind of a flask that those who need it can drink air out of. Either that, or they'll have to go to the stops where air bubbles can be found.

Respectively, the L'Mansea is a place for many different people, led by the King, Philza, who Tommy tells proudly about. According to him, Phil is also a very close friend of Techno, also happening to be a great white shark. Despite this, Tommy proclaims the man to be very kind and fatherly to everyone.

While the frog keeps telling you more about himself and his life, the scent which first felt so distant, starts coming closer and burning in your nose. As if the fire that it lights makes your eyes produce tears, you squeeze them shut a little as you catch the shadow of another being near the entrance of the case. There's not a lot you can see of this shadow, other than its head and its long tail, with no fins attached. However, once Technoblade catches you watching there, he must've realized the presence of the other animal just outside as he approaches the opening quietly.

But the stranger seems to notice your realisation and instead announces his presence before Techno can do so, entering the cave with no friendliness whatsoever. His snake-like body moves over the ground carefully, his face covered by a smiley mask, and despite the lack of facial expression visible, his voice already tells you that he's not exactly there with good intentions.

"Techno, Tommy. I thought I told you to tell me when there was going to be a stranger in the L'Mansea. May I ask who this is?"

Next part:

#dsmp #reader #technoblade #tommyinnit #dream #philza #characters not ccs #mermaids #hybrids #under water #possibly dsmp x reader #fanfiction #multiple chapters #gender neutral reader

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