#because this was supposed to be a tech blog

[canyourfavesurvivecastledracula]

Okay, so might have been asked before, but Bruce Wayne.

Not Batman. Just Bruce Wayne, little to no tech, Brucie persona in full swing...maybe he's there for some really weird gala or something and is now stuck and doesn't want to blow his cover.

@beabaseball  asked:

Would Bruce Wayne (Batman) survive Count Dracula? He's scared of bats!! :(

@goldenzingy46  asked:

could batman survive castle dracula? (either in costume or out of it)

@major-knighton  asked:

Could Batman survive Castle Dracula?

Anonymous asked:

I'm sure this has probably been asked, but I couldn't find it via blog search. Could Batman survive Castle Dracula? (Any iteration, with or without Batfam members.)

Ahahahahaha Brucie Wayne, billionaire playboy and Gotham's favoritest darling himbo. Yes good!

I gotta tag @unpretty in this. We all know tumblr batman is the best batman.

As to beabaseball's concern: poor Brucie! He is so afraid of bats! Fortunately for him, Dracula does all his bad batting about in England - he doesn't actually shapeshift at any point in the Castle, presumably for the same reasons he's presenting as Old AF and climbing his own walls like a lizard. Maybe some exceptionally rich blood will help him out with that actually. And for what it's worth, Jonathan does not describe any natural bats frequenting Castle Dracula either. There's nothing alive in the Castle (the wolves, of course, being Outside the Castle). Now would he count things like bats and vermin? He describes the womens' quarters as moth-eaten, so there must be like...moths. (Unless Dracula Did That I suppose). But I am not sure whether that tells us there could be bats and they just weren't worth mentioning, or that there aren't bats because if there were they would have eaten the moths.

I am going to say that there are no bats of any kind at Castle Dracula, so poor Brucie won't have his childhood trauma triggered in that way. I'm sure watching a mother get devoured by wolves won't- yeah.... he's not gonna like this. Sorry Bruce buddy you're in the Dying Parents novel. Whoopsie daisy.

Look there are reasons why Brucie is Gotham's favorite idiot son. He's a good boy. Of course he accepts the crucifix - it's for his mother's sake! Being given a lot of flowers is nothing unusual for him but he accepts them graciously as well. He tips the coachman handsomely (the coachman turns a little green at accepting his money, but Mr Wayne is just so earnest and, he rationalizes it later, it's not like the doomed young man is going to have any further use for it...), and Dracula's Calèche driver as well. He's so sloshed on Slivovitz by the time they get to the Castle (impressive since the bottle appears not to have been opened) that he tries to tip him in real silver (lol classic Brucie having no idea of the value of things - where did he even get that?). He even tries to tip Dracula when he answers the door, presuming him to be the butler. (No, it is late and my servants have all gone to bed. Really? My butler keeps such consistent round-the-clock hours that the tabloids keep asking me if he's a vampire, haha, but I guess he's something special).

On that note, this strange nighttime existence is nothing that out of the ordinary for the billionaire playboy lifestyle. Brucie frequently sleeps in till 2 under normal circumstances - it's not like he needs to get up early to drive his kids to school, he has drivers for that (no one is really sure if Brucie even knows how to drive). Dracula actually finds it a little off-putting how blithely cheerful he remains, almost as if he too is a creature of the night who cares little for the bright voluptuousness of youth ... or maybe he's just that dumb. When Dracula tried to sneak up on him making his toilet he found him actually trying to put his trousers on backwards (and turning around so much in the effort that the sneaking up was harder than Dracula anticipated - Brucie awkwardly explains that his butler usually dresses him, leaving Dracula morbidly fascinated about how he's even alive still).

I... am not sure how the shaving scene goes. I shouldn't think he would startle enough to cut himself. Or might he cut himself on purpose just to see how Dracula reacts? If Dracula makes a grab for his throat dies he blow him a kiss and say "buy me a drink first, darling" ? Did he pack extra shaving mirrors, making Dracula go :/ and consider stealing his stuff early?

Dracula retires muttering each morning "is he as stupid as he seems?? Nobody could be as stupid as he seems..." But he invites him to stay another month and write some fake letters and Brucie is like "who me?? My secretary writes my letters I wouldn't know how to begin" and Dracula has no idea what to do with that. Climbing the walls doesn't bother him, he's from Gotham, people climbing about on walls is your typical Tuesday. In fact, nothing Dracula does seems to get to him and it's getting really frustrating. At one point Dracula cautiously asks him why he's so chill and he's just like "oh you know it's not so different from home, only there we've got this evil clown that murders people. Well that's what they say at least. But my ward Dick, you know, he came from the circus? And apparently murdering people is against the Clown Code so, between you and me, I don't think he exists." And Dracula's just sitting there like "wait what" but also "that doesn't follow at all and I am fascinated by how your brain works" and because Dracula's a cocky SOB he's like "so you don't believe in evil clowns but do you believe in vampires?" And Brucie is like "well everyone says the Batman is a vampire but personally I think the news media made him up like Bigfoot and Armadillos." And Dracula's just like ...wat.

Brucie definitely ends up in the ladies' wing (it's amazing where that man randomly ends up. He gets lost on the way to the bathroom. Maybe he genuinely thought it was his own room). Is he sleeping... or only pretending to? Either way the Girlies aren't the first Femme Fatales to have him under their spell (he's been hypnotized so much...) - but on the other hand he's probably still wearing the crucifix. I don't think that will interrupt the trance though, which might before the best because child death is one of the things he's sensitive about. Dracula carries him back to his room and is like "dang is it just the fact that I've been fasting or is this soft socialite built like a brickhouse???"

So I think Bruce would know better than to remove the crucifix, as I've said, and I also think he'd figure out a way to set an hourly alarm on his watch to break him out of future trances - but does he have the data to figure out the sonic component based just on May 16th or does he need the barking dogs on June 24th as well. I would be willing to give him the possibility of actually being able to understand the Hetman, and also putting together that the people camped out in Dracula's courtyard are probably working for Dracula. Does this mean he won't try to send coded letters - or that he will try, to find out if they get passed to Dracula?

.......okay I don't think he's going to let Dracula get away with going into town with his babysnatching sack. I think when he sees that he's going to act. (Now obviously no one is going to mistake Dracula for him even wearing his suits because the butts don't match). So what does he do? Does he follow him?? Like, I am confident in his ability to make it down the wall even without a grappling hook. He's a whole ninja after all. The Girlies are like ....wait where'd he go? I actually don't know how Dracula effects his babysnatching. I think the funniest option I'd for Bruce (master of disguise) to dress up in Dracula's things (you know how he loves a good cape) and go frighten the villagers first so that they're on high alert when Dracula turns up and he can't find any babies to snatch. I don't know how he could get there first though. His best option is to tail Dracula and then sabotage his efforts by like... knocking over trashcans and things. I dunno. This has kinda gotten away from me.

Okay so assuming he succeeds... what does Dracula do if he can't get a baby? He's got some very opinionated mouths to feed. Maybe he's finally had enough and is like "fine, you can eat the himbo, I'm leaving in a week anyway" and the Girlies are like "so... about that... we tried while you were out (what!?) and he's not here" and Dracula is like "what do you mean he's not here there's nowhere for him to go" and they go and search and find him lounging on something reading the Bradshaw's Guide upside down. And he's like "oh yeah I'm thinking of buying a railroad" and Dracula's like ".......that's upside down" and Brucie is just like "ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh that makes so much more sense thanks <3"

Regarding the wolves I... don't think Bruce would choose the Certain Death option. He's got all those kids. (Sadly I can't see a way for him to get Free Baby out of this - maybe it's for the best). And afterwards maybe he stows away in one of those dirt boxes... although if he follows Dracula on the 24th does he ever find the dirt boxes? Eh, he's a brilliant detective, of course he finds them.

Anyway, yes, I do think Batman Brucie Wayne, himbo of Gotham can survive Castle Dracula

(Incidentally I personally believe that Batman does have a superpower and it's Environmental Empathy. Dracula's like ...wtf I didn't order these thunderstorms)

#batman #bruce wayne #brucie wayne #tumblr batman #superheroes #aristocrats #detectives #ninjas

[randomshyperson]

Five Times Carol Danvers Kisses You

Summary: The five times Carol Danvers kisses you until you two finally get together. 

Warnings: Mentions but nothing explicit, a lot of fluff, mutual pining (and typical angst of trope), best friends to lovers, pre-canon-compliant (takes place before Carol is taken), kissing, happy(ish) ending. | Words: 4.836k

A/N-> As mentioned on this blog before, I absolutely love the dynamics of "Five Times Something" and after watching The Marvels I became obsessed with Carol Danvers, and here I am with something about my beloved blondie. It's short and sweet, and I didn't want to write anything too angsty but you can get hints of what's to come from the canon (Dr.Lawson being a Kree in disguise and what will happen to Carol). But the fic doesn't address this directly and ends up with a happy scene. Let's all live in denial.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

One.

“This is not a place to raise a child” was the justification your father used when he left. Funny enough, he didn't take the child, you, away from all the high-tech military weapons that he described as inadequate for a child to grow up around. 

His lost, it what your mother said, an easy smile on her lips while she offered you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She still had some grease on her jacket and a lot of dust on her hair but she looked beautiful. That was just how things were for Wendy Lawson.

And because she was the best mom anyone could ask for, or at least that was what you would perceive it with your limited references of healthy families. She was the best because she would let you sit around while she worked for the Shield, casually teaching you advanced engineering like it was the same homework you had from secondary school.

That was the only life you knew: Afternoons of trying to stay out of the way of Shield Agents and their big weapons until you were old enough to have a gun yourself.

But before that time came, some of them worried you weren't having a decent childhood. Away from guns at least.

You don't know which of the Agents suggested to Doctor Lawson the kart track, but you wish you could thank them. Your mother, as the busy cientist she always has been, was not available to be around all of the evenings you wished to spend there but she trusted your independence to use the bus after school. Besides, you had the impression that there were always Shield Agents keeping an eye on you no matter where you went.

Só for three whole years, that old place was your favorite. You would run out from the classroom with the first ring of the bell to get to the kart track as fast as you could, and for all those three years, you were also the best runner there.

Of course, it cost you some bloody noose and bruised hands. Especially with sore losers little boys who were very unpleased to be second placed by some random girl. There were also the parents, who would whisper not very lowly on how absurd it was to let an unsupervised little girl in such a violent activity.

As luck would have it, someday you were no longer the only little girl around.

The Danvers were local, and you always thought there were only three of them. The grumpy father and the loud and popular sons. But one day, the one with the warmest smile, the youngest son brought someone with him.

His little sister's name was Carol. She had her blonde hair tied down and she looked ready to punch anyone who gave her a hard time. All the Danvers kind looked the same to be fair. Blonde, strong and angry.

Unlike her brother and their free pass to do as they please, Carol was constantly reprimanded by her father. Even there, in front of the whole crowd and runners, he would scream and pinch her ear, adding to the fury that shone behind Carol's little blue eyes.

The other children would whisper just like their parents but growing up with spies and secret agents gave you this second nature to sneak in and out of places without being noticed. You weren't supposed to hear some of the adults whispering how Mr.Danvers drank more than he should or how his older son was leaving next summer for the army with a purple eye he didn't get in the training. You weren't supposed to but you did.

So the next time Carol crashed a car with one of the other runners, you messed up your perfect record to help her.

Her dad screamed again, as usual. But he left, muttering she could find her way home since she was so clever and Carol had those thick tears in her eyes that made them bluer, so you were helping her before you could give a second thought to it.

She didn't mind that you took her hand and brought her to the administration lobby. She's more interested in knowing how the hell you knew how to get there in the first place.

When you told her you grew up with spies she laughed thinking you were joking. You decided to tell her more stories in the hope it would distract her from the pain of the cuts she got in her legs from the crash.

It worked.

Carol had colorful patches on both her knees when you two sneaked out of there to the bus stop. You could take her home if she wished because you knew a lot about public transport but Carol smiled and said she could do it alone; Her dad was often not around and with soldiers brothers, she knew a lot about doing things by herself.

Yet, she appreciates the gesture and the thought. Her bus should be here in 25 minutes so you sit next to her and let your healthy knee brush her bruised one.

“My name is Carol Danvers by the way.” 

You have to chuckle at her line.

“I know who you are, Danvers.” You retort with an easy smile. She looks up with curiosity. You chuckle again. “You know your name is on the scoreboard, right?”

She laughs, almost shyly. You don't know that yet but Carol is not the best at making friends. Especially girlfriends because apparently, every girl hated how not 60s girly behavior she acted on as much as any boy.

You didn't mind. If anything, it kinda made you like her more.

“You didn't have to do that back there you know?” She starts over, fingers tugging at the bandaid you put above her knee. “Lose the race to check on me.”

You shrug, eyes on the road. “No worries. There'll be other races. Besides, you're the only real competition I get there. If you're not participating, what's the fun in winning?”

Carol's cheeks grow a little hotter, but you're both too young to know it has nothing to do with the sun above your heads. You offer her a smile and she gets up to signal to the bus.

But before she leaves, she turns to you again.

It's quicker than her crash that morning, the thank you little peck on your right cheek but is as meaningful as losing a three-year Invictus status on a track race for someone.

Carol nearly flees the scene once she catches the first glimpse of surprise in your expression. You were caught off guard, that's all. But all you can do is laugh to yourself as you watch her run to her bus.

Tomorrow, when you are back here, you'll find Carol so you can share your lunch with her. Today, you would walk home with no clue why the spot she kissed was tingling.

-&-

Two.

Shield Academy is not the army. 

It is, as the name suggests, an academic program for the gifted-minded. It's a place where a child who grew up surrounded by the brightest minds on the planet can get it easily.

Well, of course, there's a lot of studying and tiring exams that you wouldn't describe as easy but when taking everything into consideration, the only place a brainy - or huge nerd as Carol would call it - could end up was there.

So while you had big dark blue sweaters with the Shield logo on them, Carol had worn out public school uniforms. 

But she was doing okay. In fact, if anyone asked you, even though you were the nerd one in that friendship, for you, Carol was quite brilliant. She had a quick mind and such a strong, well, everything. She was as clever as she was kind. She was passionate about anything she cared for and she was easily your favorite person.

The kart track gave space for the public library and the green plains behind Shield Academia as you two grew up. Carol would take her bike from across town and spend the whole day after school in those green yards with you. Often, she had a football with her while you had a book.

And while you tried to escape your Shield colleagues, Carol would find her spot at your side. She would watch those training agents and wish to be like them, while both of you knew she would follow her brothers to the military when the time came.

But for now, you're sixteen. And Carol has been your best friend for almost 6 years now. You're not sure if friends have anniversaries or if it's something reserved for dating, and since you're not gonna ask any of the agents around, especially not Doctor Lawson, you just assume is okay to get Carol a gift.

She had been wishing for a walkman for so long - she had three already, all broke down during some of her naughty antics, from jumping into the reservation without remembering to take them off her backpack to get into a fight with older kids who thrown her stuff just for the fun of it. So yes, she had those before and she loved music but somehow she always ended up breaking them so you thought maybe because you were the one gifting it, she would be more careful.

You were right of course, but that's hardly the point.

Carol started to act strange after the gift. Even days later, during movie night at her house, she got quiet, which is definitely not a Carol Danvers kind of attitude, so you started to wonder if the present was a good idea at all.

That of course, until Carol clarified the whole thing.

“I got you something too. For, hum, the anniversary thing.” 

You pinched her ribs, the nearly shy behavior was such an odd thing to testify that was actually terrifying you. Carol has been your best friend for way too long for that or anything to be awkward between you two.

But then again, adolescence makes everything weird.

You don't open the gift very graciously. Because you were in the middle of movie night, of course, hands full of popcorn butter and Carol was being weird and suspect that you just wanted to put an end to it.

You chuckle at her worn-out team jacket there.

“So your gift to me is your jacket?” You asked with a confused frown, watching your friend struggle with her words the next moments.

“No, I mean yes. But not, just that.” She starts and it's quite the scene. Carol Danvers not being able to talk when that's all she does. “It's my favorite jacket. I… really like it.”

“Do you want it back then?” You suggest with a confused laugh but Carol shakes her head immediately, her cheeks rosy.

“God, no, that’s not…” she takes a deep breath. “I like the jacket, a lot, but not as much as I like you. So I thought, maybe if I can give you something that I really like, it will mean…”

“Oh, I get it.” You say with a smile, holding the jacket against your chest as Carol switches the weight in her foot. “Thank you, blondie. But you don't have to give me your favorite stuff to show me you like me. You don't have to give me anything at all really. Perhaps, all you have to do is say it and I'll believe you.”

Carol nods, shallowing dryly, and without missing a beat, she repeats her words from before: “I really like you.” It's nearly a whisper, and the way she struggles to hold your gaze tells you everything you need to know.

You smile, aware of the warmth spreading in your cheeks and ears.

“I really like you too, Carol.” You tell her and with no hush, you put her jacket on. The blonde in front of you takes a shaky breath once the jacket is properly around your body. You're distracted with the new outfit to take notice of the new dark shine her eyes hold. “Gotta admit it, Danvers, I could totally worm the athletic style. I mean, I look super cool don't I?”

But your question goes unanswered. Carol moves forward, her hands grab the collar of the gifted jacket and just like the first time, she kisses you quicker than you can manage to process.

Her lips are dry against yours because she's nervous. Trembling and terrified. You pull away, and Carol has her eyes closed tightly, breathing unevenly.

You take a deep breath and lick your lips to moisten them a little and the second kiss is much better. 

There's this soft noise she makes when you move your mouth but the second you feel her tongue on your lower lip, there's noise around you two.

As if getting electrocuted, Carol jumps away just in time for her evidently drunk father to stumble inside the garage.

Carol is not eight anymore, but she's the only one left in that house. Her older brother taught her five different ways to break someone's noose, but Carol still shakes like the leaves if her father is around with his harsh words and angry looks.

This time, however, he takes a long glance at you both. The guilty looks, accelerated breathing, and he just laughs.

The only thing he says is a slur that makes Carol flinch. Then he turns his back and climbs the stairs to his bedroom, passing out in the hallway before he can make it through.

“Carol, I-” You try but she forces a smile and nods at the door.

“Please go.” She asks. “I have to take him to bed and you don't have to stay.”

“But-”

“Please.”

You leave. And Carol doesn't bring up that night for the next two years.

-&-

Three.

Graduation means Army. More specifically, the Air Force because of course Carol Danvers wants to fly away from everything and everyone.

“Not everyone.” She frowns when you tell her that. Then she smiles, legs brushing yours at the back of her truck. “I would love to have you up there with me.”

You chuckle, giving her shoulder a little bump with your own.

“Sorry Blondie, you know I hate planes.” You joke but the shine in her eyes is deeper now.

“What about spaceships?” She insists it.

You sigh into the night, pensive for a second.

“Well, Mom would probably love it if I ever suggest anything that involves flying.” You say, breaking into a chuckle as your hand moves to the leg you have bent in that position, which allows you to trace your fingers toward your ankle. “Of course, anything other than my secret little Pegasus.”

Carol gives a compliance smile at the mention of the secret tattoo you got on her seventeenth birthday but continues to watch you in silence.

The stars are shining bright above you two, and the parked truck gives as much privacy as one could get in that neighborhood. If you and Carol weren't girls, people would make conclusions.

Perhaps they’ll do it anyway.

“What would I even do up there, Danvers?” You ask her because Carol is so passionate about flying that you're starting to wonder if she is able to see a whole different world up there that you can't.

This time, her hand finds you before her lips. She brings her fingers to yours resting on the truck and locks them. She gets closer and closer and gives you all the time in the world to push her back.

But she's Carol, and she's beautiful and she's your best friend. Why wouldn't you want to kiss her?

There's tongue this time. Hesitant at first then curious, until finally hungry. Of course, Carol Danvers is a good kisser, this asshole.

You break apart, to complain with a husky tone that is unfair but Carol only chuckles before kissing you again. And again. Until somehow you end with your back against her truck, painting into her mouth.

And Carol is seventeen years old and she's a huge virgin like you who really wants this to change tonight. Not just that, of course, but she's still a teen and that's exactly what she chooses to say in order to make this less life-changing than it is.

Because sleeping together as a way of ending high school without the V Card has a completely different meaning than sleeping together because you really want to ruin a friendship.

You swallow at her suggestion, aware that the heat in your veins doesn't cover for the way your heart just broke inside your chest.

But you smile and tell Carol you love her, making sure it sounds platonic. Just to hurt her just as much.

It works, but she kisses you anyway.

-&-

Four.

Maria Rambeau is the most incredible person you have ever met. She's clever and fun and kindhearted. It's so easy to love her and it comes so naturally, that you can't really blame Carol.

You also have no right to be jealous, you tell yourself.

After all, Carol asked more than once for you to at least consider following her to the Air Force. You both had military families, so it made sense for her that you both ended up following the same path.

You were not entirely excluded from that, of course. But unlike Carol with her soldier training, you had medical classes. And while she and Maria learned to shoot people, you learned to heal them.

That of course until the third year, when Carol's training moved to space crafting and yours moved to biological charts. The Pegasus was not the only military project available for you, and being home was good but every time you caught a glimpse of the empty fields near the station, you remember afternoons with Carol and the lack of her ache a hell lot inside your chest.

But visiting her at the base and then at a local bar was a bittersweet occasion.

Because time went by and Carol made a new friend. A lovely and brilliant and apparently less confused woman new best friend. Maria who made her laugh and blush and was such a great company that you couldn't hate her no matter how much the jealousy burned inside your veins.

Somehow, no matter how many dove eyes Carol threw at Maria, she didn't catch them. Immune to her charm entirely. You kinda wished she would teach you that.

The last free week you had was spent visiting Carol and ending up in a bar. But Maria's night was continuing with a good-looking soldier somewheres else, so yours and Carol's would continue with cheap drinks.

It was probably common sense, not to mix alcohol with feelings but you and Carol clearly skipped that class.

You ended up pressed behind the bar's wall in a messy attempt of drunken make-out with your former best friend.

Carol tasted like beer and the army's year changed her. Even drunk, she knew her way around a woman's body now and you had to force your stupid brain to stop wondering about who she had been practicing with. Perhaps Maria was not immune to her charm as you thought she was.

Just as things were getting out of hand, that is, it was probably against some army rules to have sex behind one bar in the military area, Carol pulled away.

She looked so good like that, with messy hair and flushing cheeks, her lips swollen due to the whole thing.

But her eyes were so sad. And you couldn't push the alcohol and the lust away to have clear thoughts on that.

“We can't do this again.” She declares with a seriousness that makes you swallow hard. “I can't.”

She stumbles away and you nearly slip down the hall on your shaky legs. Carol is looking for her car keys but she will definitely fall asleep on the seat.

To be fair, you kinda wished that night would end in her car seat, just in very different scenarios.

“Why not, Danvers?” You manage to question once the anger pushes a little of the alcohol away. Carol sighs tiredly. “Why?” You almost scream and she stops in her tracks, turning to give you a hurt look.

“I can't do this again, okay?” She retorts and she's drunk but she's so hurt. You can see it in her eyes and it kills you to think it is something you have done it. “I don't have the strength in me to get over you again”.

Your world freezes for a whole second. Your mouth is bitter suddenly.

“O-over me?” You repeat her words, confusion mixing with the pain you feel growing in your chest. “When… When were you under me?”

The question is the best of what your drunk brain can come up with but it's enough for Carol to understand.

She lets out a sad chuckle. “C'mon, Lawson. How could you not know? Everyone did. Even my dad, especially my dad.” She corrects herself then, bitterly before taking a deep breath. “It's past. It doesn't matter anymore. We are no longer kids, messing around with things we don't understand. I know what am I. And I know we shouldn’t. I won't jeopardize our friendship again for someone I cannot have.”

There are tears in your eyes, and Carol has the fucking worst timing in the world because your brain simply can't catch up with the meaning of this conversation with all the booze in the way.

“Carol, what are you even saying?”

She just smiles, giving a nod to the bar.

“Let's get inside, I'll get you a cab back to your hotel.”

She doesn't let you question further and the next morning, when the hangover barely allows you to open your eyes, Carol says the worst thing you did last night was try dancing with a Statue.

-&-

Five.

Doctor Lawson has been acting strange lately. She says it's work stress when she returns your calls and ignores your advice about her retiring.

You use your mother's stress as an excuse to come home, and it seems ridiculous that you have to invent reasons to see Carol, but she gives you no choice. Things have been very strange between you in recent months.

The house is a mess, and it's the first time you've worried about the possibility of dementia.

Strange phrases, disconnected words. You think about calling the head of Shield when you put Dr. Lawson to bed after making her some hot tea, but you end up calling Carol.

Your former best friend brings her old truck into your garage.

"Hey, blondie." She hugs you first at the greeting, and you sigh with satisfaction at the contact. You almost forget the stress of the whole meeting with your mother. "It's good to see you."

"I missed you." Carol says with a smile, squeezing you tighter before letting go. "What happened? You sounded worried on the phone."

You sigh before telling her everything you saw, standing there leaning on Carol's truck in the dim light of the garage. It's her turn to sigh when you finish.

"Good thing I brought beer." She comments, getting a laugh out of you. 

You don't even notice the time passing that night, but it's like being back in senior year, sitting side by side in the back of Carol's truck, forgetting the world around you for a moment.

When the case of beers is about to run out, you've said almost everything you have to say. Carol thinks she needs to add something more.

"I know the circumstances aren't the best but... I can't say I'm sad." She begins, looking straight ahead, a half-full can of beer in her hands. "With the possibility of you coming to live here again, I mean. I've kind of hated Washington since you left. And Shield too, for taking you away."

You giggle shyly at this and don't know what to say to Carol, so you just decide to hug her. But you're a bit dizzy after the third beer and miscalculate your approach. You end up too close to her face and can see almost in slow motion how the blue darkens or how Carol chokes on her breath.

"I'm sorry, I-" you begin in a hoarse voice, but she doesn't let you finish. The beer can slips out of her hand as she uses both to pull your face towards her.

It's an intense, messy, and passionate kiss. Carol swallows all the sighs that escape your lips as she presses her mouth to yours. Her tongue doesn't ask for passage. You melt against her and try your best to match her energy, suddenly feeling very dizzy, unrelated to the beer.

Her hands move from your face to your neck and down to your waist. Carol mentions pulling you onto her lap, but the balcony lights flicker on and she grunts as she pulls away.

You're still blinking spellbound at the whole thing, trying to catch your breath as she stands up, adjusting her hair.

"Fuck, I shouldn't have done that." She mutters more to herself than to you, hoarse and upset. You swallow dry. "I'm so stupid."

"Carol."

"You're so fucking stupid, Carol Danvers, I swear to God." She ignores your call, continuing to curse quietly to herself. You frown, but end up looking at the porch; your mother has woken up and looks just as lost as before and you really need to check on her.

When you get out of the truck, you touch Carol on the shoulder, and she turns around almost in despair.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I'm leaving-"

"Carol, shut up." You cut her off and don't let her say another word.

She shuts up immediately. "I really have to get back inside, and make sure my mom doesn't turn on any water or store the cat in the fridge again." You chuckle apologetically, stroking her cheek. "But I need you to understand that this isn't a mistake, an accident or a thoughtless act after a few beers. At least it isn't and it never was for me. We need to start talking to each other."

Carol nods quickly, swallowing as she looks down at your swollen lips. "Yeah, talking is good."

You smile, and hear the sound of the cat in the house and think you'd better start running. "Later, okay?"

"Later."

But your mother doesn't have dementia. She's not even allowed in a regular hospital. Shield is strangely private about everything, but you're practically coerced into signing confidentiality papers about the current state of Dr. Lawson, who seems to miraculously improve after spending an hour in a room with other agents.

Carol is the only person you can talk to about things, and she has news of her own.

"Maria is pregnant." She tells you, with a twinkle in her eye, without waiting for you to finish absorbing the news. "And she wants me to be the godmother!"

You're happy for Maria, especially perhaps because she's seeing that handsome soldier and she and Carol have nothing going on. Also, you need to tell Carol that you can go back to Washinton now that your mother is better.

"Oh, I thought..." The blonde hesitates as she hears the news, trying not to look upset by forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I thought you'd decided to stay."

You're having breakfast in the living room of your house, Dr. Lawson is working upstairs. You swallow the bitter feeling of hurting Carol again.

"I would, for Mom. But why would I stay in Louisiana?" It's a rhetorical question because you both know very well what would make you stay. Carol laughs sadly, looking down. You get tired of pretending. " I would stay for you. I would stay for... us."

She looks at you in silence, a conflict of emotions on her face. "Don't be ridiculous, you can't just give up your career for a friendship-"

"Carol." You cut her off seriously, and she choked on her sentence, her eyes as tearful as yours. You give her a small smile, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

She swallows dryly, and despite reaching out to take your hand, she insists; "I'm gonna need you to say it."

"God, you're such an asshole." You gasp with emotion, laughing as tears of happiness escape yours and her eyes. Carol also laughs but waits. "Okay, Danvers. You've got me. I'm completely, irrevocably in love with you. I have been for a long time, maybe since the first time I saw you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

Carol almost knocks over the coffee table when she moves in to kiss you but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers fics #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel #marvel imagines

[neuralnetsprettypatterns]

Pinned Post

Hi there! I'm Neural Nets. I make kink content. I specialize in audio content about mind control. I also produce video, make games, and create experimental content for personal massagers.

If I have a kinky vision, I aim to make it real. I learn the tools I need for them.

I made the first content for "bimboization" over a decade ago. It was supposed to be private. It got leaked and cycled into thousands of spicy video dishes. I left the scene and returned to find it EVERYWHERE. That was fucking surreal.

My content is much better now. I learned the tools to make the horny impulses real.

Some of my content is free. You can find free things here, on Discord, on Reddit, on Soundgasm, and on Spotify. My media presence is a bit scattered because of bans and illness, but it's there.

The real archive is on Patreon. That costs money. It doesn't cost very MUCH money, and I think it's well worth it. That's your call, though.

I am definitely over 30. I don't disclose my exact age because hacking. "Over 30" should be enough. If you're hoping I run for US Senate, I appreciate your optimism and mourn its imminent passing.

FAQ:

Do you answer asks?

Yes! I turned off anonymous asks here. Trolls should commit to the bit. That said, I appreciate asks and I answer all of them if they're in good faith.

2. Do you answer DMs?

I leave my DMs on here. I wrestled with that decision.

They're on for: a. people I've known for a while or b. people contacting me about projects, like VAs and spicemakers

Any other questions go to asks.

3. How do I voice act in a Neural Nets production?

You contact me. You'll need to provide a voice sample.

If I cast you, I'll direct you to the casting spreadsheet. It has deadlines. If people miss deadlines, their parts get recast. I can direct, but I can't micromanage your time.

Sometimes, people are very underconfident in their voices, and it makes them feel bad. If that's you, I empathize. I'd be happy to answer questions and give advice! I shouldn't direct you, though. I don't want to unwittingly hurt people by directing.

4. Do you believe your content?

I believe in equality and radical honesty. I unequivocally believe in consent. I wish political and economic systems did too.

I have dark impulses. I like some schtick and some kayfabe. I like trickery and manipulation - in consensual kink.

All my content addresses things that turn me on, but my ethics trump my desire for a host of braintrained pleasers.

5. Do you do AI stuff?

Not really. I've tried machine learning tools. Porn is the cutting edge of new tech, after all.

I like automated tools to generate effects. Purely generated stuff, like image generation? Overall, meh. People make me horny. Mechanized people can make me horny. Machines, by themselves, don't make me horny.

6. Aren't you evil?

No. Some people are bad at reality testing. Some people chase clout. I naively engaged them initially. That was a mistake.

If anyone has beef, they failed to contact me privately. That's the damning mark of clout chasing.

I'm flawed and human, but I'm neither your hero nor your villain.

7. Aren't you dead?

No. In late 2022, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. It's partially genetic, so I sorta saw this coming. That was my worst lifelong fear, and it happened.

Fortunately, though, we caught it early and they have banger drugs for it now. Monoclonal antibodies destroyed the misbehaving parts of my immune system. I'm in NEDA, which is like remission.I recovered compromised motor skills through a year of totally brutal and partially self administered physiotherapy. I ate a lot of pavement, so it's a good thing I used to skate.

If you saw me now, you probably wouldn't clock anything. Lucky.

I am annoyed at people who mass reported my last blog shortly after I came out as sick. It takes a special kind of miserable to delight in that. Regardless, I'm back and that's not my problem.

I missed this platform, as completely broken and dysfunctional as it is.

I am glad to be back, and I'm here for any asks.

#neuralnetsandprettypatterns #neuroplex #hypnosis files

[arcsimper5]

Aloha 🌺

I’ve recently discovered your blog and I looooveee your fics 😭.

I saw that your requests are open but I didn’t see any rules so excuse me if I did something wrong.

May I request a sweet (possessive) Hunter x F!Reader fic? I loved how you touched on Hunters doubts in Flutter but I’d love to know how you’d think he reacts when there is an idiots in love trope going on.

Spice/smut is always welcome but I don’t want to restrict your creativity.

Thank you 🙏🏻🌺

Hellooooooo lovely anon!

I'm so sorry this took so long, I've been flitting from project to project and not had time to really sit down and think about anything!

So, I wrote what turned into basically a prequel for Flutter, as within that there's a mention of how reader and Hunter got together.

This is a spicy little ficlet, so I hope it's what you wanted and what you were looking for!

Tension

Pairing: Hunter x Reader Explicit content within! Warnings: Angst, pining, idiots in love, guilt, swearing, mentions of bad past.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hunter could practically feel the anger radiating from you as you tucked Omega into the spare bunk, making sure Lula was carefully snuggled under her arm before you leant in, whispering goodnight.

Your soft smile, reserved for the young girl, was quickly replaced with a glare as you tugged the curtain across and turned to him, a fire unlike anything he’d ever seen in your eyes.

“My room. Now,” you instructed, heading for the makeshift quarters you had in what had formerly been the storage room. It was by no means large, barely fitting you slightly larger than regulation bed and a small storage chest side by side, but it gave you privacy at least.

If Wrecker, Tech or Echo noticed your anger, they didn’t say anything, all merely shrugging or shaking their heads when Hunter sent them a desperate look, one that screamed ‘help me’.

But he was on his own, letting out a deep sigh as he trudged after you, his head hanging a little.

You stepped to the side, allowing him into the room with you before you closed the door behind you, crossing your arms across your chest.

Hunter took another deep breath as he turned, bracing himself for your telling off.

“How could you?” 

The simple question was laced with venom, anger pouring off of you in waves as you hissed it, leaning forward a little.

“Who the kriff do you think you are that you can just decide that Omega is going to live with a bunch of strangers she just met, and not even talk to us about it?”

“They’re not strangers,” Hunter protested, “they…”

“They are to her!”

Your heart was hammering in your chest, eyes stinging as you stared at Hunter, trying to keep your composure.

“I know what it’s like, to be cast off because no-one wants you, Hunter. You can’t just… do that!”

“I… I wasn’t trying to abandon her,” Hunter murmured, shame flooding his system. Any anger he’d felt at your earlier comments began to melt away as you continued, the salty scent of your tears hitting him like a speeder.

“But that’s what she’ll think,” you choked, breath catching in your throat, “that kid has never been allowed to make a decision in her whole damn life, and the first one she’s made, you try and take away from her!”

“Because I was doing what I thought was best!” Hunter protested, folding his arms to mirror yours, his defences going up once more.

“For who? For her? Or for you?”

“That’s not fair,” Hunter snarled, his eyes narrowing, “Cut and Suu are good people. She’d be with kids her own age…”

“I don’t care if they’re the Force incarnate!” you shouted back, immediately closing your eyes and taking a steadying breath, trying to claw back a sense of calm. “You can’t just decide she’s going to live somewhere else without talking to her, or to us!”

“We don’t know the first thing about kids!” the sergeant barked back, taking a step towards you. “How are we supposed to look after her?”

“Trying would be a good start,” you snapped back sharply, “not shouting at her for making a simple mistake, not trying to dump her on other people. Omega saved your life on Kamino and Force knows she saved all of our shebs back there. Cut, Suu and the kids wouldn’t even have been on that shuttle if it wasn’t for her!”

That silenced Hunter for a moment, your words swarming over him.

“She’s just a kid,” he protested weakly, shaking his head. “I… I’m sorry. I panicked. I… I thought she’d be better off with them. Safer, with them. Being here, on this ship… it’s no life for a kid. It’s barely a life for us… for you.”

His gaze softened as he looked back up at you, the sincerity in them disarming you abruptly.

“Hunter,” you croaked, your tears finally spilling over, “she… She wants to be here. With you. Her family.”

“But she deserves…”

Cocking an eyebrow at the derisive snort you let out, Hunter’s eyes narrowed once more, less anger and more confusion driving the action this time.

“Didn’t we have this exact conversation just after Onderon? Before everything went to shit?” you murmured, dropping your arms to your sides. “You trying to get me to leave with the refugees because it would be ‘safer’? Because I ‘deserved better’?”

Hunter shuffled uncomfortably, drawing in a deep breath as he too let his arms drop, his eyes closing against your reasoning.

“I’ll tell you now what I told you then; I’ve made my choice. I would rather spend my days locked in an Imperial prison than apart from you, from my squad. Omega made the same choice. You seem to have that effect on people.”

The joke caught Hunter by surprise, a short peal of laughter escaping his lips before he shook his head, his expression softening once again.

“For our sins,” he huffed dramatically, your lips turning up into a soft, fond smile for the first time since you’d left Salucemi.

“Hunter,” you called, the exhaustion in your voice suddenly clear. Looking you over cautiously, Hunter stepped forward, coming to meet you as you raised your hands. His met yours without hesitation, lacing your fingers together as your foreheads came to rest against one anothers, both closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. 

“It won’t happen again,” he promised lowly, his guilt obvious, “and… I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you sighed, squeezing his hands softly, offering silent comfort. “Look… if things get too bad, I… I’ll take Omega. I’ll take her and find somewhere, and we can…”

“No…”

The word was huffed so softly, you weren’t sure Hunter had spoken at all until you opened your eyes, shocked at what you found.

Hunter’s gorgeous, chestnut grey eyes were reddened, a single tear rolling down his tattooed cheek, your breath stolen by the way he looked at you.

“Hunter?”

“I… I need you,” he admitted gently, “I… Maker, cyare, I…”

Your stomach fluttered even as your confusion grew.

The relationship you shared with Hunter had always been… different.

While you could joke with Wrecker, chat for hours with Tech and reminisce with Echo, Hunter had always been more… intense. 

The first time you’d found him having a panic attack, you hadn’t hesitated to pull him into your room, laying him down and stroking soothing hands through his hair until the panic subsided.

By the time he woke up some four hours later, he’d been shocked to find himself in a comfortable bed, surrounded by plush pillows with an eye mask on and soothing ocean sounds playing from a small device on your trunk.

Since that day, you’d confided in each other, become closer in a way you had never thought possible. And selfishly, it had left you wanting more.

More of Hunter. More of his attention, his affection, his body and mind… But you would never ask. It was against regulations, and it was a distraction. Until the war ended.

‘He doesn’t mean it like that,’ you chastised yourself inwardly, ‘he doesn’t. He can’t.’

“Hunter?” you managed, the question breathed into the space between you, your eyes still locked with his, “What… What do…”

“On Onderon… I… I didn’t want you to go. I was so glad you chose me, chose us. And then, seeing you cuffed in the cells… I thought I’d made a bad call. I thought I might lose you. I should have… I should have said something then, but…”

“About what?” you prompted into the void left by his cut off sentence, his eyes closing once again as he sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

You couldn’t suppress the gasp that left you as Hunter pulled you against him suddenly, pressing you back against the wall of your room. With once swift motion, Hunter’s hands, still laced with yours, lifted your arms and pinned them over your head.

He withdrew from the keldabe, shifting just enough to lean down, pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

For a moment, your brain simply went dark. It stuttered, trying to process the feel of Hunter’s lips on yours, the weight of his body pressing against you, all taut muscle and strong grip, the swipe of his tongue against your mouth…

Letting out a soft moan into the kiss, you opened up to him, Hunter taking full advantage. As your tongues touched, you both let out a whine, your entire body shuddering under his touch.

The reaction seemed to break whatever spell had drawn you together, the sergeant almost leaping back, letting your hands go and holding his own up as if to not appear threatening.

“I… I’m sorry,” he gasped as you leant against the wall, panting for breath, “I shouldn’t have… I should…”

You cut him off with a kiss of your own, practically throwing yourself against him, pinning him against the wall this time. As your hands moved up his chest and to his neck, threading into his thick curls and tugging gently, his wound around your back, clutching at you desperately.

The next few moments were a blur, hands roaming over each other's bodies, pulling at clothing, teeth and lips and tongues clashing in a passionate dance.

By the time your naked back made contact with your bedsheets, you were a babbling mess, barely coherent as Hunter’s mouth moved over your breasts, flicking over one nipple while clever fingers toyed with the other.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you,” he murmured into your soft flesh, “no karking idea.”

“Is, is this really happening?” you gasped as your back arched, drawn into Hunter’s teasing touches.

“I karking hope so,” he purred against your stomach as he made his way lower and lower, kissing every inch he could reach, “because if it’s not, and I wake up alone in my bunk with a hard-on, I’m coming to find you, and making it real.”

You could only shudder and cry out in response as his tongue finally found your centre, licking stripe over your clit, to your dripping entrance.

“Now lay back, mesh’la, and let me take care of you.”

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb hunter x reader #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x you #x reader #the bad batch hunter #bad batch fanfiction #request #daniwrites

[dystopicjumpsuit]

afesfefesfa i've not been doing the scrolling i normally would thanks to technology and the dash repeating the some posts on repeat for five minutes making it extraordinarily tedious so I had no idea your requests were open for the cuddle prompts until i scroled your blog, but! may I ask for 30, soft looks whilst cuddling (i have adlibbed the prompt i think?) with my beloved Rex?

Because I can never get enough of him <3

@eternal-transcience

A/N: Thank you for the request, Kim! I hope I was able to capture the softness you were looking for 💙

Pairing: Rex x Reader (GN, has hair long enough to tangle)

Rating: G (but as always, minors DNI)

Wordcount: 332 (yes, I did that on purpose)

Warnings and tags: fluff, cuddles, forehead kisses

Summary: You and Rex see things differently, so you try a different perspective.

Suggested Listening: 

This fic smells like: Alpine Vert by Gloss Moderne

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“I don't see it,” Rex said, his voice rumbling beneath you. He toyed absentmindedly with your hair as you lay perpendicular to him with your head resting on his stomach.

“How can you not see it? It's right there!” you insisted.

“Maybe it's the angle,” he suggested. “Come up here and show me.”

You sat up and stretched luxuriously, enjoying the sunshine. The back of your shirt was damp with dew from the grass as you rose, and it clung to your skin, cooling rapidly in the breeze. After weeks of the monotonous gray durasteel walls of a starship, you’d leapt at the chance to spend some time planetside.

White plastoid littered the ground around you: the top half of Rex’s armor, discarded when you reached the top of the hill where you’d lured him with the promise of a picnic—if a meal of ration bars and stale canteen water counted as a picnic (Rex insisted it did). You crawled closer to him and flopped back down in the grass, this time lying next to him with your head on his shoulder.

“See?” You pointed at the sky. “There's its head, and there's its back legs, tail, and front paws.”

He dropped a light kiss against your temple before replying, “I don't know how you can possibly look at that cloud and see a nexu wearing spectacles, walking on its back legs, while reading a holonovel.”

“Well, what do you see?” you demanded, tilting your head to look up at him.

He watched you, his eyes soft. “Someone with a better imagination than me.”

“That's not true,” you objected.

He smiled and continued as though you hadn't spoken. “Someone with a head full of stories and hair full of grass.” He reached up and plucked a blade of grass from your tangled locks, then wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to himself. “My favorite person in the galaxy.”

Well, you mused. How am I supposed to argue with that?

---

Want to request a ficlet? Check out this list of prompts!

Need a hit of Rex spice? I gotchu.

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49

@anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

@cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream

@littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @marierg @idontgetanysleep

@moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

@multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam

@skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist

@cw80831 @kimiheartblade @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal

@reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose

@totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell @yve-barr

@dangraccoon @transactivecybermemory

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #the clone wars fic #star wars #gn reader #sw tcw fanfic #clone wars #dystopicjumpsuit writes #flashing gif

[peachsayshi]

Ex husband nanami that still keeps your nudes and videos of you giving him head because he misses your touch and is confident no one would treat you the way he did so he’ll just wait until the day u come crawling back to him😁….okay wait this is not wholesome at all

A/N: minors and ageless blogs DNI -> Anon, thank you so much for this idea! I feel like we are building Divided together, and it’s really a beautiful thing ❤️ This is the closest that I can write to Nanami as being kind of arrogant because I really feel like he’s very in love, but this prompt is definitely a great set up for what’s to come ;) 

TAGS: male masturbation; dirty thoughts & watching videos of you, female masturbation (reader takes video of herself)

 A Sudden Temptation (Ex!Husband Nanami x Female Reader)

Nanami started off his morning with a brewed pot of coffee which he sipped in silence while he read the newspaper. He then ironed and steamed his suit, smoothing out all the crease lines before finding himself standing in front of the mirror to begrudgingly fix up his own tie.

When he was single, he enjoyed these quiet periods of solitude but now they just seemed burdensome. 

On his way over to the school, he called you to say good morning to Hiroki. He would speak and his son would babble the broken words that he was learning to piece together, which always had Nanami smiling like an idiot as he entered the quarters of Jujutsu Tech.

The two of you spoke briefly just for a quick hello. 

“Will we be seeing you this evening?” you asked. 

“If I don’t have to work late again tonight then absolutely,” Nanami replied with calm reassurance despite how fast his heart was racing just hearing your voice over the receiving line. 

Work has been a wonderful distraction recently, giving Nanami exactly what he needed in order to forget what happened the night of Gojo’s New Years Eve party. 

Avoiding you was impossible when he had his responsibilities to his son, but that kiss has been plaguing his thoughts night after night.

A kiss that was only supposed to last a few minutes, but instead…

Nanami shook his head.

A mistake.

An innocent mistake.

You both just got carried away…it meant absolutely nothing.

Nanami’s jaw clenched at the mere idea of brushing off the intensity of the moment. 

So, in order not to dwell on the circumstances surrounding the situation, Nanami shifted back into his old routines - channeling all his frustration into focus by taking the time to nurture and educate the young sorcerers he was responsible for.

After his long work night, Nanami returned home to his empty place. He kicked off his shoes, loosened his tie and threw his blazer over the dining chair as he proceeded to roll up his sleeves to prepare himself dinner.

The sorcerer usually found joy in creating a beautiful meal, but lately he's been struggling with portion sizes as he's forgotten what it’s like to cook for one.

Once the dishes were done, he relaxed on the sofa for half an hour to mindlessly watch t.v., but in the back of his mind images were flashing that made all his muscles tighten.

Your dressed bunched up to your waist, your face glowing with pleasure as your ex-husband rutted his hips softly against yours, the two of you sharing each other’s breath with every deep kiss, the desperation in your fingers as you clung onto the strands of his blonde hair, and his lack of control with his cock buried between your wet folds...

The man had no clue how to unwind all the energy crackling from his body from the tedious night he had fighting curses, when all he can think about was having sex with you in his superior’s guest bedroom. 

He switched off the television, abruptly standing on his two feet as he decided to cool off with a shower. 

Nanami’s routines used to bring him solace; a sense of order in his otherwise chaotic world. 

Lately, however, they only reminded him of the broken marriage he couldn’t fix and the woman he so desperately pined for.

He’s grown accustomed to having you around him, adjusting to new traditions that you both created during the course of your relationship. Something about how you pieced together a life made these old habits of his seem archaic.

He missed having you meticulously knot his tie in the morning with full concentration, watching you with soft eyes and holding back a smile whenever you tugged it around his neck perfectly.

He missed your calls to him while he's at the school just to check up on him, hating that those precious conversations have now been reduced brief texts instead.

Beyond all of that, he missed returning to the place you once shared, a weight lifting from his shoulders seeing you greet him as he stepped through the threshold of the front door. He loved coming home to your arms around him, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he inhaled the scent of your perfume only to feel you plant a kiss softly on his cheek before asking: “how was your day?” 

Then there were nights like these, where he missed feeling the warmth of your skin on his and the sweet, angelic moans that soothed all parts of him... 

The sorcerer collapsed onto his bed, resting his tired head against the pillow as he drew in a breath. His chest tightened underneath the soft fabric of his white tee and he stretched out his sore legs on the mattress. He was ready to lose himself to sleep that he desperately needed but Nanami slowly blinked those brown eyes open upon realizing that he hasn’t checked his messages yet. 

He reached for the phone charging on his side table, unplugging it as he began to scroll through the many notifications he received. His thumb flicked upward, passing the unread texts from Gojo and Shoko before hovering above the chat with your name on it. 

You had sent him a video just a few hours ago.

Your ex-husband tapped the clip to play the footage.

You were dressed in a pair of new pajamas, something that Nanami noted as he has never seen you in this comfortable set before. His child was sitting on your lap wearing a little bear onesie that his grandmother bought him as a New Year’s present. The tiny hood covered the growing golden locks on top of his son’s head, two little ears sticking out as Hiroki smiled to the camera before waving his paw covered hand and giggling with delight. 

“I tried calling earlier to see if you wanted to say goodnight but figured you might be working when you didn’t answer. Sooo, here’s a moment of cuteness that will make up for it in case we don’t hear from you,” you spoke, your voice only pulling the strings around his heart as you rested your cheek lightly on his son’s head and bringing your face into the frame. 

“Hiroki, say goodnight...” you sweetly added on.

Nanami appreciated you taking the time to do this whenever he missed the chance to see you both. You knew how important it was for him that he consistently kept to schedule regarding his child, especially now that Nanami was no longer living under the same roof.

He watched Hiroki lean forward to the camera, opening and closing his fist in a grabbing motion as he gurgled more incoherent words which translated to a goodnight message for his father. You grinned from ear to ear, noticing your child from the reflection of your camera and the natural reaction nearly killed the sorcerer right there on the spot. 

When the short video stopped, Nanami replayed it one more time just to re-live those few blissful seconds.

His fingers hovered above the keyboard as he hesitated on whether or not he should try and call you. Once he was reminded of the lateness of the hour, he decided against disturbing you before typing up a message instead.

You made my night, Mama Bear. I’m sorry I missed your call.  Can we do breakfast tomorrow? I miss our little cub. Let me know if that works for you.

Nanami drew his bottom lip between his teeth, tapping the side of his phone hoping for three little dots to pop up on the screen.

Ever since the night of Gojo’s party, the man had been thinking deeply about the circumstances surrounding his marriage and how one night ruined everything.  

Nanami barely made it out alive when fighting off that special grade curse. You had every reason to worry for his well being - it wasn’t normal for him to show up at the break of dawn without any contact indicating his whereabouts. He wasn’t surprised when he found you awake, frantic while still pregnant with his child, as you broke down in his arms. His apologies weren’t enough for you no matter how many times he said “I’m sorry”. 

“You promised you would leave with the baby on the way. You said you were going to leave. Please, please, Ken. I can’t...I can’t do this without you. I need you here. I don’t...I don’t want to raise this child alone.” 

Nanami should have said that he would quit then and there. Instead, he shook his head and reminded you that he had new responsibilities he couldn’t walk away from. You knew what kind of effect the death of Haibara had on him and if he had the chance to make things different for the next generation of sorcerers, he didn’t know how to walk away from that. 

“Then...then you have to promise you’ll come home to me. No matter what. If this is your choice, then I need to know that you’ll be here. That...that you won’t just...” 

He pinched his lids together, the image of you weeping and scared etched so perfectly in his mind that he could practically count how many tears fell from those beautiful eyes of yours. 

“I can’t give you an empty promise, my love...” 

He wanted to kick himself but the man would rather burden you with the hard truth than tell a lie that would have only given you false hope. 

Gojo always reiterated to him how the divorce was a sham - that you were just pushing Nanami away in order to protect yourself. 

Your ex-husband was quite aware of that fact, and if separating himself from your world made things easier then he would happily oblige...

...but, he still missed you with every single breath he took. 

Nanami started scrolling up his camera roll, swiping back to see all the images he had saved of you. 

There were candid shots that he had taken on lazy days, the cutest selfies of yours that he saved whenever you were showing off a new dress or a make up look, then there were the precious ones of the two of you together and he felt a tug in his chest seeing how beautiful you looked with a smile. 

Memories, countless memories, of pure unadulterated happiness. 

***

Nanami found them in a folder - the stash of videos and pictures that you sent during the course of your relationship. A part of himself felt guilty for still keeping them, because he no longer had any right to look at you so intimately but..his mind was spiraling. 

The longer he admired you the more he could feel the fire burning inside him. He remembered how quick his desire took over when he locked the door of Gojo’s guest bedroom. Your hands worked fast to hike up your dress, while his own undid the zipper of his pants and before he knew it he had you on top of the mattress with his cock buried inside you. 

You were already dripping from him just kissing you.

He didn’t get a chance to savor your body as he wanted, and he found himself palming his erection out of frustration with one hand while the other clicked a video on his phone screen. 

He groaned to himself, watching the clip play as you angled your body seductively towards the camera. The only thing that you had on was his shirt, the size enveloping your frame and you deliberately puffed out your chest to show off your naked body underneath. 

“Fuck..” he groaned to himself, his pupils dilating as he took in every curve.  

He watched you drag your finger between the valley of your breasts, focusing on your taut nipples and hearing you sigh to yourself as you slowly traced soft circles on your belly. 

“Miss you, Ken...I hate it when you’re not here...” 

Nanami began to stroke clothed length, and he held his breath as he watched you part your perfect thighs. 

“...and I really, really need you right now...” you pouted, two fingers moving to stroke the sides of your lips and you lewdly spread them to show off just how wet you are. 

He swallowed hard, noticing the sticky strings of arousal and your two fingers moved back up to press your tender clit. Soft moans left you as you began to massage yourself, little desperate cries that made his eyes flutter as he squeezed his hand around his thick member before finally pulling his cock out of the restriction of his boxers. 

What he would give to be bury himself between your legs, to feel your slick dribble down his chin as he hungrily devoured your cunt. Nanami lightly squeezed the tip of his cock, rubbing the pre cum over his slit as he watched your free hand tweak at your nipple, and your body start to whine against the rhythm of your movements. 

He felt a deep sense of satisfaction knowing that he was the reason behind your wild behavior, practically smirking to himself as he watched you push two fingers into your pulsing sex. 

Your brows pinched together with anguish and he could tell it’s because you weren’t satisfied with your own touch. 

“It’s not enough,” you cried, dragging your slicked coated fingers back and forth as you let out another broken moan. 

“I know, baby...” Nanami breathed as if he was right there with you in that moment. “Look at you…”

“I’m so wet, Ken...” you continued pumping your fingers and the sound was enough to prove your statement right. “C-can’t wait until you’re fucking me instead...”

Nanami clenched his jaw as he ran his thumb up the protruding vein of his stiff cock. He could feel his own heat in the palm of his hand, and he increased the speed of his strokes and closed his eyes picturing himself burying into your dripping cunt instead. 

“I came twice today thinking about you...been playing with myself all night...�� 

Nanami bucked his hips, his other hand tightening around the phone as he parted his eyes just in time to watch you drag your fingers away from between your legs, your arousal catching onto the tips of your digits as you brought them to your mouth. 

You parted your lips to taste yourself and Nanami nearly came right there when he felt himself twitch in his hand. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold off any longer, swiping his thumb over his slit once more as a shaky breath escaped him. 

You shimmied his shirt off your body, leaving yourself complete naked before proceeding to pleasure yourself again. You weren’t controlling yourself anymore, moaning with every stroke of your finger as you masturbated to the camera.

Every vowel that left you sounded magical to your ex-husband’s ears. He watched as you brought yourself to the edge of your release, paying close attention to the way your muscles twitched on your legs, while seeing your abdomen dip as you convulsed when you finally reached your much needed orgasm.

“O-Oh, god…” Nanami moaned releasing ribbons of cum and feeling it drip down his length as he eased the movement of his strokes.

He was gasping for breath, and could hear you trying to catch yours through the speaker of his phone. He dropped his hand down to the side of his pillow, focusing his attention onto the ceiling of his apartment as he tried to pull himself out of the foggy lust that consumed him.

“I love you, Kento. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” you sweetly spoke, saying your farewell before the clip finally came to a stop.

“I love you too,” Nanami whispered, all the while contemplating if this arrangement was really working out well for the both of you.

***

PART 5: AN UNEXPECTED SURPRISE 

TAGS: @aizumie @mrsmorgenstern @pensivespecter @ekaterinatepes @bloombb @nanamikentcs

#Nanami Kento x reader #nanami x reader #Nanami Kento x you #nanami x you #Nanami Kento x female reader #nanami x female reader #Nanami Kento angst #Nanami Kento smut #Nanami Kento fan fiction #Nanami Kento fan fics #jujutsu kaisen fan fiction #jjk fan fic

[isawritesshit]

Someone - Prologue

image taken from @ patlmao on pinterest

Synopsis: Satoru became something to you during your school years together at Jujutsu Tech, which were ended abruptly when you were casted out from your clan and left the jujutsu world. When Satoru finds you again after years apart, you find out that you were something to him too. Maybe you still are.

Warnings: fem! reader, mostly just fluff type stuff.

Author's Note: My first fic on this blog and for Gojo in general! I originally had this planned as one whole story, but after I started writing I decided to make it into a series. Not sure how many chapters will be included. This story will have smut later down the line. Updates will depend on my availability to write. Hope you enjoy lovelies!

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

___________________________________________________________

Gojo Satoru was nothing to you. Well, he was someone, but during the beginning of your life, he was no one. As your adoptive father described it, he was born with a technique that had not been seen in years, so that's really all there is to him. You believed it, not because you thought it was necessarily true, but because that's what your adoptive father told you. Whatever he says must be truth.

The Gojo Clan and the Kamo Clan were not exactly rivals. They tolerated each other. They had long histories as two of the three major jujutsu clans. Sometimes they fought each other, sometimes they fought together. Sometimes they mingled, and sometimes they were distant. It was only ever what the current situation called for. So, whenever you heard the jujustu community go on and on about Gojo Satoru, you reminded yourself of what your adoptive father had said. You were Kamo. You were Gojo Satoru's equal. He was just another sorcerer.

You had first seen him at a gathering between the three clans. He stood out to you immediately with his white cropped hair, flawless skin, and bright cerulean eyes behind long lashes. He was hard to ignore, especially with the way he was presented with his clan.

Always at the front. A symbol of power. Just like you.

You were always presented in the same way among the Kamo clan. Dressed in an orange and red kimono, holding onto the hand of your caregiver, an image of young, innocent, maternal grace against the hard, strapping demeanor of the Kamo boys and men. You remembered how Gojo's eyes had met your curious ones during that gathering. You were both barely 7 years old. You had been staring at him, the only other child in the room.

So cold, you thought. He looks mean.

And now, unbeknownst to you, you were about to meet him for the first time. You were starting your first year at Jujutsu Tech in Tokyo, not far from your home. You sat in a small classroom, chatting with another girl whom you had just met. Her name was Shoko. Shoko spoke calmly and cooly, and you liked that about her.

Your conversation was interrupted by the door opening silently, a black haired boy stepping through with wide leg pants and gauges. He looked at you both, shut the door, and sat in a nearby desk without a word. Another classmate.

You turned to Shoko. "Do you know how many are supposed to be in our class?" As if in answer, the man who could only be your teacher entered the room, introduced himself as Yaga, and that was that. You, Shoko, and the black-haired kid.

After introductions, Yaga glanced at his watch, sighed, and then looked back up at the three of you. "No use in waiting. Let's just get on with our first lesson. Meet me outside in about 20 minutes." He left, visibly disappointed.

Each of you stood one by one, chairs scraping. Black haired kid, Geto, said nothing. You wondered what Yaga could have been waiting for. Shoko spoke up. "So, are we all going together?"

With muttered agreements, the three of you walked towards the door. Geto and Shoko froze when your hand met the handle. You looked at both of them from over your shoulder. "Something wrong?"

Shoko reached out a hand. "(l/n), wait-"

Instead of you opening the door, the door opened right into you, it's corner hitting you straight on your brow.

You yelped in pain and met the force behind the door. You recognized him immediately. Gojo Satoru, now a young man. He was tall, almost too tall, and his eyes were covered by round sunglasses. Shoko and Geto took a step back. You grabbed your nose.

"Hm? Oh, sorry about that. You guys know if Yaga is going to be here yet or is he late?" he asked, not even bothering to check if you were okay. His tone struck you harder than the door. It was light, nonchalant, as if he were asking about what you had for lunch.

"He just left," Geto replied, his face hard. He is what you thought Gojo would sound like when he talked. Both him and Shoko surveyed Gojo, noticeably on edge. "Are you a first-year?"

"Yeah, he is," you grounded out, glaring at Gojo with your nose pinched between your thumb and forefinger. "And he's also late."

"Oh wait, I know you! You're that adopted Kamo girl!" Gojo exclaimed, leaning down to examine you like you were some pet hamster. "What was your name again?"

"(l/n)," you replied lowly as you backed a step away from him. "(l/n) (y/n)..."

"Right, right, with the reversal technique. Say-"

"Excuse me, are you going to ask if she's alright, or are you going to let us through?" Geto crossed his arms and sauntered over to him. They were about the same height, Geto being slightly taller. "Because Yaga-Sensei needs us outside. Not to mention, you were late. You should come with us so you can apologize."

"Oh? Oh yeah, I guess I was. Oh well, he'll get over himself." Gojo looked over Geto's shoulder at the clock and waved a hand at it.

Geto immediately looked irked at Gojo waving a hand in his face, his neutral expression scrunching into a scowl. "Who did you think you are?"

"I'm Gojo Satoru," he replied with a smirk and a pointed look at him from under his sunglasses. "You might've heard of me-"

"Oh, who gives a damn? I-"

Shoko interrupted them by grabbing you by the shoulders and shoving you through the door. "I hate boys..." she whispered.

___________________________________________________________

The beginning of your first year went by in similar fashion. Gojo or Geto would say something. The other one would get annoyed. Either you or Shoko would break it up or they would take it out on each other. It wasn't new to you. The Kamo boys would always be fighting over anything, but back then you were more inclined to either watch or leave.

Geto was tolerable. He was polite, and treated you and Shoko accordingly. He had his moments and his lofty morals, but at least he had reason. Gojo, on the other hand, was the opposite. He was a tease, and loved to make fun of you three, especially you. You always get this funny look on your face, I just can't help it, was always his excuse for when you asked why he was, well, the way he was. Not only that, Gojo saw no point behind a lot of things, especially the things that did matter. He didn't care about going too far in training, oftentimes almost seriously injuring one of you. He didn't care about the reasoning behind his strength or what he should do with it. He claimed that he was young and that the meaning behind his extraordinary gifts would just have to come to him eventually. Geto hated that, and you weren't quite fond of it either.

However, multiple missions together forced you four to learn camaraderie, which led to your inseparable friendship by the end of your first year. Despite your difference in sorcerer rankings (the boys were both special grade, and you and Shoko were semi-first grade), you recognized each other as equals. The strongest, as Gojo put it.

But deep down, you knew that he was the strongest out of the four of you. You thought even Geto understood it, which is why they still fought from time to time.

Gojo explained his technique to you in exchange that you would explain yours, because, it turned out, both of you were still confused by how your respective techniques functioned. "Uhm, well, the best way I can put it is the convergence of all matter," he started, playing with a loose seem at the edge of his jacket. "My infinity is a constant of imaginary numbers pulling in and slowing everything down. And then my six eyes just let me see cursed energy. They both just work together like that, y'know? What about you?"

"Oh, well, I guess if yours is the convergence, mine is sort of the divergence?" you raised, trying to make a comparison. Gojo quirked his eyebrow. "I don't understand it either. For some reason, I can only produce negative cursed energy. I can make reversal energy easier than others because of that, but only reversal energy. I've never been able to let negative cursed energy leave my body, which is why I've been trying to get Suguru to train me in cursed weapons and hand-to-hand combat, but he's always so busy."

"Well, how about we make a deal then?" Gojo asked, stretching his arms above his head and standing from the bleachers you were sitting on. "You teach me reversal energy, and I'll teach you hand-to-hand combat."

"But, Suguru is better at it then you are-"

"You gonna take the deal or not, (y/n)?"

"Okay, fine." You rose from your spot and gave the huffing baby a condescending pat on the shoulder. He flicked your arm in response as you both left the gym.

That night, you realized your adoptive father had been wrong about two things. One, Gojo Satoru is strong, very strong. He was way above being your equal, the only person keeping the balance between the jujutsu world and the normal one simply by existing.

The second thing was that despite that, Gojo still considered you his equal. Maybe because you knew something he didn't thanks to your technique. Either way, he wasn't no one because he was your equal. He was someone because he was your equal.

It was the first two of many things, you realized, that your adoptive father had been wrong about.

#isawritesshit #jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #principal yaga #jjk smut #gojo x reader #anime #this was supposed to be the first chapter but its already getting kind of long and I have stuff to do #female reader

[xxlovelynovaxx]

Hey, tagging everybody on this list because a member of a hate group known to be pro-harassment is creating a "blocklist" that just puts targets on y'all's backs. If used as intended, it might actually be helpful, but... well, if I ask how many of you have been personally victimized by Regina George anti-endos, we're gonna get the whole bleachers raising their hands. Because this is a safety issue, anyone can send this to anyone on this list I may have blocked. If you see this and want me to take you off my version, note that you'll still be on the antis one but I am happy to do so, and you may also block evade to do so as again, it is a matter of safety.

Sideblogs named not included, but I'll put an astrix by those that have multiple sideblogs listed. The blog doing this is "endo blocklist" if you want to be able to block them yourselves.

@abyssal-system

@agentgreenbean

@anendoandfriendo

@batm0th

@chocobarsys

@closeted-punk

@curiousitycollective

@daydreamers-sys *

@dialtownsys *

@dogboysora

@draco-system

@dreambound-ring

@sophieinwonderland *

@eliias-bouchard

@emojis-are-cool

@endogenichaven

@endonp-no-d

@fightinggod03

@fowlsys

@funnierasafictive

@funnier-as-a-system

@gateway-2000

@gracien-system

@gentlewonderssys

@homestuck-tech-psy-fan

@hourglasssys look

@introject-confessions

@introject-culture-is

@isappho

@jadeitis

@lorisystem

@metafarers

@monopool-system (is this supposed to be @moonpool-system ?)

@morcialists

@nightfallsystem *

@nonlibidoist-culture-is

@none-gender-left-man

@paracosmic-gt

@paxislandsystem

@plural-culture-ic (maybe @plural-culture-is ?)

@ponderouswhims

@positively-plural

@pluralpolls

@pluralprompts

@problemaddtic

@queermetalgremlin

@rookie-captain-friska

@rosegroup

@rjalker

@shadowstarlightwitch

@sirenium

@starfallsystemsblog *

@stars-in-our-skies

@starznvoidz

@syscourse101

@syscoursebot

@syscourser

@sysmedhater

@symmetrysys

@syssettings

@system-comforts

@systematic-hyyydromatic

@t4tdog

@tscs-plural-advocacy-blog

@the-astral-arbour

@the-amethyst-system

@the-amethyst-system

@the-dreamworld-system

@theluminolussystem

@thelunastusco

@theweebsystem

@urfavisplural

@pierz

@dr-gearz

Hang on, ran out of mentions, I'll reblog to add more

#metafarers

[wentasch]

Not the usual thing I blog about here but

I’m hella terrified of the last two episode of the bad batch and I need to ramble about it a little.

I already said to myself that I think everybody except Omega will die BECAUSE I don’t believe in plot armor since Tech. It’s also the final season so they can throw bodies wherever they want YET if I’m wrong with that theory, beautiful. I do not want them to die. I love these idiots too much.

Though if I’m right I can say that I was right with tears in my eyes. That will count for something. Hopefully.

…I’m still mourning Tech how tf am I suppose to react to the others dying. I’ve been rewatching Bad Batch and every time I see Tech I want to cry.

Also, I am very interested who that Shadow Trooper is or if he even is anyone of “interest”.

I’ve heard people talk about him being Tech. It would definitely bring more angst factor in the story but sometimes I think the fandom is just in denial with Techs death (I’m the fandom. I’m in denial)

Others also talked about how maybe Cody is the shadow trooper and could make a return with it. I would love to see him again.

If that guy turns out to be somebody who is unknown to us then I would be fine with it too.

I don’t have any real assumptions or expectations for the finale except that it has to have a good and interesting ending for my favorite Batch.

So if such a ending means killing everything I love than so be it. (I might regret saying this after tomorrows episode)

#the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb season 3 #tbb finale #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #sw tbb #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #i’m so scared #but also hella excited

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

Hello 👋 I have been offered the option of volunteering at an assisted living facility for people with high support needs and medium support needs autism. The people who live at the hostel go to a care center during the day but are at the hostel in the afternoon and night and the staff at the hostel does the general stuff of helping them out around the house. That being said when I went to the hostel they explained that they use an ABA based approach of interacting with the residents in a way that according to them is supposed to teach them important communication skills such as pointing to pictures if there is a problem to explain what it is or to wave to get someones attention instead of grabbing them.

From what I heard ABA is wildly considered abusive but the people on staff argued that it is different with medium and high support needs autism. My question is: from your experience can aba be positive? Would you say that it's inherently abusive? Is it different for people with low support needs and medium/high? (I'm sending this to multiple blogs who talk about the topic a lot so you may see this ask multiple times, sorry bout that)

oh yeah this nuanced topic i definitely need answer because find other people say binary “yes” or “no” both not helpful.

obvious trigger warn for ABA, detail talk of abusive ABA

low support needs = LSN, higher support needs = HrSN

TLDR: yes and no

ABA is highly controversial and nuanced topic. if ask most allistic professionals and allistic Autism Parents, most will tell you no (as in ABA never abusive). if ask actually autistic community, including those never been in ABA, most will tell yes (as in ABA always abusive).

personally think is a mix of “it can be,” and wrote more about here, but summary is: ABA can be very abusive, many ABA survivor abused by it. historically been very abusive (old school ABA), many places it still is now, but some places start to change. but saying “oh we do the good ABA” doesn’t mean they not abusive. some ABA survivors (who got ABA in past & present) say they not abused it helped, some say it both helped and abused, some just abused. so i find helpful always high alert when talk about ABA and watch carefully if use ABA.

summary of what i hear of bad ABA: force eye contact, force masking, quiet hands, behaviorally erase autistic/“problematic” trait (but neglect inside feelings & emotions & thought processes). block escape (physically or psychologically), don’t allow leave don’t allow stop task until finish. tech compliance. food reinforcers and planned withholding of needs & key things (like emotional support stuffed animal or affection). see meltdown sensory overload crying as attention seeking so need ignore (instead of see it as pain response as need help as not able communicate before it get bad). typically only value mouth speech and ignore all other communication like behaviors and pointing (“to encourage mouth speech”but is shitty way of doing it) but also can happen with PECS (inherent ABA shitty system) or even AAC devices. often have token chart and discrete trial training (DTT).

summary of what i hear or personal experience of good ABA: teach skills*, like bADLs iADLs self advocacy etc. naturalistic learning. modeling behaviors. functional communication. value receivers (person getting ABA) input if they can communicate. more comparisons

*beware, good ABA focus on teach skill but can still “teach skill” with abusive technique. good ABA need teach functional life skill but teach skill doesn’t inherent make ABA good ABA.

some may argue good ABA isn’t ABA because fundamental ABA principle don’t allow it. personally see where this come from (see: ivar lovaas) but since many who use good ABA techniques still call self ABA, and sometimes it’s “ABA or else,” i focus on harm reduction.

but it also not “there is good ABA and there is bad ABA and good ABA good bad ABA bad.” some place do mix of technique from both—which still make them abusive, but it not like “if i do some good technique i am all good ABA.” good ABA hard to maintain and is active effort to continue because so many of field historically and now is abusive. it just easier explain that way.

don’t think there any technique that, if use on LSN is abusive, but if same thing use on HrSN suddenly not abusive. it sound like very ableist idea. we not that different we may have harder time understand we may have harder time communicate, but we still have feelings. (some of us not understand at all not able words communicate at all, i not one of them obviously but i think may even be worse for them because they don’t understand why you do that why they feel bad or even understand what they feel and can’t words tell feel bad only behavior. but obviously this me guess since am not one of them)

sort of extreme example but it remind me of (wrong) idea that e.g people with severe & profound ID, no person inside no mind inside so akin to dog training just need focus on behavior

as for personal experience, do have personal experience with ABA and not really ready talk about, but in summary: currently am more address immediate urgent thing so may change when we get to routine day skill. but overall good experience very much help very listened to no abuse life saver without it would be in big trouble. but this also because 1) able communicate already can say what want/don’t want, 2) adult own guardian can decide own, 3) progressive area with better healthcare available, 4) now and not 10 or 5 or even 2 year ago.

you specifically mention point to pictures. AAC really should be SLP (speech therapists) territory but SLP field heavily connect with ABA & behavioralism and many ABA places do deal with communication so… yeah.

examples of good & bad ways handle teach below because this get long

bad example:

you want juice. you lead them to fridge. you may even point to (real life) juice. they don’t give you juice and instead say “use your words!” or something.

you want juice. you do gesture (not signs) of cup, or drink, or whatever. they know what you talk about because you done many times, they don’t give you juice. or even if they don’t know what you talk about, they ignore you (instead of respond to behavior communication).

you want juice. you given a board of these pictures and words in squares, eat drink juice fruit chips cookie etc etc. you confused. no one ever show you what do with it. you meltdown from frustrate.

you want juice. you try all above. no one respond. you meltdown from frustrate. you labeled as have behavioral issues and that meltdown came from nowhere, you labeled as can’t be helped

you want juice. you try all above. only way people actually respond and give you juice is: you get to velcro wall of picture cards. you identify “juice” symbol from all other symbols. you have fine motor skill to take “juice” symbol off from wall. then you go to adult person. you make eye contact with them for period of some seconds while calmly give them juice card. you may or may not be encouraged or even have to mouth say word “juice.” then you finally get juice.

not abusive per se but also not great example

you want juice. you have to stop what doing and go get your device or communication book (or other person go get), then you can point to juice. your words not available to you all the time or you have to ask for them. (know communication books and picture card walls often bulky and hard carry everywhere and don’t have great solution but still ideally words available all time)

good example:

you want juice. let go back to the point to fridge and real life juice example. you point. the helper person/therapist/etc see and mouth say “do you want juice?” and model on AAC device or communicate book “want” “juice” (model without expectations). then they give juice. and they repeat modeling in all situations without expect them immediate respond to AAC or expect them will respond in x weeks etc. just model as part of communication.) more on modeling

random grab people can be frustrate for other people and not most effective way communicate and should try best give more way communicate, but also need understand that behavior is communicate, and many “extreme” and “problematic” behavior happen probably because no other way know communicate or all other way communicate accidentally ignore. so should respect it and see it for it purpose & teach functional communicate same time. (not saying you don’t understand this just is something i see many people forget so feel need talk about every time)

#aba tw #aba therapy tw #answered #loaf screm #long post

[floral-force]

hello there <3

coming at ya with a request!

can I get a f!reader x captain rex (TCW or Rebels) where reader is an armor tech and rex needs repairs done often? maybe he breaks a piece of armor on purpose just to keep going back?

can't wait to see what you doooo thank you friend!

in my head rex is either super flirty or super unsure/awkward when it comes to ~feelings~ so this def falls on the opposite end of the spectrum for me. my fic strategies in flirtation is at the other end. i hope you enjoy this drabble !!

requests are open! | masterlist | join the tag list

On the Mend

captain rex x f!reader

words: 844

warnings: none, but my blog is 18+ ONLY. no minors allowed.

read on ao3 | masterlist

“For a captain, you sure are clumsy,” you comment, looking over the damaged chest plate.

Rex rubbed the back of his head and chuckled nervously. “Yeah, well…It comes with the occupation, I suppose.”

You look up at him from where you sat, the clone captain standing before you dressed only in a body glove. He crossed his bulky arms over his chest—a broad one, at that—and you smiled at him. A tense, awkward silence hung over both of you, filling your small workroom with fog. You looked into his deep brown eyes, noticing how his broad nose crinkled when he sniffed; how he couldn’t maintain eye contact with you for longer than a few seconds.

You cleared your throat, fingers tapping the broken armor. “Well, um, this should be done by the end of the day tomorrow. Doesn’t look too banged up.”

“Good to know,” Rex said. He walked to the door with a stiff back, giving you a curt nod before leaving.

The second time he came back, it was a cracked pauldron—the blue one signifying his rank. She raised her eyebrow when he held it out to her, taking it gently.

“You were just here not even 6 rotations ago,” she remarks. “Kriff, captain, what does Commander Skywalker have you doing?”

Rex shook his head. “I’ve been here training, actually.”

She scoffed and looked up and down between him and the armor. “This happened during training?”

He shifted and scratched his thick bicep. Rex could barely look into her eyes; not because he couldn’t make eye contact, but because her beauty threw him off. When he’d first gone to her a standard month ago, he was instantly smitten. Whenever he saw her walking around base, he felt his heart beat faster. She made him more nervous than his Commander’s plans ever did.

Rex couldn’t stop thinking about her, and it led to him doing this just to see her. He made sure to land on his shoulder during a training exercise, knowing he’d need to get it fixed. Knowing it would lead to seeing her.

The way she looked at him, smiled, bantered—it drove him crazy. He wished he could just hold her hand, brush his fingers against hers. Rex wished he could be bold enough to make the first move.

“Landed on my shoulder wrong,” he replied.

She hummed and turned it over in her hands, deft fingers running over the crack, making him wish it was his chest she was stroking instead. When she looked up at him again, his breath caught in his throat. Maybe he was dreaming, but it seemed like there was something in her eyes, seeing him in a similar way.

“I’ll have it done tomorrow. You can pick it up then.”

Her voice was music to his ears. Maybe he’d return in a few rotations with something else.

“Captain Rex, here again? What a shock,” you deadpanned, leaning back in your chair.

He gave you a soft smile, light copper cheeks crinkling. “Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you said with a smile. “But I’m thinking I might have to start charging you.”

Rex chuckled, a light rumble. He was handsome, you’d decided. Charming, in his own special way. It was funny. You saw him training, giving orders; he was confident, sure of himself, filling a room with his presence. When he stood in front of you, he shrunk from shyness. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he had a crush.

You bit your lip as you inspected the damaged thigh plate, hiding a smirk. But of course, the ever-observant Rex noticed.

“Something the matter?”

You swallowed, deciding to be bold. “You know, I think I have an idea about how you could pay me back for all of these little—“ you gestured to the armor— “accidents.”

He raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat. “Is that so?”

You nodded, meeting his eyes. “I’ve heard of this cantina nearby. It’s quiet but I prefer them that way.”

“What’re you suggesting?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

“Take me there.”

“As…As a date?”

A smile spread across your lips and you nodded. “Exactly.”

Rex’s face brightened and he grinned. “I’m free tomorrow. I got the morning off the day after.”

“I’ll be free after I finish fixing this,” you giggled, holding up the armor.

“I’ll meet you here then, love.”

The pet name sent a shiver up your spine. “Sounds like a date.”

Rex gave you a wide grin, and you could tell something had been lifted off his shoulders. You were incredibly flattered to be the object of his affection, and even more excited to finally get to know him beyond his awkward way of flirting. Maybe you’d be able to steal a quick kiss—you definitely weren’t thinking about how it would feel last night. Hopefully, you could be bold again. Hopefully, he’d keep coming by to drop off another piece of armor, giving you another piece of him—the real Rex—each time.

taglist (join here): @hardlystrictlystarwars

#captain rex fic #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #clone captain rex #captain rex fluff #filled request #star wars the clone wars #sw tcw fanfic #my fic

[bouncybongfairy]

I love your evil morty fics so much! Not alot of people write for him so I was really happy when I found your account haha

I was wondering if I could request an evil morty x reader fic where it takes place in s7 ep 5 (unmortricken)

reader and morty both work to make the planet their "home," killing aliens, taking crystals, bulding their house, etc (morty is mostly the brains though, we're just there as a sort of bodygaurd/we watch his back so he doesn't get surprise attacked by some alien)

and if possible could you add some smut before his force field gets compromised? preferably where he starts rough due to all the stress from fighting aliens all day then when he finishes its softer and fluffier

hope my request made sense haha, thank you so much! 💖

Hard Feelings

Evil Morty x Fem Reader

Summary: After breaking through the central finite curve, Morty and you have been having some tension building up because of the stress. Things come to a head during a mission which leads rough words and hands exchange between the two of you.

Word Count: 3.0k+

(!Spoilers from Rick and Morty Season 7 EP 5!)

(!This fanfic contains rough and dark depictions of sexual content!)

Shout out to @kaionyx whose account I used as a reference. Not super familiar with.. all that kinda stuff, his blog really helped so, I'll give credit where it is due.

Shout out to the person who sent the request. Hope I did you concept justice.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Morty’s plans to break through the central finite curve were completed. Finally able to be in a dimension where Rick isn’t the smartest asshole in the galaxy. Even though he was free from the shackles of being at Rick’s disposal, he still seemed to try filling some unknown void. It was never your place to say but there were times where Morty’s morals were becoming less and less clear. You were still grateful that he brought you along. He could have left you in your original universe but he saw something in you that couldn’t be replaced. Right now you guys were in the middle of an adventure, trying to find a certain rare type of crystal that Morty wanted to try using to power the planet's force field. He still hasn’t been able to find a crystal that can sustain his tech longer than a couple hours. The mixture of stress of constantly crystal searching and the insecurity that was caused by not figuring out exactly how to fix the problem was eating away at him. If that wasn’t enough fuel to the fire, he also was dealing with his feelings of arrival fallacy. Despite your warnings that getting away from Rick wouldn’t just magically take away the trauma, he chose to die on that hill. At times you thought it caused him to resent you when he was in a grumpy or insecure mood. 

Right now the both of you were in the ship; following the target of a crystal score Morty was pursuing. The ride was silent, it was 29 hours into the mission and the both of you were sleep deprived. As you dissociated, your mind wandered to the events that occurred two days before. Morty was working on the plans for the current mission, sitting at their kitchen table. He’s built the bunker to look like an average home on earth in order to make you feel more comfortable. You were in the kitchen making dinner for the both of you. It may seem like stereotypical domestic bliss but you didn’t cook for Morty because you had to. Simple things like cooking or reading a book in the lazy boy that helped block out the horrors from adventures and missions. Everything was ready and you were making his plate when you heard him let out a deep breath from frustration. His face was bright red and was letting his head hang off the back of the chair. You set his plate on the table and came around and stood behind him. While you kissing the top of his head in order to comfort him, you noticed that he missed a step in the formula of an equation, 

“Look, you were supposed to subtract 0.836 before multiplying by the distance and speed,” you said. He pushed back his chair and led you into the living room before going back into the kitchen and started smashing his chair against the floor. 

You immediately ran back into the kitchen and asked him what the fuck he was doing. He completely ignored you and continued his rampage. It was pointless trying to stop him, he was too far gone in his frustration. Grabbing his blueprints to make sure they didn’t get ruined, in case he wanted them when he sobered up from his anger. By the time he was done, he was practically panting. He’d smashed all four chairs that had previously surrounded the dining room table. He pulled his shirt off and wiped the sweat off his face. Throwing his shirt over his shoulder, he ran his fingers through his hair to keep the damp strands off his face. He pulled the portal gun out of his waistband and opened a portal underneath the pile of broken wood and cushions. Letting it drop into an unknown location, so he didn’t have to clean it up. He grabbed the plate and kissed you before walking into the living room to watch tv on the couch while he ate. For a while you stood there, feeling confused and frozen. You’d seen Morty go crazy while hunting and stuff but never inside at home. 

“Come eat with me!” he called out, not in an aggressive way but that just made you even more confused. The fact that he was acting like nothing happened. You made yourself a plate and joined him on the couch, trying your best to appear unaffected by the event. 

“Were here,” Morty said, breaking you out of the dissociation. 

Following Morty as you exited the ship, carrying a gun in each hand. Looking out for any monsters and he was collecting crystals. It could be the lack of sleep but you could not stop thinking about his freak out. It bothered you that he wasn’t communicating his feelings to you. It also made you insecure about how he felt about you. Painfully obvious that he wasn’t happy with himself and as his girlfriend that has to be partly your fault right? Not to mention you were tired, running on literal injections of adrenaline. The fact that you both hadn’t had sex in a while like literally since he broke through the central finite curve. It just made you feel like he didn’t care anymore or that he had much more important things to do other than well… you. Bringing this up to Morty made you insecure, he rarely showed emotion even before all this shit. So it just felt like you’d be bothering him with something that is so juvenile compared to what he’s dealing with. 

“If you have something to say you should just say it.” Morty stated, as if he was in your mind as you were overthinking. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked flatly. 

“Do you think I can’t tell when you’re bothered by something?” he asked as they walked through the dense foliage. 

“Oh that’s rich,” you practically laughed. 

“Excuse me?” he asked. 

“Are you on fucking crack? You literally went completely feral when you were making the plans for today. Then acted like nothing happened at all, so it’s weird as hell that you’re projecting that shit on to me,” you said, shooting at a large cat-like species that was running towards the two of you. 

“All I said was that I could tell something is bothering you,” he said. 

“No you also said that if I had something to say then I should just say it. Just in actuality I can communicate my feelings in a mature way without smashing shit like a child,” you said.

“Oh yeah great notes, i’m glad you have so much free time on your hands that you can categorize what icks I give you,” he said flatly.

“Please, do me a favor and get your ego in check. We both know if you didn’t need me I wouldn’t be here. I have free time the same way you have your mental health under control and we both know neither of those things are true,” you said, now not masking the irritation in your tone. 

“For sure let me just check that out, last time I checked my ego is backed up by the fact that I can do anything. Should I dull down my ego and aww jeez myself asleep every night? My ego is the reason why we're here,” he said, you could tell he was getting more irritated. 

“Fuck you! Ugh you’re such a fucking dick some times, what the fuck is your problem?!” you screamed, stopping dead in your tracks.

“I'm sure you would love that but still have work to do,” he grumbled.

“Careful their buddy, the God complex you got from your fucking grandaddy is showing!” you said, throwing one of your guns at his back. He stood still for a while, rubbing the back of his neck. Even though he wasn’t facing you it was obvious that his anger was through the roof. He turned around and walked towards you in an aggressive manner. Due to your sleep deprivation and frustration you didn’t let your body language show any weakness like you normally would have. You had your arms crossed over your chest and a wide foot stance. The other gun still in your hand, he was now as close as he could be without being pressed against you. His eyebrows were furrowed and sweat dripped down his forehead. Red in the face and breathing heavily. 

“Am I supposed to be intimidated? Cower down? Beg and plead to stop fighting? You’re fucking crazy if you think I’d beg for shit! Fuck you for real like fuck you.” you hissed. 

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked as he backed you against a tree. You didn’t know what to say, you were mad but at the same time you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the sexual tension. When you didn’t respond he continued, 

“You said you wanted me to be more open about my feelings right? So let me take my feelings out on you right now, I'll show you exactly how I feel,” he said. 

You knew a deep red blush was painted over your cheeks. His eyes were glazed over and every time his breath hit your face, you could feel your cheeks prickle and tingle. He looked feral and had the same look in his eye from when he smashed the furniture. Part of you felt like this was a Catch 22; on one had been in a dry spell for two months and you were just about as sexually frustrated as someone could be. On the other hand, it kinda felt like giving into his advances would be a sign of you admitting defeat. Morty could tell you were weighing out the pros and cons of the situation. His hands began to wonder, running up and down your back. Goosebumps covered your skin as he did, you could control your facial expressions but couldn’t help how your body reacted to his touch. You managed to keep the same unaffected facial expression as he pushed his limits. Somehow he manages to take a step closer, pressing his groin against your crotch. Feeling how hard he was made your core burn and throb. He moved your hair and moved his lips so they were hovering over your ear before whispering,

“I want to build and destroy you over and over again,” he growled in ear.

You were losing the mental battle of maintaining your stubbornness. Giving into him would be admitting weakness and defeat in the mind games you were playing. There wasn’t anywhere to go, you were completely smashed against his body and the tree. He moved his mouth from the ear to your neck. He was breathing against your skin, rubbing his nose up and down. You held back a shiver, leaning over to the side in hope to give your skin a break from the sensitivity. Running his hand up your back, he gently tangles his hands in your hair. Slowly tightening his grip on the soft strands. Grabbing your gun he kills another animal that was running to attack. The loud crack of the weapon was similar to when the gun goes off in a race. You smash your lips against his, fully letting your body melt into his arms. He pulled away from your lips and sunk his teeth into your neck, hard enough to break skin. Squirming away from the burning and stinging but every time you did, he got more aggressive. Every once in a while you’d hear a couple of strands popping. 

“Is that why you’re being so difficult today? You wanted my attention, hmm?” he asked, his tone was ragged and low. 

“Holy fuck.. okay,” you half mumble half moan. 

“Can’t even hold a conversation because the only thing on your mind is being pounded, such a dumb little whore,” he said, pushing you down to the ground. 

It was a lot more aggressive than normal, ripping your shirt exposing your tits. His eyes were wide yet he still kept his eyebrows furrowed and angry. You went to reach for his belt but before you could reach it, he slapped your tit so hard it made you gasp. It’s not necessarily that you weren’t into how dominant he was being. It was making you nervous because this was the first time he wasn’t holding back. You could feel your body shivering in excitement and anticipation. Again you reach for his belt again and in return his palm and fingers smacked against your face. Whipping your body to the side due to the force and the fact that it was completely unexpected. You were laying on your back and before you could finish reacting to the slap, he was on top of you. Using his knees to pin down your things, his legs digging painfully into the muscles of your thigh. Pulling out a dagger from his waistband, it was long and curved kinda like a claw. Using it to cut a hole into your cargo pants, ripping at the fabric. The tip of the knife nicked you, taking in a sharp breath mixed with a gasp. Instinctually you got to sit up and investigate the wound. He pushed you back down into the dirt, a couple of sharp rocks digging into your back. Looking up and staring at him; the sun was beginning to set creating a glow of burnt orange and red illuminating his figure from behind. Now that it was starting to get dark, more creatures from the dense forest were waking up and getting hungry. Every once in a while using his laser gun to kill anything that gets too close. Eventually growing tired of the constant monitoring he puts up a force field. 

“Now: you can take my belt off,” he said, still gripping the blade menacingly.

At first, you were nervous to make any sudden movements. You sat back on your knees, the dirt and gravel on the ground was becoming increasingly bothersome. Slowly you reach up and start to undo his belt, he raises the knife up and starts gently grazing the sharp tip against your jaw. Your hands were shaking from adrenaline, excitement and a little fear. The belt was now fully undone, he was still looking down at you. His silence was making you nervous, you didn’t want to provoke him by doing or saying the wrong thing. After a couple moments of waiting for instruction, you become impatient and reach up again pulling his boxers down. He lets you expose him but then uses his other hand to grab you tightly by the jaw. 

“How dumb are you? What is it going to take for you to learn to do as you're told?” he spat, creating a small scratch on your cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” you cry out, becoming mentally exhausted. This was your 31st hour without sleep and it was starting to affect your patients. 

“Not yet,” he laughed. 

He flipped you over and immediately crawled on top of you. His exposed member pressing against you from behind. Your thoughts were becoming foggy, like you were intoxicated by your arousal and desire. Grabbing a fistful of hair, he pinned your head to the dirt. Every time you exhaled the dirt would fly up a little, like a plume of smoke. You were bucking your behind against him, trying to initiate some type of contact with your sexes. He took this as a sign of defiance, almost humoured that you thought you’d deserve his cock yet. 

“Did you really think you’d get your cunt touched without begging?” he growled. As soon as the words fell from his lips, fire and ice began running through your veins. You were accepting your fate, he was right and you were wrong. He was relishing in the fact that he was breaking you down piece by piece. After you had played a big game about essentially being immune to his mind games. 

“I’m sorry, okay. Please!” you cried out, trying to press your ass against him but couldn’t. He adjusted his position, his tip now pressed against your entrance. Using his head to spread your moisture around your lips and clit. 

“Being treated like this gets you off? Having to beg for it makes you this wet? I thought begging was beneath you, say it, that you’re too good to beg,” you were panting and drooling, part of you wanted to hang on to that stubbornness. That maybe your dignity could be somewhat salvaged, you stayed silent trying to figure out what to say; whether to give in or keep fighting back. He was getting irritated waiting for a response and began slapping his dick against your pussy. 

“Say. It.” He ordered with a low yet strong voice.

“I’m not t-too good to b-beg,” you whimper out, a tear of humility streamed down your face. 

“What? You sounded so sure earlier though.. Say it again, just so I know you’re serious,” he growled, running the blade down your back. As bruised as your ego was, you couldn't lie and say you weren’t equality as turned on. Part of you felt a little ashamed that you’re enjoying this level of domination and humiliation. 

“I’m not too good to beg you! J-just please I can’t-!” you practically shrieked, not being able to take the anticipation and teasing anymore. 

He then lined himself up and slid into you. You tighten yourself around him, fully enjoying the feeling of his throbbing member filling your needy hole. You’d learned your lesson and let him take the lead, using your body however he wanted. His hip bones were stabbing into your ass but you didn’t care. Being sexually frustrated for weeks mixed with being teased mentally and physically made you overly sensitive. Your walls were burning but from a mix of immense pleasure and slight pain from how fast the friction was. His body was fully pressed against yours, fucking you into the ground. Your head was between his elbows and forearms. The side of your head was fully pressed against the dirt, tears turning into mud and sticking to your face. His lips were pressed against your ear, groaning and whispering vulgar nothings. 

“I- can’t, please, it h-hurts,” your words came out garbled and hoarse. 

“You want me to stop? Can’t take it? That’s okay, just say so,” he groaned into your ear. It wasn’t like you were lying, you didn’t think you could take much more. You wanted more though, so you shut your mouth and continued enjoying being stretched. 

“That’s what I fucking thought, silly little cumslut,” he growled, pounding into you harder than you thought possible. 

The force field was beginning to fail, getting smaller and less protective. He pulls you up, putting you in doggie position. Your knees were being scrapped by the rocks and gravel. He spit on his dick as he continued pounding into you. Using the gun to kill creatures trying to break through the force field. Both of you were getting close, his thrusts were becoming more erratic. Feeling you pulse and tighten around you. The gun was getting hot due to rapid use, noticing this: he remembers when you threw it at him. So he pressed the hot barrel against your lower back, right where a tramp stamp normally would be placed. This intense pain combined with the pleasure and overstimulation was enough to send you into climax. Even though you were nearly passed out, you could tell he was cumming into you. It was like he cock pressed deep enough into your spasming cunt. As soon as you were done riding out the high, you passed out.

#rick and morty fanfiction #evil morty x you #evil morty season 7 #evil morty x reader #evil morty imagine #evil morty fanfiction #rick and morty season 7 #fanfic request #fanfiction requests #x reader requests #sadist k!nk #knife k!nk #rough smut #dark smut

[modrew71extra]

Right, never thought I had to make one of these callouts in my entire time of using social media, but unfortunately due to the seriousness of the subject matter at hand, I have to get this out here to prevent more people being mislead.

Now for a lot of people who follow artist Tumblr might be aware of this one thread circulating in regards to people using Glaze & Nightshade in response to the recent updates made to Tumblr's data services. With the posting in question, @ reachartwork discouraging use of it and presenting an argument for it.

Now unlike most other people, I can tell how off their argument is as it lacked the nuance of how these programs worked and talked about it in a way that came off more enthusiastic, despite their claims of having sympathies people trying to protect themselves.

It's only until I took one little look at their blog and knew what was up, and their later behaviour proved my suspicions.

Now to get this right off the bat, I do apologise for whatever misgendering I exhibited as I didn't notice that about them, nor am I justifying this callout to harass them.

So please don't

Rather, it's to be weary of this user, and how you really shouldn't be sleeping on these programs.

Now as the original featured, it went out in presenting their argument as followed:

As you can notice in the thread, it's providing very little evidence of their findings of its supposed workings without proper sources, while trying to show ways to work around it (again, enthusiastically mind you).

And yet as you notice, they didn't bother providing an alternative way to combat this scalping situation everyone is in, especially with how replies have been of users expressing their grievances over this.

You'll think that maybe you should have added something to help others or worded themselves in a more sympathetic manner?

But that's when I checked into their profile and knew what seems to be up,

They're into this tech.

I knew this was clear propaganda, why would somebody who is invested into generative tech try and discourage methods in protecting others of data scalping?

Like I'm sorry but you can't be somebody who claims to be sympathetic about the whole power imbalance this whole field is causing, yet enthusiastically be into this tech. Those mixture of ideologies just do not match.

There's no such thing as "ethical AI use" for this tech.

Now upon knowing many were falling prey to this nonsense, I had to step in and present my own counter arguments and why they are so wrong. Both programs Q&A (along with demonstrations of it acting as written) thay explains the inner workings of it as thoroughly as possible:

https://nightshade.cs.uchicago.edu/whatis.html

(Paper is in QA)

https://people.cs.uchicago.edu/~ravenben/publications/pdf/glaze-usenix23.pdf

https://twitter.com/zer0int1/status/1749574897179742353

Now comes the part when things get more heated

After I posted my retort, this is the response I got:

A) Again, while I didn't intend disrespect for their gender, "AI-bro" has literally become a catch-all for us who are against the very people who are engaged in this field

B) Since when in my original argument that I did try to villainize the entirety of programmers in general? My wording was superficially against those in that field of ML tech who are for this tech.

C) Trying to spin my own findings with proper context and immaturely handwave it by boiling it down as me going "nuh uh" is making you look childish, the info I provided literally explains the very points they argued.

D) Reason I blocked them straight away is because I knew a lot of these pro-AI tend to be very combative when it comes to criticism, I felt it in my gut that they were going to do so first. And later on other factors of their character proved my point.

Like I'm sorry, you really think me not having a degree of X matter is somehow making me a worst person and that I shouldn't be allowed to voice criticism of something?

Just because somebody is in the field of something, doesn't automatically mean they have the best interests to heart.

And here's my confirmation that like a lot of these AI enthusiasts, they're very sensitive & combative.

Now not too long, I decided to try to reblog my argument on another reblog of the artist @ Kang-Bang as they have a bigger artist presence, while they fortunately did realize what the OP they were quickly blocked upon reblogging my own post:

But it wasn't that confirmed that behaviour.

I found out through a conversation I had with somebody on the server of artist-rights advocate Zakugu Mignon, that this individual had a similar encounter with this user a year ago on Twitter (I'm Hollow btw);

And here's the conversation this person had that led to this similar experience:

https://twitter.com/Acfusi/status/1691261322988527617

Notice a familiar pattern of behaviour?

The unfortunate pattern behaviour that these pro-AI types are once again present.

It's always trying to justify the usage of this succeeding.

Now look, I'm not against the idea of the physical unabled being given the ability to produce creations of their own with the help technology means nor do I think that Artificial Intelligence is inherently bad.

But this generative tech is just doing it all the wrong way.

It's by all intentions & purposes, displace hard working people as cheaply and quickly as they can.

It has unfortunately happened to certain working sectors such as journalism, advertisement and translations as we speak.

Now on the topic of whether or not you use Glaze or Nightshade.

Please don't drop it

Now yes it's not a panchea for the societal problems we're currently facing.

But you shouldn't just leave whatever you post online out in the open without any forms of protection is not the wisest route to take.

As the Q&A already shown, it at least offers some way to ensure a means of sabotage data scalping.

There are still many other creatives and general users utilizing these programs for good reason, and WHY they're desperate for a means of protection.

https://www.tumblr.com/astraskylark/741393628982886400?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/leahfrog/743484550954598400/theres-also-nightshade-if-you-havent-heard?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/thetreetopinn/738157011350470656/ill-say-what-ive-said-in-the-past-ai-art-can-be?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/in-ravenlight/743565614387494913?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/luimnigh/743036171813273600/what-is-this-about-the-tumblr-staff-wanting-to?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/taikova/738369881482919936?source=share

Yes, I understand there's some skepticism going around and we're all frightfully confused about what to do in these uncertain times.

But please.

Don't skim out on a solution to offer some forms of protection.

Having a little protection is better than having none.

#personal post #serious talk #important #psa #signal boost #anti generative ai #call out post #supportrealartists #glaze #nightshade

[toska-writes]

Hi!! Your works are incredible! I love clones and platonic fics; it feels like I stumbled upon gold when I found your blog! I love all of your stories so much!

I noticed something else requested this, but it caught my eye instantly. Are you going to write a story about Little Padawan Y/N having heightened senses because of the Force and them bonding with Hunter because of the similarity? If you aren’t, that’s okay. I just love the idea!

Anyways, have a great week!!

Thanks you for the kind words! And thank you for the suggestion!

“Escape”

Paring: Hunter x GN padawan Reader (ITS PLATONIC!)

Warning: sensory overload, feeling trapped. Hurt/comfort but it’s Nothing too big

Word count: 1091

Notes: I said it once and I’ll say it again- I LOVE DAD HUNTER (and yes my pfp is new! I learned how to render slightly!)

Tech made sure that Hunters helmet blocked out as much background noise as it could.

The ringing in his ears and the weakness Hunter felt in his legs were not helping now.

As he walked through the busy streets the ache in his head seem to have no end. He didn't dare take his helmet off now- today was so much worse, the bustle of the space port that they were currently at was ungodly loud. The colors and lights that refracted off of all the different surface were blinding.

Hunter offered to go off to find some fuel instead of Crosshair. Knowing that his brother wouldn't have said anything otherwise but the constant rubbing of his eyes told him everything.

It was quite odd to see a clone trooper all the way on this outer rim planet, especially when they were supposed to be undercover, but it didn’t matter if Hunter was unable to lead- something he had to do and had to do well.

A twelik man sat on the side of the road trying to fix what looked like a radio. Coun hands fiddled with the back and another turned the dial ever so slowly.

He turned it once again and a terrible static sound blasted from the radio.

Many around held their ears as they tried to rush by, the noise continued as the twelik tried frantically to turn it off speaking his apologies rapidly to the people that passed by.

Hunter stumbled backward. The noise caught him off guard and he quickly needed to get out of there. Hunter wasn’t known to run, but this was a fight he knew he couldn’t win.

The static rattled around his scull. The noise seems to slip through the cracks of his helmet as he tried to grasp his head with his hands.

Paying no mind to anyone else on the street Hunter booked it. Every possible thing seemed to yell at him. The sweat relief of quite seemed a million miles away.

Against better judgement Hunter ripped off his helmet. Sweat started to bead at his brow and his hair stuck to the back of his neck. Head whipping all around looking for anything to help calm his senses.

He stumbled once again over his legs, the world seemed to spin and swirl.

An alley covered in shadows and safe from the heat seemed like the perfect place to escape. Even for a moment.

Hunter knew he couldn’t stay there forever, though he wish he could. He wished he could forget this loud and unruly war and just curl up forever in a cool alley like this one.

Away from everything.

“Hunter?” His head shot up quickly, a hand flew to his blaster and then to his helmet- wait where was his helmet?

His eyes cleared for a second taking in the sight in front of him through his daze.

“Hunter.” It was spoken more firmly this time. He watched as you knelt down. Slowly as if you were trying not to frighten a wild animal you held out his helmet. “Are you alright?”

You already knew the answer. Your sergeant sat in a alley missing some armor and in a panic clearly wasn’t good. You felt it.

When you arrived in the atmosphere of this planet you could already feel everything. Way too many people lived here- their heartbeats pounded your skull as you walked by, the anguish and fear some felt scared you. The different force signatures of those around were confusing and loud.

Everything was so loud.

“Kid what are you doing out here,” Hunter gasped for a moment coming back to his senses. “You were supposed to stay on the ship.”

His voice was gruff against your ears but you only drew closer to him. All the new things shouted at you but the one familiar thing called softly- almost signing a comforting song and that’s when you knew. Hunter needed someone.

“We should leave.” Your bluntness shocked Hunter for a second. He wasn’t sure how the force worked really, but your uneven breath gave him some signal that something was bothering you as well. “Crosshair doesn’t like it here, Wrecker is itching to do something and Tech’s mind is racing very loudly.”

Hunter started for a second before you added. “You don’t like it here either, I can get the fuel if you like. Go back to the ship.”

The man that sat in front of you wanted ever so badly to get off this rock as fast as possible, escape for only a moment in a place he was familiar with. A place he knew was safe.

“This was the worst planet to land on, I’m sorry kid.” Hunter sat up against the wall rubbing his face. The feeling of dread that he let his squad down with this decision plagued him.“Let’s get the fuel quickly and we can shut everyone up when we get on the marauder so somethings quiet.”

You giggled at his last remark holding out a hand to help him up. The glaze over his eyes were still present and his mind ran circle again and again, but he calmed a little knowing that they would be leaving soon. You did as well.

“Need to borrow the helmet kid?” Hunter asked as you made your way back to the busy street. “Pretty good at keeping stuff out, Tech modified it himself.”

You smiled again as you held tightly to Hunters free hand. “I don’t think you know how this really works.” You looked up at him. “But you should put it on yourself.”

“Oh.” He said quietly listening to your advice. He paused for a moment unsure of what to say. Of how to really comfort you. “Well to make it up the bunks are all your first.”

You nodded in agreement- the sounds of the world consumed you, but now you weren’t fighting this battle alone. Even if it was in your own head.

“If you can get Cross out of there first.” You joked nudging closer into Hunters side.

His presence stood out from the others. The feeling of safety radiated from his being, you could feel it when you were first introduced to the squad, when trouble surrounded you, when you were together on the marauder. You felt it now.

The alien feelings and sounds around you didn’t disappear but were quieted by the familiar feeling of safety. Of home.

Hunter was here for you now, and you would always be there for him.

_____________________________________

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu

#star wars clone wars #star wars #the clone boys #clone wars #the clone wars #my writing #toska-writes #clone boys #tbb hunter #hunter x reader #hunter bad batch #sergeant hunter #platonic #clone boys x reader #reader insert

[aliasrocket]

I wanted to say something for an anonymous comment about feeling less embarrassed of having feelings for Rocket. I must say I totally understand that.

A month ago, when GOTG VOL 3 was released, I went to see it at the cinema with my mother, I spent the whole movie very excited for Rocket, but right in that scene where he is on the verge of death and he meets Lylla again, SOMETHING INSIDE IT CHANGED ABOUT ME, because when they were hugging I realized I was JEALOUS, and in my mind I thought "OH NO, IT'S HAPPENING TO ME AGAIN", because I always fall for characters that might be unconventional or weird to other people , then I start looking for fics and I realize that there are not many for the same reason, or there are many where it is more platonic and I think "IT IS NOT ENOUGH" And it's more complicated for me because my first language is not English and in my language there is NOTHING. So meeting people who write Rocket the way I imagined really makes me very happy. I'm even thinking about writing some one shots myself but it's hard, I've never written NSFW and I find it kind of funny that I want to start with Rocket.

Oh my god this was absolutely sweet.

Yes!! Everyone IT IS OKAY TO LIKE UNCONVENTIONAL CHARACTERS. LITERALLY, IT IS NOT A BIG DEAL!! JUST BE YOU!!!

And I’m really sorry there isn’t much fics in your language, but on the bright side I’m really happy that you’re at least able to read and write in english even if it isn’t your first language!

Also, yeah, in my experience, besides sighing the whole goddamn movie (except for the first 10 mins, I will give myself that,) I remember leaving the theatre in a sigh and going on ao3 like “ah shit, here we go again” bc this is the 1982838th time I’ve visited ao3 for some really obscure ship or an x reader fic for a very underrated character.

And about that Rocket smut, I understand how can it be daunting and I’d really love to help you!

Ykw, let me make a quick guide for anyone who’s scared of writing Rocket smut!! But for those of you who wouldn’t wanna read some real ugly/stupid stuff, don’t press the ‘keep reading’ line, haha.

a quick (and definitely unhinged) guide to writing Rocket smut XD

OBVIOUS NSFW WARNING!!! It gets ugly guys please THIS IS YOUR WARNING I’M NOT JOKING!!

If you’re uncomfortable with heavy nsfw please turn away now!!

written by aliasrocket (89P13 on ao3 hehe)

Suitable for any smut involving Rocket! (Looking at you guys, roquill shippers. Don’t worry, I welcome all ships on my blog <3)

This is supposed to be a writing smut guide specifically meant for Rocket so I’m not gonna go into the basics of writing smut, but if you’re a total beginner, here’s some pointers to help :

the genitals, legs, muscles, brain : main places that tend to be the most stimulated, exhausted or absolutely wiped. That being said, you can use these as a starting point for describing the feelings the characters or the reader may feel in the moment.

besides the main thing, you could try to set the mood by maybe mentioning how the moans sounded like, (screams, squeals, cries etc.) and other things the characters were doing to ground them in the moment, like gripping the sheets, gripping the other person’s shoulder or hips, etc.

Okay, so, about Rocket in particular …

Yeah, of course writing smut about a fucking Raccoon isn’t going to be fucking easy. But don’t worry, as someone who has studied all 3 gotg films and slowed down quite possibly every single Rocket clip in existence (enough to know Rocket … is genuinely CANONICALLY is very particular/skilled with his fingers, he knows where he’s putting them and knows EXACTLY which buttons to press on any tech, so … definitely good at using his fingers if you catch my drift) I think I might have gotten the hang of it to help some of you guys out.

So first off, when I write Rocket smut I always imagine he’s his comic height instead of his mcu height (don’t search it up, you’re just gonna be depressed about it trust me) so all you have to know is that if he pressed you up against a wall his head would be around your shoulder blade area. For missionary, he’s probably around your collarbone.

Rocket canonically has sharp and absolutely grown out nails. No, they’re not retractible. I’ve done research on this, but if you’d like to write him fingering someone, Rocket can have his nails trimmed.

It would hurt if Rocket bit you. Like, it would fucking bleed. So I’m sorry to say to those biting kink girlies (those are me hi) but Rocket can only afford to give you or someone else some nibbles on the skin unless you guys want some serious bloodplay on your hands. This is because he has protruding fangs on both his upper and lower row of teeth, his lower ones more prominent than the top.

Rocket can, however, eat you out. Don’t wanna get too into depth with this but basically his tongue can stick out his muzzle pretty well and his nose makes for a good clit-stimulator HAHAHAH

!!! : (this is going to be a description of the average raccoon penis so skip this if you don’t wanna know about this because you can DEFINITELY write Rocket smut without having to know this so please be free) I had to research this for a very specific request (pls ily shameless anon/pos) and I almost cried out of the loss of my sanity but anyway, raccoons have a baculum bone which is basically a bone in their penis that helps with copulation, its average length is about 4 inches but can be longer if you catch my drift. The genital itself is a like a rod with a ‘spiky’ end (it’s not actually spiky but it looks that way) compared to human genitalia, kind of like a cat’s but much longer and it is a very dark shade of brown or just plain black. Feel free to use any of these for a possible description if ever you need it, though I never really talk about it in fics, especially the whole ‘spiky’ thing. That being said, Rocket should not have an issue with size, as the the average human male genitalia is about five inches, meaning he can hit anyone’s g-spot just fine.

I might add more points if I have any more but this is all I got right now. I really hope this somehow encouraged you to write that nsfw fic you wanted, and just know everyone’s got interests, it’s fine if not a lot of people irl are into Rocket that way, because that’s literally what the internet is for!

#omg I am so sorry guys please forgive me #but if you are considering writing your own Rocket smut this might be helpful #this is so unhinged omg HAHAHA #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon #rocket raccoon fanfic #rocket raccoon imagine #rocket raccoon x you #rocket raccoon x reader #rocket gotg #ask reply #ask response #ask away! #thanks for the ask! #send dirty asks #.alias.help.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

How would the clones/bad batch, react if there S/O got injured but they can’t bath/wash themselves so they gotta help. Thank you. Love your work!!

Heyo! My blog is SFW, so this will just be a quick snippet without any funny business, which I take it you were aiming for anyway. Honestly, this is such a soft request 🥺

(Bad Batch) He Helps You Wash Up

Hunter: The Sergeant would of course offer help without question because he doesn't want you to feel anymore uncomfortable than you are with your injuries. Not to mention part of him feels guilty that you got hurt as bad as you did. Since you're injured, you settle for just using a washcloth and soap to wash yourself down rather than taking a full bath. Hunter handles you with care, gently scrubbing your back with the washcloth. He's quiet through most of it, mulling over how things could've gone differently as he lifts your hair to get the back of your neck. You'll find yourself reassuring him, and he'll lighten up a little bit.

Wrecker: Has no issue at all helping you at all. In fact, he feels bad that you got so hurt. Still, you assured him many times that it's the risk everyone in the squad takes. Wrecker would lighten the mood with some conversation or a few jokes to try and make you feel better as he gently scrubbed the difficult-to-reach spots on your back. He just wants you to know you're loved and that he'll take care of you.

Tech: He has no objections to you using a washcloth since there were some bandages that weren't supposed to get wet. Tech may not show it, but he's deeply concerned. He is methodical and thorough in the task of helping you get washed up, being that his way of coping is to help you any way he can. It gives him satisfaction to help you beyond the usual medic treatment. And you know he'll fill the silence with good conversation.

Echo: He comes to your aid without so much as a grumble, which is pretty good for him. He's quiet for a bit as he takes in the injuries while he works. You can feel his eyes focusing on the bandages and his heart sinking. Sensing where his train of thought is going, you may have to pull him out of it with conversation about other things, though at some point a reassurance wouldn't hurt.

Crosshair: He'd be beside himself if you got injured. His concern comes across as grumpiness and even anger. He might be angry at his squad or even you for putting yourself at risk. It's only heightened when he sees the extent of the wounds when running a washcloth over your back. Very quickly, though, he realizes that you need to be cared for at the moment. He puts aside his feelings and very tenderly continues the task, only uttering a few requests for you to turn your head or move your arm so he can better access other spots that needed it. By the time it's done, he's handling things a lot better. He has rewired his thinking process to help you get better.

#bad batch #the bad batch echo #the bad batch tech #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch crosshair #bad batch reader insert #the bad batch #bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #the bad batch x reader #wrecker x reader #tech x reader #echo x reader #bad batch headcanons #the bad batch imagine